“Don’t be an idiot, Jules,” she muttered. “Just stay calm.” Without touching the brake pedal, she signaled and moved into the right lane in front of the semi. The patrol car moved over as well, staying behind them.
As if he’d sensed the tension in the car, Ty woke from his doze with a snort. “What’s going on?”
“Cops behind us,” Tio said tightly.
“Shit.”
“Language,” Jules snapped.
“Seriously?” Ty gave a short laugh. “I think cops on our tail deserves a ‘shit’ or two. Maybe even a ‘fuck.’”
“Swearing is a bad habit.” Realizing she had a death grip on the wheel, Jules forced her fingers to relax. Her siblings couldn’t know how close to blind panic Jules was. What if Mr. Espina hadn’t had that talk with her stepmother? Worse, what if he had threatened her with exposure, and Courtney had called the cops anyway? Were the kids’ pictures plastered over every TV and computer and phone screen from Tampa to Seattle? Her breath caught in her chest, suffocating her, and she made herself breathe normally. Hyperventilating while driving was a bad idea. She shoved her frantic worries into the back of her brain and tried to sound as calm as possible…which wasn’t very calm at all. “Especially when your little sister is sitting right next to you.”
“Sorry, Dee,” Ty muttered.
“It’s okay. Courtney swears a lot more than you do.”
Choking back a mostly hysterical laugh, Jules asked, “Why do you call her Courtney?”
“You’re seriously asking that now?” Tio interjected before Dee could answer. “When there’s a law enforcement officer following our getaway car? Especially since Courtney most likely knows by now that you took us out of school, so it’s highly probable there is a warrant out for your arrest on multiple kidnapping charges.” Each word was precisely enunciated, which was typical for Tio when he was scared.
“If I don’t relax,” Jules said through her teeth, “then I’m going to do something stupid, like hit the brakes or jerk the wheel or, I don’t know, roll down the window and flip off the nice cop behind us. I need you to cut me some slack right now.”
“Sorry.” He sounded young and subdued, and guilt rose in Jules for snapping at him. “Go ahead, Dee.”
“I’ve forgotten the question,” Dee said in a tiny voice.
Jules’s eyes flicked to the rearview again. Instead of looking at the occupants of the backseat this time, she checked out the squad car. It was a reasonable distance behind them, and the lights weren’t flashing—both positive things. All she had to do was not screw up and draw attention to them. “Um…I asked why you call your mom Courtney.”
“I don’t know.” Dee was quiet for a few moments. “She just seems more like a Courtney than a Mom.”
Despite the situation, Jules had to block a laugh that wanted to escape. “True.”
“She seems more like a b-b-bitch than a C-Courtney,” Sam muttered.
Now it was even harder not to laugh. “Sam! Language!”
“You need to give Sam points for truthfulness, though,” Ty said.
Jules couldn’t stop a snort from escaping. “Don’t make me laugh, y’all, or I’m going to go full-on hysterical and won’t be able to drive.” A glance in the mirror showed the Highway Patrol vehicle still trailing them. “Should I take the next rest-stop exit?”
“What if he follows?” Ty asked. “We’ll have to stop at the rest area, or it’ll look like we’re just trying to dodge him.”
“You’re right.” Her hands had tightened again, and she peeled her fingers off the wheel before settling them loosely back in place. “Let’s keep going then.”
As the SUV and its escort continued down the interstate, they all went silent. Jules’s gaze flicked to the rearview mirror again, and she froze. The trooper was right behind them. Close now. Trying to keep her breathing steady—or at least not start praying out loud—Jules had to force herself not to stare. As close as he was, he’d be able to see her jerky glances, each nervous movement just screaming “I’m guilty!” Every time her eyes disobeyed and strayed to the mirror, she caught a glimpse of her siblings’ pale, frightened faces. Her breathing grew jerky despite her efforts at staying calm as she waited for the cop’s overhead lights to flash, for the siren that would force her to choose—pull over or run.
As terrifying as the thought of trying to outrun the police was, the alternative was scarier. She’d go to prison, and her sister and brothers would return to that house.