Page 42 of The Castle (Endgame 3)
Besides, it would be harder to sneak two people out.
The one advantage I have is that I got to know the house before the extra security came. Before I became a prisoner here. So I’ve seen the way deliveries are handled, even though I probably couldn’t make it outside before being escorted back inside by West—or the man with the silver hair.
An Amish farm outside Tanglewood sells organic handmade soap. I used to order a special strawberry blend from them when I lived with my father. That’s the kind of thing Tanglewood high society likes to do. Usually our beauty products and fashion came imported from Paris, like any respectable billionaire princess. Every so often there would be a new discovery—the anti-aging benefits of local honey or a silk made from worms only in our tristate area. Anything new seemed fascinating, because we only ever saw the same people at parties, only ever discussed the same things.
The truck that pulls in front of the gate is an old model, with large curves and knotted wooden slats lining the bed. A faded painting of a buggy is painted on the side, the only nod to the Amish sensibility. I have no idea if it’s really the truck they have or purchased for the old-world image, but it’s easily distinguishable from the brown package trucks that show up regularly.
I watch from the darkened stairs as Mrs. B bustles to the door, escorted by the man with silver hair a step behind. Security measures, though they seem more sinister after the conversation I heard.
With them occupied, there’s no one in the kitchen. I pass through the warm room, the scent of fresh bread permeating the air. Instead of turning down the hallway toward the room with surveillance, I walk quickly out the door. With West in the room and the other two at the front door, no one will know which way I went. Eventually they’ll find me on the cameras, which is exactly what I want.
I cross the back lawn toward the forest, which curves around to the front gates.
From the protection of the trees I watch the delivery man return to his truck and drive away, dust kicking up in his wake. It hurts not to be on that truck, but it would be too easy. Plus I’d be stranded on an Amish farm outside Tanglewood.
It’s slow going through the forest, trying not to leave any tracks, but eventually I reach the back entrance of the hedge maze. I pick up a brisk jog once I’m inside, working toward the center.
A stitch pains my side, and I stop for a moment.
Something snaps behind me—a twig. I turn, but no one’s there. Only an endless expanse of greenery. Stop imagining things. With a shake of my head to clear it, I continue forward.
When I reach the middle, I sit down in a dry patch of earth to wait.
Night comes slowly, leaving me plenty of time to think.
To think about my father, living alone in a sterile room. Comfortable, yes. He has all the luxuries that money can buy. No family, because he pushed away everyone he loved.
Or maybe he never loved us, my mother and me.
He could be a castle, shiny and smooth—made of stone, through and through.
The moon sits high when I hear voices. I’ve been discovered, of course. Mrs. B would notice when I don’t appear for dinner. My heart pangs. Penny will be afraid when I’m not there.
The search of the grounds takes two hours. I hear shouts coming from the east as men look through the forest. And then I hear footsteps through the maze, on the other side of this hedge.
Finally the moment I’ve been waiting for.
I follow a circular route so that I’m behind the man. It’s a man I’ve never seen before, wearing the same black T-shirt and black cargo pants that West does. He looks military, but young. Hopefully that will be enough to fool him. That and my familiarity with the hedge.
I follow him left, right. Left again.
We might be going in circles for all he knows.
My foot breaks a twig, and he stops. I tuck behind a wall, barely breathing, waiting. When his footsteps fade away, I know I’m safe. I follow with more distance between us this time.
He leaves the hedge, speaking into his cell phone. “The maze is clear.”
I’m his shadow, following him across the lawn and to the garages. If I stayed too close, I’m sure he would have heard me. But I know where we’re going. I only need to make it to the vehicle before he leaves. The hatch door at the back of the black SUV hangs open, as if it’s just been loaded.
When I stand at the bumper, I hear him speaking on the phone again.
