Dangerous Sanctuary. Shirlee McCoy

lost our trail, but they know we’re going to try to escape the compound. They’ll be expecting us to make a run for the gate or the parking lot. We’ll take another route.” He started walking, tugging her with him.

      “You know the fence is seven feet, right?” she asked.

      “Yes.”

      “I can barely climb a five-foot one.”

      “You can do anything you put your mind to,” he replied.

      “The idea of mind over matter? It’s vastly overrated.”

      “How about we have that debate after we get out of here?”

      “Is that your way of telling me to be quiet?”

      “It’s my way of telling you that you need to conserve energy. We have a seven-foot fence to climb.”

      No way was she going to be able to do that.

      Not with her hands burned and blistered, her body weak, a backpack filled with clothes on her back.

      But pointing that out wasn’t going to do any good, so she kept her mouth shut and let him lead her back into the woods.

      * * *

      It took money to build a seven-foot fence. It took a lot of it to build one that stretched as far as The Sanctuary’s seemed to. Radley eyed the smooth wooden planks. Climbing them would be easy enough. He was six-foot-three and had climbed taller structures during military training. Even with help, though, Honor might struggle. She was a foot shorter than he was, weakened from illness and fever, hands blistered and raw. The surface of the fence was smooth. Free of hand or footholds.

      An odd design. No crossbeams on the inside, so they had to be exterior. Not a good idea if the goal was to keep outsiders from climbing in.

      But maybe the goal was to keep insiders from climbing out.

      For Honor’s sake, he’d have followed the length of the fence, looking for another exit or an end to the fencing, but they didn’t have time. If Absalom’s men had brains in their heads, they’d be guarding the gate and patrolling the fence line. Better to have her hands hurt a little more than to have her shot.

      “We’ll climb over here,” he said, leading her from the thick woods and onto a three-foot-wide cleared swath of grass. None of the trees were close enough to the fence to be used as ladders or as leverage. He had to believe that was planned.

      He wanted to know what was going on in The Sanctuary, what dark secrets Absalom was hiding. First, though, he wanted to get Honor to safety.

      “The fence is taller than I remembered,” she murmured.

      “Not so tall we can’t get over it,” he responded, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, his nerves alive with warning.

      They were standing between the fence and the trees, exposed to anyone who might be looking for them, and he knew plenty of people were.

      “Currently, anything would be too tall.” Her teeth were chattering as if her fever were returning. “As a matter of fact, I’d say that fence is an impossible task.”

      “Nothing is impossible, Honor,” he replied, reaching into his duffel and pulling out the handgun she’d told him was there.

      “Diving to the deepest part of the ocean is,” she responded, her voice barely a whisper in the darkness. “Digging a hole from North America to the other side of the globe is. Skating on thin ice, walking in wet grass while wearing stiletto heels.”

      “I get your point, but I’m not asking you to do any of those things.” He didn’t have a holster, so he checked the gun’s safety and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans.

      “Radley, we both know I’m slowing you down. You can get over that fence and get to help before I manage to take three steps.”

      “I never thought of you as the kind of person who’d exaggerate,” he said.

      “What kind of person did you think I was?”

      “The kind of person who enjoys being accurate, logical and factual.”

      “I am.”

      “Good, then you know that’s it’s not going to take long for either of us to get over the fence.” He eased the backpack from her shoulders and shrugged into it. “Come on. Let’s go.”

      “Radley, I want you to go ahead. We both have a better chance of survival if you do.”

      “I’d have a better chance. You wouldn’t. That wouldn’t work for Wren. It doesn’t work for me, and I’m sure it won’t work for you.”

      “What works for me is both of us getting out of here alive, so that I can find Mary Alice. That’s not going to happen if we’re standing here bickering while armed men are searching for us.”

      “Bickering?”

      “Fighting. Arguing. Disagreeing.”

      “I know what it means, I’m just surprised to hear you use such an old-fashioned word.”

      “Old-fashioned? Dotty would take offense at that.” She was watching him, her eyes gleaming in the darkness, her face a pale oval, her clothes nearly glowing in the darkness. A beacon drawing the eye of anyone searching for them.

      “She says it a lot, huh?”

      “She did. When I was young and arguing with my uncle about curfews and grades.”

      “Did she also use the words grit, gutsy, daring? Because that’s what you’re about to be. Let’s go. Over the fence.”

      A dog howled, the sound ringing through the forest, and his pulse jumped, his heart racing. He knew the sound of a hunting dog. This one was close.

      “Are there dogs here?” he asked.

      “Yes. A couple of guard dogs that patrol the meeting hall at night and some hunting dogs that are used by the residents of the community.” She nodded, her eyes wide, the pulse in the hollow of her throat jumping frantically.

      “I wonder how good those dogs are at tracking escapees?” he muttered.

      “We may be the first people who’ve have the need to escape, but the hunting dogs are bloodhounds. They have great noses.”

      “That’s what I was afraid of. Come on. Let’s go.” He lifted her. She was slighter than he’d expected, her back narrow, her body light. He’d always thought of her as athletic and strong. She had a presence that demanded attention and seemed to fill every room she entered. Chatty, quick with smiles and compliments, she was the opposite of Radley. Except in her need for justice, her determination, her dogged focus when it came to solving a case or finding a criminal.

      Now she seemed determined to pull herself over the fence. She’d grabbed the top and was struggling to drag her body over. He gave her legs a boost, holding on until she managed to scramble up and drop one leg over the top.

      Behind him, the hound was crashing through trees, baying wildly.

      Radley slung the duffel strap over his shoulder, grabbed the top of the fence and pulled himself up beside Honor. He’d climbed fences dozens of times. He’d run from danger even more times than that. He knew how to move quickly and quietly. But Honor was still perched on the fence like she was riding a horse. One leg to one side. One to the other. Hands clutching the wood. Backlit by the setting moon, pale skin, light hair, light-colored clothes. She was a sitting duck, an easy target.

      “It’s okay,” he said, because he thought she was frozen in fear.

      “I know, but I wasn’t going to jump until you were out of there. Just in case.”

      “In case what?”

      “You needed help,” she replied, and then she threw her second leg over the fence