Blood on My Hands

on those platforms for a hundred reasons that have nothing to do with me. But how can I know for certain? I have an idea and take out my cell phone and, as promised, send Jerry a text: Got the $$. Thx!
    Down on the platforms nothing happens. I wait and watch. One of the men is still reading the paper. The woman appears to be thumbing a BlackBerry. So it looks like I was wrong and there is such a thing as being too paranoid. I decide to ride over to the bike rack. From there I’ll take the stairs down to the warming room and get the money.
    Then, all at once, the people on the platforms press their fingers against their right ears. It looks very strange until I realize what it means. They’re all wearing earpieces.
    The next thing I know, they’re jogging quickly down the platforms. They must be headed for the warming room. The two on the northbound side will probably take the walkway under the tracks to get there.
    But that’s not what happens. The two people on the southbound platform jog right past the warming room. The two on the northbound platform pass the entrance to the walkway.
    And that’s when I realize they’re headed for the bridge … and me.

Chapter 32
    Tuesday 4:39 P.M.
    I QUICKLY LOOK around. Traffic passes behind me on the bridge. There’s the heavy low grumble of a diesel engine as a garbage truck approaches. In the meantime I can hear slapping footsteps coming up the steps from the platform.
    The garbage truck is passing. It has one of those big scoop-shaped bins at the rear.
    I toss the cell phone into it.
    A moment later, the first earpiece man reaches the bridge, breathing hard, his right hand still pressed against his ear.
    He looks around, then stares right at me!
    I feel myself freeze, my hands gripping the handles of the bike so hard my knuckles turn white, my heart racing.
    There’s a loud screech as a police car flies around the corner and starts to speed up the bridge in our direction. At the same time, the earpiece man starts to run toward me.
    Something heavy sinks inside me. Even with this bike, there’s no way I can get away from them. This is it. It’s all over. I’m caught.
    *  *  *
    The night after Katherine ordered me to tell Mia she couldn’t sit with us any longer, Dakota called.
    “I heard what happened at lunch today,” she said.
    “Uh-huh.” I didn’t know what else to do except acknowledge what she’d said and wonder why she was calling me.
    “You know it’s all about power. She’s the most evil, nasty, insecure person ever. She has to constantly reassure herself that she’s in control, and the only way she can do that is by making people do things for her that they don’t want to do. You think it’s any surprise that she chose you to tell Mia not to sit with us anymore? No way. She chose you because she knew you’d have the hardest time doing it.”
    I listened silently.
    “And you know why you’ll do it?” Dakota asked in a condescending tone.
    “No,” I said, almost befuddled by the meanness I felt emanating from her. We might have shared a common frenemy, but that clearly did not make us friends.
    “Look at what she’s already gotten you to give up,” Dakota said. “You’ll do it because you have nothing left to lose.”

Chapter 33
    Tuesday 4:41 P.M.
    WHEN THE POLICE car races past me, I spin around and realize why: it’s chasing the garbage truck.
    Only the officer inside the car doesn’t know he’s chasing the truck. He’s just following the signal from my cell phone, which appears to be going in the same direction.
    But that still leaves the man with the earpiece, who is twenty feet away, running straight for me. I tense and brace myself.
    He runs right past … in the same direction the police car was going.
    Feeling like I ducked a bullet aimed straight for my head, I will my body to relax, but my heart is still pounding. Trembling, hoping I can keep my balance, I get on the pink bike and begin riding in the opposite direction. I need to get away from the bridge as fast as possible, before that police car catches up to the garbage truck and they figure out what I did.
    Only I have no idea where I’m going.
    Moments later I’m riding down the sidewalk through town, passing stores and nannies pushing small children in strollers. It feels strange to ride around disguised as a young girl, stranger still that the disguise is actually working. It’s like some kind of weird out-of-body experience. As if I’ve done such a