Lost & Found.

My jaw slackened and my breaths became quicker and more shallow as the sunglasses glared at me from outside the small hole where my window should have been. Fox’s hand gripped itself tightly around my shoulder, warning me. “Uh, sure. Give me a second,” I smiled, even though I was scared to death.

Maybe someone really realized I was gone and was doing something about it. I wouldn’t want to be the one to find out.

Fox leaned into my ear as I dug around fruitlessly in my purse. “Gas. Now,” he whispered almost inaudibly. I looked up into his eyes fearfully, but the serious edge that was hardly ever found in his voice told me to listen. I trusted that he would get us out of this. I nodded to myself as I pulled out my dark wallet, opening it to my Driver’s License.

Before the Officer got a chance to see it, though, I was already speeding down the road. The dashed lines flew by me as I went far over the speed limit. Blue and red lights danced against my windows as the cop started chasing after us. I cursed under my breath.

I let myself think about what I’d just gotten myself into for a second, before pulling a sharp turn. The lights were gone for maybe minutes before they were back behind us, slowly catching up. I stopped thinking and pressed harder against the gas. “You’re going too slow,” Fox murmured beside me, but I blocked out his voice as I took another corner. We were headed into a small town.

I was digging myself a grave and I knew it.

“Too slow, Rabbit!” Fox unbuckled his own seatbelt and quickly wound his way to the other side of my seat, putting it back as far as it would go. “Move,” he commanded, taking the wheel and pushing me into the back seat. He pushed harder as I struggled to fit through the small space my car provided, before he sat back in the seat, adjusting it so that it was right for him.

I clutched onto the door and tried to pull the seatbelt over my body before I was thrown against something hard as the car swerved manically. The car started to slow until Fox shoved his foot onto the gas again, swerving to the side and then turning the opposite corner.

My head slammed against the door beside me, making my scramble for the seatbelt useless. I gave up for a second, trying to make the dizzying sensation the hit had caused go away. “You okay?” he asked loudly, not sparing me a glance as he sped down unfamiliar street after unfamiliar street.

“Peachy,” I muttered, holding my head in agony as he turned again, making me sway violently as I finally managed to pull the seatbelt over and click it into place.

It was silent except for the radio for a while as Fox concentrated on escape and I tried to ease the pain the chase was causing. “I’m sorry,” Fox finally muttered, quiet and just a tiny bit sincere.

I’d forgiven him miles ago, but the cop was out of sight and my mouth was sewn shut.

Fox kept speeding.

“He’s gone,” I informed in vain, I already knew that Fox wasn’t stopping for anything short of a dead end.

Fox’s eyes shifted from the mirror to the road in front of him. “That’s what he wants us to think.”

“Paranoid.” I might as well have just thought it because I knew that he couldn’t hear it. We made our way to the busiest street we could find and slowed to match the traffic. “Is it safe for me to climb back into the front?” I asked, tired of my view being obstructed by a few headrests.

“No. They were looking for you, you should stay down,” he was so sure of himself. I felt like punching him for a moment, before realizing he had probably just saved my life. I glared into the mirror where he was staring at me. I could only see the soft curves of his lips which were shaped into a half-amused smile, I’m sure he could see my eyes.

“How are you so sure they aren’t looking for you, you criminal?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest defiantly.

Fox’s laughter filled my small car as he turned off of the street and onto an even bigger one. Probably an interstate, but I really didn’t care. I was too busy taking offense in his mocking tone. “Trust me. I’m way too good to get caught.”

~~~

Fox and I sat in the disgusting motel room on our separate beds watching the local news as they spoke about some murder. I huffed to myself, wondering just for a second if the police didn’t care about a silly runaway and her delinquent friend. Maybe they were just looking for clues about these murders or maybe he couldn’t read the tag on my plates.

Suddenly, running from cops didn’t seem like such a good idea. Suddenly, it was extremely childish.

Fox had kept driving for hours, turning and doubling back multiple times. “We need to get a new car,” he murmured as he dug around in his bag. “They can look for your plates.”

“How do you know they’re even after us?” I sighed, agitated. My thoughts were bad enough alone, Fox verbalizing his wasn’t making anything any better. “I mean, they could have been trying to just ask some friendly questions!”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t seem likely,” Fox grunted, pulling some jeans and a worn-down shirt out of the bag and heading for the small, dirty bathroom.

“I look different from when I left anyway, there’s no way he could have known,” I stated, thinking I’d made a decent point.

“Yeah, but whoever reported you missing probably gave the police your,” he trailed off and both of our eyes became glued to the TV as the anchor woman turned towards the screen and an old picture of me appeared in the upper left corner.

“...daughter of Richard Johnston, famous mystery novelist, has been reported missing.” Fox jumped over my bed to grab the remote. He frantically turned up the volume until the cheery voice was bouncing off of the walls loud enough to induce a headache. I placed my hands melodramatically over my ears in protest for a minute, before letting them drop to my sides again.

“Shit,” Fox murmured as the screen changed. Now there were two pictures, one of me and one of him. Only his hair was longer and darker in the picture, covering his eyes and making him look even older and more menacing than ordinary. Below his picture a name flashed at me, pulling me in.

“Theodore Carver?” I almost laughed at how ridiculous the name sounded put against such a mischievous face.

“Shut up,” he almost growled, pointing my attention back to the TV threateningly.

The news lady continued on, “if you see either of them please call the number at the bottom of the screen.” My picture flashed across the glossy screen again, making me shake my head in disbelief.

How had they even found a picture old enough of me for my hear to be a dark natural brown? Fox slowly started to laugh, a low rumble that dared me to join in, but instead I snapped at him. “How is this funny?”

He looked back at me for a short second. “I’m wanted dead or alive, wanted dead or alive,” he sang quietly before taking his long strides into the bathroom.

We were doomed.