The Marshal's Witness. Lena Diaz
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the socks onto her feet then shoved her feet into the tennis shoes and tightened the laces.
Jessica watched him put a jacket on her and roll the sleeves up to expose her hands, as if she was seeing him through a long tunnel, as if this was happening to someone else. The far-off whine of a siren had her looking back toward the window.
Ryan lifted her off the bed and set her on her feet. “Let’s go.”
He tugged her arm and she stumbled after him, holding up her pants, trying not to trip as the oversize shoes flopped on her feet. Ryan didn’t release her hand until they were in the garage next to a motorcycle. He shoved his backpack into the leather holder on the left side and put a smaller bag in the holder on the other side of the bike. Saddlebags, that’s what they were called, right? Jessica couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t focus. Why were they even in Ryan’s garage? The sirens were much louder now. Shouldn’t she and Ryan be outside waiting for the firemen?
Ryan hopped on the motorcycle and leaned over and shoved a helmet onto her head. He tightened the strap beneath her chin. Jessica slapped at his hands when he reached for her.
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