GRASPING THE FRAME, I PULLED MYSELF UP. THE WINDOWSILL scraped my breasts, then my belly as I squeezed over it, barely fitting through. Molly grabbed my head and pulled. The palms of my hands stuck to frozen metal and my fingers burned, then throbbed. But I slid, slithered, and kicked, bruising my knees and my shins, clawing ice until finally, with Molly’s help, I landed on my face in the snow.
As I reached back to close the window, I heard the shattering of glass. An arm in a pink mohair sweater reached down through a jagged hole in the glazed pane where Beverly’s name had been, feeling for the bolt. I pulled Molly away from the window and we hunkered against the wall, shivering in merciless cold. I put on my sweatshirt and tried to get my bearings.
The fence closed us in. We were boxed in by three walls of brick and one of wire, barbed at the top, and higher than we could hope to climb.
Behind us, I heard Woods rummaging around in Beverly’s office. I thought he’d see my jacket on Beverly, notice the chair beneath the open window, and come charging after us. But he didn’t. The shattering and crashing were followed by sounds of papers shuffling. And wind blowing. I crouched beside the window, holding on to Molly, afraid to move. From where I sat, I was able to see only a few square feet of the office, the small part of the floor between the desk and the window. What was he doing? I didn’t dare lean over to see more, couldn’t risk being discovered. But I pictured Woods at the desk, looking around. Was it possible that he hadn’t noticed my jacket? Or the open window?
I released a breath and looked at Molly, who was bug-eyed and silent, her teeth chattering. Inside the office, drawers slammed. Papers and manila folders flew across the slice of desk I could see. Files and patient records landed on the floor. What was he looking for? Then I knew: the 302. Woods was searching for the documents Beverly had prepared for his commitment. Even if he’d silenced Nick and Beverly, the paperwork could still speak. It would incriminate him. Unless he destroyed it.
I hugged Molly and the wall, listening, waiting for Woods to find the open briefcase under the desk. Then there was an audible pause. A silence. Then footsteps clacked beside the desk. The desk near the window. The open window. Beside which we huddled, shivering in the snow.