Because this might be her best chance to get away. Maybe her only chance, in fact. These troopers would have no connection to any of the local police departments that the Greens might have subtly poisoned or subverted over the years. Once she was outside with them, she could identify herself as a kidnap victim and ask for help. They'd have to take her seriously, at least enough to get her out of here while they made further inquiries. They could be gone before Sylvia and her Shriek could even make it to the door.

Sylvia.

Caroline's lip twisted, the sudden mixture of uncertainly and hope dying quietly within her. Sylvia was a Group Commander, with presumably some of the same tactical Gift Nikolos himself possessed. She would hardly have suggested Caroline go outside alone unless there was a backup plan already in place.

The cop pushed open the diner door for her, and Caroline stepped out into the cold night air. No, she and the cop weren't alone out here. Whether Sylvia had somehow set this up herself, or whether she'd just taken the opportunity when it presented itself, this was surely a test.

And with a chill in her heart, Caroline realized that if she flunked, that would be the end of it. Sylvia would probably never speak to her again, at least not on anything except official Warrior business.

She would never allow Caroline off the Green estate again for a meal like this, either, and she would most certainly never join her.

And she would continue to consider humans as lesser beings not worth a second thought as she prepared for war.

They crossed the lot to the pickup, and Caroline unlocked the passenger side. "I'm not sure exactly where she keeps it," she told the cop, reaching into the glove box and pulling out a small travel folder. "Let's see..."

"Here," the cop offered helpfully, pulling out a flashlight and shining it on the papers.

The emissions certificate was the third one down. "Here it is," she said, sliding it out and holding it up for his inspection.

"Thanks," the cop said, nodding. "Sorry to have bothered you."

"No bother," Caroline assured him, putting everything back and closing the truck door again. "This old thing does get pretty pungent sometimes."

The other cop met them halfway back to the diner, holding two carryout cups of coffee. "You ready, Carl?" he asked.

"Yeah," the cop said, stopping and taking one of the cups. "Have a good evening, ma'am."

With that, they headed toward their squad car. "You, too," Caroline murmured after them. Shivering once, she glanced at the row of silent trees lining the parking lot and went back inside.

The malts had been delivered in her absence, and Sylvia was sipping thoughtfully at hers through a straw. "Did you find the certificate he needed?" she asked as Caroline rejoined her in the booth.

"Yes," Caroline assured her, unwrapping her straw. "It all seems to be in order."

"Good." Sylvia gestured to her glass. "Interesting drink, this."

"It's very popular among my people," Caroline said, taking a sip. It was rich and thick, as only a homemade malt could be. "You were taking something of a chance there, weren't you?" she added casually.

"You think so?"

"Absolutely," Caroline said. "Having one of your Warriors use the Shriek on a couple of state cops would have bought you far more attention than you would have liked. Especially since Roger will probably be raising various roofs himself sometime in the next few hours. If someone made the connection between his story and that of these cops, you could have had all sorts of unwanted visitors descending on you."

Sylvia eyed her over the malt. "Yet you said nothing."

"Are you guessing about that?" Caroline countered. "Or are you admitting you have someone on guard out there?"

The other smiled wryly. "Touche," she said. "Is that the correct term? Touche?"

"It is," Caroline assured her. "Is that a yes?"

Sylvia pursed her lips. "I misjudged you," she admitted. "You're smarter than you let on. Also more... sympathetic, I think."

Caroline shrugged. "We took in a girl we didn't even know and tried to protect her," she pointed out.

"We're obviously suckers for people in trouble."

"Yet we're the ones who tried to kill her," Sylvia reminded her. "You might not feel so sympathetic toward us."

"You're still people in trouble," Caroline said. "And we still want to help."

Sylvia didn't reply.

The waitress appeared a minute later with their food, and they set to with a will. Sylvia's first tentative nibbles at her chicken quickly became larger bites, with the mashed potatoes and gravy getting an equally quick and enthusiastic vote of approval. Caroline attempted to probe a little into the history and organization of the Green estate as they ate, but learned nothing except that they'd owned the property since 1932. Most of the conversation ended up centered on Caroline, with Sylvia skillfully drawing out her life story in general and the events of the past week in particular.

Caroline also had to deflect three separate attempts to learn who exactly it was who had given Melantha to them that fateful Wednesday evening. "I don't know why you're so determined to protect him," Sylvia said a bit crossly after her third and least subtle probe. "We know Melantha's parents weren't involved, so it can't be out of any perceived loyalty to her family."

"I just don't want to see someone punished for saving her life," Caroline said evasively.

Sylvia shook her head. "You have it backwards. We, of all the Greens, would be the most grateful for the saving of her life. My concern is for her current safety; and knowing who took her might help us learn where she is." She shook her head. "I just hope Roger isn't foolish enough to tell the police that she's here. If he does, the Grays are bound to hear about it."

"You think they'd attack?" Caroline asked, frowning.

"Of course they would," Sylvia said in a tone of strained patience. "This place is our last hope, the refuge where any survivors would be gathered together. If they took it away from us, we would have no choice but to face them in Manhattan, where all the advantages are theirs."

"But this is hardly the last place in the country where there are forests," Caroline objected. "How could the Grays taking this particular plot of land hurt you?"

"Because this particular plot is ours," Sylvia said quietly. "Would you want to live in someone else's home the rest of your life? Or, worse, in an anonymous hotel room somewhere?"

Caroline grimaced. "Not really."

"Neither do we." Sylvia set her last chicken bone back onto the plate and began wiping her fingers.

"We need to get back."

"I suppose," Caroline said. "No, no," she added as Sylvia reached for the small shoulder bag she'd brought in with her. "My treat, remember?"

"I've reconsidered," Sylvia said. "I've decided I wouldn't be a fitting host if I allowed you to do that."

"I insist," Caroline said, producing her credit card. "I invited you to dinner, and it wouldn't be hospitable for me to let you pay. If you'd like, you can think of it as compensation for that chair we burned."

Sylvia snorted. "That chair has been ready for the fire since 1968," she said. But she nevertheless let the shoulder bag fall back to her side. "Very well, then, I accept. Thank you."

"My pleasure," Caroline said, turning halfway around and gesturing to the waitress.

The Laborers they'd passed on their way out of the estate were nowhere to be seen as Caroline maneuvered the pickup back up the winding drive. "Very neat," she complimented Sylvia as they passed the spot where the Warrior had first stopped them. "I know that side road was right there, and I still can't see a thing."

"Green Laborers are the best workers in the world," Sylvia said proudly. "I only wish I had more of them to work with."