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There wasn’t much room to pace in the holding cell, but Phryne managed it. She couldn’t sit still. It was maddening to not know what was happening, either upstairs with Dot or at the university with Jack.
Jack. The realization that he was walking into a trap had sent a flood of ice through her veins. She had to fight the childish urge to grab the bars and shake them as if that would make them give way. She’d considered trying to pick the lock, but police locks were trickier than a typical door, and her lock picks were sitting uselessly in a drawer at home. She could open the cell eventually, but it would take time, and she had precious little of that. Jack would arrive at the university at any moment, and once he did…
She was worried sick about Jane, of course she was. But not for the girl’s life. Foyle had no reason to kill Jane, and ample reason to keep her alive. But Jack – noble, steadfast, infuriating Jack – Jack he had no reason to keep alive, and ample reason to kill.
It took every ounce of self-control she had to keep from rushing the door when Hugh unlocked it, every fraction of her minimal patience to lure him inside and lock it behind him.
She knew it was the right decision as she raced up the stairs and vaulted into the Hispano.
Hugh would slow her down, that much was true. But it was more than that. If she was too late, if Jack was… Phryne didn’t want Hugh to be the one to find him.
She broke every traffic law on the way to the university. Jack could write her up on all of them, if only he was still alive to do it.