Deadly Pursuit (29 page)

“I know.” Mitch massaged the back of his neck. The clock was ticking, and they were getting nowhere. “But their presence is suspicious. Could someone else have been after Alison?”

“That seems far-fetched.” Puzzlement deepened the lines of pain etched on Cole's face. “Maybe it was a random robbery. But what I don't get is why Alison would go with them. Jake and I have drummed it into her since she was a teenager never to let anyone force her into a car. This doesn't make sense.”

Cole didn't appear to expect a response, and Mitch was just as clueless about Alison's motivations. So he focused on what he did know. Procedures.

“If the NCIC doesn't give us anything on the VIN, we need to get a CSU technician out here. Check for prints.”

“Agreed. But what are we supposed to do in the meantime?” Cole sounded as frustrated as Mitch felt.

“Trust that the BOLO alert on Alison's car will pay off. Hope someone calls in a tip that gives us a great lead. And say a few prayers.”

Daryl topped off the tank in Chuck's truck, hung the nozzle back on the pump, and replaced the gas cap.

On the pretense of adjusting the tarp that covered the large, square object in the bed of the truck, he climbed up on the bumper. Bending down, he lifted the bottom edge of the heavy canvas.

Behind the bars of the cage, Alison was still out cold. The bruising on her cheek was spreading, but the blood around her nose and mouth had dried. That was an improvement over fresh stuff, but it still made him queasy. With a quick tuck of the tarp, he blocked out the stomach-churning view.

After jumping down from the bumper, he wiped his hands on his pants and surveyed the gas station. Only two other cars were parked at pumps, neither near him. It should be safe to run into the store long enough to pay the gas bill, grab a six-pack and some cigarettes, and scrounge up some food. Lady luck was smiling on him today, after all. Besides, bound at ankles and wrists, with a rag tied around her mouth, Alison wouldn't be able to move or call for help even if she did come to.

Satisfied the risk was minimal, Daryl circled back to the driver's side. Leaning across the seat, he snagged Alison's wallet. And as he hefted it in his hand and walked toward the quick shop, he grinned.

Today, the drinks were on her.

Erik studied the selection of candy bars beside the checkout counter in the quick shop. It was always hard to pick. The trouble was, he liked them all. Well, all except the ones with caramel. That stuck in his teeth, as he'd found out the hard way.

Yuck.

“What'll it be today, Erik?”

He looked over at the grinning clerk and smiled back. Daniel was nice. He never ignored him, like a lot of people did. And he talked to him like he was a grown-up, not some dumb kid. The same way his friend Alison did.

“Maybe the Three Musketeers.” Erik reached for it.

“Those are good.”

He pulled his hand back. “But I like Hershey bars too.”

“Yeah. Those are my personal all-time favorite.”

A customer came up to the counter, and Daniel moved back to the cash register. “Take your time, Erik. I'll be with you in a minute.”

The customer put some beer and a packaged sandwich on the counter. He glanced at Erik, then quickly looked away. Like most people did.

Erik went back to his selection. The Hershey bar, he decided, taking one from the display. Next time he'd get a Three Musketeers.

Edging closer to the register, he waited while Daniel put a package of cigarettes on the counter, rang up the man's items, and gave him the total.

As the customer unsnapped his wallet and flipped it open, Erik stared.

It was just like Alison's.

Erik remembered hers real well. He'd seen it up close the night she'd dropped it on the floor in the grocery store. It was pretty, with a butterfly on one corner and a coin purse that snapped open.

Funny that this guy would have the same kind.

As the man riffled through the bills, a photo slipped out of its plastic sleeve and fell to the counter. The man grabbed it and put it back in the wallet real fast, but Erik saw it long enough to recognize Alison in the picture.

His heart did a funny flip-flop and he straightened up, easing closer. “Where did you get that?”

The man's head jerked toward him, and his eyes narrowed. Then they got real squinty and mean. He snapped the wallet closed, shoved it in the pocket of his pants, and turned back to Daniel.

The guy was going to ignore his question.

Usually, Erik walked away when people did that. And tried not to let it bother him. But Alison was his friend, and he didn't understand why this man had her wallet.

“Mister . . . Where did you get Alison's wallet?”

The man's face got kind of red, like he was mad. “Mind your own business, kid.”

“I'm not a kid! And that's Alison's wallet!”

“Hey, Erik, take it easy.” Daniel joined the conversation. “Maybe it just looks like Alison's wallet.”

“Yeah.” The man shoved the pack of cigarettes into his pocket and picked up his beer and sandwich. “It belongs to my girlfriend.”

“Alison doesn't have a boyfriend. She told me that. And if that's not her wallet, why is her picture inside?”

The man laughed. But his face didn't seem happy, like it was a real laugh. It looked like something hurt. “I think you need to get your eyes checked.” He held out his hand to Daniel. “Can I have my change?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Daniel counted it out.

“Thanks.”

The man brushed past him, like he was some pesky dog, as he left.

Erik watched through the window as the mean guy crossed to a big pickup truck. His stomach was doing a funny jumpy thing. “Daniel . . . that man shouldn't have Alison's wallet.”

“Maybe it's not hers.”

“Yes, it is.” He turned back to the clerk. “Can I have a piece of paper and a pencil?”

“What for?” Daniel pulled a tablet and pen from under the counter and handed them over.

“I'll tell you in a minute.”

Pen in hand, Erik walked to the plate glass window that ran the length of the storefront. Watched the man get into the pickup truck. Waited until he pulled out. The man had to stop to let another car go by, and Erik squinted at the license plate. He had just enough time to copy down the letters and numbers before the man gunned the engine and drove away.

Erik tore off the top sheet of paper, walked back to the counter, and set the tablet and pen down. “That man wasn't very nice.”

“No, he wasn't. He was in here once before, and he wasn't all that friendly then either.” Daniel stowed the paper and pen back under the counter. “What did you write down?” He motioned to the piece of paper in Erik's hands.

“His license number.” That's what you were supposed to do if you thought a person was bad. He knew that from TV shows.

“What are you going to do with it?”

“I might give it to the police.”

Daniel rested both elbows on the counter and leaned toward him. “I know you think that man had your friend's wallet, but you could be wrong. Do you really want to have any more trouble with the police?”

Erik frowned. Was he wrong? He'd only gotten a quick glimpse of the picture. Maybe it hadn't been Alison. Maybe it had just looked a lot like her. And Daniel was right about the police. He didn't want them coming around again. The ones wearing uniforms hadn't been nice to him. At first, anyway. That detective named Mitch had been okay, though. But he didn't know how to find him.

“Erik?”

He refocused on Daniel. The clerk was his friend. If Daniel thought it was better not to give that man's license number to the police, he was probably right.

Erik folded the sheet of paper and shoved it in his pocket. “I guess I could have made a mistake.”

“Hey, buddy, that's okay. We all make mistakes.” Daniel smiled and straightened up. “So what candy bar won the contest?”

After giving the Hershey bar in his hand a disinterested scan, Erik wrinkled his nose and put it back on the display. He wasn't hungry anymore. “I think I'll skip tonight.” He turned and walked toward the door.

“You sure? You always get one.”

“Yeah.” He aimed the response over his shoulder. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

As he walked back to the group home, a route he'd followed so often he didn't even have to think about it anymore, the scary feeling in his stomach got worse. It was like . . . like when his mom died. Like something really bad had happened, and things would never be the same again.

All because that man had Alison's wallet.

But who would believe him? Even Daniel, his friend, thought he'd made a mistake.

What if he hadn't, though? What if Alison was in trouble?

Erik kicked at a rock and shoved his hands in his pockets. The paper he'd written the letters and numbers on crinkled under his fingers, and he pulled it out and stared at it.

He hated not knowing what to do.

Heaving a sigh, he trudged over to the bench at the bus stop and sat down. He wished his mom was here. She'd listen if he told her someone was in trouble. But she was in heaven now. Far away.

All of a sudden, his eyes got watery. Sniffing, he wiped his sleeve across them and tried to think about happy things. Like how he and his mom used to take picnics to the park, until she got sick. And how she used to read him stories about Jesus. He'd always liked the one where Jesus told the grown-ups to let the children come to him. Jesus had listened to everybody. Especially people who were in trouble or didn't know what to do.

He wished Jesus were here now. He would listen to his story.

But Erik had a feeling no one else would.

Talk about bad timing.

A trickle of sweat inched down the middle of Daryl's back and his hands shook on the wheel as he turned onto the entrance ramp for I-270. That had been a close call.

But he had to stay cool. It was too easy to make mistakes when you panicked.

Maybe a smoke would help him calm down.

He pulled the pack out of his pocket, ripped off the cellophane with his teeth, and shook one out. He'd seen a lighter in Chuck's glove compartment the last time he'd borrowed the truck, and he leaned over and rummaged for it. When his fingers closed over it, he flicked on the flame and lit up. Inhaled.

Yeah. That was better. Years ago, smoking had made him feel like a big shot. Like he was in control. It had been a long stretch between cigarettes, but already he was feeling more confident.

Okay. So what was the real risk here? Some kid with Down syndrome claimed the wallet belonged to Alison. But if the clerk, who seemed to know him, hadn't taken the claim seriously, there was very little chance anyone else would either. Right? After all, who was going to believe the rantings of a retard?

He took another deep drag, feeling more upbeat by the minute. So he'd run into a small glitch. Nothing had come of it. In a few minutes, he'd be tooling west on I-44. Twenty minutes after that, he'd be off the radar screen. Safe until he ventured out for the final scene.

And at that hour, no one would be around to watch the finale. Not where he was going.

Daryl cracked his window, flicked out some ash, and fiddled with the radio dial, settling on a hard-driving rock station. One with the kind of music that got your heart beating fast. Pumped you up.

As he cranked up the volume, another bolt of lightning slashed through the dark, western sky. He grinned. It was almost like a rock concert, complete with loud music and special effects.

This was gonna be a great night.

Bev felt good.

Really good.

Just like she'd felt during the curtain calls after
Our Town
.

She smiled. High school might be ancient history, but she still had the magic. Still knew how to play a part.

Mr. Montesi would be proud.

She flipped on her turn signal and changed lanes, her smile broadening as she headed back to the strip mall parking lot to switch cars. She'd even managed a tear when that Alison woman had looked at her in the rearview mirror. That had been masterful. In fact, everything had been flawless.