Ransom River (27 page)

Seth flicked her a look, sharp. “You thought they were talking about a witness to Obrad Mirkovic’s murder.”

“I did.” She rubbed her forehead. “Everything’s come at me so fast, I haven’t kept track of it all. They mentioned ‘losing’ and ‘the girl.’”

“If you’re the girl, and they were after the money…”

“Then Lee is the one they want to draw out.”

Slowly, as though far gone in thought, Seth nodded. Rory’s pulse began to pound.

“If they want a bargaining chip to draw Lee out of hiding, why go for his niece?”

“Instead of his immediate family.”

“Maybe they have a lingering sense of loyalty to Lee? Or to Amber?”

“Rory.” He looked jaundiced. “We’re talking about people who sent gunmen to storm a trial during open court. Loyalty and consideration played no part in it.”

He was right. She said, “You’re not going to sit back and wait for me to tease the family history out of my parents. Are you?”

“No. I’m going to find out about the men who carried out the heist. One’s dead; two are in prison. I’ll chase down their records, see if there’s anything we can hook onto.” He looked serious. “Couple of cons, about to be released after twenty years inside, thinking their partner Lee took off with millions while they paid the price—that’s motive.”

“No kidding,” Rory said.

“But talk to your folks.”

“That’ll be fun. Like running my hand through a can opener.”

He looked pensive. “I never knew your uncle. Were you his pet niece or something?”

“You mean, if I were to be taken hostage, would he surface to rescue me? What made me special?”

“Yes.”

“He played this magic trick where he pulled a coin out from behind my ear. And he always called me Aurora. He explained that Aurora meant dawn. The sun coming up. He said that was me.”

Seth eyed her. “He adored you.”

“I thought so.”

“And you adored him.”

“I was a child.”

“All the purer.”

They drove past an avocado orchard. The trees flashed green in the sun. The hard blues on the stereo faded.

Seth said, “About calling the cops.”

“You’re not going to let your dad talk to his old buddies on the force?”

“He doesn’t want to believe there’s corruption in the department. It’s not that he’s naïve; it’s that he trusts the people he worked with. But I don’t know who those trusted people might talk to. And I don’t want somebody bent to get word that you’re digging into this.” He glanced at her. “So about
you
calling the cops to discuss this matter further.”

“They can talk to Nussbaum from now on.”

“You know why they gave you twenty-four hours to come clean?” he said.

“So they have time to get mints for my pillow at the jail?”

“They’re working on a ‘first forty-eight’ theory.”

“Yes. If they don’t solve a crime within the first forty-eight hours, the likelihood of doing so plummets.”

“I know you’ve been to law school.”

“Law school doesn’t teach that stuff. TV does.”

“This is the flip side. The department is under enormous pressure to close this case. Believe me, the detectives who interviewed you, the uniforms, the lieutenant who took the lead on the siege—they’re all being stepped on to show results.”

“Within forty-eight hours.”

“Which gives them a huge incentive to claim they’ve done just that.”

Her stomach tightened.

“The chief of police is pressuring them. The mayor is pressuring the chief. The county’s pressuring the mayor. Fox News and Court TV are pressuring all of them and asking why nobody’s been dragged to jail yet.”

“They’re demanding red meat,” she said.

“And guess who they’ll throw to the dogs. Tomorrow morning, they’ll haul you in on some flimsy pretext to show they’ve ‘solved’ the case. They’ll perp-walk you into the police station with the cameras rolling.”

His expression soured. “They’ll ruin your reputation. But arresting you will only put the investigation into a holding pattern. They’re not stupid.”

“Just ruthless,” she said.

“You don’t understand how ruthless. Once they get you inside, their purpose will be twofold.” He glanced in the mirror. “First. Frighten you into confessing.”

“I won’t do that.”

“Rory. You’re a suburban girl who reads Toni Morrison. The last place you bought espresso was a lakeside café in Geneva, where the graffiti is in
French.
They will try to frighten you into confessing to any goddamned thing they want, by putting you in lockup with violent felons.”

She swallowed.

“And once you’re in lockup they will not protect you. I guarantee this. No matter what happens to you, the guards won’t stop it.”

“You know too much about how this kind of pressure works,” she said.

He eyed her. “What do you know about jail? Have you ever been arrested?”

“Yes.”

His surprise was immediate. “When?”

“College. A Free Darfur protest. We chained ourselves to the admin building. Campus police hauled us into the station.”

“How long were you locked up?”

“Three hours.”

“You haven’t been to jail.”

She waved him off.

He said, “At the very least they’ll lock you in a cell full of informants. Thanks to the drug war, there’s a whole dirty shadow economy of jailhouse snitching in return for reduced sentences. And yes, a snitch will be happy to lie and say you’ve confessed, in exchange for a plea deal.”

She sank in her seat.

“Or maybe the cops will use you as bait to draw the real bad guys into the open. They’ll spread the word that you have valuable information. Then see if somebody tortures or kills you for that information, so they can watch who the torturer passes the information along to. Phone calls, jailhouse visits, that way.”

“Bait. Fun. Shit.”

He gave her a sharp look.

“Sorry. Jesus. Is this America?”

The playing fields of Ransom River High School scrolled past. Beyond them, through thickening haze, the foothills looked blue-gray in the afternoon sun.

Rory felt a black spot growing in her heart. She needed to act. “Would you mind turning around?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“To speak to the person who’s been bugging me about the siege. My aunt Amber.”

“You think she’s involved?”

“In the past fifteen years, you know how many times she’s asked about me?” She made a big round zero with her fingers. “Yet last night and today she’s all over this thing. Calling me, leaving messages, flagging me down outside the courthouse.”

“Rory, excuse me, but if Amber’s the woman I remember…”

“Not a criminal mastermind? I know. It doesn’t mean she’s clueless. And she would lose nothing by throwing me to the wolves.”

“And maybe gain millions she thought she deserved all these years?” Seth said.

“Bingo.” She pointed at a freeway on-ramp. “She lives out near Pedregosa Ranch. You mind?”

“Not at all.” He glanced in the rearview mirror. “But I’m going to take an indirect route.”

“Why?”

“Because somebody’s following us.”

She didn’t turn. Her security training from the NGO and Peace Corps days kicked in.
Don’t look.
“Who?”

“Wrecker with
RANSOM RIVER AUTO SALVAGE
written on it, about a hundred fifty yards back.”

She glanced in the side mirror. The truck was behind them on the busy road. Her voice grew cool.

“That,” she said, “is Boone.”

“H
ow long has he been following us?” Rory said.

“At least two miles. I saw him when we turned out of Dad’s neighborhood.”

“Which means he tailed us there,” she said.

“He’s been following longer than that.” Another glance in the mirror. “I saw that wrecker last night near the police station.”

She turned to him. “You were at the police station?”

“Nearby.”

She didn’t know what to say. She looked in the side mirror again. Maples blurred past. The wrecker cruised along steadily, seven or eight cars back.

“What is he doing?” she said.

“Watching you.”

The black spot in her chest felt cold. “He’s either scouting on behalf of his mom, looking for something they can sell to the tabloids, or…”

“Or what?”

“I don’t know. But it’s something bad.”

“Do you want to ask him?”

“No.”

“You can confront him. Politely, if you want. I’ll pull into that Taco Bell and you can wave him down.”

“You in the mood for confrontation?” Rory said.

“He hasn’t stolen my skateboard this time. I don’t need to do anything. But if you want to see what happens when you call him on this game, I’m up for it.”

“You haven’t spent any time around him in the past decade. I don’t recommend you start now.”

“In that case, I’ll lose him.”

He pulled into a left-turn lane. The light was red.

Traffic was skimpy. He checked the cross street. There were no oncoming vehicles within two hundred yards. He jammed the pedal down and ran the light, swinging the truck sharply around the corner.

Rory’s grabbed the window frame. “Dammit, Seth.”

“Oops.” He accelerated up the street. “Color blindness comes on suddenly sometimes.”

He glanced in the mirror. “Yeah, the wrecker’s stuck behind cars at the light. Boone can’t get around without looking like an absolute maniac.”

The truck gained speed. A block farther on they reached the Westside Shopping Center. Seth practically skidded into the vast parking lot. He got among the rows of parked cars and accelerated, revving the engine. He zeroed in on the farthest corner of the lot and squealed around a corner to the alley on the back side of the mall. He floored the pickup past Dumpsters and loading docks, blew past delivery trucks that were unloading merchandise. In his wake trash blew into the air.

Rory held on to the frame of the cab and braced herself. Her mouth was dry.

Not this again.
“Seth.”

It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t exciting anymore. She gritted her teeth. “You don’t need to do this.”

He raced to the end of the alley, braked sharply, and rounded a corner to the exit. He bounced out onto the street and punched the accelerator again.

“Do you see him?” he said.

Rory could barely see anything through her nerves and anger.

“Rory.”

She looked in the side mirror. “No.”

“Do you see any vehicles at all following us?”

He took the next corner hard, swinging wide into a residential neighborhood.

“No. For God’s sake. Stop,” she said.

Seth raced to the end of the block, screeched around another corner, and kept going. Ahead was a city park, with playgrounds, a wooded picnic area, baseball diamonds. Seth sped into the parking lot, floored it to the far end, and swung the pickup behind a maintenance shed. He rocked it suddenly to a stop and pulled the parking brake.

He glanced around. His face was calm but his eyes were bright. “We’re completely out of sight of the road. If he doesn’t pull in here in the next thirty seconds, we’re clear.”

Rory gripped the frame of the truck. She was pressing her feet hard against the floorboards and leaning back against the seat, like she was braking. Like she was falling and bracing herself against a calamitous stop.

She opened her mouth to speak and thought better of it.

Seth glanced at his watch. “We lost him.”

She unbuckled her seat belt.

Seth had his hand on the gearshift. “Rory?”

She opened the door and climbed out.

“Where are you going?”

She bent and put her hands on her knees. After a second she heard Seth’s door open. She straightened and walked to the maintenance shed. It was a faded wooden structure painted dull red. Seth rounded the truck toward her, his face concerned but wary.

She put up a hand. “Don’t.”

He slowed. “You all right?”

“Are you out of your mind?”

She leaned back against the shed. She locked her knees so he wouldn’t
see them shaking. From the playing fields came the sound of a bat connecting with a baseball, then cheers and laughter.

She glared at him. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Do you think Boone just happened to be behind us? Do you think it was innocent?”

“This isn’t Operation Ratchet, Seth. It’s my
life.
And I don’t want to think about what Boone was doing following me,” she said.

“You’d better.”

“I don’t understand why you behaved the way you just did.”

“I wanted to get you out of a threatening situation.”

“If you wanted to have a car chase, you could have let me out first.”

“In the middle of the street? Alone? With somebody after you?”

A vast and heavy silence descended on them.

Seth tried to hold her gaze and couldn’t.

He looked angry. Maybe at himself. Maybe at her. Maybe at the situation. His hands were clenched, like he wanted to punch something. And the pain was back in his posture.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She could barely see straight. Her heart was pounding.
Sorry
—for what? This? For all of it?

“Rory?”

“I heard you.” She leaned her head back against the shed and closed her eyes. “I heard.”