Tomorrow's Sun (48 page)

He was drunk. But not drunk enough. Either one of them could outrun him, but Ben did what he always did—he threatened. If one of them left, or screamed, or tried to grab the phone, he’d hurt the other one. The whole time they’d packed the SUV, he’d had his fat hand on one of them. When they stopped at a rest area, he grabbed Adam’s arm before he let her out of his sight and stood at the open door, watching her go in and out of the stall. Then he took Adam with him into the men’s restroom and made her stand close enough to answer him when he called her name. Lexi put her hand over her mouth. What would he do if she threw up all over him? Maybe it would be the perfect distraction.

The headlights reflected off a sign that said thirty-two miles to St. Louis. Ben waved at the sign. The tires on his side swerved over the white line. A car horn blared. “So what’s in Fredwhatever, Missouri, that you’re so anxious to see?”

“Letters.” Adam spat out the word.

Ben laughed. “Stupid kid.” He let go of the wheel to scratch his head then jerked it back.

Lexi’s forehead knocked against the window. “The police are probably already looking for us.” Her hand slid into her sweatshirt pocket and wrapped around her inhaler. Would it sting if she shot it in his face?

“They won’t look until a person’s gone for twenty-four hours. We’ll be in Texas by then.”

“That’s not true. Not with kids.”

Ben swore and called Adam a stupid kid again. Lexi wondered when the last time was he’d called Adam by his name. She wrapped her arms tight across her stomach. “He’s not the stupid one,” she whispered, then raised her voice. “You coulda won custody, you know. Now you’re gonna get slammed in jail for a long, long, long time.”

It was the first happy thought she’d had all night.

“What happened? Where are the kids?”

Emily’s voice quivered. Jake cupped one hand over his ear to hear her over his mother’s crying and Wayne and Topher on their own cell phones. As he grabbed the piece of notebook paper from his mother, a squad car pulled up in front of the house. He crossed the kitchen in two strides and walked outside. “They’re not with you?”

“With me? Why would they be with me? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” He ran his hand across his eyes. “They’re gone, you’re gone, Ben’s gone. You tell me.”

“How could you think—”

“I’m not thinking!” He slammed his fist on the top of the grill. “Mom said maybe you ran off with them like she said she wanted to, thinking you were helping—”

“No. I would never—I left because of what your friend, your lawyer, said last night about me being your lottery ticket.”

“Oh man. Em…it was all a joke. I told them things were getting serious with us and he made this big thing out of it. You have to know I’m not like that.”

“But you were desperate and…” Her voice cracked. He could hear the tears.

“Where are you?”

“South of St. Louis. Could Ben have taken them? That doesn’t make sense. How do you take two kids?”

Jake clenched his eyes against the sting. “They were gone this morning when we got up. And Ben’s not home. His car is gone. We found a couple of things. That sign Adam made—
Missouri or Bust
— was on the kitchen floor over there. There are triangles drawn on the back—like those quilt symbols you made with the kids.”

A small gasp came through the phone. “Hold on. I’ve got the book here.” He heard shuffling. “I’ve got it. How are the triangles arranged?”

He held the paper in the sunlight. The markings were reddish brown, the lines smudged, like they’d been drawn with a finger. In the morning heat, a faint scent wafted from the paper. Cinnamon.
Adam. God, let this please tell us something
. Tears blocked his vision. He blinked them away and took a deep breath. “Two opposite corners are shaded…triangles. The other two aren’t. There’s a square in the middle made of two white and two brown triangles that meet in the center.”

Pages shuffled. “Are there four white and four colored all together?”

“Yes.”

“It’s…if I got it right, it’s called broken dishes. It says it refers to a signal that involves broken crockery at some future landmark.”

“Broken crockery? That doesn’t make sense.”

“But maybe it will. Tell the police. Have you talked to them?”

“They just got here.”

“Tell them. I don’t know what it means, but tell them.”

Topher opened the back door and waved for him to come in. “I have to go.”

“If there’s anything…”

“I will.”

The crunch of gravel under the tires woke Adam. It was light out. He’d told himself to stay awake. “Where are we?”

“We’re camping. We’re going to have fun. It’s what families do.”

A picnic table outside his window was the only sign of civilization. Ben had backed the Suburban onto the cement pad of a campsite. From the backseat, all Adam could see was trees. No campers. No tents. Nobody camps on a Monday. Still, there had to be someone around. “I have to pee.”

“Wake up your sister. We’ll take a walk. Holding hands like happy families do.”

When they came back from the bathroom, Ben sat on the picnic table bench with his elbow on Lexi’s hand. “Get out the food.” He looked at Adam and pointed to the back of the Suburban.

Adam nodded. This was his chance. At the very least he could pull his backpack closer to the door so he could grab it later. Ben had to fall asleep sometime. As he opened the door, he realized his hands had quit shaking a long time ago. He wasn’t scared anymore. Maybe God took it away, or maybe he was just too mad to be scared. They’d get away, he knew they could. He just had to be smart and wait for the right time.

“Bring me that green bag.”

Adam stared at the green bag. “I think I put it in front with the cooler.”

“Get it.”

The bag didn’t weigh much. He picked it up by the loop handles and tossed it over the back of the seat, praying it wouldn’t make a sound. It didn’t. Before he shut the back door, his hand slipped into his backpack and pulled out his knife. Was Ben really dumb enough to think he wouldn’t try? As the red plastic hit his palm, the idea flashed like a picture in a book. He walked along the side of the car, opened the passenger side door, and the knife.

He crouched low over the seat.
God, let this work
. He jammed the thin, tapered file into the ignition as far as it would go then yanked it to the side as hard as he could. It broke. Thank God. With the half inch of file left, he shoved the piece of metal in deep. Irretrievable.

Reaching between the seats, he snagged the green bag.

Ben had his hand out, ready to grab it when he walked around the back of the Suburban. “Got a little treat for my kiddies.” He took the bag and pulled out a bottle.

Adam recognized the green liquid.

NyQuil.

Emily paced between two double beds and an old TV, back and forth from window to door, willing her phone to ring. She’d gotten the room because she was too scared to drive home after so long without sleep. Now that she was here, she wished she was on her way. Strange that
home
was the word that immediately came to mind.

“Lord, You know exactly where they are. You see them. Keep them safe. Don’t let them be scared or—” Her phone rang. She flipped it open without looking at it.

“We found something else. Might be nothing. “Jake was hoarse, but there was a lift to his voice she hadn’t heard the last three times she’d talked to him. “The police found what looks like GPS written in the dirt by Ben’s garage. They checked to see if Ben had a GPS on his phone and he doesn’t. All I can figure is Adam was telling us he has his, but that—”

“He had all our Missouri destinations programmed in!” Her heart thudded against her ribs. “Fredericktown, Johnson’s Shut-Ins State Park. It’s a long shot, but maybe they’re down here.”

“I’ll tell the police to contact the Missouri highway patrol. And I’m heading down there. I can’t sit here and do nothing.”

Emily grabbed the handle of the overnight bag she hadn’t opened yet. “Give them my phone number. I’m going to Fredericktown.” She tucked the phone under her chin and latched her computer case to the bag. “Wait. E-mail me pictures of Adam and Lexi. I’ll make copies here. I’ll stop at every gas station and rest area and—”

“Emily?” His voice was rough, raw.

“What?”

“I love you.”

The line went dead.

“Adam! Wake up. We have to go.”

Lexi’s voice seemed far away, like he was underwater. His head felt huge and heavy. His tongue was thick. He opened his eyes. The sun was low, shooting orange rays between the trees. His back hurt. He was lying on cement.

“Wake up before he gets mad.” Lexi shook his shoulder.

“What are we doing?”

“Driving. I don’t know where. He keeps talking about Texas.”

Adam sat up. Everything around him seemed fuzzy, out of focus. Ben sat on the bench, his belly showing through an open “V” at the bottom of his shirt. He had a beer in his hand. The grass was littered with cans. The bench bowed beneath him and groaned when he stood. “Got you to Missouri just like you wanted. Seen enough?” His sick laugh echoed off the trees. “Get in the car.”