Tumbledown (33 page)

Alex looked away, pride in Sarah’s actions blunted by a sick sense of irony. For months after the Cascades, Sarah had blamed herself for having been unable to prevent the murder of a prison guard. Fate now seemed to have come full circle; Alex fervently wished that it would just fuck off and leave them alone. She heard Castillo asking Kendall a series of simple questions and the scratching of his pen across his notepad, but Kendall didn’t know anything that could be of use to them, and her eyelids were already drooping again. She was the only guard Sarah had ever mentioned by name, the one who had ensured Sarah received medical care upon her arrival at the jail and found her a pair of sneakers to jog in. When Alex went to the bedside, Kendall held out her hand.

“She shouldn’t ever have been in there,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.

“No, she shouldn’t,” Alex said, and felt Kendall’s fingers tighten. “But I’m glad you were there with her.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say, but she saw some of the tension ease from Kendall’s face.

“We’ll leave you to get some rest, Officer Kendall,” Castillo said.

At this quiet prompt, Alex placed Kendall’s hand back on the bed and followed Castillo from the room. As he nodded at the officer still on duty outside the door, his cell buzzed.

“Agent Somers has been delayed,” he said, reading the message. “He’s asked that we meet him at the police station in Concord.”

“Concord?” Alex caught hold of his arm. “Concord, New Hampshire?”

He nodded. “He’s following a lead. He’s not given me the details, but Deakin seems to have crossed the state line.”

They took the stairs two at a time, almost running along the corridors and back to the car. When Castillo tried to call Somers, he was put straight through to voice mail.

“Deakin must be avoiding the major routes,” Alex said, tracing a line down her map and trying to estimate distances and travel times. “If all he’s doing is heading south, he should’ve gotten to New Hampshire hours ago.”

“He’s probably sticking to the smaller roads. Less traffic means he’s less likely to be seen.” Castillo pushed his parking ticket into the machine at the barrier and tapped the wheel impatiently as the barrier lifted. “He takes the I-95 and he risks hitting the Turnpike as well.”

“True.” The Turnpike was a toll road with regular cameras monitoring the busiest sections.

“He hasn’t had time to plan anything,” Castillo said. “Tobin must have contacted him on the spur of the moment when Sarah’s transfer paperwork came through. They take a chance and strike, but that’s left Deakin operating on his wits now.”

“And on his own.”

“Most likely. At least until he manages to hook up with another contact. We still don’t know what his endgame is; he hasn’t tried to call you or the authorities. It’s been, what?” His lips moved silently as he counted. “Almost ten hours. There’s no driver’s license registered in Leah’s name, so she can’t share the load, and Deakin will have to sleep at some point or he’s going to start making mistakes. All we need is an idea of where he is, one positive sighting, something that gives us a chance to get organized and tighten the net.” He hunched over the wheel, gazing up at another clear sky as it gradually lightened. “Perfect beach weather. Let’s hope folks have watched the news before they head out there.”

The streetlights began to flicker off one by one as the sun rose, and there were more and more commuters hurrying out of the way of Castillo’s uncompromising emergency driving. Alex glimpsed people applying lip gloss in their rearview mirrors or balancing hot coffee against the wheel as they attempted to shake off fatigue with a jolt of caffeine. She envied their normality, their everyday routine undisturbed by the headlines about a murdered police officer and the violent kidnapping of a young woman. They weren’t checking every car as it went past or struggling to suppress the images of Sarah slamming onto the ground with a bullet in her leg.

“Alex, you okay?”

She shook her head. “Not really.”

“Do you want me to lie to you?”

“No.” She glanced at him and saw the sorrow in his eyes. She knew what he was thinking: that Sarah was more trouble to Deakin alive and that if he came to value his own freedom above his craving for revenge he would probably kill her and dump her body, if he hadn’t already done so.

Castillo didn’t say anything. He turned back to the road, his chest falling in an exaggerated movement as he let out his breath.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Alex said into the quiet. She rubbed at her tired eyes with her knuckles. “But please don’t tell me the truth.”

*

The rasp of the trunk opening prompted Sarah to try to push herself into its furthest recesses. Even when she dug in with her uninjured leg, nothing really moved, and she had barely rocked back an inch before warm sunlight washed over her. She shut her eyes against the glare and the person shielding her from the worst of it. There was a rustle of cloth, and then slim, cool fingers touched the tape on her lips.

“Don’t scream,” a woman’s voice warned her, more a plea than a threat. “There’s no one to hear you and you’ll just make Caleb mad.”

Sarah nodded and opened her eyes a little, giving them time to adjust to the daylight after so many hours in the dark. The woman was leaning close, so close that Sarah could distinguish only a slight build and thin wisps of hair coming loose from its tie. A breeze carried fresh air tinged with salt and seaweed down into the trunk, and as Sarah listened she picked up the familiar give-and-take of waves lapping at a nearby shore. A sudden longing to see the water was so powerful it made her feel half-crazed.

The sensation of the tape peeling away in slow increments provided a welcome diversion. It finally came free as the woman gave a reluctant tug. Sarah poked out her tongue to touch her cracked, oozing lips, but there was no moisture in her mouth to relieve the dryness.

“Here.”

A hand cupped her head as a plastic bottle was held to her lips. She smelled something sweet and fruity, and then tasted a cold liquid that she gulped at too fast and had to force herself not to bring straight back up. Breathing through her nose in quick snatches, she waited for the nausea to pass. As it eased and the woman murmured encouragement, Sarah took another series of cautious sips.

“Can you swallow these?” Two pills were maneuvered awkwardly into her mouth. “It’s okay. They’re just Advil.”

She took them with more of the juice. There was something almost comical about managing the pain of a bullet wound with ibuprofen, but she hoped they would take the edge off her headache if nothing else.

“You cracked the light.” The woman’s voice dropped to a whisper as she examined the damage to the brake light.

Sarah made a non-committal noise. She vaguely remembered waiting for a noisy stretch of road and then kicking at the light array, hoping to damage it badly enough that a vigilant police officer might find it reason for a traffic stop. It came as a surprise to learn that she had succeeded in smashing something; the pain from her leg had been so severe that it had caused her to pass out again. She had no idea how long she had remained unconscious on that occasion.

“Sorry,” she said, grimacing at the hoarseness of her voice; it sounded as if she smoked fifty cigarettes a day and chased them along with whiskey. She wasn’t sorry, not at all, but the woman looked so mortified that she thought it in her best interest to show remorse. The woman glanced over her shoulder; somewhere off to the left, Sarah heard a man speaking urgently, his conversation one-sided. It took her a long time to deduce that it was Deakin using his cell phone, and she wondered at how very punch-drunk she felt.

The woman must have sensed there was a problem too, because she rested her hand on Sarah’s forehead and then checked the dressing for fresh bleeding. “You don’t look too good,” she said.

“Don’t feel it,” Sarah admitted, her teeth rattling as she spoke. “Think I’m in shock.” It was difficult to form the words and almost impossible to remember her training on the pathophysiology and management of hypovolemia. With medical aid out of the question for the foreseeable future, oral fluids and keeping warm were the only options that seemed attainable. When she asked for more juice, the woman obliged, supporting Sarah’s head and helping her to drink from the bottle until Sarah indicated that she was finished. The woman moved away, but she returned within minutes carrying a rough blanket that she tucked around Sarah.

“What’s your name?” Sarah asked, trying to keep the conversation going, though her head was nodding and her eyes were heavy.

“Leah.” The woman had lowered her voice to a cautious whisper and Sarah realized that Deakin had finished his call. “He told me to gag you again. I’ll have to do that now.” Leah’s eyes flickered from side to side as if certain that at some point he would sneak up on her.

“It’s all right.” Sarah meant to sound reassuring but merely sounded resigned.

It took Leah three attempts to cut off a strip of tape, and she whispered an apology as she smoothed it into place. Her lips were bloodless, her face wan and pinched as if she hadn’t slept or eaten properly in weeks, and nothing about the way she acted said she wanted to be a part of this. Even with a brain addled by trauma, Sarah recognized that Leah was her best hope of survival. Pushing aside her anger and revulsion at the extent of Leah’s involvement with Deakin, she made herself meet Leah’s eyes. The contact held for a few seconds, before a man’s hand shoved Leah away and banged the lid of the trunk shut. The engine started and the car’s steady acceleration folded Sarah forward onto her broken leg. Pain ripped through her. She tucked her face into the blanket and screamed.

*

Almost a full half-hour had elapsed, and Caleb had yet to say anything. Aware of the warning signs, Leah had already braced herself for whatever was to come. She hunched away from him, watching the rocky coastline pass by in a blur of turquoise and choppy white foam, and envying the families wandering down to the beaches, children clutching inflatables running ahead of parents laden with picnic gear. The day-trippers were out early, taking advantage of another gloriously clear morning to photograph the lighthouses on the promontories or wave at the colorful fishing boats chugging out of the harbors. Not knowing whether she would ever be able to come back, Leah pressed her hands to the soft swell of her abdomen and tried to commit as many of the details to memory as she could.

Minutes later—as a flush began to creep upward from Caleb’s neck—a news bulletin broadcast the make and model of his car, its color, and its full license plate. If Leah hadn’t been so certain he would shoot her in spite of the number of witnesses, she would have taken her chances and flung herself onto the road. He stabbed a finger at the radio to silence it, turned off the main street, and hit the wheel with both hands.

“Fuck!” he yelled. “Fuck them all!”

Leah wasn’t sure to whom he was referring, but there was nothing she could say to appease him, so she waited for the inevitable fist in her gut or open-palmed slap.

It never came. Instead, he turned to her, his expression eerily composed. “They said no. Every fucking one of them.”

She nodded as if in sympathy, but she was shocked by the revelation. He had always led her to believe that his people, his father’s people, would follow him to damnation. It seemed that those willing to assist anonymously and from a distance were less eager to get their hands dirty now that he was headline news.

A siren wailed behind them, approaching at speed, and he drew the pistol from the holster on his belt. He held it out of sight, his eyes glued to the rearview mirror, his breathing rapid and short. They both saw the ambulance at the same time, and she sagged back into her seat. He pulled aside to let it pass, and then set off again behind it as if to prove he wasn’t fazed, shaking his head in derision at the cars he overtook. Nevertheless, he kept his gun on his lap within easy reach. From the corner of her eye, she studied the position of the weapon, but concluded that there was no way she would be able to grab it before he figured out her intent.

As he made the turn to rejoin the main road, he seemed calmer, as if he had come to a decision. “Nothing else for it, baby. Time to rattle that cage,” he said, and dug a hand into his pocket for his cell. “Got an uncle on my daddy’s side. Used to work the docks in Charlestown. Figure he might know a good place.”

“Does he still live there?”

He was too preoccupied with dialing to answer her, so she took the opportunity to turn her face to the window. The only person to show any interest in her was a kid who crossed his eyes and flipped her the bird.

Caleb didn’t notice the exchange; he already had the phone to his ear. “Hey, Aunt Ida, it’s Caleb. Yeah, yeah, been a long time. No, everything’s fine. I just wondered if Uncle Landon could help me out some. That’d be great, thanks.”

Leah listened to him pouring on the charm, chattering to his aunt as she went to fetch his uncle and then explaining that he was in a bit of a “tight spot” and needed somewhere he could go to ground. He seemed confident that neither relative would have tuned in to the news that morning.

“No, not a motel, somewhere vacant,” he said. “Lockup or warehouse. Yes, sir, that sounds ideal.” His brow furrowed with concentration as he listened to his uncle’s directions. As soon as he ended the call, he switched lanes and began to scan the road signs in earnest.

“He and my aunt moved back down to Raleigh ten years ago,” he said, surprising Leah by returning to her earlier question. “While he’d been working twelve-hour shifts at the docks, my aunt had been fucking their neighbor.” When he grinned at her, his teeth were stained pink by his soda. “Don’t know why he bothered to move. Would’ve been easier just to kill the worthless whore.”

*

A man in a suit, his hand already outstretched in greeting, made a beeline for Alex and Castillo as they entered the police station.

“I’m Agent Somers. I was told to assume the lead on the case until you arrived. I’m sure you can appreciate it’s difficult to keep things coordinated when the investigation is moving so fast.” He pumped Castillo’s hand with enthusiasm and a certain amount of awe. “Sorry I missed you at the hospital, but we caught a break that was definitely worth chasing down.”