“I doubt that,” I said.
“It’s true,” he said. “And now, with all this shit with Evan, I wouldn’t blame her if she moved out and tried to patch things up with you.”
I watched as the dotted lines came zooming toward the Mustang and then slipped away. “I know you love her,” I said. “I saw it when Susanne collapsed that day.”
We went another mile or so before Bob said, “I know you think that I think I’m better than you. But I have to compete with your ghost every day.”
My cell rang. I flipped it open.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Mr. Blake.”
“Detective Jennings,” I said.
“Do you know where I am right now?”
“I’m guessing the hospital, or the dealership.”
“The dealership,” she said. “At least what’s left of it. The whole place is ablaze. Your wife tells me that once this fire is out, we’re going to find three dead people inside. We’ve got a man in the hospital in serious condition. Shot in the shoulder and the knee. But I gather I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.”
“I know Susanne’s told you that two of the men in the building tried to kill me. So did the one you found outside, the one you took to the hospital. A man named Gary executed Andy Hertz. Shot him point-blank in the head. Same way he shot Kate Wood.”
“We need to talk about that.”
“Soon,” I said.
“How did the other two men in that building die, Mr. Blake? Did you kill them?”
“You’re kind of fading in and out,” I lied.
“Wherever you are, turn around and come in right now.”
“I can’t do that. Maybe, if I had any faith that you and Detective Marjorie weren’t trying to pin everything on me, I’d feel differently. The fact is, there’s been a goddamn human-trafficking operation going on at that hotel right under your noses. Why don’t you work on that till I get back?”
“Human trafficking? Is that what your daughter’s gotten mixed up in?”
“She was working there all the time,” I said. “Everybody there was told to lie. And they did a pretty convincing job of it.”
“Mr. Blake,
“You need to go through that hotel,” I pressed. “Room by room.” I felt a lump in my throat. “You need to see if there’s any sign of Patty.”
“You think she’s hiding there?”
“I think… I think she’s dead.”
Jennings waited.
“Gary said she was dead,” I said.
Jennings was silent. “Detective?” I said.
“I’m here,” she said.
“You got anything to say?”
Another pause, then, “We obtained Patty’s cell phone records.”
“I’ve been calling her cell,” I said. “She’s not answering.”
“There’ve been several calls, over the last few weeks, to her phone from a number in Vermont. From Stowe, specifically.”
I tried to keep my voice even. “Whose phone?”
“Pay phones. A couple of different numbers, actually. Someone made the calls using prepaid phone cards.”
“What about the other way?” I asked. “Were there any calls from Patty’s phone to Stowe?”
“No,” Jennings said.
“Well, I suppose it could have been anyone,” I said. “A boyfriend, a relative.”
“Mr. Blake, is that where you’re headed? To Stowe?”
“No,” I said. “I have to go, Detective.” And I flipped the phone shut. Seconds later, it started to ring. Jennings calling back.
“You’re not going to answer that?” Bob asked.
I shook my head. “No.”
A FEW MILES LATER, Bob shouted, “Tim!”
“Huh?” I said.
The Mustang had rolled onto the shoulder. I jerked hard on the wheel, bringing the car back onto the road.
“Jesus Christ!” Bob shouted. “You fell asleep!”
I blinked furiously, shook my head. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” I said.
“Let me drive for a while,” he said.
I was going to argue, but realized it was the smartest thing to do. I pulled the car over to the side, left it running as I got out and stretched in the cool night air. Bob came around, got behind the wheel. I slipped into the passenger seat and was doing up the seat belt as Bob pulled back onto the road.
“You know the way?” I said.
Bob looked at me. “I know you think I’m a fucking moron, but I know how to drive.”
“The thing is, now I’m awake,” I said.
Thirty seconds later, I was out cold.
FORTY-THREE
SOMEWHERE AROUND BRATTLEBORO, Bob decided we needed to start looking for a gas station. It was the middle of the night and it was clear we weren’t going to make it all the way to Stowe without refilling. Holding the car at ninety was sucking up the fuel pretty quickly.
We found an all-night station, a run-down place that was light on the amenities, including a working restroom. Bob ran off into the bushes to take a whiz while I filled the tank at the self-serve. When he came back, I ran off into those same bushes.
Bob, pretty tired himself now, tossed me the keys. When I got into the car, he handed me a Mars bar and held up a coffee, which he then fit into the cup holder. “This, along with your nap, should keep you going.”
“You know how I take it?” I asked.
“Black, I know. Half the time Susanne makes me coffee, she serves it to me that way, leaves out the cream, thinks she’s still married to you.”
I tore off the end of the candy bar wrapper as I barreled up the ramp and back onto the highway. I took a huge bite and chewed contentedly while Bob sipped his own coffee. I could not remember when I’d last eaten. I set the bar down on my lap and carefully brought the coffee up to my lips. Bob had already pried back the plastic lid so I could get at it.
I took a sip.
“Wow,” I said. “That has to be the worst coffee I’ve ever had in my entire life.” I had to suppress a gag reflex as it went down my throat.
“Yeah,” said Bob, nodding. “If that won’t keep you awake, nothing will.”
I took my eyes off the road for a second, still holding the cup close to my mouth. “Thanks,” I said.
