The cop shines the light on her tire tracks, running smooth and straight to the shoulder. Then back to her face again. 'Where are you headed?'
'Ashford.'
'Are you aware that there's a winter storm warning in effect for this area for the next twelve hours? You're not supposed to be on the roads unless it's absolutely necessary.'
'It's an emergency.'
'What happened?'
'Excuse me?'
'What kind of emergency is it?'
She stares directly into the flashlight beam, beginning to feel a balloon of apprehension inflating within her. 'My daughter. She's-she may be in trouble. She's with her father. I got a phone call asking me to come pick her up. He told me to take this route. I'm not from around here.' She's aware that her voice is rising in pitch as she talks, becoming shrill, but she can't do anything about it. 'I mean, I am, but not this immediate area, so I was following the directions he gave me. I just have to get to Ashford.'
The light leaves her face. There's a pause. She realizes that he's looking at her hands, bare and encrusted with dirt and dried blood from digging. He shines his light on the Expedition's broken window. His voice becomes formal again. 'May I see your license and registration?'
He waits a good ten feet behind the Expedition while she goes back through the passenger's side to take them out of the glove compartment, all the while anticipating the noise or movement that will make him shine his flashlight through one of the windows. But nothing moves or shifts and he just stands back there, waiting. When she brings him her license and registration, he takes them from her.
'Return to your vehicle.'
Sue goes back to the Expedition, opens the driver's side, and gets in, eyes riveted to the rearview. She can see both cops clearly inside the car, one of them talking on the radio, the other typing on the dash-mounted keyboard.
Sue stares at the phone, waiting for it to ring. It doesn't. Her eyes go to the wadded-up fax pages accumulated across the floor, a small pile of discarded paper, the detritus of her night thus far. The phone remains silent.
But in her mind she can hear the voice telling her not to say or do anything that might jeopardize Veda. It gets tangled up with Phillip's voice, the two of them merging into one, telling her to stay calm. She supposes this is the point, the voice eventually infecting her head so thoroughly that it doesn't need to call her anymore, it's just there.
At last the officer comes back with her paperwork, but he doesn't hand it back to her yet. He shines the light on her face again, not speaking for a long moment. 'Ms. Young, are you sure there's nothing you want to tell me?'
She shakes her head. 'I don't think so.'
He leans forward. There's no expression in his eyes, but they are green and alert, and they seem kind as well, waiting for some sign from her, any indication of distress. 'There's nothing I can do for you?'
'No, thank you.'
He sighs. 'All right. I'm going to…' Then, almost as an afterthought, he shines the flashlight into the back of the Expedition, Sue's eyes traveling with it to the still-bright bloodstains all over the backseat, the kid's blood sprayed everywhere like modern art. The cop instinctively takes a step back, face stiffening, the flashlight in Sue's eyes again, his voice cold and abrupt.
'Ma'am, step out of the car and keep your hands where I can see them.'
3:27A.M.
Sue steps out of the car again and sees the cop signaling his partner without taking his eyes off her. A moment later the other cop is out with his flashlight aimed into the Expedition, following the bloodstains across the upholstery.
'Ma'am, what happened here?'
'The deer, when I hit it…' She falters and gives up, unable to weave even the most rudimentary strands of the story together. 'Please, can't you just let me go? I have to get my daughter.'
Neither of them answers her. The first cop circles around the back and Sue sees him shining a light down inside, then opening the door. There's a rustle of blankets being pulled aside. Then an awful, staring silence.
'Jesus H. Christ.'
The second cop, standing in front of her, reacts immediately to the alarm in his partner's voice, glancing over his shoulder. 'Rich? What's going on?'
'Cuff her.'
The second cop frowns, straining to see beyond the bloodstained backseat without turning completely away from Sue. 'What is it? What's back there?'
'Cuff her, cuff her now!'
The urgency in his voice is contagious and for an instant Sue is irrationally compelled to make a run for it, jump back in the Expedition and go screaming off into the night. Of course this is idiotic, only morons try to outrun cops, and morons with dead bodies in the backnever get away. Besides, the second cop is already turning her around, pulling her arms together, tightening cold steel at her wrists. He leads her around the back of the Expedition and Sue watches him join his partner, both of them shining their lights down on Marilyn's corpse sprawled on its back, mouth open, eyeless sockets facing up.
'Holy fuck.'
'Yeah.'
'Holyfuck. '
Without speaking another word to Sue, the second cop takes her back to the cruiser. Inside it's warm and smells like coffee. She steals a glimpse at the dashboard clock, feeling the minutes flash by. She tries not to think about this but knows she can't help it. Where has the time gone? The night which just moments ago seemed endless is already draining away from her at an alarming speed, and Veda is that much closer to dying.
Eventually another cruiser pulls up, along with an ambulance and a tow truck. An unmarked sedan is the last car to arrive and she sees an older man with a beard step out, wearing a parka and holding a cup of coffee. He talks to the cops, looks in the back of the Expedition, then glances in Sue's direction. She watches as he scratches his beard and gets back in his car. The tow truck driver hooks the Expedition to the winch, and the others all return to their cars. The whole process takes a little over twenty minutes.
The sedan leads the procession back to town, followed by the ambulance, the other cruiser, and the tow truck hauling the Expedition. The two cops and Sue bring up the rear. They drive in silence for several minutes until, up ahead, Sue sees the sign along the side of the road:
ASHFORD
They drive past the sign, the road winding lazily into town. Unlike the other towns on the route, Ashford is still populated. The windows have glass in them. The streetlights work. The houses and shops along its main drag are dark, of course, but neon shines down from either side-shoe repairs and tanning salons-and the roads have been cleared recently. Two churches stand guard on either side of the main intersection, glowering down at the local Blockbuster. There's a park up ahead and Sue sees the statue exactly where she expects it, the man on his pedestal, except this time the figure is not only missing both arms, he's also minus a leg. He holds his head cocked proudly, like some flightless seabird.
