Kirk couldn’t waste time. He had to get out of here.
He retraced his steps to his pick-up and shot north. He made random checkerboard turns, keeping his eyes on his mirror. No one followed him. He glanced at the backpack and wondered if there was a tracking device inside. Was that it? Maybe it didn’t matter where he went or how fast he drove; maybe they were behind him, watching him like a blip on a screen. He pulled onto the shoulder and dumped the contents of the backpack onto the seat and sifted through the money. He saw no obvious electronic devices, but he knew that meant nothing. The feds were clever.
He waited in the middle of nowhere. The roads shot like arrows in every direction. The fields were empty. When ten minutes passed, and he was still alone, he decided that the sirens weren’t coming. Whatever the trap was, it hadn’t closed around his neck yet.
So what was it all about?
Maybe his prey simply wanted to know who’d been taunting him and put a face to the childish voice on the phone. If so, he’d succeeded. He’d stripped away the mask, and they were both at risk now, both exposed. They could each destroy the other’s life, but only by giving up their own.
Kirk’s mouth curled into a sour frown. He didn’t like not knowing.
32
Hannah put her arms around their daughter when Chris brought her home from the hospital. Olivia was six inches taller than her mother, and the girl bowed her head to rest on Hannah’s shoulder. There had been awkwardness between them for three years, but mother and daughter had both declared a truce. When Olivia went upstairs to her bedroom, Hannah’s teary eyes followed her. He sensed his ex-wife’s flood of relief at having her safely back home.
He waited until Olivia closed her door upstairs. ‘The counselor says she’s strong,’ he reported. ‘She takes after you.’
‘I don’t feel very strong,’ Hannah said. She wiped her eyes, as if she felt guilty about letting her emotions overrun her.
‘She’ll be okay. Really. It will just take some time.’
‘I know.’ Hannah reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. With her, the simple touches went a long way. ‘Do you want me to make breakfast for us?’
‘That would be great.’
She glanced down at herself. She wore a plain terry robe, and her face was without makeup. Her feet were bare. ‘I need to shower and dress first. Can you wait?’
‘Sure. I’m sorry I kept you up late.’
‘No, I’m glad you called. It was like old times.’
‘Take your time,’ he said. ‘I’ll wait.’
‘Why don’t you come up and talk to me?’
She padded up the stairs. He followed behind her. Her bedroom was at the end of the hall, and she went into the bathroom to start the shower, leaving the door ajar. Her voice carried over the noise of the water.
‘Are you staying at the Riverside Motel?’ she asked.
‘That’s right.’
‘It’s a dump, isn’t it?’
He laughed. ‘Oh, it’s not so bad. The owner’s a decent guy. He tries hard.’
Hannah poked her face around the door. ‘Why not stay here with us, Chris?’
He was so surprised that he had nothing to say. Hannah picked up on his hesitation.
‘I’m sorry,’ she added. ‘Please don’t feel obligated.’
‘No, I’d like that. Are you sure I wouldn’t be getting in your way?’
‘Of course, you would,’ she said, smiling again.
Her face disappeared, and he heard the shower door open and close. He studied the bedroom, which was nothing like the modern room they’d shared in the suburbs. The furniture was second-hand oak, its stain fading. The queen bed had a hand-made quilt thrown casually across the duvet cover. She had pictures of Olivia on her dresser at every stage of the girl’s life. There were other, older pictures, too. Hannah’s parents. Her brother in Ohio. There was even a picture of himself, but it wasn’t one he found particularly flattering. He was younger, unshaved, wavy- haired, with a grin a mile wide. That was the man she’d chosen to remember.
The pipes of the shower went silent. He heard Hannah’s voice again. ‘What do you want for breakfast? Bacon and eggs, I suppose.’
He stood beside the door and called to her. ‘I’ve been steering clear of the good stuff lately. Some cereal and fruit would be fine if you have it.’
‘I have homemade granola.’
‘Great.’ He added, ‘What does Olivia usually have?’
‘Bacon and eggs. Who does that sound like?’
‘She’s lucky she got your skinny genes,’ he said.
‘You’re getting pretty skinny these days, too, Chris. I told you that you looked great, didn’t I?’
‘You did. Thanks.’
‘I admire your willpower. I suppose it’s a lot easier without me nagging you about it.’
‘I don’t recall that,’ he said.
‘Liar.’
He laughed.
‘I hope Olivia makes a more understanding wife than I ever did,’ Hannah added.
‘Oh, I don’t know. She’s a lot like you. That’s a pretty good start.’
‘Remind me to warn her future husband,’ she said.
‘I said Olivia would make a good wife,’ Chris replied, chuckling, ‘but I never, ever said you would make a good mother-in-law.’
There was no reply from inside the bathroom. He was afraid she had taken him seriously.
‘Hannah?’
He still heard nothing. Seconds ticked by.
‘Hannah, it was a joke.’ Chris nudged the door open but remained on the threshold. ‘Are you okay?’
She was there, but she was silent.
‘Hannah, I’m coming in.’
He took a step into the bathroom. Steam hung in the air, making the small space warm and close. Hannah stood in front of the pedestal sink, holding it with both hands. She was naked. Water droplets clung to her bare skin. She’d removed the wig she used in public, and her skull was bald and smooth, paler than the rest of her body. Her back was familiar to him, her curving spine like train tracks. He saw the scar on her shoulder from a childhood burn and the inside of her knees where she liked to be kissed.
She sobbed quietly.
She stared at her face in the mirror as if it were the face of a stranger, and she cried, with her shoulders trembling. Tears ran like shower water. He came up behind her and said nothing; he laid cool hands on her neck and eased her backward into his chest. Her mouth fell open as she tried to breathe. He caressed her bare head with a gentle touch, and he turned her around and gathered her up in his arms and felt her cling to him and pour out her despair.
‘I’ll never see it,’ she murmured, her words barely audible. ‘I won’t be there.’
He knew what she meant. Olivia married. Thanksgiving dinners. Grandchildren. The future.
‘You will.’
She stared up at him, her eyes laced with red. ‘Look at me.’
‘I am. You’re beautiful.’
‘Don’t lie to me.’
‘I don’t lie. I’m a lawyer.’
