“That’s the funny thing. She said she didn’t. She always said that it was just someone she met at a party. But I think she did. I really think she did.”
“And did
“Eventually. It was shortly after I came back, after I’d framed Burrow. It helped me find a sense of purpose. You see, I had a new identity and was all set to start a new life. But I didn’t have any sense of direction. I was drifting aimlessly. You know, like that poem by Stevie Smith.”
“Daddy?”
“No that was Sylvia Plath. The Stevie Smith poem was called ‘Not waving but drowning.’”
“‘Not waving but drowning?’”
“That’s the title. It’s about a man who was left to drown when people on the shore thought he was just waving. He was signaling for help, but they thought he was just clowning round. It was meant as a metaphor for life. We laugh to hide the fear.”
“And is that how you felt?”
The voice was gentle.
“Yes. Until then. But then I decided to become a lawyer. I did my SATs and got into college. I studied English Lit for my AB ‘cause I really loved the subject. I got that from … my mother … from Mom. And then I studied law.”
“And then?”
“I’m not really sure. I mean, even after I planted the evidence on Burrow, I still wanted closure.”
“What sort of closure?”
“That was the problem. It was still too confused in my own mind. I wanted Burrow to pay for all the years of misery and torment he’d put me through.”
“And you got Burrow to ask me to represent him by going through another prisoner and using him to influence Burrow.”
“Yes. In my last year of studies I was doing my first year of internship with the Public Defender’s office. I was working with quite a lot of cons and one of them was in the high security unit at San Quentin. He wasn’t on death row, but he still had some contact with Burrow through the prisoner’s grapevine. It’s quite sophisticated, you know. It was round about the time of the Sanchez case and you’d hired me and I was just finishing my term with the PD.”
“And you got him to recommend me on the strength of Sanchez and, because Burrow was looking for someone, he ended up with me.”
“Right.”
“Very clever.”
“Thanks.”
“And was that why you didn’t want to meet Burrow face to face? Because you were afraid that he’d recognize you?”
“Exact — ”
They were approaching Muir Beach and looming up ahead of them was a police road block: two cars and a wagon, covering both lanes. It would be easy enough to avoid. They could just swerve round it onto the grass on either side. But the question was … how would the police react?
They must know I’m a hostage, Alex thought. They won’t shoot into the car when there’s a chance I’ll be hit.
Of course they might try to take out the tires. But that would be dangerous too. The road hugged the cliff on this next stretch. Any damage to the tires and they might lose traction and skid over the edge.
He prayed that the cops wouldn’t do anything stupid. It was too much to hope that Nat wouldn’t.
“Run it,” snapped Nat, as if to confirm Alex’s worst fear.
00:32 PDT
“Yes, Mr. Governor, I understand, but they’re approaching.”
The State Trooper in charge of the roadblock at Muir Beach had received a frantic phone call from his captain. The next thing he knew, Governor Dusenbury had been patched through and was telling him that under no circumstances was he to take any action that might endanger the lives of either person in the stolen police car.
“Okay, sir, we won’t open fire … yes, sir, we won’t even return fire.”
“Not even at the tires!” the governor added for good measure.
“We weren’t planning on shooting at the tires. We’ve got the road fully blocked and we’ve planted Stop Sticks on the grass verges by the side, in case they try and give us the sli-”
“Are you crazy? Do you know what Stop Sticks’ll do to their tires?”
“Yes, sir, but that’s the point. It won’t shred the tires. It’ll let their air out gradually.”
“But they’re gonna be hugging the cliff on a two-laner, you jackass! Do you know what’ll happen if they skid on a bend on that stretch?”
“Yes, sir, but it’s too late! We can’t move the Sticks now, it’s not safe. Oh my God, they’re swerving! They’ve gone over the sticks. Shit!”
00:33 PDT
“Goddamn! What was that!” shouted Nat.
“I don’t know, I think we went over something.”
Nat was looking back frantically.
“Are they following?”
“I don’t think so.”
“That doesn’t make sense. They usually have cars ready to pursue if the road block gets run.”
Alex was now more tense than before.
Why would they just let them run the road block and do nothing? Did that mean they had something else ahead?
“Fuck ‘em,” said Nat. “We made it.”
“For now,” Alex replied, hoping that Nat would catch the fatalism in his tone.
“We’ll get to Stinson Beach and run the car off the cliff.”
“And then what?”
Nat was silent; they both knew why. He didn’t know what he was going to do afterward. There was no getting away. Stinson Beach wasn’t so big. Even if he could force his way into someone’s house, the cops would make house to house searches. And if he stayed out in the open he could be tracked by thermal imaging. It was night and not many people were about.
However, that was Nat’s worry. Alex’s worry was keeping the car on the road. The cliff wasn’t too steep here. But it would get steeper as they approached Stinson Beach. And there were some sharp bends in the road too. The worst part was the stretch approaching Gull Rock.
And the car was already not holding as steady as he would have liked.
“What about the meeting with Dusenbury?” asked Alex, trying to engage Nat in friendly conversation once more. “Why were you so anxious to avoid him?”
“It wasn’t him I was trying to avoid. It was my mother.”
“You
“Let’s just say I had a feeling. Dusenbury is an old family friend and I knew that mom had cancer. I may have ended up hating her, but at one time we were very close and I knew how her mind worked.”
“And you knew she was going to try and persuade Dusenbury to offer clemency?”
