here, to the building for the old car detailing service, to send her a message.
Now the garage’s interior glass door swung open and Brandon stepped out, lugging a big, rolling suitcase. It held clothes and enough money to start a new life anywhere in the world. Brandon had packed it in advance, in case the day came when they had to drop everything and run. And that day had arrived. This was the message he wanted to deliver to her. It was time to go.
Brandon walked by her without saying a word. She felt an eerie calmness settle over her as he placed the suitcase in the trunk of the Mercedes. Then he worked William Jenner inside a fresh body bag. After he zipped it up, she hosed off the plastic to rinse away any lingering blood.
‘I called the hotel and spoke to the brokers,’ she said.
Brandon carried Mr Jenner to the Lincoln and dropped him inside the trunk. Marie kept hosing down the floor.
‘I told them we ran into a small complication,’ she said. ‘They agreed to wait two more days. That gives us enough time to — ’
Brandon slammed the trunk shut, harder than he had to, and whipped around to face her. ‘The man you shot in Colorado? He isn’t dead, Marie.’
‘Oh yes he is.’
‘What happened there is all over the news,’ he said. ‘I’ve been reading about it on the Internet. The cops found Theresa Herrera and parts of her husband. That’s it, no one else. You realize what that means?’
‘It means they haven’t found his body yet.’
‘He’s alive, Marie. He’s alive and he somehow followed you here and he took — ’
‘No,’ she said. ‘You weren’t there. I shot him. I saw him go down. He’s dead, end of discussion.’
Brandon, not having another fight in him, waved his hands in surrender. ‘Okay, fine, he’s dead. You killed him, and the cops haven’t found his body yet. But you did tell me this guy was working for someone else.’
‘The man I killed came there alone. No one followed me back to Baltimore.’
‘And this guy, in case you’ve forgotten, was working for Ali Karim, who owns a security company. Rico’s mommy hired him to find her son. Maybe it would have ended there if you hadn’t decided to start shooting.’
Marie dropped the hose.
‘You killed one of Karim’s employees. What do you think, that he’s just going to forget that? Pack up and call it a day?’
‘Then where are they? What are they waiting for? They didn’t follow us here, you said so yourself.’
‘I don’t know, Marie. But I do know this much: it’s time to leave Baltimore.’
That’s what you think, Marie said to herself, and stormed off to the Lincoln. Don’t forget, Brandon, you owe me your life. I’ll take away yours before you take away mine.
41
Each local and state police department was responsible for meeting a certain monthly quota of speeding tickets to line a city’s coffers. A highway at night offered patrolmen and state troopers the best opportunity to catch the most fish. Hidden by darkness, patrol vehicles parked on a median strip underneath a bridge could aim their radar guns down a highway without being seen — a problem for most drivers, as their vehicles didn’t contain the necessary equipment to detect radar.
Fletcher had installed two highly advanced and illegal items in the Jaguar: a scanner that would alert him to the use of radar guns, and a radar-jamming system. He had both units running as he drove across I-95 North. At his current speed, he would make it to Cape May, New Jersey, in good time.
Movement inside the backseat and then a sleepy voice croaked, ‘I’m gonna be sick.’
Karim’s warning came back to him: Don’t let him see your face.
Fletcher pulled into the breakdown lane. It took a moment to decelerate and come to a full stop.
His passenger was yanking hard on the door handle, trying to get out.
‘I need to open the door for you,’ Fletcher said. ‘I also ask that you close your eyes and keep them closed until I inform you otherwise. You have my word I won’t hurt you. You don’t have to be afraid of — ’
‘Yes. Yes, now please.’
Fletcher, having already tucked away his sidearm in a seat compartment, stepped out of the car and made his way around to the other side. He opened the door, about to reach inside and help Santiago out, when the young man darted away.
Santiago stumbled barefoot down a slope of dead grass, then cartwheeled and collapsed. Fletcher raced after him, wondering if Santiago were trying to escape. Then he saw the young man push himself up on to all fours and start vomiting.
‘Keep your face forward,’ Fletcher said. ‘Do not turn around and do not look at me.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Plumes of breath appeared around Santiago’s face and evaporated, his bony arms quivering as he vomited again. ‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it.’
‘There’s no need to apologize. But we need to get moving.’
‘Where are you taking me?’
‘To a home in New Jersey. A doctor will treat you, and preparations will be made for you to call your parents. Close your eyes and I’ll escort you back to the car.’
Santiago pushed himself back on to his knees. ‘I don’t think I can stand. Can you help me?’
Fletcher helped the young man to his feet. Santiago spun around, and Fletcher caught a wink of metal. Instincts engrained into his muscle memory from years of SEAL training took over; he snatched the man’s wrist and gave it a sharp twist. Santiago yelped in pain and surprise, the sound quickly muted when Fletcher gripped his throat and pinned him against the ground. Fletcher saw the weapon — a knife, the small, folding model with a black handle that had been inside the nightstand drawer back at the house.
‘Don’t hurt me,’ Santiago said, his voice thick with tears. ‘I’ll behave from now on. I’ll be a good boy, I promise.’
Don’t let him see your face.
Too late, Fletcher thought. He patted down the man’s pockets and, finding no other weapons, lifted Santiago to his feet. The young man sucked in air as he rubbed his throat.
‘I apologize for hurting you,’ Fletcher said. ‘Given your experiences with the likes of Mr Jenner and Mr Corrigan, I don’t blame you for not trusting me, Mr Santiago. That is your name? Nathan Santiago?’
The young man nodded.
‘I don’t work for Mr Jenner,’ Fletcher said. ‘You no longer have to worry about him or anyone else. You’re safe, and I’m bringing you someplace safe.’
Fletcher wrapped an arm around Santiago’s back. Santiago didn’t fight him, and they trudged up the slope.
‘How old are you?’
Nathan Santiago had to think about it.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Where are you from?’ Fletcher asked.
‘Lynn. Lynn, Massachusetts.’
‘How long have you been… gone?’
Santiago didn’t answer, staring at the car with a mounting dread.
‘The place where I’m taking you is a short drive away, less than an hour,’ Fletcher said. ‘When we arrive, a doctor will examine you, and then we’ll make arrangements to bring you home.’
Santiago looked up at him. ‘Who are you?’
‘Someone who helps people such as yourself.’
They had reached the car. Santiago started to tremble.
‘There’s no reason to be afraid,’ Fletcher said. ‘This doctor will not hurt you. She works with people who — ’
‘Don’t lie to me. Please don’t — ’
