“He thought he could outsmart me,” her son says.
“What are you talking about?”
“He found one of them. But he didn’t find the other.”
She throws back the covers and sits up. “What?”
“He found the one I put under the backseat. But he didn’t find the one I put inside the headrest.”
“Where are you now?”
“I’m on the road. I think he’s figured out something. He took off half an hour ago. I’ve got a good feeling.”
The woman allows herself nothing more than cautious optimism. Her son’s successes are often followed by catastrophic lapses in judgment. Just the other night, he tells her this is the night Claire is going to meet with the boy, but before the night is over he’s been fooled. He loses his temper under the bridge, trying to get the other girl to tell him where Claire has gone. And that software he downloaded to Claire’s phone was supposed to allow him to see texts, and track her position, but all it did was let him hear her phone calls.
But she is willing to concede that the second GPS tracker in Weaver’s car was a shrewd move.
“Where do you think he’s going?” the woman asks.
“No idea. But wherever it is, I can find him. He’ll never see me in his rearview mirror.”
“You know that when and if he finds them, it’ll be three who know. If we could have just found Dennis, and dealt with him... But he’ll have told the girl, and they’ll tell Weaver.”
“I know,” he says.
“You have to let me know. The minute it’s done.”
“I’ll let you know. I will. Don’t worry, Mom. It’s going to be okay.”
But she’s still going ahead with her backup plan. She’s going to start moving the boxes to just outside the locked door.
Fifty-five
“Why don’t you two put some clothes on?” I said to Claire and Dennis. “I’ll get the coffee going.”
The two of them went back into the bedroom. There wasn’t a lot to do for the coffee. All they had was a jar of instant. So I plugged in the kettle, cleaned three mugs that had been sitting in some gray water in the sink, and looked in the fridge — a hulking thing that had to be from the 1950s — for cream. I found milk.
I spooned some instant into each of the cups. When they reappeared, I poured in the water and stirred. Dennis Mullavey looked presentable in jeans and a black tee, but Claire, who was similarly dressed except her tee was blue, had hair sticking out all over the place, like she’d just walked through some briar bushes to get here. She had a small black notebook clutched in her left hand, but what really caught my eye was the cut. The one that was missing from Hanna’s hand when she got into my car. It was healing nicely.
“I found your phone,” I told her as the two of them sat down and I put the cups in front of them.
“Oh God, I was going crazy trying to find it,” she said, placing the notebook on the table.
“But you couldn’t come back, could you? Once Hanna was in my car.”
“You’ve kinda figured it all out, right?”
“Pretty much.”
“You almost found me,” she said. “I was in the last stall when you came into the bathroom looking for me. That was about when I realized I’d lost my phone, that it was still in your car. But I couldn’t exactly call Hanna and tell her to get it for me. It didn’t matter all that much, though, because once I took off, I wasn’t going to use it anyway.”
I looked at Dennis, who’d also taken a seat. “And you were parked out back, waiting.”
He nodded slowly, but I could tell he wasn’t yet ready to trust me, even though I’d heard Claire, in the bedroom, trying to assure him I was one of the good guys.
“What’s that?” I asked, nodding at the notebook.
“Damned if I know,” Dennis said, shaking his head. “Craziest diary ever, I’d say.”
Before I could examine it, Claire said, “Have you talked to my parents?”
“They’re worried sick,” I told her.
Guilt washed over her face. “I thought since they hardly even talk to each other, if I told my dad I was going to see my mom, I could go days without either one of them knowing what was up.”
“You shouldn’t be telling him this,” Dennis told her.
“He knows, okay?” She looked back at me and rolled her eyes. “I guess Hanna must have told you everything. I mean, once I was gone, it didn’t really matter, since I didn’t tell her where I was going. And the whole thing worked, because here we are, and other than you nobody’s found us.”
A chill ran the length of my spine.
“Have you talked to anyone since you took off?” I asked her.
Claire shook her head. “Nope.”
I looked at Dennis. “You? You been in touch with your father?”
“I’m not talking to you,” he said, but added, “He knows I’m okay. He just doesn’t know what all’s happened. I told him I needed some time to figure it out.”
“So he didn’t have any news for you from Griffon,” I said.
“No.”
I could see concern clouding Claire’s face. “What’s happened? Has something happened to my dad?”
“No,” I said. “Your dad’s okay.” I hadn’t wanted to be the one to break this news to the mayor’s daughter. I swallowed, and said, “Hanna’s dead, Claire.”
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
“She was murdered. Her body was found under a bridge. She was killed soon after you two pulled your stunt.”
Claire had her hand over her mouth, but there still wasn’t a sound coming out of her.
“I figured out what the two of you had done, the switch you’d pulled off to keep someone from following you, and I called her on it. She wanted out, tried to get out while my car was moving. She ran, wouldn’t let me take her home.” I paused. “I’m sorry.”
The wailing began like a siren. Loud and piercing. “Oh God,” she cried, and burst into tears. “Oh God, oh God.”
Dennis looked stunned, and tried to take Claire into his arms, but she shoved him away.
“Leave me alone!” she screamed. “Leave me the fuck alone!”
She slid the glass door open, went outside without closing it behind her, and ran toward the lake.
Dennis kicked back his chair and started after her, but I caught up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “No, you’ve done enough,” I said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We’ve all got baggage where Hanna’s concerned, but it’s starting to look like none of this would have happened if you hadn’t made it so damn important for Claire to sneak away to shack up with you here.”
Even as I said it I regretted it. I knew there was more going on here than teenage lust. But I was so damned angry. Angry that I’d ever been dragged into this, angry at all the heartache and misery that stemmed from the stunt they’d pulled. Angry about Hanna.
“You think that’s what this is all about?” Dennis shouted. “Really?”
“Then maybe you should tell me. Why the hell did you leave Griffon? What the hell happened? Why are the cops looking for you?”
He turned away. “Shit,” he said under his breath.
“If you don’t want to trust me, then I don’t know who else you’re going to find,” I said. “I can help you. Is that why you’re hiding out here? Trying to figure out what to do next? How long you gonna stay? A week? A month? A year? What’s the plan, Dennis?”