She gasped when the passenger door opened suddenly and a tall and rangy man swung in beside her and slammed the door shut. She instinctively reached for her knitting bag, but the big man placed his hand over hers and said, “Don’t.”
Laurie was paralyzed with fear and she went for her door handle, but the man pressed the cold muzzle of a large handgun under her right arm. He said, “Don’t do that, either. Just drive.”
“My girls . . .”
“Are fine,” he said. His voice was deep and breathy and his eyes were slightly hooded. He was so calm it unnerved her. And he was familiar to her in a way she couldn’t place at first.
He said, “Drive. Take us to the park in front of the Navy Pier. It’ll take less than twenty minutes.”
“I know where it is.”
“Good. And don’t think about anything but driving safely and calmly, and about the fact that if you don’t, I’ll blow you away.”
He dug into her knitting bag and found the gun—a .38 Smith & Wesson Model 36 Lady Smith—while they drove past Columbus Park. He checked to see if it was loaded—it was—then snapped the cylinder home and slipped it into his waistband. He said, “You won’t be needing this.”
As she joined the flow of traffic on Dwight D. Eisenhower Expressway toward the lake and Navy Pier, he said, “Do you know who I am now?”
“Yes.” She chanced a glance at him while she drove. “I thought you were blond.”
“I was,” Nate said. “Before I came out to find you.”
“How did you . . . make it?”
“I wasn’t there when your monkeys fired the rocket.”
She could feel his eyes on her, picking up every flinch, every twitch. She knew she’d reacted to what he said.
“My woman was there. Her name was Alisha.”
“My husband’s name was Chase.”
He was silent for several minutes. It made her more frightened than when he talked. But she found some comfort in the fact that he wanted to go to the pier. On a warm evening like tonight, she thought, there would be plenty of people around. It would be public. Someone might see them. Or maybe she’d have the chance to escape.
They approached the pier. He directed her toward the most remote parking lot. It was practically empty because it was the farthest away. She was dismayed to find that there weren’t many people around.
“Here,” Nate said.
She pulled into a space. Lake Michigan dominated the view of the windshield. The pier reached out into it on their right, and small waves lapped against the pilings. The city was behind them. She could see how simple it would be for him to shoot her in the car, leave her body, and just walk away. Maybe there were cameras—they were everywhere these days—but even if he was seen by them, she would still be dead. She thought about Melissa and Aimee, and pictured their faces when they came out of the studio looking for their ride to McDonald’s. She couldn’t stop from tearing up.
She said, “How did you find me? How did you know about dance practice?”
“Wasn’t hard. Google,” he said. “Your name is all over it. You’re listed as a patron of the dance studio, and the hours and classes are posted. And there were a couple of newsletters listing the students in each class. Melissa and Aimee, right? I figured you’d be dropping them off or picking them up.”
She stared at him. “But how did you know it was me?”
He said, “I killed your husband, but it wasn’t personal. I didn’t even know who he was at the time. He was just a man who turned on me, holding a weapon that a minute before he’d been aiming at an injured girl we were tracking. I had no doubt that he would have finished her off. I didn’t think twice about it at the time and I’d do it all over again in the same circumstances.”
She shook her head. “Chase wouldn’t . . .”
“Of course he would,” he said. “Don’t be dumb. You know what kind of man he was and you’re not a stupid woman. You married him, after all.”
She tried to find the right words to establish some kind of connection with him so he might let her go. But he was inscrutable and impossible to understand. Kind of like Chase. She said, “Did you find Johnny and Drennen?”
“Yes,” Nate said. “I can find anybody.” And by the way he said it, she knew they were dead.
“They didn’t tell me about your wife,” she said. “They never mentioned there was anyone else down there.”
“That’s what happens when you work with amateurs.”
“Professionals are hard to find.”
“In Chicago?”
“I wasn’t in Chicago. You weren’t in Chicago. You were in Podunk, Wyoming.”
“Careful there,” he said. For the first time, she thought she saw a slight smile, an opening.
Then he shut it. “So it was an eye for an eye,” he said.
“My father . . . my father said revenge is a cleanser. I needed . . .” She searched for words and he let her search. “I needed to show myself I wouldn’t just take it. I wouldn’t just let someone take my husband away like that and there would be no consequences. And if the law wouldn’t or couldn’t do it, someone had to.”
He nodded as if he agreed. The gun was in his lap but still pointed at her, almost casually. He said, “But you understand that if you play at this level, the concept of mercy doesn’t exist. You do understand that?”
Her mouth was suddenly so dry she couldn’t speak. She clamped her hands between her thighs so they wouldn’t tremble. She’d done well, she thought, up to now. But she was losing it.
“My girls . . .” she said, her voice a croak.
“You should have thought of them before you went west,” Nate said. “That would have been a good time to think of consequences if you failed.”
“I know,” she said, and dropped her head. Tears fell from her eyes onto the inside lenses of her sunglasses and pooled there.
“There are people out there who want me gone,” Nate said. “They’ve sent a couple of professionals out over the years, but I put them down. And I thought I was off the map so far they’d never find me. But you did. A nice mom from Chicago. If it weren’t for what happened to Alisha, I could almost admire that.”
She began to weep deep down from her chest. She couldn’t help it and wished she could stop.
He said, “You obviously met someone in Wyoming who told you how to find me. And he or she probably helped you get your hands on a rocket launcher. I can’t imagine you can buy them on the street here as easily as I can buy a gun in Chicago.”
She said, “Yes. I met someone.”
Nate said, “What was the name?”
She told Nate, but said she couldn’t be sure he wasn’t feeding her a line. After all, she’d told everyone her name was Patsy.
He described the man’s physical features, and she agreed it was him. But it was hard to hear him through the roaring in her ears.
Finally, Nate said, “Keep your mouth shut. You never met me. This is over. We both lost our lovers. But always keep in mind that I found you and that I can find you again. This time, think of those two girls of yours.”
And with that, he was gone.
When she was recovered enough, she got out and stumbled toward the front of the car, not sure her legs had the strength to keep her upright. She pitched forward and caught herself on the hood and the metal was so hot it burned her palms. Despite the heat and the humidity and the sun, she felt a chill race through her.
She raised her head, looking for him. She wasn’t sure which direction he’d gone. The grassy hill between her and the city had a few couples on it sitting on blankets, oblivious to what had just happened. Or nearly happened.