"Back East."
"What's she do for a living?"
Again Claudie hesitated.
"Mrs. Donahue, I really need your help here. I don't have a file on your sister because she doesn't have a place near Mill Valley. Now, she could be in real danger… so please help me."
"She's with the FBI."
"A special agent with the FBI?"
"Yes." The woman sighed.
"Was she there when you heard these noises?"
"No. Later."
"Did she go investigate?"
"I don't know. She suggested I go to town before the snow got deeper."
"This is the vet's rig."
"We thought I could make it easier in the truck."
"Why didn't your sister come too?"
"She was going to stay and watch the place."
"Ma'am, forgive me, but I don't think you're being candid here, and I need your full cooperation."
"I've told you everything I know."
He was certain she was lying. An FBI agent would have gone to investigate. That would account for the second set of footprints. That left the third set of tracks at the wreckage. Any of the three could have the lab summaries.
"Ma'am, I'm going to insist that you be candid and tell me what you know. Right now! People's lives could be at stake."
She looked at him squarely, without fear. "I've said everything I have to say for the time being, and I want my kids back."
Glancing around to be sure everyone was still inside, he reached under the woman's cap and grabbed her long brown hair, yanking back her head. With his right hand, he clamped down on her neck. The instant after he did it, he knew that, right or wrong, he was committed to a course of action that must end in her death. Her hands went to his, trying to break the chokehold. She was strong, but not strong enough.
"Stop fighting me," he hissed, increasing the pressure.
He had to get his wits about him. From under his coat he pulled a black-handled knife and popped the blade. He put it to her neck.
"I'm not going to waste any more time on you. And before I start cutting you up, I'm going to kill the kids."
He heard himself speaking, but it was as if he were listening to a stranger.
She groaned an animal groan: "No."
"If you don't talk…"
"Noooo."
"… and talk fast, I'm going for the oldest. I'll bring him out here and slice his throat while you watch."
"What do you want?" came her hoarse whisper.
''I want to know exactly what happened, and if I think you're lying, I kill the kid."
"Kier went looking for Jessie in the storm. While they were gone there was an explosion. It was at one-thirty or so, maybe a little earlier. They didn't come back. There was another large explosion, then shooting, then more explosions. Far away. Finally she came back. She was frightened. She told me to leave. She wouldn't explain or come near, insisting that she remain outside. Just an epidemic or a disease or something she said Kier had found. She begged me, so I went. She said to head for Johnson City and avoid strangers. That's all."
Tillman could feel her submission. It felt good-like victory. He realized that he was breathing hard. The colors in the cab had become more vivid. Confidence filled him. He put a hand on her belly. She stiffened.
''If you don't cause me any trouble you may yet have another child."
He felt an unaccustomed urge to continue touching her body. The new clarity of thought that now possessed him enabled him to see that his power over her was for the good of the whole project. His hand moved to her breast, and he studied her face as he felt it. It was not the hefty breast that impressed him, but his power to incite her loathing.
"I will take you to Johnson City. If you tell a soul of our little talk, I will kill you."
Watching her face, he knew this woman was too strong to believe that he might let her live. She would not anesthetize herself with false hope, like some. He could have saved his breath.
He radioed Brennan. For what he was about to do, Brennan was the right man.
"Get the snowmobile and follow me."
Tillman laid the back of his hand against her cheek, experimenting. It satisfied him that she did not pull away, even though he knew her body shook with the desire to escape. Her fear mingled with hate was a form of respect that he had come to cherish.
When Brennan's snowmobile pulled behind him and the kids were in the small jump seats in the back of the oversize cab, he told Doyle to take the other men and go on ahead to the Donahue ranch.
Other than the occasional quiver of her lip, Claudie looked almost normal as she drove. Mothers always tried to keep up appearances for the kids. It was a shame these boys weren't younger. If he could have saved them without them having any troublesome memories, he would. He didn't kill kids when it wasn't necessary.
"Mom, Bren keeps poking me and won't quit," Micah said from the back.
"You boys hush."
He could tell by the way her eyes darted that she was thinking. A strong woman like this would be grasping at any straw.
"Stop the truck."
An uneasy silence fell all around. Reaching under his coat, Tillman pulled out a grenade, holding it low so the boys wouldn't see it. "You know what this is?"
She looked down at his hand and nodded. He pulled the pin and held it on the seat.
''If I let go of this lever, you know what happens?'' Again she nodded, saying nothing.
"Don't even think about driving off the road. If I relax my hand, this cab becomes an inferno."
She nodded again.
The boys were quiet now. Tillman figured that like all mammals they were alert to the presence of danger, even if they didn't understand it. Idly, he wondered at all the things he could make their mother do. Her arms seemed locked in place, her hands frozen to the wheel. He studied the way she bit her lip. He was winning. He could smell the kill. Oddly, he found himself wishing he had time for sex. He shook it off.
"Please let them go. They won't understand…" It was starting, he knew. "They won't remember, they don't understand any of this."
''We're letting you all go. You have nothing to worry about."
Her mouth quivered and she began to sob.
"Please, please," she whispered, "not the boys… they're just little boys."
"Mommy, Mommy."
Just around the next bend, Tillman recalled that a sheer drop of over five hundred feet plunged to the river. Nothing could survive that spill. Taking his radio, he spoke to Brennan and told him to hold back. The lights from the snowmobile disappeared behind them in response.
They came to the bend.
"Stop," he said.
In her eyes he could see the knowledge of her own death and the terror at her children's. But shockingly she didn't stop. In an instant, he knew her thought. She wasn't going to let him win. He would die with them.
"Bastard," Claudie said as she drove for the edge.
Holding the grenade tight, Tillman opened the passenger door and pushed with everything he had. As the front wheels slipped over the edge, he reached for the ground, aware of the abyss ahead. His fingers, clawlike, grabbed a large rock at the drop off. He watched as the truck teetered. Then the engine roared. It was in reverse, and the rear tires were biting through the snow to the rocks. Far below the grenade exploded. A horror filled him as he realized she might drive away.
Tillman clambered to his feet, drawing his pistol even while considering whether to use another grenade. He had never searched the truck cab for guns. He had been stupid-careless. Aiming at the cab, ready to fire if the track were freed, he waited. He began walking in a wide arc toward the driver's side. As he moved, the outline of the truck was almost lost in the snow and darkness.
Tillman remembered nothing until Brennan bent over him.
"Where's the woman?" he said. Pain shot through his head. He felt his own hair matted with blood.