Paul adjusted the rearview mirror, and he saw Sylvie pull out onto the road to follow him in the rental car. He looked around for witnesses, but to his relief, he could detect nobody looking in his direction. Nobody seemed to have seen how the traffic stop had ended, or at least interpreted it as a killing. Shooting the cop and driving off had been quiet and taken no more than three or four seconds.
Instead of taking the loop to go through the airport again, Paul took the entrance to the freeway, then pulled off at the first exit and parked the police car on the lot of a big Sears store. He took a moment to retrieve his William Porter license and rental papers from the floor, and wipe off the door handles and steering wheel. By then Sylvie was pulling to a stop beside him. He got into the passenger seat and sat in silence for a few seconds while Sylvie drove off.
“What’s the matter?” Sylvie asked.
“I still can’t believe that happened. Did you see if they went to the airport?”
“They didn’t get into the shuttle bus.”
“Where are they, then?”
“They rented another car, just like we did. It’s a Lincoln Town Car, like the other one, only charcoal gray. I have the license number, and they were just getting into it when we left. We can catch them in a few minutes.”
23
JACK TILL THREADED the gray Town Car in and out of the heavy traffic in the airport loop, then took the entrance to the 101 South, glancing in his mirrors with nervous alertness.
“What’s wrong?” Ann Donnelly asked. “Did you see something?”
“Nothing that stands out. This is just the time when we can get out clean. If there are no problems now, then there won’t be later.” He looked into the mirror again as he merged with the traffic on the freeway. “Back there near the car rental there was a cop who had pulled someone over to write a ticket. Maybe we were lucky and he scared off anybody who might have followed us.”
“I hope there was nobody to scare.”
“I’ve got to think that if these people were in San Rafael this afternoon, then they’ll be somewhere near here now.”
She frowned. “If we lose them, they’ll catch up in Los Angeles, won’t they—or fly there and wait? That’s the part that keeps scaring me. I’m coming back to them, and they know it.”
“I wish I could say you’re wrong. I don’t think you are. The trick is to get them to reveal themselves.”
“How are we going to do that?”
“We make finding us as hard as we can, and see if we can spot someone searching. We pull off the road now and then and see who follows.”
“That’s all we can do?”
“Unless you can give me something to go on.”
She straightened. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“We talked years ago about who was trying to kill you. At the time, you said you didn’t know.”
“Are you saying you didn’t believe me?”
“I believed the bruises and the limp.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“That was a long time ago. There might have been details that you didn’t notice at the time that have surfaced in your memory—coincidences or unusual events. Maybe people said things that you heard, but didn’t recall right away.”
“I made a conscious decision after I left not to spend my life thinking about that. I thought about the way I wanted things to be in the future and what steps I should take to make it happen.”
“Then make a conscious decision to remember now. Think.”
“About what?”
“Try to bring back what you saw and heard at the time, or impressions you had. Have you remembered anything about the attack in the years since then?”
“No. I told the police everything, twice, and then I told you. A man I didn’t know was waiting for me when I came home from the restaurant and hit me with a bat. When other cars came, he ran.”
“Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”
“I don’t know. I think I would have right after it happened. When the cars came their headlights lit him up for a second. But I was half-conscious with a concussion, and six years is a long time. He could have changed a lot.” She made a fist, and pounded it on her knee. “Why ask me about all this now? Can’t you see how scared I am?”
“Of course you’re scared.” He searched the mirrors behind him again. “What I find helps most is to try to do something about it.”
“What? Try to remember things that happened in the dark years ago?”
“Not this minute.” He had planted the idea, so it was time to back off and let her think about it. “For now, try to see if you can detect anybody following us. In an hour or two it will begin to get dark. If anyone is following us, I’d like to spot them before the headlights start coming on. It’s a good idea to take roll so you can keep track: white pickup, green Bug, gray Volvo, blue Ford, red Cherokee.”
She looked out the rear window. “I see them.”
“Sometimes when people follow you, they’ll do it in teams. For a while there will be a black SUV behind you. Then it disappears, so you don’t think about it again. But then up comes a green car. You’ve never seen him before. He’s been back too far, not even keeping in sight of you. He hasn’t had to because the guy in the black car has been keeping in touch with him on the phone. Now it’s his turn to follow you. Maybe they’ll switch again in a half hour. Tag team. That’s the way we did it when I was a cop.”
“You’re just trying to distract me, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not. You’re still trying not to get caught, aren’t you? If we stay alert, we’ll have an advantage.”
“All right. At least I’ll be doing something.” She half-turned in her seat and leaned on the door while she watched.
Till glanced at her and then away, his mind rapidly filling with unrelated observations. In six years, she had become more attractive. Her eyes had acquired a stronger, wiser look, and her features looked finer and more defined. He supposed maybe when he had left her at the Santa Barbara airport, her face had still retained some of the swelling from the beating.
Something else had changed since he had seen her last, but maybe the change was in him. Years ago she had been a pretty young woman who had been hurt and terrified and needed his help. He had been able to tell himself that she was dazed and disoriented, and that she probably hadn’t seen anything anyway.
This time, Till could see that she was lying to him. She knew something that she had not been willing to tell anyone six years ago, and was not willing to tell him now.
24
IT WAS GETTING DARK, and the cars all had their headlights on.
Sylvie leaned close to Paul and touched his cheek as he drove, then rested her hand on his thigh. “Are you okay?”
“Huh? Sure. Why?”
“When you kill somebody like that, there always seems to be a big rush of adrenaline—heart pounding, sweating, really happy you’re alive—but then afterward there’s always a kind of bad feeling, a letdown. I always get tired.”
“I’m not tired,” he said. “I’m just trying to do five things at once. We need to hear the radio, so we know if the police start looking for this car. I need to keep Till’s car in sight, but stay back far enough so he doesn’t notice us. I need to pay attention to the road ahead so we don’t hit somebody, and the road behind in case the police do come after us.”