He remains silent. Driving overly slowly, he looks from side to side, searching.
The hair rises on the back of my neck. What’s going on? I think, feeling my throat constrict. I can hardly breathe.
Wayne pulls in next to a small lake at a parking clearance. He places his hand on my knee, then turns to look me in the eyes. “Dawn, I have something I gotta tell you.”
“What?” I feel the world become slow motion, surreal.
“Well, uh… I’m not here to just catch up with you, and I didn’t rent this car with a friend.”
“What?” My chest seizes with dread and pain as I wait for his bomb to drop.
“Well, the police sent me.”
“The police!” I scream. “What do you mean, ‘the police’? I don’t see the police! Where are they?”
“I know; I know. Just wait. Listen.” His tone is pleading. “They just want to talk to you, Dawn. They don’t want you… they want John!”
“No!” I panic and open the car door to run.
“Wait! Dawn. No!” He grabs my arm and shoots his hand up to signal the men hidden in inconspicuous cars surrounding us to stay back. Wayne puts the car in park and jumps out to stop several approaching dark-suited men. “Wait a minute. I need to talk to her. Just give us a few minutes alone. Please!” The men signal an okay, and Wayne circles the car to escort me out onto the parking lot. “Come on, Dawn. Come with me. Let’s just talk… here… by the water.”
I feel trapped, betrayed. Seconds are frozen in place. I let him guide me to the edge of the lake and hold me in his arms. “I can’t do this, Wayne. Not the police. I can’t.” I am sobbing now. “I’ve always promised him I’d be loyal… that way… I’m not a rat. I didn’t tell the police anything when we were arrested in LA.” It sounds strange to explain my reasons out loud, but it means my integrity to me. “He’ll be mad… and, well… I just can’t! There are contracts out!”
“I love you, Dawn. And… and… I can’t tell you how bad John is for you. He’s one of the most selfish assholes there is. People are looking to kill you for him. That’s not love!” He is fuming with anger now. “Promised him! Ha! He don’t care about no one but himself, Dawn. He’s drug you all this way, ‘cause he knows you love him… and he don’t deserve your love! You’ve been too good to him.” He hugs me again. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, Dawn. The cops don’t want anything to happen to you. And if John stays free, there will still be contracts out—not only for him, but for you too!”
My tears are too much. I wipe a flood from my cheeks and nod. “Yeah. I’m scared of that too, Wayne. I’m scared someone’s gonna come after me just to find him. I, I even took his gun… to protect myself.” I pat the side of the handbag glued to my side. “But I don’t want to be the one to turn him in.”
“Yeah, I know. I’d do the same thing. Just talk to them, Dawn. See what they have to say.”
I’m torn up inside; the conflict is excruciating. Instinct tells me to protect John, but I know I have no choice really. The thought that maybe this is the best thing for both of us keeps me sane. “Yeah. Okay.”
Wayne hugs me tightly. “I love you, Dawn. You’re doing the right thing.” He walks me over to the waiting police, who have been huddled in small groups and hovering around my brother’s rental car.
“Ms. Schiller.” Tom Lange reaches his hand out to shake mine. “Remember me? From Los Angeles… and my partner, Frank Tomlinson? And this is a local Dade County detective. We’re here to help you.”
Sniffling and wiping my wet cheeks, I acknowledge the three of them.
“You already know, well, uh, we’ve been looking for you and John. John really, of course. We’ve been trying to find you both… to get you off the street… to protect you.”
“I’m not with John anymore!” I snap.
“Yeah. We know. We’re glad for you but, you see, there are a lot of those, well, contracts out for the both of you and, well, if we have John… those contracts will go away… disappear. You can go on with your life, stop looking over your shoulder. You, your family—anybody you come in contact with—will be safe again. Right now, things are very dangerous.”
“So you want me to tell you where he is? Rat on him?”
“Uh, yeah. That’s about it. If you want to call it that. You’re the only one who knows.”
“I left him because he… well… he started hurting me again… and making me, uh… But I never wanted to rat on him! I just want you to know that I never wanted to do this. I just have to get away from him… get my life back!” My sobbing is wild, punctuated by hysterical gasps for air.
The group of detectives bob their heads in acknowledgement and shift their weight, uncomfortably helpless with my pain. “Certainly, we understand, Dawn. John’s made some bad choices, and he’s taken you with him. This has got to be hard… but… well, he’s probably going to be safer with us than he is on the streets… and the sooner that happens, the safer you’ll be.”
They are right, and I know it. This is the best I can hope for, for both of us. My body folds, my tension expels like a gasp of air released from an overstressed tire, and I surrender to their reasoning. What choice do I have? Overcome with shaking, I reach a jittery hand to the purse dangling at my hip and flop down hard on the asphalt pavement of the parking lot. I dig deep into the bottom of the bag, my hand searching for one of the business cards from the Fountainhead Hotel. “He’s not armed either, you know?”
“We understand. He’s going to be safer with—”
“’Cause I got his gun.” I pull out the .38 and lay it on the warm blacktop to get a better view of the bottom contents of my bag and the number to the hotel.
Instantly the three officers react, grab the concealed weapons in their shoulder holsters, and brace themselves for the unexpected. The air freezes with thick tension. I realize what I’ve done and halt. Are they going to shoot me? But then I continue searching anyway. I don’t really care.
Shuffling uncomfortably, Tomlinson grimaces. He doesn’t like this one bit. Lange signals him to stay cool. “All right…” His tone rings with a cautious key. They keep a sharp eye on the exposed pistol and my nervous, jerky hands, impatient for me to retrieve the address.
“Here it is.” I stand up, leaving my things on the ground. Hesitantly, I hold the Fountainhead’s logo card out to Lange. “Can you do me a favor?” I ask, feeling a rush of sadness and tears wash over me again.
“Sure. If it’s within our scope of power, we’d be happy to.”
“When you get him, call me and let me know that he’s okay… that, you know, everything went all right.”
“Yeah. We can do that. I’ll make sure someone calls you right after we apprehend, uh… take him into custody.”
I cringe at his words.
“Again, we know this is very hard for you, Dawn, but really it is the safest place he can be right now… and the safest thing for you.”
“Sure.” I turn away, hollow and empty, and find my brother’s eyes, blinking in the bright sun. As I gather my things, the officers thank me. My gun no longer concerns them. On a parting note, each detective offers me his business card. Lange has written a note on the back: “If you ever need anything, just call.”
I place the cards carefully in my wallet, just in case I will need them one day, and let my brother take me back to Louise’s. He has to get the car back and catch his return flight to Oregon. “You did the right thing, Dawn,” he says as he hugs me good-bye.
The police’s stakeout of my family is over.
The call rings through to Louise’s the next afternoon. It is Detective Lange. “Just wanted to let you know we got him. I promised you someone would call, and I thought I’d be the one.”