by Becky Melby
“No. I would never—I left because of what your friend, your lawyer, said last night about me being your lottery ticket.”
“Oh man. Em…it was all a joke. I told them things were getting serious with us and he made this big thing out of it. You have to know I’m not like that.”
“But you were desperate and…” Her voice cracked. He could hear the tears.
“Where are you?”
“South of St. Louis. Could Ben have taken them? That doesn’t make sense. How do you take two kids?”
Jake clenched his eyes against the sting. “They were gone this morning when we got up. And Ben’s not home. His car is gone. We found a couple of things. That sign Adam made—Missouri or Bust— was on the kitchen floor over there. There are triangles drawn on the back—like those quilt symbols you made with the kids.”
A small gasp came through the phone. “Hold on. I’ve got the book here.” He heard shuffling. “I’ve got it. How are the triangles arranged?”
He held the paper in the sunlight. The markings were reddish brown, the lines smudged, like they’d been drawn with a finger. In the morning heat, a faint scent wafted from the paper. Cinnamon. Adam. God, let this please tell us something. Tears blocked his vision. He blinked them away and took a deep breath. “Two opposite corners are shaded…triangles. The other two aren’t. There’s a square in the middle made of two white and two brown triangles that meet in the center.”
Pages shuffled. “Are there four white and four colored all together?”
“Yes.”
“It’s…if I got it right, it’s called broken dishes. It says it refers to a signal that involves broken crockery at some future landmark.”
“Broken crockery? That doesn’t make sense.”
“But maybe it will. Tell the police. Have you talked to them?”
“They just got here.”
“Tell them. I don’t know what it means, but tell them.”
Topher opened the back door and waved for him to come in. “I have to go.”
“If there’s anything…”
“I will.”
The crunch of gravel under the tires woke Adam. It was light out. He’d told himself to stay awake. “Where are we?”
“We’re camping. We’re going to have fun. It’s what families do.”
A picnic table outside his window was the only sign of civilization. Ben had backed the Suburban onto the cement pad of a campsite. From the backseat, all Adam could see was trees. No campers. No tents. Nobody camps on a Monday. Still, there had to be someone around. “I have to pee.”
“Wake up your sister. We’ll take a walk. Holding hands like happy families do.”
When they came back from the bathroom, Ben sat on the picnic table bench with his elbow on Lexi’s hand. “Get out the food.” He looked at Adam and pointed to the back of the Suburban.
Adam nodded. This was his chance. At the very least he could pull his backpack closer to the door so he could grab it later. Ben had to fall asleep sometime. As he opened the door, he realized his hands had quit shaking a long time ago. He wasn’t scared anymore. Maybe God took it away, or maybe he was just too mad to be scared. They’d get away, he knew they could. He just had to be smart and wait for the right time.
“Bring me that green bag.”
Adam stared at the green bag. “I think I put it in front with the cooler.”
“Get it.”
The bag didn’t weigh much. He picked it up by the loop handles and tossed it over the back of the seat, praying it wouldn’t make a sound. It didn’t. Before he shut the back door, his hand slipped into his backpack and pulled out his knife. Was Ben really dumb enough to think he wouldn’t try? As the red plastic hit his palm, the idea flashed like a picture in a book. He walked along the side of the car, opened the passenger side door, and the knife.
He crouched low over the seat. God, let this work. He jammed the thin, tapered file into the ignition as far as it would go then yanked it to the side as hard as he could. It broke. Thank God. With the half inch of file left, he shoved the piece of metal in deep. Irretrievable.
Reaching between the seats, he snagged the green bag.
Ben had his hand out, ready to grab it when he walked around the back of the Suburban. “Got a little treat for my kiddies.” He took the bag and pulled out a bottle.
Adam recognized the green liquid.
NyQuil.
Emily paced between two double beds and an old TV, back and forth from window to door, willing her phone to ring. She’d gotten the room because she was too scared to drive home after so long without sleep. Now that she was here, she wished she was on her way. Strange that home was the word that immediately came to mind.
“Lord, You know exactly where they are. You see them. Keep them safe. Don’t let them be scared or—” Her phone rang. She flipped it open without looking at it.
“We found something else. Might be nothing. “Jake was hoarse, but there was a lift to his voice she hadn’t heard the last three times she’d talked to him. “The police found what looks like GPS written in the dirt by Ben’s garage. They checked to see if Ben had a GPS on his phone and he doesn’t. All I can figure is Adam was telling us he has his, but that—”
“He had all our Missouri destinations programmed in!” Her heart thudded against her ribs. “Fredericktown, Johnson’s Shut-Ins State Park. It’s a long shot, but maybe they’re down here.”
“I’ll tell the police to contact the Missouri highway patrol. And I’m heading down there. I can’t sit here and do nothing.”
Emily grabbed the handle of the overnight bag she hadn’t opened yet. “Give them my phone number. I’m going to Fredericktown.” She tucked the phone under her chin and latched her computer case to the bag. “Wait. E-mail me pictures of Adam and Lexi. I’ll make copies here. I’ll stop at every gas station and rest area and—”
“Emily?” His voice was rough, raw.
“What?”
“I love you.”
The line went dead.
“Adam! Wake up. We have to go.”
Lexi’s voice seemed far away, like he was underwater. His head felt huge and heavy. His tongue was thick. He opened his eyes. The sun was low, shooting orange rays between the trees. His back hurt. He was lying on cement.
“Wake up before he gets mad.” Lexi shook his shoulder.
“What are we doing?”
“Driving. I don’t know where. He keeps talking about Texas.”
Adam sat up. Everything around him seemed fuzzy, out of focus. Ben sat on the bench, his belly showing through an open “V” at the bottom of his shirt. He had a beer in his hand. The grass was littered with cans. The bench bowed beneath him and groaned when he stood. “Got you to Missouri just like you wanted. Seen enough?” His sick laugh echoed off the trees. “Get in the car.”
Muscles seized in Adam’s gut. “Lex,” he whispered, “when I say run, you go, fast as you can. I’ll find you.”
“No!” she mouthed back.
“Do what I—”
A loud roar shattered the air. “Stupid kid!” Ben slammed the car and swore. Over and over as he thundered toward them.
“Now. Run!”
Lexi stood, looked from him to Ben, and nodded. One foot left the ground. And Ben grabbed her.
Adam swung around, looking for a rock. Anything to throw in Ben’s face. He lunged for the NyQuil bottle.
And a fist slammed into the side of his head.
Lexi screamed. Adam dropped to the ground. His head hit the cement with a sound that made her scream again.
“Shut up.” Ben put his fat, smelly hand over her mouth and kicked at Adam. “Get up, you—” A tiny river of blood trickled along the cement from Adam’s hair.
Lexi screamed against the hand, tried to bite it. She lashed out with feet and elbows and clawed at the arm that clamped her like a vise. God! Help!
Ben swore. His heart hammered against her back.
Stars shot in front of he
r eyes. Her vision dimmed like she was walking into a tunnel.
Huffing and snorting, Ben dragged her toward the woods. Lexi blinked hard and took two deep breaths. She couldn’t faint. She had to think, had to leave a sign for Adam. He knew how to track like the Indians did. He’d come after her. Her eyes clamped shut against the picture of him lying on the ground. The blood. Mom! Can you see him? Help him. God, don’t let him…She wouldn’t let herself say the last word.
The brush was thick between the trees. She kicked a rotted limb. It broke apart. She dragged her shoe across a fat mushroom, breaking the top off. Ben was slowing down. Lexi pretended to stumble and hooked her toe on a bunch of white flowers, smashing them to the ground.
They were heading uphill. Ben’s breathing got harder and harder. If she could make him loosen his grip, just for a second, she could run. She kept her eyes on the trees, watching for a path, but the sun was dipping below the hill and it was getting harder and harder to see. Suddenly, Ben tripped. He let go of her. She fell, stabbing her hand on a stick. Her inhaler launched out of her pocket. She gasped in pain and a fat hand clamped around her ankle.
Ben laughed. Sweat dripped from his red face. “Guess you’re staying here for the night. Alone.” He sat up, crossing his legs like a statue of Buddha. With one hand, he unbuckled his belt. “Scream and I’ll kill you, too.”
“The ranger found it just a few minutes ago.”
Jake shouted at the phone over the rush of cool air through the open windows of his truck. The air conditioner blew full force, but every time he closed the windows the cab felt stifling and he couldn’t breathe. “Smashed flowerpots all over the cement pad at the campground. And the van was disabled. A piece of metal shoved into the ignition.”
“Adam?” Emily’s voice held the same near-hysterical timbre he heard in his own. A bizarre mix of fear and pride.
“Had to be. What a kid, huh?” He wouldn’t tell her about the blood. Not a lot, they’d said. What did that mean? Someone was hurt. Please let it be Ben.
“Yeah.” She blew her nose. “Okay, I got Johnson’s Shut-Ins State Park on the GPS. I’ll get there a little after eleven. Will they let me in that late?”
“I talked to the head ranger personally and told him you’d be able to help the search. State troopers will be there. They have people at every entrance. Someone will meet you at the gate. I should get there a little after you.” If I don’t get stopped. The speedometer needle hovered around eighty. “I’ll try to call, but they said we might not have cell phone reception in the mountains.”
“Okay.” Her voice quivered. “The temperature’s dropping.”
“I know. We’ll find them soon.”
“Bye.” She ended the call.
Before he could tell her again that he loved her.
Lexi shivered and curled into a tighter ball. She was freezing. Her shoulder ached. The belt around her wrist tightened whenever she moved. Her right arm, hanging straight over her head by the belt, was falling asleep again. She’d have to stand and get the circulation back, but her legs were so tired. The fingers on her left hand were raw from picking at the leather, trying to dig through it. The knot was beyond her reach. It was a long belt.
A coyote howled. Lexi pressed into the skinny tree that offered no shelter. Dogs yelped after the howl. Keep them away. Her fingers curled around the stick she’d found earlier. The one she wished she could use on Ben.
He’d lumbered off, telling her not to make a sound because he’d be close. She could tell he thought she’d beg him not to leave her alone. Stupid. She’d listened until she couldn’t hear the shuffle of his feet. But she didn’t dare scream yet. He moved too slow.
A faint breeze rustled the leaves. The air grew colder by the minute. Her chest tightened. She’d given in and begged him for one thing—her inhaler. He’d only laughed. And thrown it into the woods.
November 2, 1852
Hannah’s head bounced on Liam’s shoulder as he carried her. Curled cornstalks brushed her arms like fingers of the dead. “Put me down.”
His steps slowed. He stopped and turned. “Da’s too drunk to follow this far.” He set her on her feet but didn’t let go. “Why are you here?”
“Men. With Jonathan. They’ve got Papa. They let me go. They don’t think I’m involved, but they’ll be after you.” She commanded her voice to steady and willed away the black spots that threatened again. “It’s my fault. They went looking for the letters and found the room.”
“What letters?”
“Yours. Mine. I never destroyed them. I should have listened to you. I let it slip to Dolly. About the letters. She overheard you and Daddy talking. She must have told, but they didn’t find the letters. Not yet. There’s nothing but Dolly’s word to link you to Daddy unless they make him…”
Shock registered on his face. Shock, then fear. His eyes closed.
Her heart pounded. “I’m sorry. So sorry. I should have known better. I never should have—”
Liam pressed a finger to her lips. “What is it your father says? ‘We will not speak of what might have been.’”
“We have to leave. We’ll go to Canada until Jim gets word that it’s safe to come back.”
Liam’s arms straightened. He held her away from him. “We will leave. But not together. You will go to your aunt’s and I will go to Canada, and when it is safe, I will come to Boston for you.”
A sob tore from her throat. “No! I will not. I’m not a child, Liam. Stop treating me like one. I know there are dangers, but I am strong. I can face anything if I am with you.”
His smile, barely visible in the darkness, warmed her. “All right then. Go home and pack your things and I will be there at midnight. Watch for my lantern on the river.” He slipped the bonnet from her head. His hands dug into her hair and he kissed her as though he would never see her again.
CHAPTER 33
The strap of his backpack hooked a branch. Adam yanked it free. He turned back too fast and the ground tilted again. He prodded the spot where his bandana was folded under his cap. It didn’t seem any damper than the last time he’d checked. As he turned, the LED light clipped to the bill of his cap illuminated a patch of trampled chicory flowers. At first he hadn’t been sure Lexi was marking the trail on purpose. But there were too many signs. Maybe all the times he’d read his survival books out loud, she’d actually been listening.
What he didn’t know was whether or not she was alone. If Ben was following her or dragging her, he could be reading the signs wrong. Maybe it was Ben, running like a fat bear, trampling everything in his path. Maybe Ben was running scared and Lexi had gone for help. If he hadn’t broken the file off in the ignition, Lexi could have driven to get help. She knew enough about cars to do that. All he’d been thinking about was keeping Ben from taking them anywhere else. Far off, a coyote howled. The sound was followed by yapping. Don’t get scared. Panic was the biggest mistake people made in the wilderness. He wouldn’t allow tears. He had to find Lexi.
He busied his mind with things that would keep him from panic. He imagined being a runaway slave fleeing to freedom. In his head, he sang some of the Negro spirituals from one of Mrs.
Willett’s books. Go down, Moses, Way down in Egypt land, Tell ole Pharaoh, To let my people go.
He dropped a chunk of flowerpot and kept walking. No one would see the broken pieces at the campsite until morning. It would probably just look like an accident. Nobody would report it. The quilt square he’d drawn back home wouldn’t mean anything to anyone but Emily, and who would think to show it to her? It just looked like splotches of cinnamon on a wrinkled paper.
Doubts whispered through the oak branches, growing louder with each silent step on the leaf-padded ground.
He stopped and knelt by a patch of matted grass and set a piece of flowerpot in the center.
A branch snapped. Lexi’s pulse pounded in her neck. The thing was getting closer. Were there bears? A fat raccoon waddled past. She made herself think of
rabbits and squirrels and fuzzy, harmless creatures. A wheeze whistled from her throat. She tried to quiet her breathing, but the harder she tried, the louder it got. Slow. Calm. Fear would make it worse. She tried to pray, but no words came to mind. She pushed herself to a stand. The stars came back. Bending over, she rounded her shoulders and rubbed the sore spots between her ribs. Adam had read about it once. Acupressure.
Another sound. Footsteps. She held her breath.
“Lex?”