John cursed silently to himself and adjusted his son’s Yankees hat.
It was up to Paul now.
The one person in this group John had the least faith in.
Chapter 16
Paul Zhou
PAUL PEEKED OUT from under the blanket and watched as Scott started the van and pulled out of the lot.
Scott had glanced back, barely, but didn’t seem to notice the rumpled blanket, which Paul had managed to get over himself after John made it clear he should stay in the back. Not that he had any idea why this was a good plan. The truth was, he was too scared to try and get out.
Paul’s heart beat in his chest with the speed of a hummingbird’s wings. He wasn’t sure what to do. He couldn’t just rush him. The man had a gun, and Paul didn’t have a death wish.
So he watched. After a couple of turns, Scott placed the gun on the passenger seat. Okay, that was a start. If he was fast, maybe he could get to Scott before Scott could get to the gun.
But did he want to?
He’d heard the man say he didn’t kill their children.
What if that was true?
Maybe Scott was innocent of all this. If so, this entire plan was a terrible mistake. Cops got things wrong sometimes. There had just been a whole series on Netflix about police officers screwing some guy who was falsely arrested for a crime, from years before, that he didn’t commit. Paul hadn’t watched it yet, but everyone was talking about it. Maybe Hanlon was off about the whole thing.
Though that didn’t explain the pictures Scott had in his apartment.
He could be lying. What did Paul know of killers? Psychopaths are supposed to do things without any sort of feeling for consequences, without understanding of human emotion. If he’d really killed their children, then lying about it would be a lot easier than the act of taking a life.
This wasn’t some late-night movie. It was real life, where things weren’t laid out so clearly. Where bad guys didn’t give eloquent soliloquies about their crimes.
Paul wished it were a late-night movie. That he was an action hero, with the strength and courage to subdue the man. But he couldn’t get himself to move out from under the blanket. Maybe he could get to Scott in time. But even if Scott wasn’t able to get the gun, he could still crash the car. Scott was buckled in. Paul wasn’t. He’d go flying through the windshield and would end up a smear on the pavement.
No, right now he had to focus on staying alive. Hope that Daisy and the others were following closely behind, formulating some kind of plan.
So he waited, keeping the blanket just high enough that he could keep an eye on Scott. Waiting for something to happen.
Scott drove, and stopped, and drove and stopped again, muttering to himself. Paul listened hard but couldn’t make out what he was saying over the sound of the engine and the tires on the road.
What if they weren’t following? What if he was all alone? That meant sooner or later, he’d have to act. He just had to wait for the perfect moment.
And with the car moving, that probably wouldn’t happen anytime soon.
Paul focused on staying as still as possible and slowed his breathing. The rough carpet on the floor of the van scratched his cheek. He prayed that Scott wouldn’t glance in the rear-view mirror and get curious about the blanket.
Chapter 17
Daisy Zhou
DAISY RAN PAST the others, watching the van as it cut around the corner and disappeared from view.
She turned to John, Susan, and Kat, the three of them dumbfounded. She couldn’t believe that they were standing there like that. It had been scary enough when Scott was holding a gun on them. It made her blood run cold and her body seize up, to see that monster wielding the power of life and death over them.
But now he was gone. And Paul was with him.
For as much as she wanted to put faith in her husband, she found that faith flagging. Paul wasn’t a man of action. He was a man of thoughtfulness. And thoughtfulness didn’t mean much against a loaded weapon, or a man desperate enough to use it.
She hated thinking that. She hated doubting her husband. But she couldn’t help herself. Every second the van got further away, it made her feel more and more like she might not see him again. At least, not alive.
Daisy put her hands up in the air, trying to snap the other parents out of their stupor. “We have to do something!”
“Okay, okay, let’s check on Hanlon first,” John said. “I’ll do it. The rest of you stay here.”
John ran around the side of the building as Daisy stood there, bouncing on the toes of her feet. She didn’t know what to do. Her van was gone. Her husband was gone. She felt empty.
All that doubt and uncertainty about her marriage were suddenly erased. She couldn’t lose Paul, too. She wouldn’t know what to do. She couldn’t bear the prospect of raising Jian by herself.
She went over to the other women. Kat was shaking her head, clearly frustrated, while Susan had wrapped her arms around herself, sobbing silently. It seemed like the gravity of the situation was pulling them apart.
Maybe Paul was right. Maybe this wasn’t the right thing to do.
Kat put her hand on Daisy’s arm. “It’s going to be okay,” she said.
“How do you know that?” Daisy asked. “How could you possibly know that?”
“Because Paul is a smart man. He’s a cautious man. He won’t do anything that’s going to get himself killed.”
Daisy nodded. Kat was right. Maybe the thoughtfulness would save him.
Then she got an idea. She reached around to her back pocket, thinking maybe she would text Paul, try to communicate with him some way, find out where the van was.
But the phone was in the bag, with all the rest.
The bag was in the van.
So Scott had the van, her husband, and all their cell phones.
She wanted to scream.
John and Hanlon reappeared, jogging around the side of the building. Hanlon was huffing, his hair unkempt, his clothes ruffled. And more than that, he looked pissed. John was running him through what happened, about Scott taking off.
As soon as they got close, Daisy dove forward and slapped Hanlon hard across the face. Her hand stung from the impact. The blow seemed to stun him. He staggered back and hit the wall, putting one hand to his cheek, eyes wide.
“What the hell happened in there?” Daisy asked. “Can’t you do anything right?”
“Now hold on,” Hanlon said, rubbing his face.
“No, no holding on,” Daisy said. “We have to go after them right now. You have to call the police. Let them know.”
“That’s not going to happen,” John said.
Hanlon nodded. “Do you know what kind of hell we’d be in?”
“My husband is in the van,” Daisy said. “I don’t know how to make it clearer.”
“And I can’t make this any more clear,” John said, talking slowly, like she was a child. “Now shut up and let’s go get into Hanlon’s car. We’ll go after them and we’ll fix this.”
“But—” Daisy said.
John drew himself up so that he seemed a few inches taller. He stepped toward Daisy, his face suddenly set in stone. The words that came out of him bubbled from someplace deep and scary.
“No more buts,” he said. “Get moving.”
Daisy tried to hold his gaze, but his eyes were like chips of granite. John was an angry man, and the way he directed his anger at her shook her to her core. She looked over to Susan, thinking his wife would support him, but she was looking down at the pavement.
Their relationship seemed suddenly cast in a new, disturbing light.
Daisy couldn’t believe it. She wanted to reach up and slap John, too, but in that terrible moment, she got the feeling like he might hit her back.
“Okay, fine, let’s go to the car,” she said, not wanting to waste any more time.
They ran for the parking lot, making their way to Hanlon’s car. The wide bench seats gave them en
ough room—Hanlon driving, John up front, and the women in the back. Kat in the center, with Susan on one side and Daisy on the other. They barely had the doors closed before Hanlon started the engine and whipped it out of the parking lot.
He seemed to be driving with a purpose, and before Daisy could ask where he was going, John did it for her. “What’s the plan?”
“He said he was leaving, right?” Hanlon asked. “He said that?”
“Yes.”
“He’s panicking,” Hanlon said. “He knows he’s not safe here. I bet he’s aiming for the expressway. There’s a ramp not too far from here. It’ll be the first thing he comes across, and it’s going to look awful inviting.”
“And what do we do when we catch up to him?” Susan asked.
“We’re playing this one by ear,” Hanlon said.
Daisy tried to formulate a plan on her own, the whole time staring at the back of John’s head. What kind of man was this? And what path had he put them on?
Chapter 18
Thomas Scott
THOMAS TURNED THE car onto the entrance ramp of the Staten Island Expressway and merged into traffic. It was light, though it was after midnight, and more people were out than he would have expected.
Exhaustion suddenly overwhelmed him. He was tired. So tired.
And he didn’t have any idea what he was doing.
He was in a stolen van with a gun. A van that was no doubt getting reported to the police right now, and a gun that would land him in jail for a very long time. He’d assaulted a cop and stolen the gun from him.
That was serious. Super serious.
His first experience with the justice system had not been a good one. He had a feeling that no matter how much he explained the circumstances of what happened, no one was going to believe him. It would be his word against theirs, and right now, his word didn’t seem to be worth anything.
Seeing all the parents together like that just about killed him. The pain and the suffering they were going through. He almost didn’t blame them for coming after him like that. He couldn’t imagine what loss like that must do.
He just wished their anger wasn’t directed at him.
He thought he could reason with them, but clearly he couldn’t, so it was best to get out of there. He figured he could drive a little while until he got an idea.
He had no friends. No one in his life who cared about him or knew where he was. He couldn’t go to his apartment. There wasn’t anyone he knew who could bail him out of this. All he could do was keep driving—until when? The expressway would eventually split off. And both directions led to New Jersey.
That seemed like a good enough idea. If he was over state lines, didn’t it mean that the cops couldn’t come after him or something? They’d have the get the police in New Jersey involved, and that would waste even more time.
Okay then. He could drive to Jersey. Ditch the car and the gun as soon as he could. Maybe he could find a train or a bus and just go south. Forget Portland—getting all the way across the country suddenly seemed like too much. But in Jersey he could get a train. He’d taken it before, down to Florida once, to visit a cousin.
The visit hadn’t gone so well, but Florida was okay. He didn’t mind the heat, and he’d always wanted to visit Disney World. Not that he had any idea what to do down there, other than that. The cousin had passed, years ago. Thomas didn’t know anyone else. He wouldn’t even have a place to stay. All he had was the clothes on his back, the small amount of cash Amato had given him, and the modest savings in his bank account.
But no matter where you went in the world, people needed things cleaned. It would be easy enough to find a job, and maybe a small apartment. It didn’t seem so impossible, and it felt more possible with every inch of roadway he put underneath the tires of the van.
It suddenly felt like this terrible episode of his life was slipping away. Like maybe he’d have a chance to start new. He looked around at the outlines of the trees against the night sky, at the lights of the businesses that flashed by. He’d miss this place. Deep down, he really, truly loved it. It was his home.
But there wasn’t anything he was leaving behind.
He could make this work.
But as Thomas drove, something struck him as not right. There was something off that he couldn’t quite place his finger on. He became so panicked that it was hard to focus. But after a few moments, he realized what it was: traffic seemed to be slowing down.
He had been intent on keeping the car under the speed limit, turning on his blinker, and carefully changing lanes. He didn’t want to draw any undue attention. But there were suddenly more brake lights up ahead. The outlines of the trees and the lights of the businesses weren’t whipping by as fast.
His newfound sense of relief slowly slipped away as he realized there were flashing lights up ahead.
An accident. He could make out the police car and the ambulance and the tow truck, sitting there in the middle of the road.
He was stuck in the left lane as traffic came to a dead stop.
Chapter 19
Paul Zhou
WITH THE WAY the van was moving, Paul was sure they were on the expressway. Scott had been driving fast for a long time, and Paul could hear the sound of cars whipping past them.
This wasn’t great. He had no idea which way Scott was headed—to Brooklyn or to New Jersey—but figured that either way, this wasn’t going to end well. He might be fleeing the island, and Paul was stuck.
Worse than that, Scott would be very unhappy to find he had a guest along for the ride.
Paul tried to come up with a plan. Scott didn’t look back, not in any of the time Paul was looking, so it seemed Scott had pretty much completely written off the back. There was some space to cover between the two of them, but with the gun possibly out of Scott’s reach, that put Paul at an advantage.
He could dive forward, grab the gun, and stay on the floor. Point the gun up at Scott. Even if the car came to a short stop, he could wedge himself behind the passenger seat so he wouldn’t be thrown through the windshield.
The prospect of grabbing the gun scared Paul. He’d never held one. Never even seen one in real life, outside the occasional gun holstered at the side of a policeman. What if the safety was on? Scott was a killer—he’d know whether he’d left the safety on. He’d know in an instant that Paul had no clue what he was doing.
Or maybe not. Maybe he really wasn’t that smart, which is what everyone had been saying. Maybe Paul just needed the gun in his hand and that would end it.
He breathed deep, in the process inhaling the warm, musty scent of the blanket, which made him think of his son and daughter. This was the blanket they kept in the back of the car for impromptu picnics. Driving past Clove Lakes Park or Silver Lake Park, they would pull it out and sit on the grass with the kids. Sometimes with snacks, sometimes reading books, and sometimes they’d sit there just to sit.
What if Scott was going to their house?
If he was on the expressway, then all he had to do was take it to the Arden Avenue exit, and it wouldn’t be long until they were in his neighborhood. What if Scott was planning to drive up to their door and finish what he had started? After all, he’d had that picture of Jian in his apartment. Why?
He wanted to climb up to his knees and peek out the window, see if he could figure out where they were. What direction they were headed in. And he knew that if Scott went anywhere near the Arden Avenue exit, Paul would get that gun and fire it without a second thought.
He would cross that line if it meant protecting his son.
He was just about to push himself up, try and catch a glimpse of the surroundings, when the car was filled with swinging red lights. It wasn’t accompanied by sirens, so it couldn’t be that they were getting pulled over. The cops would have put their sirens on.
And then Paul realized that it must be a car accident. Something jamming up the expressway. Even in the middle of the night, it was so easy to shut this ent
ire thing down.
The car came to a stop, and Scott slammed his fist on the steering wheel.
This was Paul’s chance.
Chapter 20
Daisy Zhou
DAISY TAPPED HER foot as Hanlon guided the car down the expressway. She couldn’t know if they were going the right way, but something down in her gut told her they were. That Paul was just up ahead.
The problem was that traffic seemed to be slowing down. It was late now, so there shouldn’t be this much traffic on the expressway. Maybe there was an accident ahead. She wanted to ask Hanlon if he had a radio he could check, but found herself unable to form the words.
She was still so angry at him.
And at John now, for trying to impose his will on them. She felt the need for revenge. To make Scott pay for what he did. But that need didn’t outweigh the life of her husband. She didn’t need to ask John how he felt—clearly he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered to him was ending Scott.
This whole thing was coming apart at the seams. She’d gone along with it because she felt this burning anger in her stomach, like a flame she thought she could snuff out if Scott were dead. But she was starting to understand how Paul felt. Why he was so unsure about this whole thing.
Who were they to be judge, jury, and executioner?
The plan didn’t matter to her anymore. All she wanted to do was find her husband.
But with the way the cars were slowing down now and boxing them in, it was seeming a lot less likely to happen anytime soon.
Hanlon reached down toward the radio and flicked a switch. A waterfall of static filled the inside of the car, and then a male voice broke though.
“Central, we’ve got a 10-53 between Slosson and Bradley. Victim likely, bus dispatched and arrived on scene. Send AIS. Repeat, send AIS.”
“What’s all that supposed to mean?” John asked.
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