“No!” came in stereo from both Van and Tom, but a band released from around Kelsey’s chest. Her mother wasn’t going to give in. Her legs gave out completely and Van couldn’t keep her on her feet anymore.
“Kels.” Tom was next to her, full of concern and gentle comfort. “Are you okay?”
“I can’t let you wind up like my father,” she whispered. “Please, please, just go.”
His jaw flexed, and she could see it took a lot for him to agree. But finally, he nodded. “All right. If that’s what you want.”
“I want you to be safe.”
Yet, as she lay in bed an hour later, staring up at the swirly ceiling, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was no such thing.
Chapter Ten
“I never knew Whetstone was so hard to get to,” Regan complained, slamming the phone book shut. “No trains, no buses, no airports less than two hours away from the school.”
“We can rent a car,” Tom said. “It’s only four hours, and no one can track us.”
“Wish we had my cousin’s car,” Van said without a hint of complaint in her voice. “I wonder what happened to it.”
“The police had it towed back to Whetstone,” Tyler said. Everyone turned to stare at him. “I called them yesterday while you were all sleeping.”
Wonderful. Regan wondered who else he’d called. “And?”
“And what?”
“What else did you talk to the police about?”
“I notified the police back home you’d found Kelsey so they could finalize the report. I called the campus police and said she was fine but they should keep an eye out for suspicious people on campus. They were already doing that because three women had called in complaints about two guys roaming the dorms, and in combination with our calls it put them on high alert.”
She appreciated that he’d thought of those things, but didn’t like that she hadn’t known. “When were you going to tell me this?”
He didn’t respond, but his clear amusement irritated her. At least he hadn’t said “I’m telling you now” or “You didn’t ask.”
“Okay, here’s the plan.” She stood and replaced the phone book in the drawer where she’d gotten it. “We’ll drive over to the airport, which isn’t far from here, and rent a car for Van and Tom. The car rental hub is right off of I-71, which will take you to Columbus, and then you’ll take—”
“Twenty-three, I know.” Tom nodded. “I’ve driven it.”
“Of course you have. We’ll stop and buy a few prepaid cell phones so we can keep in touch off the grid and you all will have a way to contact the police if you need to.” She paused. Something felt really off about the plan, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. Maybe she just didn’t like sending these kids off on their own when she was responsible for the danger they were in…even though they were in more danger as long as they were with her and Kelsey.
Or maybe it was because she wasn’t following her instincts and leaving Tyler before they went to the airport. His truck was the simplest way to get there, and the least expensive. But all the discussion about whether Van and Tom were safer with Kelsey and Regan or away from them applied to Tyler, too. Regan didn’t want to be responsible for something happening to him. The less he knew about where she and Kelsey went, and how, the better.
An idea came to her, and she mulled it over while everyone gathered up their things and Tyler checked out via the television system. By the time they were on the approach to the airport, she knew what she wanted to do.
“Tyler, drop us at the terminal,” she ordered. “Park the truck in long-term parking. We’ll all take the shuttle to the rental hub and get two vehicles.” She planned to be on her way long before Tyler caught up with them, but she didn’t say so. “Your truck was spotted by the fake cops a few times and I’d rather not be in it. We don’t know how well-connected they are.”
Tyler looked at her through the rearview mirror. She knew he didn’t believe her, but it didn’t matter as long as he did what she asked.
He pulled up a few minutes later in front of the main terminal upper level and they all climbed out, hauling backpacks and Van’s ever-present hockey stick. Regan waited for Tyler to drive away. He studied her for a long moment through the truck window, until a security officer waved him on. It’s for his own good, Regan thought, but felt a pang of sorrow both for ditching him, and that he was letting her.
“How long will it take him to get to the parking lot?” Kelsey asked.
“Assuming he does what I said and goes to long-term parking? Ten minutes to get there, another ten to walk back, more for the shuttle to the rental hub—could be up to a half hour. Let’s go.” She hurried through the doors into the terminal, the kids trailing behind her, and scanned the signs for the elevator. The shuttle should be on the lower level.
“We’re ditching Tyler?” Van asked. “Why?”
“We don’t trust him,” Kelsey answered. “Mom, you okay? You’re limping.”
The cut on her hip was pulling, making her take shorter strides with that leg. “I’m fine. Hurry.” She hit the button for the elevator, happy when the door opened immediately. So far, so good.
“Good” went bad as soon as they got downstairs, though. The door opened and they stepped out, Regan automatically scanning the crowd. She didn’t see anyone suspicious, but Kelsey grabbed her arm and pulled her around the corner.
“They’re here!” Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated in fear. “The fake cops. I saw them.” She pointed back toward the left end of the terminal. Van and Tom turned, but the angle of the wall they now leaned against blocked their line of sight.
Regan didn’t waste time asking how the hell they knew to be there. “Tell me what you saw. Were they alone?”
“I’m not sure. I only got a glimpse of them.” Anticipating Regan’s next question, she said, “I know it’s them. We fought them. They were right in our faces.” She gestured down the terminal. “I saw them in profile, checking out the lines in front of the counters. They didn’t see us. I think.”
Regan turned to the other two. “Did you see them?” They shook their heads. She motioned them all further back along the slope of the wall, then inched to the corner and peered around it, trying not to be spotted or look like an idiot.
It had been too dark last night to get more than a glimpse of the two men, but she still spotted them right away. As Kelsey had said, they were standing conspicuously in the middle of the floor, searching the lines. They couldn’t exit without entering the guys’ line of sight.
“We can go outside over here and walk down to the end,” Tom said. “But they still might see us through the windows.”
“They’re not being very stealthy,” Kelsey said. “Did you see what they were wearing?”
“Yes.” Bright red and green long-sleeved T-shirts with shiny jogging pants.
“They stand out an awful lot.”
“They’re not stupid,” Regan said. “They’re a diversion. We’re supposed to head away from them and into a trap of some kind.”
“How do you know?” Van asked. “They seemed pretty stupid to me.”
“Instinct.” She eyed the up escalator, but it was too open and too crowded. “Back to the elevator. Upstairs. Act normal.”
They rounded the corner to the elevator and hit the button, but while they’d been deliberating it had gone back up. “Don’t look at them,” she warned in a low voice when the kids’ heads all turned to the right. They swiveled back as one, making Regan sigh. Kelsey and Van fidgeted, while Tom positioned himself to block Kelsey on the right. Which was chivalrous and all, but now Regan couldn’t see the fake cops, either.
“Excuse me.”
The deep voice sounded behind her as the elevator dinged and the kids surged forward, battling the crowd of tourists coming out. Regan hung back, one eye on her crew, and turned to face the men they’d been trying to avoid.
Deciding to brazen it out, she smiled pleasantly.
“Yes?”
Polite inquiry turned to satisfaction on the man’s face when she turned. Dammit.
He grabbed Regan’s right arm above the elbow. “Come with me, please, Ms. Miller.”
“Yeah, right.” She swung her arm up and over in a circle, breaking his grip, then shoved at his chest. Caught off guard, he backed into his companion, giving Regan just enough space to dart into the elevator behind closing doors. Just before she did, she caught a glimpse of several fast-moving shapes coming from her left. The trap they’d avoided.
She had no time for fear. Adrenaline spiked, a call to action. “Drop your packs.” The backpacks didn’t have anything that couldn’t be replaced—Tom’s laptop notwithstanding—and would slow them down too much. Three thuds sounded as the doors opened on the upper level. Regan shoved the kids out ahead of her. “To the left.” They obeyed quickly. She overtook them and raced out the open doors. Traffic moved slowly in the pickup area. She held up a hand to halt a taxi and led the kids across the drive and onto the walkway to the short-term parking garage.
“Straight across!” she yelled, reading signs on the run. The long-term garage was on the other side, connected, she hoped, by another walkway.
“They’re coming!” Judging by Tom’s voice, he was taking up the rear. That would make Kelsey hang back. Regan stopped and motioned them to keep going. “Follow the concourse!” They didn’t stop to question her. She glanced back and saw the two neon-dressed guys and at least four black-clad people dashing down the main aisle. They were still a distance back and had to stop for a car whose driver obviously didn’t care about pedestrian right-of-way.
Regan kept running, glad she’d gotten some of her strength and flexibility back. The kids were so far ahead she could barely see them. They disappeared through the archway into the other garage. She picked up her pace to catch up and barely slowed when she reached the spot where they waited. Van had taken up a batter’s stance with her hockey stick.
“Stairwell,” Regan barked, urgency driving her.
“There!” Kelsey pointed to the corner of the garage and they headed that way, Regan once again taking the lead. They raced down one level and back into the garage, where several cars circled, seeking parking spaces.
“Watch for them,” she instructed Van and Tom. To Kelsey she said, “You know what to look for.”
They all split up, two on each side of the aisle, checking the cars. Regan paused at a sedan a few years old, a car seat visible through the rear window. She felt under the rear wheel wells, then behind the license plate and rear bumper. To Van, who was behind her and still watching for their pursuers, she said, “Check the front wheel wells and under the front bumper for a key box or a key tied to the frame.” She could see Kelsey and Tom doing the same with an old Ford wagon on the other side.
They’d checked half a dozen cars and made it halfway around the garage before they got lucky.
“Here!” Kelsey shouted, and Regan and Van dashed over. Regan scanned the level and saw three figures two rows over.
“Duck down,” Regan urged.
Kelsey was already unlocking the doors of the Taurus with the key she’d found. Regan made a quick decision and headed for the front passenger seat. “You drive,” she told her daughter. “My shoulder will hinder me. Everyone stay down.” Tom and Van, in the back, slid down in their seats. Regan stayed upright but flipped the visor down and over to the side window. “There are at least three of them behind us. They expect to see four people. Drive normally,” she told Kelsey.
“I know.” She checked over her shoulder and backed out, then put her seatbelt on as she put the car in gear and drove smoothly up the aisle.
It didn’t matter. A faint shout was followed by a ping against the trunk. Kelsey pressed hard on the accelerator and the car surged forward.
“Shit, where’s the exit?” she shouted, her tone belying the calm and skill with which she handled the car.
“Circle around to the left,” Regan told her. “Get all the way down, to the floor, you two.” She turned and slid down herself, knowing a bullet through the rear window would penetrate the headrest, and peered between the seats and out the back window. The people behind them—two men and a woman—were running full speed. They closed in a bit when Kelsey took the corner but fell behind again on the flat.
That is, until they cut through the rows of cars.
“Mom!”
Wishing she had her gun, Regan faced forward to see what had Kelsey freaked. Her heart bounced up into her throat when she saw the rest of their pursuers outside the elevator, some of them kicking and beating on a figure on the ground. Tyler.
“What do I do?” Kelsey cried. They were nearing the exit ramp.
“Stop.”
Regan caught herself against the dash as Kelsey hit the brakes. “Stay in the car.”
She opened her door and jumped out, grabbing the hockey stick Van handed over the seat as she did. She came out swinging and clocked two guys in the head before they even knew what she was doing. The stick broke on the third man’s back, but he stopped in the process of nailing Tyler in the ribs and whirled on her. She jabbed the broken end of the stick into his gut. He fell to his knees, his eyes and mouth wide open.
Regan lost the stick as he went down and didn’t bother trying to retrieve it. Adrenaline and rage gave her strength. She spun around the woman coming up behind her and slammed the heel of her foot into the back of her knee. She went down and Regan used her momentum to follow up with an elbow to the back of the woman’s head. Pain radiated up her arm and she knew the strike hadn’t done much damage, but she’d cleared the way to Tyler for a few precious seconds. Tom had followed her and he now grabbed Tyler’s arms, half dragging, half lifting him toward the open rear door of the Taurus.
The people running across the garage had reached them, making up for the three Regan had temporarily incapacitated. A gunshot echoed in the confined space and Tom flinched, going down on one knee in reaction.
Regan pulled Tom to his feet and guarded him, readying herself for attack from all sides, opening her mouth to tell Kelsey to go and knowing with despair that she never would.
Amazingly, the attack didn’t come. Half the people around her had hit the floor in reaction to the gunshot. Since it had come from behind the car, the others didn’t know it was their own people firing. The ones who hadn’t hit the deck were searching for the source.
Taking advantage of the moment of distraction, Tom shoved Tyler into the backseat and followed him in as Van pulled the big man completely into the car. Regan leaped to the front seat and fell inside. Kelsey gunned the engine again before Regan’s door was closed. It caught her leg and bounced back, hitting the wall as the car soared onto the exit ramp. Regan barely got her leg in before the door slammed shut.
“Everyone okay?” Kelsey asked.
Regan couldn’t answer. Her lower leg felt like it had been snapped in two. All she could see was a haze of red, and she chanted it’s not broken, it’s not broken, it’s not broken in her head.
“I’m fine,” Tom said. “Tyler’s not doing so well.”
“Not so bad,” Tyler slurred. “Not dying.”
“Mom? Mom, talk to me.” Kelsey’s voice grew more frantic the longer Regan didn’t answer. She wanted to, but couldn’t unlock her jaw against the pain.
Slowly the red receded, the pain in her leg subsided, and she lifted her head from the back of the seat to see where they were. The car rapidly approached the exit booth, where a sedan blocked their way.
“Go through,” Regan managed to say.
“What? I’ll smash that car.”
“Follow it through.”
“I—” Kelsey cut herself off and gripped the wheel tighter, her foot coming off the accelerator as the arm slowly rose in front of the vehicle ahead of them. Regan could see the attendant looking down, sorting cash into the drawer.
“Now!” Regan ground out. Kelsey floored the accelerator again. The car ahead of t
hem turned left onto the access road. Kelsey flew past the booth and cut inside the other vehicle’s wide arc. The Taurus scraped the other car’s front left fender, but got by onto blessedly clear road.
Which lasted only a couple hundred feet before the access road ended at the main exit drive, which was not clear. Kelsey didn’t slow down but did lay on the horn as she spun out into the traffic, slipped between lanes, and found her spot. A moment later they merged onto 237 heading for I-71 South.
The collective sigh in the car fogged the side windows.
“Awwwwwesome,” Van breathed, patting Kelsey’s shoulder. “You gotta teach me how to do that.”
“Is anyone following?” Regan asked. A moment later Tom and Van both said no.
“The cops will be after us,” she said. “We didn’t pay.”
“Not to mention the stolen car and hit-and-run,” Van pointed out.
“That’s secondary.” Kelsey sounded matter-of-fact. “More important are Mom’s injuries. Hers and Tyler’s.”
Regan bent and pulled up the leg of her jeans. A giant red-purple bruise already circled her shin and calf. A redder mark and a dent on her shin showed where the door had nailed her, while her calf burned when she touched it. But she could flex and point her foot, and though she wasn’t sure, she didn’t think the bone was broken. If her leg had still been outside the car when they hit the wall, things would have been much worse.
“Tyler?” Kelsey glanced in the rear view mirror, checked for traffic on the right, and zipped up the ramp onto I-71.
Regan looked into the back. Tyler was slowly making his way up onto the seat between Van and Tom. He held his ribs with his right arm, and his left wrist seemed swollen. A cut near his hairline oozed, and the strain of his movements showed on his face.
“Is your wrist broken?”
He shook his head and moved the wrist up and down. “Sprained. I caught myself when they knocked me over. Idiot,” he sighed, easing back. “I never expected an ambush. They overwhelmed me.”
Fight or Flight Page 13