In the Dark

by Chris Patchell

  He should call Garcia back and get state patrol looking for Andy’s car. Traffic cameras. Whatever. They needed to find him now.

  “Hang on,” Cahill said.

  “You’ve got something?”

  “It may be nothing, but it appears that Bowman’s father lives in a mental institution south of Tacoma.”

  Why would Andy go to see his father today of all days? Seth stopped pacing and turned toward Marissa.

  “Do you think Rick beat his son?”

  “I know he did.”

  “Henry, call the mental institution. See if Rick Bowman has had any visitors today.”

  “You’re heading down there?” Marissa asked.

  “I hope I’m not too late.”

  Chapter 54

  Kelly stood in the middle of Logan’s spacious living room playing her flute. Trying to play her flute, she amended. The familiar piece was one of her favorites, and usually playing it was as easy as singing the alphabet song, but today she stumbled over the keys like she was wearing oven mitts.

  Kelly’s gaze strayed away from the music and locked onto the stormy sky outside. All she could think about was her missing sister and the fear lodged deep inside her heart that Brooke might never come home.

  She missed the next few notes and cursed. It had been weeks since she’d really practiced and she was rusty. Logan said she had to keep doing everyday things, and while she knew he was right, it was actually much harder than it sounded. Everything about living with Logan was comfortable and familiar, but she couldn’t stop thinking about her mother, alone in the Renton house.

  She couldn’t stop thinking about her sister either. Every day she watched the news. Every day she called her mother, hoping there would be some break in the case. Day after day, though, it was more of the same, and Kelly wondered if Brooke would ever come home, if life would ever go back to normal.

  Normal. She’d almost forgotten what that felt like. Normal was playing second fiddle to Brooke, the family star. Though Marissa would deny it, Kelly knew Brooke was her mother’s favorite. When Brooke had skipped school to hang out with her boyfriend, she was grounded for a few days. When Kelly had skipped school to hang out with her friends, she was grounded for a month and had to do all the household chores. It was hard not to resent the inequality.

  It wasn’t Brooke’s fault. Her sister had always looked out for her—tucked her into bed when Mom worked late, comforted her when Rick went off on one of his binges. Brooke was always there. So when her sister decided to live on campus, she’d been angry. It felt like another person in her life was abandoning her.

  Now, Kelly missed Brooke with an ache that seemed bottomless.

  She missed another note. Crap. Frustrated, Kelly lowered the flute from her lips. Outside, the rain beat against the window like fingernails pounding a bongo drum. The dark sky reflected her crap mood. She rearranged the sheets of music in front of her and huffed out a deep breath. Positioning the flute, she started again, slower this time.

  Music filled the room, drowning out the rain. She forced herself to focus on the notes in front of her and not the fear she felt spiraling around in her brain. Halfway through the phrase, the doorbell rang.

  Kelly frowned and lowered the flute. Placing it on the coffee table, she stole a quick glance at the clock. It was one thirty in the afternoon. Who would come looking for Logan at this time of day?

  Maybe it was a delivery, she thought, though Logan hadn’t mentioned anything when he’d left the house after lunch. He had a two o’clock meeting with the principal of Redmond High. Afterward they were planning to go to the dojo. The upside of getting kicked out of school for fighting was that Logan had started teaching her some self-defense techniques. They spent time every afternoon practicing at the dojo.

  The doorbell chimed again, and Kelly crossed into the front hall. The dead bolt was locked, and she pressed her eye to the peephole in the center of the cold steel door. The guy on the doorstep was beautiful. His dark hair was perfectly groomed. Almond-shaped eyes glinted with a smile. In his hands he held a huge bouquet of flowers. Roses, lilies, and greens—eucalyptus maybe.

  Kelly grinned and unlocked the door. Parked beside the curb was an old black Jeep. There was no delivery truck in sight. Not surprising though. The guy standing on the doorstep didn’t look like any delivery guy she’d ever seen. He was scorching hot in an Abercrombie & Fitch kind of way.

  “Hi,” he said.

  His killer smile revealed a straight line of perfect white teeth. A flurry of butterflies took flight in her stomach, and she could feel her cheeks burn red. She was suddenly embarrassed by her appearance.

  Her hair was tied back in pigtails. She was wearing tight black jeggings and a Sid and Nancy T-shirt. She felt awkward and gawky compared to the Adonis standing in front of her, but he didn’t seem to notice. He smiled at her just the same.

  “You must be here for Logan,” she said.

  “And you must be Kelly.”

  “I am,” she said, pleased Logan had mentioned her.

  “Logan said to meet him here. I’m a little early. Mind if I come in? It’s pretty nasty out here.”

  A gust of wind drove another sheet of rain against the windows, and her face flushed a deeper shade of red. He handed her the bouquet of flowers, and she hesitated, wondering why Logan hadn’t mentioned this guy was stopping by. Maybe he’d forgotten. Kelly bit her lower lip, trying to decide what to do. Her paranoia made her feel like a foolish little kid. He was probably Logan’s boyfriend.

  “Do you want me to give him a quick call?” Adonis asked.

  Feeling stupid, Kelly shook her head and stepped back, allowing him to enter, and buried her nose in the gorgeous petals. The sweet smell of roses filled her head.

  Though Kelly was tall, he was a head taller, and she looked up into his chocolate-brown eyes. Oh wow. This was the kind of guy who would come to their house to pick up Brooke, not the kind of guy who would ever notice her.

  Painfully aware of the new rash of pimples on her chin, she shied away, switching her focus back to the flowers.

  And she remembered a scene from her mother’s favorite eighties movie, Sixteen Candles. The scene takes place at the church, after the ceremony, where Samantha looks for her family and realizes she’s been forgotten. Again. Then the crowd parts, and Samantha catches sight of the gorgeous guy she’s been chasing the whole movie, Jake, standing by a fire-engine-red Porsche 944 with flowers in his hand. Cheesy. But romantic too.

  Finding her voice, she said, “Logan’s not here. He won’t be back for a while.”

  He smiled then, that flawless beautiful smile, and looked deep into her eyes.

  “That’s okay, Kelly. I’m here for you.”

  She didn’t see the Taser until it was too late.

  Chapter 55

  Drew cut his gaze to the rearview mirror, half expecting a sea of red and blue lights speeding toward him. Instead silver headlights reflected off the rain-slick surface of Interstate 90, and he drew in a breath. East, toward the towering foothills of the Cascade Range, his exit lay dead ahead. Five minutes and he’d leave the interstate behind, burying himself in the anonymity of the winding back roads between him and the cabin.

  He couldn’t feel safe until he dumped the Jeep and his cargo. He wouldn’t feel safe until he left Drew Matthews and Andy Bowman behind for good.

  Safe.

  Drew’s hands clutched the steering wheel as he remembered the last time he’d really felt safe. Long ago. Before his mother was sick.

  The sweet smell of chocolate chip cookies had wafted from the kitchen, drawing him up the creaky back porch of the white clapboard house. The screen door squealed open. Flinging his backpack to the floor, he bolted down the hall toward the kitchen.

  Country music boomed through the tinny radio speakers. His mother’s back was turned, and she shuffled across the floor in her bare feet, dancing to Shania Twain’s throaty voice singing, “Man, I feel like a woman.” The horns
blasted and she spun. Laughter spilled from her lips as she caught sight of him. Cheeks pink, dark eyes sparkling, she smiled.

  She dialed the volume down and reached into the fridge. Cold milk filled a glass on the countertop.

  “One cookie or two?” she’d asked.

  “Two.”

  He’d clambered onto a stool at the counter. She lifted two cookies off the cooling rack and set them on a plate beside a glass of milk. He bit into the first. The sweet taste of brown sugar and gooey chocolate chips filled his mouth.

  Drew’s hands relaxed on the wheel. How old was he back then? Nine? Ten? Rick was on his medication and life was normal. School came easy. He had friends. A family. The cancer changed everything. Flesh melted off his mother’s bones and the sparkle disappeared from her eyes. A season in hell, then she died. Rick went off his meds, and his life turned to shit. His mother died and he was robbed of the life he should have had.

  The asshole in the Chevrolet up ahead slammed on his brakes. It was too late to slow down, so Drew cranked the wheel and changed lanes. He flipped the driver off. The old guy behind the wheel glared as he sailed by. Catching sight of the Chevrolet growing smaller in the rearview mirror triggered his memory.

  He was in middle school when he and his best friend, Drew Matthews, decided to burn down the neighbor’s garage, but once they started talking about it, it seemed like nothing else mattered. Old Man Rutherford was a real pain in the ass, always yelling at the neighborhood kids. If anyone deserved trouble, it was him.

  Rutherford spent every Saturday afternoon listening to oldies rock and roll and working on the piece of shit Chevrolet in his garage. They figured that without the car, the old man would spend more time inside his house and less time harassing them.

  The garage lit up like a Roman candle, sending sparks shooting high into the night sky. Watching the flames undulate up into the heavens, he felt elated, like all the anger smoldering deep inside him was being released in the white-hot fury of the blaze.

  He thought they’d gotten away with it too. Winter came, and each gray day blended into the next, until one afternoon he heard a knock at the door. A police officer arrived on his doorstep with a notebook full of questions. They parked him in an empty interrogation room for hours. Waiting. Bands of fear ratcheted tight around his chest, squeezing until he could barely breathe. With each passing minute the walls closed in. He felt small. Alone. Despite his fear he refused to talk, refused to say a word about his buddy Drew. He kept his mouth shut when they came back waving fingerprint evidence and shoe impressions in his face.

  In the end, though, the cops pinned everything on him. Drew Matthews’s father hired a fancy lawyer to protect his son while his own father sat in court, watching the proceedings through bloodshot eyes, and did nothing. He was convicted. Sent away.

  And his life was fucked.

  Rick never came to visit. Not once. No one came. When he was released eighteen months later, his juvenile record was sealed. But there was no going back to his life before. High school. College. All gone. He got a job working construction and moved back in with Marissa and the old man.

  Then, one summer night at a downtown bar, the door swung open and opportunity strolled in. His old buddy, Drew Matthews, a newly minted university graduate. He looked as shiny and bright as a brand-new car. They caught up, shooting the shit like nothing had happened, like they were old friends. After last call they took off in Andy’s pickup truck and drove to Discovery Park. It was deserted this time of night. Jumping the fence, they disappeared into the woods with a six-pack, headed toward the bluff overlooking Puget Sound.

  Andy drank while Drew bragged about his life abroad. His degree. His brand-new condo. His triumphant return to Seattle.

  And Andy Bowman seized his chance. With the blow of a rock, everything changed. He shed his former self and started over again. Fresh. New.

  The whine of a siren snapped Drew back into the moment. Flashing lights filled his rearview mirror. Cold fingers of fear clamped around his throat. He swallowed. The siren wailed. The cop signaled him to pull over.

  Son of a fucking bitch.

  A split-second urge to hammer down on the gas shot through him.

  Running would be pointless though. No way he’d win a car chase in the Jeep. He was screwed.

  Wait a minute. There was only one cop. One cop. If they knew about Rick, about Alicia, there would be more. There would be a blockade. Police helicopters. The whole goddamned freak show of Charles Sully’s untimely end would play out right here on I-90.

  Ignoring the frantic hammering of his heart, Drew slowed the vehicle and pulled over onto the shoulder. Never taking his eyes off the mirror, he caught sight of the burly cop emerging from the cruiser. He thought about the gun stuffed under the seat.

  He could do this.

  “Kelly,” he called, his tone tentative. Testing.

  No answer. She was still out, or at least she was pretending. Sweat beaded at his hairline like drops of dew. Seconds ticked by. The cop skirted the edge of the vehicle, glancing through the windows as he approached. Drew held his breath. No way the cop could see through the dark tint, but still . . .

  Gray rain poured off the wide brim of the state trooper’s hat. Drew stiffened. His pulse rate spiked, and he lowered the window. The rain smelled like melted crayons through the open window.

  “License and registration.”

  “What’s the problem, Officer?” Drew asked, tacking a friendly smile to his face.

  “Is this your vehicle?”

  A knot of dread coiled at the pit of Drew’s stomach.

  “Yes, sir.” He fumbled in his coat for his wallet. Fingers freezing, he realized what he was about to do. He’d almost handed Andy Bowman’s license to the cop. Fucking stupid. Get a grip.

  “Do you know how fast you were going?” the cop barked.

  “No, sir.”

  Drew opened the console between the seats and fished around for his other wallet. He pulled the license from its sheath and handed it through the open window. The cop stared at him, then his eyes flicked back to the driver’s license in his hand. Without another word, he retreated.

  Drew brushed the sweaty hair off his forehead. He heard a grunt from the Jeep’s cargo hold and froze. He had to get out of here before she woke up. What was taking so goddamned long?

  He stared into the side mirror. His heart thundered like a jackhammer. The cop slouched behind the cruiser’s wheel, head down, so Drew couldn’t read his expression. Cars blasted past on the interstate, rocking the Jeep, and he swiped his damp palms down the length of his jeans.

  How far could he get if he lit out of here now? To the next exit? If he could make it that far, he could lose the cop on the back roads. But then what? Another cover blown. And they’d be looking for him. For the Jeep. He’d have to ditch it and . . .

  More flashing red lights approached in the distance, and Drew’s heart thundered.

  He was going to get caught with Kelly tied up in the back next to a suitcase containing Alicia’s body—or what was left of it.

  The cop lumbered toward the Jeep. Jittery, barely able to breathe, Drew watched. Was he reaching for his gun?

  A second set of flashing lights sped past.

  “Eighty-five in a seventy zone’s a pretty hefty fine.”

  The cop handed the ticket through the open window, and Drew dropped it on the seat. He tucked the license back into his wallet.

  “Yes, sir.”

  A soft moan came from the back.

  Fuck.

  Drew’s pulse rate spiked.

  “What’s that?” the cop asked, craning his head toward the cargo hold.

  Drew thought about the gun. He pictured a bullet hole between the cop’s eyes. His gaze flicked to the back of the Jeep.

  “It’s my sister’s dog.”

  “Dog?”

  “Yeah. She just moved to Pullman. Somehow I got roped into bringing the dog.”

  The cop’s eyes n
arrowed. His gaze hardened.

  “Didn’t sound like a dog.”

  Drew snorted.

  “Yeah, if you can call it that. Some kind of pug mix. Hates the car. Shits like a baby on ex-lax, so I drugged it. Antianxiety meds from the vet.”

  At least the drugging part was true. The cop grunted.

  “Well, thanks, Officer,” Drew said, and pressed the button, hoping to Christ Kelly stayed quiet a few more seconds.

  The window hummed as the glass rose. Suddenly the cop’s meaty hand reached out, clamping down hard on the edge of the window. Sweat trickled down the back of Drew’s neck.

  “Mind if I take a look?” the cop asked, nodding toward the cargo hold.

  Drew’s hand dropped from view, fingers groping underneath the seat until they grazed the butt of the gun.

  The radio on the cop’s shoulder squawked. A disembodied voice said, “We have an eleven-eighty near Exit 31. Ambulances dispatched. All available units respond.”

  The state trooper grimaced.

  “Slow down, Mr. Pearson,” he said, stealing one last glance toward the back of the Jeep before turning away.

  Drew watched the cop climb back into his cruiser. His heart pounded in his chest. Drew pulled back out into traffic, driving just below the speed limit until the police cruiser disappeared from view.

  Chapter 56

  Marissa searched her memory for what little she recalled about Andy. Rick had described him as a troubled kid who’d had some kind of run-in with the law.

  Robbery? Arson? God, it had been so long, she couldn’t remember the details. She’d purged as much of those years from her mind as she could. Possible record, she noted for Cahill before moving on.

  At first Rick had sounded like a concerned father and she’d fallen for it. As a struggling single parent herself, he’d totally played on her sympathies. In fact, he was such a convincing liar, she’d had no idea what she had been getting herself into until it was too late.