by Ben Follows
“I’ll need an extra five thousand.” Ricky casually jumped off the bed and walked up to Angela, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I'd be willing to lower the price if there's another way."
Angela removed his hand, a shudder running through her body, and walked to the side of the room. She leaned against the wall, staring at the floor. "Find him within twenty-four hours and there’s another ten thousand in it for you.”
Ricky smiled. “That’s a challenge I can sink my teeth into. It's like every cop movie ever, where they have twenty-four hours to solve a case. Why didn’t you get me to kill the Shembly's earlier?”
Angela sighed. “I couldn't find them."
Ricky nodded, grabbed his fake medical bag and walked out of the room.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Angela fell onto the bed. She stared at the ceiling for what seemed like an eternity, wondering what prison she was going to end up languishing away in.
21
Todd and Jameson left the station.
O'Reilly and Cockerton were leaning against a nearby wall. They stood and walked over.
“Todd, don’t leave Harpers Mill or there will be hell to pay,” said O’Reilly, walking up to him and putting her hands in her pockets. “Are you are sure there isn't anything else you’d like to tell us?”
Todd turned to Jameson, who shrugged. The two detectives waited expectantly. Cockerton stood a few feet behind his partner. Todd still didn't have the remotest idea what the big detective's voice sounded like.
Todd swallowed. "I know who the killer is."
O'Reilly raised an eyebrow. “You found out who the mysterious Paul is?"
“Yes, his name is Marcus Devereaux. He was on television earlier. He’s at McKinley Military Base.”
O’Reilly scoffed. “My sister sent me a video of that guy. You’re telling me that a paraplegic war veteran who runs a charity is sneaking around murdering people?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying."
O'Reilly rolled her eyes. "When you're ready to start being serious and stop blaming people who do more good for the world in a day than you have in your entire life, give me a call."
She turned on her heel and walked away. Cockerton followed.
“Oh, by the way,” said O'Reilly, stopping and turning back toward him. “We got a warrant for your texts.”
Todd swallowed. They would read the texts with Danielle. He didn't think it would do any good, but it was information the cops didn't have. They would be one step closer to discovering what the Shembly's were hiding.
Once they were out of earshot, Jameson looked at Todd. “That could have gone better.”
“You believe me, right?" said Todd. “Devereaux is the killer.”
Jameson smirked. “I believe everything my clients tell me.”
“Did you find anything from the bank records?”
“The Shembly's own a cottage in Frederick Sound, which wasn't on any official records.”
"I noticed. Do you have the address?"
Jameson nodded and handed him a page with the address written on it. "What are you going to do, Todd? Whatever it is, I feel as though I have a legal duty to advise you it's a bad idea."
Todd looked at the piece of paper. "Is there anything else you need to say?"
Jameson moved his jaw as though he was chewing gum. “Charles Shembly withdrew twenty grand from an account I had no knowledge of from a bank in Carney."
Todd nodded. A cool breeze passed by. He pulled his sweater tight around himself. He took out his cigarettes and tapped one into his hand.
"They were prepared for this," he said, lighting the cigarette. "Danielle will be there. She needs to know about Marcus."
“Todd,” said Jameson. “The police are not backing you up. They told you not to leave Harper’s Mill. You're giving them ammunition to make you their prime suspect."
“It’s for Danielle. I have to.”
Jameson put his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “As your lawyer I have to inform you this is a terrible decision. However, O'Reilly also doesn't have any legal backing for prohibiting your movement.”
"You already told me that."
Jameson put a hand on Todd's shoulder. “Good luck, Todd.”
The lawyer turned and walked to the parking lot, leaving Todd alone.
He inhaled on the cigarette.
He passed O'Reilly and Cockerton, who nodded at him from the front seat of their car.
Todd climbed into his car and left the police station.
He watched the detectives in the rearview mirror as they pulled out of the parking lot behind him. They followed a few cars behind him as he drove through Harper's Mill.
Todd pulled into his driveway. The detective turned the corner behind him and stopped on the side of the road.
Todd walked inside and locked the door. Baxter sprinted up and began licking his face. The back door was open. It appeared Baxter had gone out to relieve himself.
He checked his phone. There were no new texts from Danielle.
He thought through his options. He needed to get to Frederick Sound, but couldn't have the cops following him.
He opened Liam Derkin's contact page, hit the button, and held the phone to his ear.
The answer was quick and crisp. “You’ve reached Window Cleaning Solutions. Liam speaking. How can I help you?”
“It’s me.”
“Oh, hey Todd." Liam seemed disappointed that he wasn't getting any new clients for the business he insisted was not a Ponzi scheme. "What’s up?”
“You heard about Danielle?”
There was a pause. “Yes, I heard. Sorry about that, man. Have you heard anything new?"
“Not yet, but I have a lead. I’m going to find her.”
“Maybe you should just chill for a bit, dude. Maybe this is for the best. I never liked her anyway. She always rubbed me the wrong way.”
Todd repositioned himself on the couch. There was a tennis ball lodged between the cushions. He fished it out and threw it through the open door and into the backyard. Baxter sprinted after it.
“Liam," he said. "Danielle’s mom is dead, and the rest of the Shembly's are missing.”
“What? Holy shit, dude. I didn't know. What happened?"
“Can you come over to my place? I need your help.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll come over right now. I'm so sorry, dude, I didn't know."
Todd shook his head incredulously. "Just get here."
Todd hung up and fell onto his couch. He watched television until Liam knocked at the door.
"Come in!"
“What’s going on?” said Liam, stepping into the house and closing the door behind him. “There’s a cop car a few blocks down watching your house.”
Todd pushed himself off the couch. “Those are the detectives. They think I killed Mrs. Shembly, and that I know where Danielle is.”
Liam looked around, his hands in his pockets. “What do you want me to do?”
Todd was thankful Liam hadn't asked him if he did it.
“I need you to help me lose the detectives," he said, "and I need you to watch Baxter for the next few days.”
"You want to switch cars so they'll follow me?
"That's what I'm thinking."
Liam grinned. "I can do that. Where are you going?"
"I can't tell you. The detectives will probably ask you a bunch of questions and I need as of a head start as I can get."
Liam nodded. "You can count on me. What if you get arrested? What will I do with the dog?"
Baxter's walked back in the back door with the ball in his teeth.
"I'll figure something out," said Todd. "Are you sure you can handle this?"
Liam smirked. "It's nothing I haven't dealt with before."
“I appreciate it. Are you ready?”
"You want to do it now? Okay, but in exchange for doing this you owe me a case of beer, and an extra-large pizza. I get to choose both.”
Todd nodded. “That
sounds like a deal.”
Liam downed the Bud Light, grimacing as he did so, then crushed the can and threw it into the sink.
“Let’s do this," he said.
They switched car keys, pulled on baseball caps and sunglasses, and walked outside, climbing into each other's cars.
They pulled out of the driveway and drove in opposite directions.
In the rearview mirror, Liam drove past the detective's car. A few moments later the detectives pulled out and followed him.
Todd breathed a sigh of relief and turned toward the highway. The roads were mostly clear. The sun was shining. He smiled and pulled onto the highway.
After an hour heading north toward Frederick Sound, Todd got a text from Liam.
It said, “I spent half an hour in the police station being grilled before my lawyer got me out. That O'Reilly chick is mental.”
Todd smiled and pushed down the accelerator. He was going to make it to Frederick Sound. He was going to meet up with Danielle and the Shembly's. Everything would be explained, and everything would make sense.
He was sure of it.
Just as that thought passed through his mind, the black, unmarked car behind him turned its sirens on.
22
Marcus pulled the fisherman’s cap low over his eyes and stepped into the bakery. Freshly baked bread and cakes lined the walls. The scent of fresh apple pie wafted through the air.
An elderly woman walked out from the back, wiping her hands on her apron.
“You’re not from around here, are you?" she said when she saw Marcus. "I know most of the people who have cottages around here. Did you recently buy a place?”
“No,” said Marcus, leaning on the counter. “I’m looking for someone.”
“Who would that be?”
Marcus took a newspaper clipping from his pocket which had a family picture of the Shembly's.
The woman took out her spectacles and perched them on her nose. Her eyes opened wide for a moment. She cleared her throat and looked at the photo.
“No,” she said, passing back the photo. “I haven't seen them. Do you mind if I ask what interest you have in finding them?"
Marcus leaned over the counter. “I think you know where they are.”
“I've never seen them before. I can’t help you.”
“I’m a private detective,” said Marcus. “I’ve been hired to find them.”
“Who hired you?”
“I can’t disclose that.”
The woman eyed him for a few moments. “I don’t know anything.”
Marcus locked her in his gaze. “Where are they?”
She took a few steps back. “I’d like you to leave.”
“Tell me.”
Marcus walked around the counter and stood over the woman. He pulled up his jacket, revealing the gun in his belt. It was still defective, but it worked as a threat.
“Okay! Okay!” The woman’s legs gave out. She collapsed against the wall, holding up her hands. “They came through this morning. There were three kids and two adults, but not the young woman in that picture. There was another woman with blonde, short hair.”
“Where did they go?”
“I don’t know. They headed north. They bought a lot of food I have here."
Marcus took the gun from his pants and pointed it at the woman. She cowered and clenched her eyes shut.
“They gave me a hundred dollars to be quiet. Please don't hurt me.”
“The woman with the Shembly’s,” said Marcus, “Was she tall? Did she have an oddly shaped nose, like it had been broken a few times?”
The woman nodded frantically.
Marcus leaned down and patted her shoulder. She recoiled from his touch.
“Thank you," said Marcus. "You’ve done a great service. Do you have a phone?”
She nodded and pointed. “The only phone I have is the landline.”
Marcus walked to the landline and ripped it from the wall. It dropped to the floor.
He looked around the bakery. “You know what? I'll have an apple pie. It smells too good to pass up.”
“Of course. I'll get that for you right now.” The woman stood, holding her hands in the air and scrambled to the fridge.
She was shaking, and kept glancing at the door, but no one entered. It was a Thursday afternoon. There wouldn't be much cottage country traffic.
The woman packaged up the pie and placed it on the counter. Marcus paid and waited for his change.
She dropped the change into his hand.
“Thanks," said Marcus, pocketing the change. "This smells delicious.”
He slid the gun into his belt and left the store.
He looked both ways down the street. By the time someone came, he would be long gone.
He climbed into Angela's car and continued north.
He opened the pie as he was driving and grabbed a small piece in his hand. He took a bite and smiled.
“That is a phenomenal pie," he said.
23
Todd pulled onto the shoulder of the highway. The unmarked police cruiser pulled onto the gravel behind him.
Todd watched in his side mirror. A fat cop stepped out of the vehicle.
Todd kept his hands on the steering wheel.
The cop lumbered toward him.
Todd leaned over and grabbed his phone. There was a new text from Liam.
It said, "The detectives are pissed. Be careful."
Todd looked in his side mirror.
The cop wiped the sweat from his forehead and shielded his eyes from the sun. He was halfway to Todd.
Todd glanced at his text, then at the cop, and took a deep breath.
He opened the text with Danielle. He reread the conversation and took a deep breath.
He had to take a risk here. He had to be either brave or stupid, and he wouldn't know which it was until it was over. If the detectives had enough information to get a warrant for his arrest, this could be his last chance.
He could almost hear Jameson screaming to wait and hear what the cop had to say.
He knew O'Reilly couldn't legally stop him from leaving, but she could've gotten a court order in the last few hours.
Todd realized he'd known what he was going to do the moment the cop turned on his sirens.
"Sorry, Jameson," said Todd, dropping his phone onto the passenger seat.
He turned the key and shifted into drive. The engine began to purr.
He glanced in his mirror. The cop had dropped into a crouch and was grabbing the gun at his waist.
Todd hit the gas and pulled onto the highway.
An SUV swerved into the left lane to avoid him, blaring its horn.
Todd gunned the engine and hit eighty miles an hour within thirty seconds.
Todd looked in the rearview mirror. The cop had made it back to his car and was yelling into the radio.
Todd smiled as the cop receded into the distance. He followed the curve of the highway as it swooped between immense rocks and forests which indicated the start of cottage country.
He passed an exit just as two cops with sirens blaring came down it. They both pulled up behind him, one to the left and one to the right.
Cars braked and moved out of the way as the medium-speed chase continued down the highway.
Todd felt goosebumps breaking out over his arms. His legs were shaking.
He cursed and slowed down.
The cops slowed with him.
Todd realized they were hoping he would surrender.
He wondered if the detectives would arrest him for murder. He wondered if he'd get convicted. He wondered if he'd spend the rest of his life behind bars, never having learned the truth about Danielle and Marcus Devereaux.
In that moment, he decided this was his cause. It wasn't about anything other than him. He needed to know the truth.
He took a deep breath and hit the gas. He cranked the wheel to the right.
The car swerved across three lanes of traffic toward the
next exit.
The exit sign indicated he was still twenty miles from Frederick Sound, and was instead entering the small town of Carney.
From behind him came the screech of tires and horns, and a few smashes.
He glanced in his rearview mirror. A small fender bender had occurred. The drivers were screaming at Todd and making obscene gestures.
An SUV had pulled onto the shoulder of the road, unintentionally blocking one of the cop cars.
The other cop weaved through the far lane of traffic, making progress toward the exit.
Todd turned right into the nearest parking lot. It served a grocery store, a hardware store, and a Starbucks.
He drove behind the Starbucks, parked Liam's car in a spot beside the back door to the coffee shop, and climbed out.
He locked the car and walked inside.
Through the front window, Todd watched one of the police cars pull in.
He ordered a coffee and took the table closest to the back exit.
The cop parked and got out of his car.
He was an older, balding, man with a serious gaze and a rod-straight back. He looked around the parking lot and grabbed the radio from his waist. He turned away from Todd and held the radio to his mouth.
The cop listened then put away the radio. He stared at the grocery store for a moment. Todd silently begged him to go in that direction.
Todd gripped his coffee and some spilled over the edge and onto his wrist. He recoiled from the heat.
Instead of heading toward the grocery store, the cop turned and walked toward the Starbucks, directly in Todd's direction.
Todd jumped to his feet, spilling his coffee over himself and knocking over his chair.
Every customer turned and stared at him, their eyes going from him to the approaching cop then back to him.
A few pulled away. One woman stood and began waving and screaming frantically to the cop.
The cop began sprinting, his arms moving like pendulums.
Todd dropped what remained of the coffee on the table and barged through the back door. The door slammed against the wall behind him. The customers shouted directions.
Todd desperately looked for somewhere to hide.