by Tom Hunt
* * *
Shane put his T-shirt back on, cursing as he worked his injured shoulder through the armhole. The front of the shirt was splotched with dried blood. He threw on his black sweatshirt over it, then crumpled up the bank drawing and put it in his pants pocket.
“It’s showtime.”
He walked over to Joshua and bent down. He hooked his good arm under Joshua’s armpit and lifted him off the ground like he weighed nothing. They walked across the room, Joshua with his arms still bound behind him.
“My mom will pay you,” he said. “Just call her.”
“I’m through with that,” Shane said from behind him. “I’m sticking to what I know. Getting cash the hard, old-fashioned way.”
Joshua walked up to the front door. The wood around the door handle was splintered, a large chunk of it resting on the floor. Like the door had been kicked in. Outside, there were trees everywhere. Some sort of wooded area. Even though it was dark, Joshua could see a few buildings that looked identical to the one they’d just left. Small log cabins. The place was some sort of campground. Empty, probably closed for the winter.
Parked right next to the cabin was the white car Shane had taken from the dealership. He set Joshua down in the front seat.
“Just sit there,” he said. “Don’t move. Don’t try to be a hero, okay?”
Shane slammed the passenger door shut and walked around the car. He sat down in the driver’s seat and started driving away. They passed through a wooded area that looked similar to Hawkeye Wildlife Management Area, where everything had begun. Maybe there was something fitting in that. The whole thing coming full circle.
They drove down a few worn paths. After five minutes, they reached a darkened sign that read CAMP GREGORY. Next to it was a large cabin with REGISTER HERE written on an arrow sign pointing toward the cabin entrance. Past the sign was a highway. Shane drove up to the highway and came to a stop. Just as he turned onto the highway, a police cruiser appeared over the crest of the hill, half a mile away.
* * *
• • •
The police car’s flashing lights weren’t on and it was dark, but there was no mistaking what the car was.
Shane saw it first. He screamed a few curse words. He floored the accelerator and turned onto the highway, but the midsize sedan was no match for the police cruiser. The cruiser caught up with them in less than a minute. Once it was a couple of hundred feet behind them, the flashing lights came on.
Shane kept the accelerator floored. Their speed kept increasing, up to eighty miles an hour. The police cruiser stayed directly behind them, lights flashing. Past it, Joshua could see a second car, a couple of miles back, heading in their direction.
Shane was panting. Cursing. He scanned the road, looking for something, but Joshua didn’t know what he could be looking for. There was nothing out here. Just a flat, straight highway with flat, straight land on either side. Some trees, that was about it.
The police cruiser remained behind them, following at a steady pace, not losing or gaining ground. The second police cruiser had reached them and was right behind the first one. Their car and the two cruisers were in a straight row.
“Christ!” Shane yelled. “Dammit!”
Joshua sat in the passenger seat. With his arms bound behind him, he felt so helpless. Exposed. Shane’s foot was still pressed down on the accelerator. They were going so fast that the car dashboard and body had started to shake. They were—
Shane took his foot off the accelerator and slammed it down on the brake. The tires squealed. The car fishtailed. Joshua rocked forward in his seat, his chest hitting the dashboard. The police cruiser behind them swerved to avoid their car but clipped the rear left side of their bumper. The police cruiser veered onto the highway shoulder, tires squealing, then sharply turned back onto the highway, where it slammed into the second cruiser. Both cars swerved onto the highway shoulder and crashed into the highway ditch, next to each other. The fronts of both cars crumpled with the impact. One of the cruisers flipped onto its side and skidded to a stop. Steam started rising from the car hoods.
Shane screamed. “Ha! Hell yes!”
The rocking and swaying of the car had tossed Joshua around in his seat; it had been impossible to hold on to anything or brace himself. He was sitting sideways in his seat now, shoulder resting against the dashboard, hands still behind him. One of his feet was down near the floor. The other was sprawled out from his body, on top of the center console between him and Shane.
Shane had a crazed smile on his face, was practically shaking with excitement from the car chase. They left the scene, the police cruisers crashed on the side of the road disappearing as they drove away from them. Up ahead was a turnoff for a road that ran perpendicular to the highway. Shane slowed to take the turnoff.
Joshua looked at his foot, resting on the center console, just a few inches from the steering wheel.
The car approached the turn. To the side of the intersection was a small drop-off to lower ground, around twenty feet.
Shane turned the wheel to the right to take the turn.
This was it, Joshua decided. His chance. He had to take it. If he didn’t do anything, there’d be nothing to do but wait for this to end. Whenever that would come, however that would be, this wasn’t going to end well. There was no doubt about that.
He had to take a chance. Had to take matters into his own hands.
He kicked his foot out and hit the steering wheel. The car sharply veered as they took the turn. They weren’t going nearly as fast as they’d been going on the interstate during the chase, but they were still going fast. Thirty miles an hour, probably. Shane tried to correct the wheel before the car fell down the drop-off beside the road, but he was too late.
The car tumbled down and slammed into the ground. It flipped onto its roof.
Either the car didn’t have airbags or they were faulty, because they didn’t inflate.
Joshua fell against the windshield.
Shane’s face smashed against the steering wheel.
The car rolled onto its side, fell back on its wheels, and skidded to a stop.
* * *
• • •
Everything had happened so quickly, it took a moment for it all to register. Joshua felt a shooting pain in his arm. He smelled something—gas? The car headlights were still on, shining out onto the flatland surrounding them.
Shane was beside him. Slumped in his seat. Eyes closed. Head lolled to the side. Blood pouring from his nose, down into his beard.
Joshua tried to move his legs. Couldn’t. They were wedged under the dashboard at an awkward angle. He shifted his body in his seat, wincing at the pain in his arm. He gritted his teeth and leaned forward. Moved his body so his back was to the car door. He felt around behind him and ran his hands along the door until he found the handle. Pulled on it. The door opened and he tumbled outside. He landed on his back, and the pain in his arm roared to life again.
He tried to stand up but it was impossible with his hands behind his back. Instead, he rolled away from the car, wincing every time he rolled onto his injured arm. He stopped after a few seconds; he was making himself dizzy.
He heard a noise and glanced over at the car. Shane was conscious. He opened the door and stepped outside. Blood kept pouring from his nose down into his beard.
He tried to walk, stumbled. Fell to the ground.
He glanced over. Saw Joshua. Their eyes locked.
“You bastard,” he said.
* * *
• • •
Shane reached into his hoodie pocket. His hand emerged holding the gun. He kept his eyes on Joshua and smiled. One of his front teeth had been knocked out and his mouth was covered in blood.
He stood up shakily and took a step toward Joshua. Fell down again. Stood up again and lumbered over. Joshua tried to roll away, but he
just couldn’t move fast enough to escape.
“Kid . . .” Shane said. “You damn fool.”
He took another step. Fifteen feet away. Joshua kept rolling away, but everything was spinning. The pain in his arm was screaming.
Shane took a few more lumbering steps. He fell to the ground. Dropped the gun. Felt around on the darkened ground until he found it.
He stood up and continued to approach, stumbling and swaying but remaining on his feet. When he finally reached Joshua, Shane stuck his leg out to stop him from rolling any farther. Shane was right on top of him. Just a foot or two away. Everything was spinning. In the distance, about a mile away, he saw the flashing red and blue lights from the police cruisers, crashed on the side of the road, immobile.
Shane raised the gun. Joshua kicked out. His foot connected with Shane’s leg but Shane didn’t even flinch. Joshua yelled for help, screamed as loudly as he could. It was his only defense; it was useless.
Shane opened his mouth, like he was going to say something, final words before the kill. Blood dripped out of his mouth from the gap where his front tooth had been.
Shane’s hand holding the gun was shaking. He pointed it at Joshua, right at his chest. Point-blank range.
Joshua closed his eyes.
Braced himself.
And heard the loud explosion of a gunshot.
SUNDAY
TWENTY-NINE
Karen opened her eyes. Stared up at the ceiling. For a moment, she was positive that yesterday had been a nightmare. It hadn’t happened. But the thought passed instantly. Of course it had been real. That’s why she was here in the hospital and not at home, in her bed.
She still couldn’t believe how close everything had been. Last night, she’d gotten the entire story of what had happened. Officers had arrived at the campsite they’d traced Shane’s phone to just as Shane and Joshua were leaving. A minute later, and they would’ve missed them. There was a car chase, the officers crashed, and Joshua had caused Shane’s car to flip before they could get away. Shane had chased Joshua down and was about to shoot him . . . and then an officer from one of the crashed cars had arrived. He’d sprinted more than a mile after he saw their car go off the side of the road. The officer started firing just as Shane was about to shoot Joshua. He didn’t stop firing until Shane was dead.
Joshua had been taken to Mercy Hospital. He had a concussion and a dislocated shoulder . . . but he was alive. They’d gotten the miracle she’d hoped for.
One second, one mistake, and the ending could have been far different. Had the police arrived a few minutes later, had the car crashed at a different angle, had the officer’s aim been slightly off . . . things would have been far, far different.
After arriving at the hospital, she’d kissed Joshua. Hugged him like she’d never hugged him before. He’d undergone tests to determine what injuries he’d suffered in the crash, and she’d waited for him. By the time everything ended, it was nearly four in the morning. The doctor who treated him decided to keep Joshua overnight as a precaution. A nurse let Karen into a patient room that wasn’t in use and she slept at the hospital. Not that she’d had much of a choice. Their house was still a crime scene. At least, it had been last night. Her bed was still soaked in Amber’s blood.
“You’re awake already, I see.”
She looked up. One of the floor nurses she’d spoken to briefly last night was standing at the edge of the room.
“Yeah,” Karen said. “I’m awake. Not sure how alert I am, though.”
She glanced at a bedside clock. Six thirty a.m. Only a few hours had passed since everything ended.
“You have visitors here,” the nurse said. “Wanted to see if you’re up for guests.”
The nurse gave her some names. Karen recognized them all. Her coworkers.
“Send them in,” she said.
The nurse smiled and disappeared. A moment later, a group of her coworkers entered the room. Ten of them in all. Carmella was with them—Karen hadn’t seen her since the breakout at the hospital.
There was barely enough space for all of them in the patient room. Some sat down on the edge of the bed; most remained standing. They all walked over and hugged her.
“How’d you know I was here?” she asked.
“Word travels quickly around the hospital,” her coworker Dan said. “We heard what happened. At least, parts of it.”
“Like what?”
“Three people took you and Joshua hostage. The woman being broken out of the hospital, that was you who did that. There was a shoot-out at a car dealership. A car crash. Two people are dead—two of the people who took you hostage.”
“Yeah. That’s the story. Some of it, at least.”
“How’s Joshua?”
“Concussion, separated shoulder,” Karen said. “He won’t be swinging a golf club for a while. Not that that really matters.”
“What can we do? Anything?”
She shook her head. “Not really. I’m still in shock, to be honest.”
“We’ve all been calling your phone.”
“My phone is . . .” What had happened to her phone? She remembered when she returned from the hospital, Ross had taken it from her. She had no idea what he’d done with it. “My phone’s gone. Can’t imagine how many messages I have.”
They talked some more. Every few seconds, she’d hear the same phrases: So sorry . . . We’re here for you. . . . Everything will be fine. . . .
She did her best to answer their questions and hold up her end of the discussion, but she felt so gloomy. Considering the circumstances, things could have ended far worse than they had. That was little consolation, though. She’d meant what she said earlier; she really felt like she was in shock from it all. But as down as she felt, it was good to see her coworkers. Good to be around them. It was nice to have the support.
“We should get going,” Dan said after a few minutes. “We just wanted to stop by. Tell you we’re here for you. We’ll talk later, once things have died down.”
They each hugged her on the way out. After everyone else left her room, Carmella stayed behind.
“Hey,” she said to Karen.
“Hey.”
“I’m glad things are fine. I’m probably the five millionth person to tell you that, but it’s true.”
“Thanks.”
“I keep wondering if there was something I should’ve done,” she said. “When you came to me. I didn’t mention you to the police when I spoke to them after the breakout, and I keep thinking things would be different if I’d said something to them.”
“No. You did what I told you. I thought it was the right thing to do. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. In the end, I guess everything worked out.”
“I finally came clean this morning. A police detective called me and wanted to get my story again. And I told him everything this time. I told him I lied earlier, and that you forced me to help you break the woman out. I gave the detective the truth. I couldn’t keep lying.”
“That’s fine. You’re not in trouble, are you?”
“I don’t think so. I’m supposed to talk to some hospital administrators later on.”
“I’ll tell them the story. Tell them I forced you to help me.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Carmella said. “At least, not now. You have more important things to focus on.”
* * *
• • •
Karen stopped by Joshua’s room. He was sleeping, so she went down a floor and visited Teddy. She hadn’t forgotten about him, even with everything that had happened. She’d briefly spoken with him last night after she talked with Joshua. The surgery to stitch up the bullet wound in his leg had gone well. There was some muscle damage but nothing serious.
The door to Teddy’s room was open, and she walked in. He lay in the patient bed, head turned to the side,
staring out the window, his blond hair a little disheveled.
“Feeling better?” she asked.
He looked over at her. A brief smile. “Yeah. Don’t think I could feel worse than last night if I tried.”
She sat down in a chair at his bedside.
“Joshua?” Teddy asked.
“Still sleeping. Unless something changes, we’ll go home later.”
“Sounds like they’re kicking me out, too.”
They sat in silence for a long time, both of them staring off and avoiding eye contact. Just sitting there, a million unspoken words between them.
“So, what happens next?” Teddy eventually said.
“I still have to talk with the police. Give them my full statement. That’s supposed to happen today.”
“You haven’t talked with them yet?”
“I did earlier. When Joshua was missing. I told them everything I could about Shane. But I didn’t tell them about the accident. The hit-and-run that started this all. We were so focused on finding Joshua that there wasn’t time to tell them everything. And then last night, it was nearly four in the morning by the time they brought Joshua in and finished with him. By then, the detective was gone. He said he’d get my statement tomorrow. Today.”
“Guess it’s time to come clean, then,” Teddy said. “Admit everything. Do what we should have from the start. Tell the police everything. We don’t really have a choice.”
“We might.”
“How so?”
“Earlier, I was thinking. I was thinking about the body.”
In fact, she’d been thinking about it constantly. That had been the main reason she’d gotten hardly any sleep last night: she was thinking about the body. Now that everything had slowed down, she’d had time to truly consider their situation and the events that had led them here. The accident. The body. And now, the punishment.
If she told the police about the dead body and the cover-up, Joshua would be looking at jail time. She didn’t see any way he would avoid it. He was eighteen. In the eyes of the law, he was an adult. Some people might have compassion because of everything they’d been through, but the facts were the facts: he’d killed someone and left the scene without reporting it.