by C Thomas Cox
We arrived to find her father with his head in his hands. A woman about my age -- I assume she was Jacob's grandmother -- rubbed his back. "I'm sure your father and the nurses will find her," she said. "She couldn't have wandered too far away."
"Daddy!" Claire exclaimed.
He looked over, and his bloodshot eyes widened. He spread his arms apart, and Claire leapt into them. "Claire!" He squeezed her hard. "You had daddy so worried! Are you okay?" He cradled her face in his hands.
"I'm good," she said. "Look." She held up her pack of Oreos and grinned.
"And just where'd you get them?"
She gestured toward me. "My friend."
He lifted Claire off of his lap and set her feet on the floor. "Thank you! Thank you!" He stood up, extended his hand, and shook mine vigorously. "Where'd you find her?"
I didn't want to cause Claire too much trouble, but I couldn't lie about how far away she'd gone...I didn't want Claire to correct me. "She was in parking lot D."
He glared at her. She shrugged her shoulders. "Well at least she's back now." He reached for his wallet. "How much do I owe you for the snack?"
"Don't worry about it. Seeing Claire reunite with her father is payment enough."
My shoulders tensed as I felt a hand on each of them. I glanced to my left and to my right and saw the nurses from the elevator. They were no longer giggling. "Mr. Richmond, can you please come with us?"
Before I had the chance to react, I heard little Claire gagging like a dog that tried to swallow a three-inch-long stick. I glanced over, and she was shoving her index and middle fingers deep into her throat. I took a step back.
Within seconds, vomit spewed out of her mouth and splattered on the floor. It deflected onto the nurses' shoes, causing them to take their hands -- and eyes -- off of me. Taking advantage of the unmerited grace, I took off down the hall, racing toward past the elevator bank and to the nearest stairwell.
I heard a scream and I glanced back to see one nurse lying on top of the other. They'd apparently slipped on Claire's vomit in their attempt to turn and give chase. Just past them, Claire was giving me a thumbs-up. She was a good girl.
The nurses yelled for someone to stop me, and an orderly that was at least ten years my senior gave chase. But at his age he was no match for my dexterity.
I weaved between wheelchairs, dodged an occupied gurney, and juked a nurse or two. I heard his panting grow further and further away as I grew nearer to the stairwell door. Just as I put my hand on the handle, my phone started ringing. At the same time, I heard someone in the background call security.
Chapter Forty-Six
As soon as I passed through the door and onto the stairs, I glanced at the phone's caller ID. Since it was Liz's number rather than my wife's, I answered.
"Hey," I said, gasping.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Oh, I'm fine. I'm not being chased by hospital security or anything."
"What?" She paused for a second. "Never mind. Where are you?"
"In the east wing. Heading down the stairwell to the first floor."
"Don't exit the stairwell for two minutes." She hung up before I could ask why.
I was at the bottom of the steps in thirty seconds, and I counted for another sixty. By that time, though, I heard the door through which I'd entered the stairwell open. I could wait no longer.
I gradually opened the door to the first floor, expecting to find security waiting for me. Instead, I saw a crowd of people, including security, gathering to my right -- in the opposite direction of the hospital's exit. I speed-walked toward the exit, praying no one would stop me. They didn’t.
Once I made it through the exit, I took off in a light jog toward the car. I wasn't sure if I had the time to walk, but I didn't want to give myself away by running.
As I increased the distance between the hospital and me -- and looked back to confirm no one was trailing me -- I pulled out the phone and called Liz.
I squeezed the phone like a stress ball as I waited for her to answer. I needed to make sure she was okay...and that she wasn't involved in the melee that had distracted security. After I heard her voicemail pick up, I turned to go back inside.
Just after I turned, however, I heard a honking car horn coming from the direction of Liz's vehicle. Since I was close enough to see her car, I took a couple steps toward it. I shivered. I wanted to make sure that the sound wasn't, in fact, coming from Liz's car. I heard another honk. I wracked my brain in an unsuccessful attempt to recall whether I took the time to lock the doors. I couldn't remember. Half-Ear could easily be inside. I took another ten steps. Another honk. I was close enough to see inside the car now, and I was able to make out the back of someone's head in the passenger's seat.
Chapter Forty-Seven
I dashed to the car, opened the driver's side door, and found Liz occupying the passenger seat. "Why didn't you answer my calls?" I asked.
She looked down at her phone and tapped the screen. "I muted the ring when I was inside."
"You just about gave me a heart attack!"
She shrugged. "Sorry…by the way, you should never leave your car unlocked. You know there are murderers out there, Mr. Richmond." She grinned.
I sat down, slammed the door shut, and locked it. "Anyway...you okay?"
"Yep," she said, holding up her bandaged hand. "Might eventually need to see a plastic surgeon, but I'll survive." She winked.
I gave her a thumbs up. "But if you're here, who's causing the disturbance inside the hospital?"
"I found this teenage boy hanging in the hallway. He looked beyond bored, and I thought he could use some excitement." She chuckled. "I handed him a twenty-dollar-bill and asked him to fake an emergency. Next thing I knew, he was writhing on the floor and screaming that he'd been shot."
"You're something else," I said. "Resourceful is an understatement."
"Thanks, old man." She squeezed my forearm. "So, where are you taking me next?"
I drove out of the hospital complex and onto the main road. I was familiar enough with the area that I thought I could navigate to the address on her registration card without assistance from her smartphone. "I'm taking you to safety," I said.
"Don't you dare take me home," she said. "You helped me, and now I'm going to help you."
"No way I'm pulling you into my mess." I looked over at her, and her eyes looked glassier than before. "I'm not trying to get rid of you, Liz. I promise I'll reach out to you once I'm sure my wife is safe. But I'd never forgive myself if my problems caused you harm."
"Fine…but you take the car." I was hoping she'd say that, as I didn't have a backup plan if she didn't offer. "And make sure to answer my calls." Although the request was a bit ironic considering her failure to answer mine, I nodded in agreement. I truly did want to keep in touch with her -- and to help her once I was able.
Fifteen minutes later we were turning onto her street, but I wasn't at all ready to see her go. She'd been my sole source of support over the past day, and I wasn't quite sure what I was going to do without her. "This is it, Liz. You take care." I said, gripping her hand.
"Not so fast," she said. She pointed ahead of us at three police cruisers parked in front of her condominium building. "U-turn!" she shouted. "Turn around!"
I performed a three-point-turn in the middle of the road and took off. By that point it was too late, though. In my rearview mirror, I was able to make out at least two sets of flashing red and blue lights, and they were barreling toward us.
Chapter Forty-Eight
"Guess they had enough time to connect me to Thomas," Liz said more calmly than I expected. "I'm sure they don't know about his shack, though."
I made a left, and then a right. I didn't know where I was headed, but I wanted to get as far away from the cops as possible, as quickly as possible.
"You sure you don’t have anything in your condo that links you to his house?" I asked. "They might've searched your place." I couldn't let her take an
y of the punishment that Thomas's graveyard would inevitably rain down.
She shook her head. "Not a thing. He found that shack on his own. He said it was abandoned when he found it, though I've often wondered if he's the one who caused it's owners to abandon it." She sighed. "Regardless, there's no paperwork because he was never the rightful owner."
"I guess that's a good thing." My turns hadn't done enough. They were still on our tail -- and gaining. "Tell me where to go."
Liz pointed, and I made a right down an alley that was situated between two rows of townhouses. "Sorry about that," I said. Liz's car knocked aluminum trash cans out of the way as if they were bowling pins.
"No worries...I've backed into a telephone pole or two in my time."
The cans had rolled back into the alley behind us, but they weren't enough to stop the officers. The cops didn't care about denting their tax-funded vehicles.
"Left!" she shouted. I obeyed, and found myself driving down a side street that terminated into a parking lot. Beyond the lot was a three-acre pond that a flock of Canada geese was using as a pit stop during their southward migration.
When I realized that no other side streets stood between us and the lot, I screamed, "We’re trapped!"
"Not so fast." She pointed to the left end of the lot. "Head that way."
We skidded as I slammed on the brakes right after we entered the gravel lot. I jerked the wheel to the left, and the car obeyed after a slight fishtail. I straightened the wheel, stomped on the accelerator, and we took off.
At the end to which Liz pointed, the lot transitioned seamlessly into the grass field surrounding the water. Without a curb blocking our path, we were soon driving on the field. The cops, unfortunately, were right behind.
Although our tires had some difficulty gripping the grass, they were able to do just well enough. "Where next?" I asked.
"Toward the water."
"Okay," I said. I wasn't sure why I trusted Liz, but I didn't have another option. I certainly didn't have a better idea.
When we got within a hundred feet of the water, she said, "Count to five, and then make a hard right." The nearest cruiser was almost close enough to tap our bumper.
I did exactly as she commanded. I reached five and made a hard right. The cop directly behind us, on the other hand, didn't know I was going to do so. While I was busy keeping our own car from flipping over on the sloped field, his brakes weren't enough to stop his car from sliding straight into the water. I high-fived my passenger.
I felt like one of the boys from Hazzard as I accelerated across the grassy expanse. This time, however, instead of waiting for further instruction I headed toward a wide stand of pine trees.
I slowed as we reached the staggered trunks. Although they were at least fifteen feet apart from one another, I couldn’t navigate between them at thirty miles per hour.
I weaved through them as though I was a diminutive running back dodging towering lineman. Yanking the steering wheel to the left and to the right, I was confident that the officer would eventually give up the chase. Every time I glanced in the rearview mirror, however, she was right behind us. Like an annoying sibling, she mimicked our every move.
With the end of the stand merely a hundred feet in front of us, I knew I needed to do something different. If I didn't stop her now, I wasn't sure what I would do next.
Just before the upcoming clearing, I noticed two trunks to our right that were no more than eight feet apart. Although I wasn't quite sure of the width of Liz's Cavalier, I guessed that I had about a foot of clearance with which to play. "You sure we'll fit?" Liz asked when I turned the wheel toward the tight gap.
"Nope."
When I didn't change directions, she tried to grab the wheel with her good hand. I shoved her away and we hurtled toward our salvation -- or our demise. Although I was confident, I wasn't sure whether my confidence was misplaced.
I gripped the wheel so hard that blood began to seep through my bandage. When the blood made the wheel slick, I just gripped harder. I floored the accelerator and aimed right between the behemoths. The image in the rearview confirmed that the police cruiser was going to attempt to do the same.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Navigating over the damp mat of pine needles made the steering wheel lurch back and forth as we approached the gap between the trees. I stiffened my arms, and the wheel's movements slowed. The tires were somehow able to gain purchase.
We hit a few exposed roots as we climbed up the slight incline, but the Cavalier didn't give up. Instead, it rumbled over every obstacle in its way. I pictured us in a miniature monster truck as we reached the dreaded gap.
I wanted to ease up on the gas pedal to make sure we made it through, but I was afraid doing so would make us lose what little traction held us en route. Therefore, I held the pedal still.
Boom! The front of the right side view mirror cracked as it collided with the ancient bark, and the mirror folded inward toward Liz. It remained outside her window, however. I accelerated, and no other parts of the car hit the tree.
The thunderous crash behind us, on the other hand, told a different story. I took my foot off the accelerator and looked behind us. Through the rear windshield, I observed the front of the police cruiser wedged between the two trees, the car's sides bowed inward by the force of impact. No matter how hard the officer pushed on the accelerator, she was unable to coerce her vehicle out of its position.
When she realized her hopeless situation, she opened the door and exploded toward us like an uncaged tiger. I stepped on the gas but, since I had, like an idiot, slowed down, the wheels spun in place on the damp grass. She was gaining on us.
I threw the car in reverse and tapped the accelerator. We didn't move. I pushed harder. Still nothing.
She was twenty feet away. Then fifteen. The ten.
I shifted into first gear and tapped the pedal. We moved a few feet, but not far enough. As we lurched forward, she leapt on top of our trunk and held on. I pushed harder. The tires spun a bit, but they gripped enough of the grass to move us forward. The needle on the speedometer moved clockwise. First past the ten, then past the fifteen, and finally past the twenty. The fingertips the officer had dug into the thin space between the trunk's lid and the rear windshield gave way, and she tumbled off of the Cavalier and onto the ground. We were free.
I maintained speed as we climbed over last bit of grass and onto the road. "I didn't know compacts were built for off-roading," I said.
Liz slapped her palm against the dashboard. "She's been through a lot worse." I believed her.
"So where can we find this Half-Ear guy?" she asked.
"I wish I knew."
"If you don't know where he lives," she asked, "how were you planning on stopping him?"
"I guess I figured I'd just keep watch over my house from afar," I said, realizing that my plan wasn't exactly well thought out. Although I could hide in the woods for some time, what if it took weeks for the guy to show up? Based on my most recent conversation with Claire, he hadn't assaulted her yet.
Without directly pointing out my stupidity, she said, "Might be better to take the fight to him." I nodded. "At your place, he'll be careful. He'll wait until the best time for him. A time when no one will expect him. Maybe the middle of the night. And he'll park far away so witnesses can't spot him. Do you know how difficult it'll be for us to stop him out if we don't see him pull into your driveway -- especially if he's wearing dark or camouflage clothing?
"If we go to his place, he won't expect us. We can sneak up on him when we choose. When we can use the time of day to our advantage." She opened her glove box and pulled out a black pistol. "That's when we'll take him out."
My chest tightened when I heard her say take him out. I closed my eyes for just a second, and when I reopened them, the pistol was no longer in her hands. I hadn't heard her close the glove box, but it was no longer open.
I wasn't sure how to interpret the way my body reacted when she said
those words. After all, I'd gladly kill Half-Ear if it meant protecting Claire. But in that instant, I felt some connection to him. It was as though I knew him from some long-ago time, and the relationship we shared prohibited me from causing him harm. I didn't, however, remember him at all. Regardless, if Liz intended to do what I thought she suggested, I had to stop her before it was too late.
"Do you mind opening the glove box?" I asked. I wanted to confirm that it contained only one weapon…that she didn't share a portion of her brother's psychosis.
She shot me a sideways glance. "Why?"
"I just…" I couldn’t tell her the truth.
"What is it?"
I tried to blink away the tears that I felt coming. She watched me, and her face, hardened by years of adversity, softened. She grabbed the glove box's latch, tugged it open, and revealed that the owners' manual, insurance card, and registration were the only items inside. I gave up on holding back the tears.
Half a mile down the road I pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned gas station. I knew that pulling over less than five miles from where we outmaneuvered the police might have been suicide, but I couldn’t continue to drive. The images that resided solely inside my mind had tortured me beyond what I could bear. And the fact that I couldn’t bring myself to take out the man whom I feared would kill my wife drove me nuts.
Liz turned toward me and reached for my hand with both of hers -- even the bandaged one -- and clasped it. "It's okay if you don’t want to talk."
I stared at the floor and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. I wanted her to know that I appreciated those words more than anything else she could have said. Though talking through my problems had, at times, helped, this wasn't one of those times. I couldn't even explain what I was hearing, seeing, and feeling, let alone why.
Of more immediate concern, however, was what we were going to do with Half-Ear once we found him. Convinced that I would be unable to bypass the mental hurdle that prevented me from killing him, I decided that we instead needed to find him and neutralize him. And we had to do so considering the possibility that my mind might, at any point, throw deceptive images at me.