Nothing. No movement. Fuck.
The air is cold on his sweaty face.Where the hell is Kirke?
Should he go back to the Lincoln? Protect the girls? But Kirke is the primary target. He must be here somewhere. Maybe he went to the house. Maybe he spooked and skedaddled.
Or maybe he circled back to enter the shed again from the front …
Travis whirls, returns to the door, enters.
Gets clobbered from behind, and it’s all over.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Emma holds on to Linda, checks the clock on the dashboard. It’s 6:39PM. Travis’s time is up in three minutes.
She exhales hard. ‘Linda, listen to me. Travis might need my help.’
Linda blanches. ‘No, no—’
‘Linda, it’s okay. Listen, Linda. Listen to me.’
The girl calms. Emma tries to prevent her own frantic energy from leaking out. She exhales again, more slowly. Levels their eyes.
‘Linda, you’re strong. Incredibly strong. You survived. The man who did this—’ Emma firms her arms around the girl when she gets heightened. ‘It’s okay. You’re safe. He’s not here. But we need to get him, or he’ll do this again. Linda, please help me. If Travis doesn’t come back, I need to go find him.’
‘You’re leaving me alone?’ Linda’s lip trembles.
Emma squeezes her. ‘More police are coming, but I need to find Travis. He might be in trouble. I’m going to give you the keys to this car—’
‘Will you give me the gun?’
Emma breathes. ‘I can’t give you the gun. Linda, I’ve got to—’
‘Will you shoot him?’ Linda’s voice is rasping, but her eyes are charged now. ‘Will you shoot him dead?’
Emma feels emotion spear through her heart, hot as a laser. ‘If I find the guy who did this, yes, I want to stop him. But I’ve gotta find Travis first.’
‘Give me the keys,’ Linda says.
Emma digs in her jeans for the keys. She shows Linda the door locks, tells her the ETA of law enforcement. Shows her the Motorola pack. The pack is too complicated – but Linda can drive. That’s good. The car is solid.
‘Listen,’ Emma says, ‘if you get scared, drive away. Drive to a hospital, or a police station, or even a 7-Eleven. Somewhere crowded. Get in the driver’s seat now.’
Emma always feels safer behind the wheel of a car than sitting in the back. Linda moves, scrambles through the console space to get in front. Her white skirts swish on the vinyl. Emma retrieves her gun from the driver’s seat just in time.
‘Look, don’t wait if you don’t want to,’ she says. ‘But the police will be here in ten minutes, maybe sooner. The FBI are coming.’
‘Are you gonna be okay?’ Linda looks back, hair bedraggled, eyes huge. Injured and desperate, pink rings around her wrists leaking new blood. ‘I want you to stay. I’m scared. But I want him gone.’
‘Me too. So much.’ Emma reaches over and puts the keys in Linda’s hand, curls her fingers over them. Squeezes gently. Emma blinks against the blur in her eyes. ‘Okay, are you ready?’
Linda’s teeth are chattering, but she seems determined. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I think so.’
‘Okay. Lock the door soon as I get out.’
Emma opens the door, exits the car, feels the cold night air, shuts the door. Inside, Linda scrabbles over the console to press the button. The lock clicks. She scrambles back.
Emma nods at her through the window glass, receives a nod in return.
