I glance up the hill. “When I got here, Ginger was focused that way. There’s a cabin at the summit. If Freya’s anywhere nearby, we should start there.”
Gilcrest surveys the trees around us, then comes close to me and places his phone in my hand. When he speaks, his voice is soft, barely a whisper. “The passcode is 0221. It’s the day I met Freya. You’re a runner. Take the phone. Run all the way to the trailhead, as fast as you can. If you get in trouble along the way, call the chief and tell her where you are and what you need. Otherwise, keep moving.”
“What about Ginger?”
“She’ll be fine. She had water, and the other cops will take care of her.”
Gilcrest and I aren’t competing, not anymore. “I can help you,” I say.
“You’ll help by getting yourself away from the scene. The less I worry about, the easier my job will be. And later, when this is all over, we’ll grab a drink and work through your story. By now, I think we have enough material for a TV series.” He presses his forehead to mine. “Go. Please.”
I take a step backward.
“And, Charlie,” Gilcrest adds, “tell Seton to hurry.”
“I will,” I say.
Gilcrest removes his gun from the holster as he edges along the fieldstone wall and fades into the dark, toward the cabin. Ginger watches him go, a whine beginning at the back of her throat. I toss her the last of the biscuits and give her permission to eat them. At least this time, she doesn’t snarl.
“Take care,” I whisper as I retreat into the trees and start to run. I’ve covered a few hundred yards when gunshots fill the night, followed by dead silence. I freeze in place, crouching in the shadows.
Far off in the distance, sirens scream. I picture EMTs swarming the farm as they pull my father from the back of Freya’s truck. I hope he stanched the blood long enough for them to save him. Seton must have arrived by now, too. She should be jogging onto the trailhead and along the brook, cursing my name for getting myself involved. It takes me ten minutes to run from the trailhead to the summit. It’ll take anyone else fifteen.
Fifteen minutes too long.
I retrace my steps to the field. Ginger faces away from me, toward the trail where Gilcrest disappeared moments ago. She’s silent now, even when I whisper her name.
I keep to the shadows and make my way past the wall. As the path arcs toward the summit, I stop. The sound of my heart beating fills the night, but there, beneath it all, I find shallow, panicked breathing.
“Charlie,” Gilcrest mumbles.
I crawl toward his voice. When I reach him, I feel along his coat, to his side, where my hand comes away covered in something warm and viscous, with a distinct smell of copper.
“You should be long gone,” Gilcrest gasps.
“I’m not great at doing what I’m told.”
I tap Gilcrest’s phone. The brief light from the screen reveals blood oozing from a wound in his shoulder.
“Gunshot,” he says. “Couldn’t see who it was.”
I put an arm around his back, forcing him to sit. “Get out of here,” he says, between gritted teeth.
“I would if I could,” I say, dragging him as gently as possible across the forest floor until he’s propped against a tree. I reach under his coat, into the holster, but it’s empty.
“Gone,” he says, his head falling to the side.
“Don’t close your eyes,” I say.And please don’t die,I think to myself. “Tell me anything you want. How about what you want to tell Freya when you see her next?”
“Love her,” Gilcrest manages to say. “And sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too,” I say. “You and I, we were a couple of assholes earlier, out in Paul’s driveway. But that’s not the dumbest thing I’ve said to her. We were in bed together, and I told her she reminds me of Maude fromHarold and Maude.”
Gilcrest laughs, then winces in pain. “Smooth move, Harold.”
“So, so dumb,” I say. “And I’d take it back in a second if I could. I wish I had half your confidence. I don’t have any game.”
“Slicker than you know,” Gilcrest says.
