The road unwound ahead of us, climbing into mountains I couldn’t see. The headlights showed curves, guardrails, the reflective eyes of something small darting into the brush. No houses. No cars. No light except what we carried with us.
Ben hadn’t sent Vance.
The understanding arrived whole. Ben hadn’t sent this man to my door. Ben didn’t know he was here or that I was now with him. Ben was somewhere in Summit Falls right now doing the work he’d told me about, and he had no idea that someone in that very police department had just pointed a gun at me and thrown my phone into the dark.
Whatever Ben’s work had uncovered at this department, whatever he’d thought had been finished, it wasn’t. And I was in the middle of it now—for what purpose, I had no idea whatsoever.
“Ben didn’t send you. Why are you doing this?”
My voice came out level. I didn’t know where the calm was coming from. Somewhere deep and automatic, a part ofme that understood panicking in a moving car with an armed man would not improve my situation.
Vance didn’t answer. His eyes checked the mirror again.
“Where are we going?”
Nothing. Just the sound of tires on asphalt and the engine working the grade.
“What do you want?” Still no reply. “Ben will know something’s wrong when he sees my car but doesn’t find me at home.”
He adjusted his grip on the wheel. The gun rested against his thigh now, still pointed in my direction, still visible. He drove the way he’d driven from the start. Smooth, controlled, unhurried.
“You should stop asking questions.” He said it the way you’d tell someone a restaurant was closed. “It’ll be easier.”
Easier for whom, he didn’t say.
“As for your car, no worries there. I’ve already got someone handling it.”
What did that mean—“Someone was handling it?” Obviously he was setting the scene to look like I’d gone somewhere on my own. How long would it take for Ben to realize I’m not home? Panic started to crawl up my throat, but I pushed it down. I had to keep a level head.
The trees pressed closer. The road curved and climbed, and the town was gone. I couldn’t see it anymore. Couldn’t see anything except headlights and the dark shapes of mountains against a sky full of stars.
I pressed my hands flat against my thighs. I breathed. I counted the breaths because counting gave me something to do with my mind that wasn’t screaming.
William was at Trish’s.
He was in his sleeping bag on Theo’s bedroom floor with a flashlight and a plastic dinosaur and Jolly’s red ball zipped into the front pocket of his backpack. He was safe. He waswarm. He was exactly where he was supposed to be, and nobody was coming for my son.
I held on to that. I pressed it against my chest like something physical, something with weight, and I did not let go.
The car climbed higher. The man beside me said nothing. And no one in the world knew where I was.
Chapter 30
Ben
The station was loud with the kind of controlled chaos that preceded a major operation. Officers moved through the corridors in tactical gear, checking radios, reviewing assignments for later that night. It was still a few hours away, but the determination in the air—especially after today’s OD—was palpable.
I’d dropped Jolly at home after the motel to give him time to rest before we rolled out. He’d need every bit of it. A full sweep of an active distribution point would push him hard, and I wanted him sharp.
I checked my phone again. The text I’d sent Kayla while I’d been home still showed delivered, not read. When I’d dropped Jolly off, I noticed her car gone. I hope William hadn’t gotten sick at Trish’s or something.
My phone rang. It was Vance.
“Ben. You at the station?”
“Yeah. Prepping for tonight. You here?”
“No. Listen, I need to talk to you about something. Not on the phone.” His voice carried a tightness I hadn’t heard before. “I’ve been running down a lead. Something connected to the syndicate. It’s sensitive, and I don’t want it going through channels until I know what I’m looking at.”
