‘It’s OK – it’s OK,’ Simone soothes, ‘you’re here with me.’
‘What’s happening?’ Lucy asks immediately, her eyes wide open, sitting upright. A film of sweat covers her top lip. ‘Have we got to the airport?’
‘Not yet,’ Simone answers. Then takes a breath. Then another. ‘Look,’ she says, ‘we need a change of plan.’
She can’t keep this from Lucy.
And so she wordlessly shows Lucy the news, and what looks – to the rest of the world – like the truth.
CHAPTER 30
The Kidnapper
Do you know those people who get obsessed with things? That’s me. Most recently, it was having the same thing for lunch (pulled-pork sandwiches), but before that it was teaching myself the piano from YouTube, and beforethatit was Peloton (how unedifying).
Anyway, that’s the context, I guess. Today, I am obsessing over what to do in the aftermath.
A man shot by the side of the road. Two people, escaped.
And one person, me, seeking revenge.
The decision is made: I have to find her.
And then, well, after all, kidnapping’s easy if you obsess over it.
CHAPTER 31
Simone
Lucy looks at Simone. ‘I shot a cop.’
‘You didn’t mean to. You shot … you shotathim.’
‘Ididn’tmean to. I didn’t see it was a police officer. Why are they saying I did?’ She pauses, then, different emotions flickering across her features.
‘He was a cop.’
‘What if he was there because he was in on it?’ Lucy asks, her gaze direct. ‘What if he was there because he was checking on how it went?’ Another pause. ‘The sheriff. He was immediately suspicious … don’t you think?’
‘You think the kidnapper’s in with the police – all of them?’
‘I don’t know. I don’tknow,’ Lucy says, raking her hair back so her forehead strains. ‘I just got – I thought I was fucking dead and now – now this. How can we trust anyone?’ she says, turning to her mother.
‘I don’t know.’
‘We’ve got to get out of here,’ Lucy says, looking around. ‘They know our names.’
‘We can’t run.’
‘We alreadyhave.’ A pointed stare, tinged with irritation.
‘We can’t go to the airport, Luce,’ Simone says softly as the wind whips around them. The car gently shakes and rocks with it. It’s so surprising to feel such strong gusts in the heat.‘Our passports will be on a no-fly list. Our faces and names are on the news.’
Lucy stares down at her feet, then up at the sky, makes a kind of futile gesture. Her eyes are shining, which she tries to hide. ‘We can’t go to the police. We look so guilty. And we don’t know if he works with the police. The kidnapper couldbepolice.’
It’s too late. That is what Simone finds herself thinking; it’s too late to hand themselves in, now that they have run, now that the story has broken.
But she hesitates, there in the petrol station with her daughter, standing just in the shadow of the bright lights. There is no taking this back. Might they be able to persuade a police officer, a judge, a jury …? They would have Lucy’s account, though it contains no evidence. Never even heard his voice.
