“Unless it’s not a normally-scheduled flight,” he adds. “Unless it’s specially programmed for Devil. In that case, the hour tells us nothing..”
“Of course it’s a private flight,” I practically sob. “They wouldn’t send a contract back on a commercial flight.”
“A contract?”
“Never fucking mind.” I don’t even know how I can begin to tell Josh about the absolute criminal clusterfuck that is Devil.
“If the flight is at seven,” calculates Josh, “that means they’re less than an hour away, because it’s six now. Unless the flight was planned a while ago and—”
“No.” I shake my head, both because that’s not how Devil flights work, and because if they have time to wait around, then that means the subcontractor will have time to…
No. Impossible. I try to force myself not to think of Piper’s desperate message, but I can’t prevent the words from penetrating my skull.
They’re going to rape and kill me at Devil Tower.
But that means not all hope is lost. If I get to her before they get her to the tower, she’ll be okay. She won’t be hurt.
I have no choice but to take the words at face value, otherwise I know I’ll go insane. I just know it.
“The flight would have been planned when the subcontractors got to Piper,” I say. “Look for an airport less than an hour away.”
“Found one!” says Josh about twenty seconds later. “Well, my acquaintance did. Hold on, I’ll send you the address.”
It pings on Piper’s phone, and I groan.Fucking great.I’m going in the wrong direction. I swerve around dangerously, then go full-speed down the opposite side of the highway.
“Take it easy, man,” says Josh. “You have thirty minutes to get there.”
I stare at the clock on my dashboard, which reads exactly six thirty.
“I can’t cut it too close. I have to get there earlier. Wait, how do you know—”
“My acquaintance is watching you on the highway camera.”
I roll my eyes, which quickly turns into a swear when I hear police sirens behind me.
“FUCK!”
“Fuck,” hisses Josh at the same time.
“Should I make a run for it?”
“Just get it over with. Be polite. Then get the hell out of there.”
I curse inwardly as I roll down the window, wondering which of the dozens of infractions I’ve committed today they’ve noticed.
“License and registration, please.”
It takes everything I have to remain calm as I hand the papers to the traffic cop.
I wonder if he’s seen me swerve around on the highway, or drive the wrong way for a few feet, or not respect the speed limit, or all of the above.
It feels like he’s staring at the papers forever.
Fuck this. Take my money. Take all my money. Just let me go.
“Did you know you’re driving with a broken tail light?” he asks at last.
Are you fucking serious?
