It just sat there, engine running. A low hum in the quiet.
Shit. Now what?
Was it Myers? Had he finally come for us?
911 flashed through my mind again. But by the time the police would show up, he’d be gone. Should I get a knife, maybe? What if the car disappeared before I even made it back inside? I needed at least to get the plate number.
I turned onto the road where the SUV was parked and slowed. My hand shook as I pulled my phone from my pocket. I started to record a video of the plate, when the window of the SUV began to roll down.
Goddammit.
Was I about to get shot through the window? Better me than my family still inside the house. My jaw locked.
When nothing happened, as the seconds felt like minutes, I eased my car closer, inch by inch, and pulled up right next to the SUV. One foot stayed planted on the gas, ready to slam it and race off if I had to. I was also ready to throw myself sideways if bullets started flying. At least I’d see the driver’s face. At least I’d know what Myers looked like.
But the second I rolled up beside him and saw who sat behind the wheel, my foot slammed the brake instead of the gas.
“No need to call 911, kid,” Detective Nolan said calmly. “I’m already here.”
He looked older than I remembered. Mid-thirties now. He had the kind of face that had seen too much and stopped pretending otherwise. His short dark hair had some gray in it. He had deep lines around his mouth. And his eyes still had that certain sparkle to them. A seasoned cop through and through.
I turned the video off and leaned toward the window. “What are you doing here?”
“Follow me” was all he said. Then he drove off.
I followed him and turned onto a narrow gravel road leading into a stretch of woods not far from my dad’s house. The trees closed in on both sides. It looked like a place where hikers found bodies. Even knowing he was a cop, the whole thing felt wrong. Spooky.
He stopped suddenly and got out of his car.
I parked behind him, unlocked my door, and shifted into Park. My heart beat loudly in my ears as Nolan slid into the passenger seat of my car. His suit pants looked expensive but worn. A leather belt held his badge and gun. The door shut with a solid thump.
“Look at you, kid,” he said, glancing over as he settled back. “Dr. Dylan Alderwyn, huh? Sure your grandma is proud as hell.”
“She is,” I said.
Silence followed. The small talk was done, and I felt like something ugly was coming.
“You’re probably wondering what the hell I’m doing here,” Nolan said. “I’ll skip the crap and get right to it.”
His gaze locked onto mine.
“They found John Myers.”
I straightened. A cold wave rushed through my chest, sharp and sudden, like ice poured straight into my veins.
“What? Where?”
“We don’t know for sure.”
My head snapped back. “What do you mean you don’t know for sure? Didn’t you arrest him?”
Nolan’s mouth tightened. He didn’t look happy. Didn’t look like this was the victory we all had hoped for.
“I need to clarify something,” he said. “When I said we found him, it wasn’t us. Not the police.”
This didn’t make any sense. “What do you mean? Who found him?”
He sighed. “Thomas Harlow.”
