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I viewed it differently. I had what I believed was a reasonably efficient bullshit detector.
And, while I had to admit Saturday’s events were not as easy to toss off as those other developments, I was skeptical. I thought back to what Greg had said to me later on Saturday, that he thought Hardy was setting some kind of a trap for me. It seemed like a wild theory at the time, but in the absence of any other explanation, I wondered whether he was on to something.
Before long, I was on Wheelers Farm Road, and Matt had put his left blinker on.
We’d passed a mix of houses, some small but others large, estate-like, most set well back from the tree-lined road. I was figuring it would be one of these, but the lane that Matt turned into led right into the forest, with no structure in sight.
The road in was not paved, but two hard-packed stone tracks with a strip of grass growing between them. Granted, some of the places along this stretch of road were secluded, with lots of trees between home and road. The trees not only offered privacy, but acted as a sound barrier. The lane widened up ahead for a short stretch, enough space for two vehicles to pass, and Matt pulled over as far to the right as he could, then stuck an arm out the window and waved me ahead.
I drove the Explorer alongside his truck, pulled ahead, and stopped. Was I supposed to turn off the engine and get out, or was I about to get more directions? I glanced back and saw Matt was getting out of his vehicle.
It seemed a strange place to stop. We were still swallowed up by trees, and if there was a house nearby, I couldn’t see it.
I put the Explorer in park, undid my seat belt, and opened the door. As I was stepping out, Matt was approaching. He was holding his right arm tight to his side, and I couldn’t see his hand.
“Where is it?” I asked.
“We have to walk in from here,” he said, then pointed with his left hand over my shoulder. “The access is washed out just ahead. That’s another thing I got to get sorted out before I can rent this place out again. You do that kind of work, too, or know anybody who does?”
“No, and yes,” I said.
I turned to see where he was pointing. The road looked okay as far as I could see. He might have mentioned this when we first talked, that this was going to be a job site with access problems. I wasn’t going to be hauling my tools and supplies all the way from here to some house I couldn’t even see. I’d probably need to hire an extra guy just to lug everything around so I wasn’t dead-tired before I’d even started.
I swung around to express my concerns.
“I don’t think—”
That was all I managed to say before Matt whipped up this thing he had been hiding in his right hand. It looked kind of like a gun, but not like any gun I’d ever seen before. And before I could get a closer look he squeezed the trigger and a couple of wires shot out at me and suddenly the most excruciating pain I had ever felt in my entire life was surging through my body, and I hit the ground and I thought, Holy mother of God, I am fucked.
Forty
If it weren’t for traffic, and one red light after another, Tyler would have lost the black Volvo wagon.
But he was able to keep it in sight, pedaling his bicycle as hard as he could. His heart was thumping, and there was sweat forming on his brow that actually felt cool as the wind dried it off. Tyler could never remember riding his bike this quickly, or with such a sense of urgency. He had to talk to this woman.
He had to know what was going on.
About fifty yards ahead, the Volvo made a right turn. Tyler kept pedaling.
As his legs pumped, he thought about what he would say, how he would handle this. Don’t overthink it, he told himself. Just fucking ask her.
Are you Brie Mason?
That seemed simple enough. And if she said no, then the follow-up was pretty simple.
Then who the hell are you?
The Volvo, at another light, made a left turn. Tyler cut across the road, prompting a trucker to hit the horn with such a blast that Tyler thought he’d have a heart attack. He didn’t really know this part of Milford, although he saw some businesses he recognized. A Ford dealership, the Carvel ice-cream place his sister and Andrew took him to the first week he was here.
Then Tyler thought, what if she wasn’t heading home? What if she was heading for the turnpike? Maybe she didn’t live in Milford. She could live in West Haven or Orange or New Haven. Then why the fuck did she buy her groceries at Whistler? Didn’t you buy your provisions close to home? If she got on the turnpike, he’d never be able to catch her.
Then he had to get close enough to read her license plate. He hadn’t thought to look at it when he was running after her in the grocery store parking lot. And now that she was on city streets he couldn’t get close enough to see it clearly. If he could close the distance, at least read and memorize the plate, so what if she got on the turnpike? He could tell Jayne the plate number and let her take it from there.
Hang on.
Tyler thought he was about to catch a break. The Volvo’s turn signal came on. It was heading for a residential street—the sign said Rosemont—with a dead end sign posted at the corner. So there was no way out. The chase was over. A dead-end street was definitely not going to lead to the turnpike.
The black Volvo made the turn, clipped along down the street, and slowed as it neared the end. The blinker went on again and it turned into the driveway of a small one-story house, the very last one on the right side.
