There’s a long pause. I look to see if the call disconnected. I’m surprised to even have reception this far up the mountain as it is. The numbers tick away on the call to show O.G. is still there. There’s another cough.
“Okay. I agree with you.”
My hackles are still raised though. “Listen, I know we only recently met but—” I’m set to fight for Roe but then it registers what O.G. said. “Oh. You do?”
“Yeah. This doesn’t make sense, and it doesn’t fit what I’ve discovered about him in my own research.”
“Oh,” I say again. “Good. And also,” I go on after a pause, “if you’re going to commit federal offenses on such a grand level, why would you use the names of characters you’ve been? It feels a little on the nose.”
“Bingo. And I found this information a little too easily. It’s hard to explain but to me it feels like I was supposed to find it.”
“He’s being set up.”
“That’s what it seems like.”
“It has to be Zebulund. There’s nobody else who’d want to do this and not want the money.” I squeeze the steering wheel and shake it but feel like going outside the car to scream into the abyss of the mountain valley.
“I agree again.” Another cough. “On that note, where’re you headed?”
“You don’t already know?”
“You’re being rash. Go home. Talk to Roe.”
“Thanks, Mom, but I’m going to get this son of a bitch. I can’t wait until tomorrow. ”
“Look, I have to go.” The coughing fit goes on longer this time. “But turn around. Don’t do anything stupid. I like your pretty face.”
“Flirt.” I hang up the phone.
Immediately, I dial Roe but hear nothing but silence. My phone says No Service. It feels like an omen. I ignore it and throw my phone into the center console. But then pick it back up again. Always have another plan. I compose a text that sits in the outbox, waiting to send.
“I found out some things. We’ve got to chat.” Hopefully, it’ll push through when I get service and let him know where I am. I text the address just in case and send it his way. It also gets caught sending.
I pull back onto the road and drive for about thirty more minutes. The light is weird this time of night, that post-sunset glow makes the passing headlights blaring, so I’m more cautious than I might normally be. I almost miss the turn off for the gravel road leading to his house. The driveway is long and narrow and my tires crunch loudly even with the windows rolled up.
The cabin is modest but obviously still a few million easily, nothing compared to the ostentation of his main house. There are no lights on and no cars around. I ease on the driveway’s cement pad. A motion sensor sets the light on and my heart stops for a minute. I take a minute to collect my thoughts. All I need to do is go in. Get the computer. Get out. Three steps. Easy.
I stare up at the dark house.
“What the hell?” I say out loud.
This is a stupid plan. This is a very stupid plan. If I were watching myself on a film right now, I’d be screaming at the heroine that she deserves to die for going up here alone. I check my phone and shocker, no service. Well, I refuse to be another damsel in distress. I grab my Mace and knife from the glove box. I don’t own a gun. That might’ve been a bad choice.
“Just leave,” I tell myself.
Come back tomorrow with Roe in the light of day. Don’t be a bimbo. Don’t let them paint you with that brush. As much as I don’t want to drive all the way back home, I’m not going to die before I can bring Zebulund down.
I put the car in reverse and make my back down the driveway. The reverse lights don’t provide enough light, so I roll to a stop and put the car in drive. I’ll drive up to the house to turn around instead. But before I shift gears my passenger door opens. Zebulund slides into the seat next to me. The car tilts with the new weight.
“Hi, Maggie. Can we talk?”
29
Maggie
Zebulund slapsthe Mace out of my hand and it flies into the back seat. The knife is gone too before I think to use it. A second later he yanks the keys out of the ignition. I’m defenseless in the middle of nowhere.
I’m an idiot.
