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“No. The last time I checked messages was from the road. Near the Tennessee border. I should check again. Do you think it’s safe?”
Knox crosses an ankle over his knee. Grains of sand coat the edge of his sock. I can’t read his expression.
“I know. I sound…”
“Like a concerned sister. And I’m glad you came to me. But why not call? Why drive here?”
I swallow, hard. “The person who broke into my house. He had a gun. One with a silencer. Sam showed me those. He owned some, too.” Knox nods. He knows what I’m talking about. “I hid until daybreak. Grabbed the bag Sam left for me, the one he packed and told me to use in case of emergency, added a few things to it, and drove here. I stopped at the Tennessee border. Read through Sam’s instructions. The detailed ones I hadn’t paid much attention to because I didn’t think anything like this would ever happen. But when I stopped, I followed everything. Point by point. Turned off my phone, switched out my license plate with the one he packed in the duffel, and have only used cash to pay for things. He left me ten thousand dollars in an envelope. For emergency use.”
I risk a glance up. This sounds crazy. I sound like I’m out of my mind. I’m living a nightmare.
“He packed a license plate for you?”
“The sticker on it is expired. I was afraid I’d get pulled for that. But he packed a screwdriver, too. Told me to switch it out…once I crossed state lines.”
“You did good.” Fresh tears threaten at the corners of my burning eyes. “I work with a company that specializes in finding missing people. Among other things. You came to the right place. We’ll find Sloane.”
So many people told me to relax. She’d be in touch. That maybe my sister really found love. Would that be so hard to believe? And boats are notorious for not having a reliable signal. The person from her office said that she’d fallen in love and planned to go sailing. There could be a reasonable explanation for her not calling me. Just give her time. That’s what Jimmy said. And my neighbor said the same thing. There’s probably a reasonable explanation.
When the man broke into my home, I didn’t go to any of them. The only voice I heard was Sam’s.
“Driving here was crazy, right?”
His dog’s paw scratches against my leg, asking for attention.
“No. Not at all. Although a plane ticket might’ve been a better way to get cross-country.” There it is. The mocking grin.
“I followed Sam’s instructions.” If I did something stupid, the blame falls on Sam. “Sam said to avoid airports. A car can’t be as easily located.”
“Sam told you that?” The twist of his head and the slow measured words relay his disbelief.
“More than once. He told me what to do if I was ever in danger. Made me run through the list of steps every time he visited.” The last time he came home, we went through the duffel together. He updated the printed instructions.
Knox stretches his arm out along the back of the sofa. His eyebrows crowd together. “Tell me about this guy who broke into your house.”
“He was dressed in black. He wore gloves. Thin gloves. Not the kind you wear in snow. His gun was thick, metal, but a handgun. Boots, but not Doc Martins, you know, the black leather military looking boots. They were more like hiking boots, just dark.”
“And a silencer was attached to his gun?”
“Yes.”
“Sam showed you how to use a silencer?”
“No. But he taught me how to shoot a gun. And he stored his stuff at my place. I’d sit with him while he cleaned everything. Sloane thought he was paranoid, and I agreed, but I played along because it seemed to be important to him. I listened. Learned everything he wanted me to learn. He packed two handguns and two boxes of ammo in the duffel bag for me. I took the weapons out and put them by the spare tire. I wouldn’t trust myself to use a gun, but I didn’t feel right leaving them behind since Sam wanted me…” My lower lip trembles. I close my eyes and clench my teeth, willing myself to maintain composure. I made it this far, I’ve got this.
Knox squeezes my knee. “You haven’t slept much, have you?”
“No.” I could barely sleep when I stopped. I would stop on the side of the highway, crawl into the back seat, and endeavor to sleep. “There were two hotels. Paid cash at both. Sam said I couldn’t use credit cards.”
“The light blue, almost gray Ford Bronco with NC plates. Parked in front. That’s yours?”
I nod and sniffle.
“Your stuff in it?”
Once again, I nod and dab my eyes.
“How about you give me the keys? I’m going to check it out.”
