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“Yeah.” I feel shoved back in my seat, the world getting farther away. The van is gaining ground. I push my SUV harder and the tires slip on the road.
“I’m coming from the opposite direction,” he says. “All you have to do is stay with the van. They’ll be trapped. It’s just a matter of buying time.”
I don’t know whether he’s making a point to sound calm and reasonable for me or because if he does anything else he’ll start screaming. I feel like screaming.
“You have to listen to me. This is important.”
More horns. Louder. I think he just blew through an intersection. “You’re going to get into an accident.”
“No, I’m not. Emerson. You can’t kill your father.”
My heart goes cold. “You don’t get to decide that. He took her.”
“Eventually, they’re going to stop, and you’re going to catch up. Don’t kill anyone unless you have to. Hurt them only as much as necessary.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not just us. It’s not just you. The closer you get to the city, the more people are going to become witnesses. This goes on long enough, and police and photographers will show up. If you’re surrounded by dead bodies, they’ll separate you from Daphne. She’s going to need you. She needs you right now. So you have to keep it together. That’s your only choice.”
The trees lining the road abruptly close in. The sky lowers until it’s scraping the top of the SUV. It’s my only choice, but it could already be too late.
“I can see the van, but I can’t see her.”
He curses under his breath. “They want money. They won’t hurt her.”
“You don’t know that.”
“If it was about murder, they’d have done it on the beach, where you could see.”
I see it now. Vivid. Fresh. Painted. A gallery of horrors. I search for an exit. Toss myself through it. Land back behind the wheel of the car.
Every heartbeat resists the act of hurtling through the night like this. My brain repeats, ceaselessly, that this is wrong. This is dangerous. This is threatening. When the door opens, there will be nothing but pain. It’s never going to stop, not ever, not unless I can get her back.
The van crests a hill and I go after it. It’s on the next rise when I speed through the valley. I want to level this fucking hill. Gouge it out of the earth. Wound it, so it can’t keep me from her. The snow on the road is marred with tire tracks. The lines move in waves. They don’t have good control of the van.
My mind does its best to intervene. It mangles details in the scene and shoves them crookedly into frames that rattle and twist and turn and will not stay still. Colors bleed down the walls. The gallery falls into disarray. I focus harder on the van. Following her is my purpose in life. It doesn’t matter that this will all come down when it’s over. The gallery will collapse. My heart along with it.
If she’s hurt—
If she’s hurt—
I could turn the wheel and drive the SUV into a tree. It’s an old, familiar tug into darkness. End it before it gets too bad. End it while you still can. I ignore this urge completely. There’s a bright line between me and Daphne. All the rest is irrelevant.
The hills haven’t been good for the ice. It’s frozen on the slopes and the snow has been compacted here, making another treacherous layer. I’m shivering in my wetsuit. Cold or panic? Probably both. It’s not bad enough to keep me from losing control of the car.
I fly over the top of the hill.
The van is down in the valley on a low rise. It’s about to head up. If they get to the top of the next hill, they’ll have more breathing room. The snow will be clearer, and the ice, and they’ll be able to get away. I’ll have to rely on someone else to stop them. I’m willing to let anyone save Daphne, as long as she’s unharmed when everything’s said and done. I’m willing to do anything to save her. But the branching uncertainties of the city add too much complication. There will be more traffic and people and roads to turn on.
“They’re at the bottom of the hill,” I say, more for myself than her brother. “If they get beyond this one, you’ll have to hurry.” The doors of the van fly open and my heart freezes solid. Still. The missing beats feel like a knife. “Something’s happening. The van. The doors—”
The open doors reveal the darkness inside the van, and something falls out.
Someone falls out.
I must make a sound.
“What the fuck was that? What happened?” Leo demands.
