“And don’t shine it in your eyes because you want to prove you can stare at it longer than Keme.”
“Bobby, that wasonetime—”
“It’s a Pelican, and it will literally blind you.”
He jogged off toward the Pilot. I pocketed my phone since the little flashlight really wasn’t up to the job and retrieved the much bigger—and manlier—flashlight from the pocket of the door. It was black. It was heavy. It had probably been described in the sales copy astactical.I immediately understood why Bobby had said what he had; I’ve got all the maturity of a thirteen-year-old boy, and like every teenage boy ever, my first, automatic impulse with a flashlight was to blast someone in the face with it.
But since that wasn’t an option—on account of the possibility of blinding someone—I clicked it on and started to search the inside of the car. The cruiser’s dome light worked fine, I was sure, but the Pelican was much brighter, and it made the search easier.
The first thing I noticed was that the cruiser was spotless. It smelled faintly like the perfume of a cheap cleaner that a government agency would buy in bulk. The seats were clean. The footwells had been vacuumed. From the stories Bobby told,I knew the sheriff’s office cruisers got to experience every aspect of the human condition—which was a polite way of saying a lot of people puked, pooped, and peed in the back of these cars. But you couldn’t tell with this one. And the fast-food smell that I’d noticed on Bobby was gone too. There were no candy wrappers, no takeout bags, no empty water bottles or cans from energy drinks. I mean, Bobby never would have allowed that kind of thing. The Pilot was so clean, inside and out, that it made me think of the few times I’d needed a rental car—freshly washed, perfectly vacuumed, even a hint of that new car smell. Or when I’d visited my grandma, years ago, and ridden in her Toyota Avalon that she’d owned since the second Clinton administration and that had eight thousand miles on it when she died. (Oh, and ask me sometime about the time (once!) I left a cup from Chipper in the Pilot. Bobby hadn’t yelled at me. It had been so much worse: we had atalk.)
After a few more minutes, I let out a breath. This wasn’t working—sure, there were lots of interesting things, like the mobile data terminal (powered off); and the buttons that Iknewwere for the lights and sirens because one time, after I’d begged and begged and begged, Bobby had turned them on for me, and then he’d floored it, and we’d shot down the highway for half a mile; and, of course, the shotgun (locked into its mount—yes, I checked). The problem was that there wasn’t anything approaching tangible, usable evidence. Not as far as I could tell, anyway. No threads of fabric I could link back to Channelle’s dress. Not a single hair to provide DNA. Every surface in the car looked freshly—and thoroughly—wiped down, and I knew without anyone having to tell me that there wouldn’t be any usable fingerprints.
Channelle had been in this car. The night she died, after she dressed up to go out, she’d gotten in this car. Iknewshe’d beenin this car; the smell on her clothes, the night I’d found her, was all the evidence I needed.
A judge and jury, on the other hand, might want something a little more substantial.
Maybe a trained team of forensic experts would be able to find something—
I wasn’t sure what made me raise my head. A sound, maybe. So soft it was on the edge of hearing. Or maybe it was some other animal sense, the way sometimes you can tell that there’s someone else in a house, even if you can’t see them.
Deputy Tripple stood in front of the cruiser. He was dressed all in black, with a hood pulled up, but I could see his face. He looked tired. Frustrated. Annoyed, maybe, was the best word for it.
And he was pointing a gun straight at me.
Chapter 21
For several long seconds, Tripple didn’t move. And neither did I.
“I want you to listen to me very carefully,” Tripple said. His voice barely carried, even though the night was still. “Do exactly what I say, and Bobby won’t get hurt.”
My mind, which had been blank with shock, now lurched into motion. Bobby. Bobby had gone to get—
Where was Bobby?
I couldn’t stop a glance in the direction of the gate. It was still open. We’d parked the Pilot on the other side. It should have taken Bobby a minute, less, to get whatever he’d said he was going to get. A jacket, I thought with rising panic. He was going to get a jacket for me because I hadn’t listened the first time he’d told me. This was my fault. He’d walked through that gate, and Tripple had been on the other side, and—this was all my fault.
“Are you listening?” Tripple asked.
Something blunt and ugly wedged itself under my breastbone. I couldn’t seem to draw a full breath.
“Hey!” Tripple snapped.
“I’m listening. I’m listening!”
“Get out of the car. Slowly.”
I hadn’t really beeninthe car—I’d had my head and shoulders inside as I peered around with the flashlight. But it didn’t seem like a time to quibble. As slowly as I could, I eased myself out of the cruiser. I brought my hands up. The flashlight weighed a ton now; at the same time, I felt like someone had attached a hook to my back and hoisted me a couple of feet off the ground, like every part of me had turned to air.
“Where’s Bobby?” I said. Will Gower would have been cool and self-possessed. Will Gower would have made a joke, or he would have turned the tables on the bad guy somehow. But I felt like every atom of me was vibrating, and my voice pitched as I asked, “Is he okay? Bobby? Bobby!”
“Be quiet!” Tripple moved the pistol like he wanted me to see it again, and I swallowed Bobby’s name. Tripple waited. He cocked his head as though listening. Then he said, “Rule number one: Be. Quiet.”
“I want to know if he’s okay—”
“He’s fine. He’ll be fine as long as you do what I tell you.”
I barely heard him. My brain was still running laps. I hadn’t heard a gunshot; that was good, right? It didn’t look like Tripple’s pistol had a suppressor, but even if he’d used one, I still would have heardsomething. Suppressors weren’t totally silent, and if he’d fired the gun, with the rest of the world so quiet, I would have heard it.
