Try Not to Breathe, page 23
Don’t. Don’t what? Don’t go? Don’t tell? Don’t look for Anna?
Why not go?
She slid open the nightstand drawer, saw Charlie’s wallet and loose change and other personal effects. She grabbed the keys to his truck and slid them into her pocket.
Fuck yes, she was going to Rydell.
PART III
55
Avery walked the six blocks back to Charlie’s truck
The walk helped.
She tried to focus on the warm breeze on her face, the sun bright. She tried to focus on life, not death. Not Charlie in the bed with his cooling hands folded on top of his body . . .
It felt strange to slide into the driver’s seat. The truck smelled like Charlie. Coffee and aftershave and sweat. His sunglasses sat on the dashboard. His dogs’ hair covered the seats. A tiny Gideons New Testament sat in the center console, well thumbed. Avery hadn’t noticed it before.
She had to call her dad.
She didn’t want to call him. And tell him. As complicated as her feelings were for the old man, she hated bringing him more bad news. For a moment, her mind flashed on a scheme to call Alisha and ask her to do it. But that was a chickenshit approach, the most cowardly thing possible. She was the oldest. She’d been with Charlie when he died. She needed to call.
So she did. She sucked in a deep breath like she was inhaling from a joint. She held it and she called.
Jane answered. “Oh, Avery, did you find her?”
“No, I didn’t. I need to talk to Dad. Can you put him on?”
“Avery, can you just tell me the truth? I don’t want to be lied to. I know Anna’s dead. Will you just tell me? We saw all the trouble there. It’s been on the news—”
“Anna’s not dead. I saw her. She’s alive and well.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure, Jane. Okay?” She reminded herself of her stepmother’s fragility. She didn’t want to add any stress or pain to the woman’s life. It was enough being married to her dad. “Jane, I promise I’m not lying to you. But I do need to talk to Dad.”
“Okay, honey . . . Are you okay? You sound upset.”
Jane. She was so sweet. It was always difficult for Avery to blame the dissolution of her family on someone she liked so much. “I’m okay. Thank you for asking.”
“Okay, I’ll get Dad for you—”
“Wait, Jane.”
“What?”
“Have you talked to Libby? She’s been trying to talk to Anna about this birthday gift her ex-boyfriend got her. Do you know anything about that?”
Silence filled the line. Avery imagined Jane standing there, phone in her hand, robe clutched tight.
“Jane?”
“Oh, Avery. Maybe you should talk to Dad about that. This whole thing is so very complicated. It always has been. I don’t understand it all. . . . He’s here. . . . Russ, it’s Avery.”
Rustling sounds, the clumsiness of the phone being passed over to the old man. His voice gravelly and sharp. “Did she find her?”
Then into the phone: “Did you find her?”
“No, I didn’t, Dad.”
“Jesus.”
“But I saw her. In the park at the protest. She was okay. And I believe I know where she’s going.”
“Where?”
“Hold on, Dad. I have to tell you something. Okay?” She tried to speak as calmly as possible to mitigate the shock of what was to come. “Are you sitting down?”
“No, I’m standing here with my stupid walker. Why do you want me to sit down?”
“Is Jane right there?”
“Of course. She watches me like I’m a newborn. What are you trying to tell me?”
Avery took another deep breath. Sucked the air into her lungs as deeply as she could.
“Dad, I met up with Charlie. And we went to the protest together to look for Anna. There was trouble there. The cops cracked down, and there were counterprotestors. It was chaotic and crazy. And we got swept up in it. There was a shooting—”
“I know.” Her dad’s voice lost some of its edge, as if it were a sharp knife rubbed dull by use. “Are you trying to tell me . . . ?”
He was still a cop. His instincts weren’t dull. He sensed trouble when it drew near.
“Dad, it’s Charlie. He had some kind of episode when the trouble came down. His heart . . .”
“He has a bad heart. I know that.”
“Dad, he didn’t make it. Charlie died in the hospital after the protest.”
Avery listened for something—anything—from the other end of the line.
A long silence drew out. She didn’t even hear breathing.
“Dad?”
“I’m here.”
“Are you okay?”
She waited again. Then her dad said, “No. No, I’m not. I’m too old for this bullshit.”
“Okay. I’m sorry. I know how close you and Charlie were.”
“Were you with him when it happened?”
Avery decided to lie. Better than saying she had been down the hall getting a Milky Way. “Yes, I was. He went peacefully. I was holding his hand.”
“I’m glad he wasn’t alone.”
“He wasn’t. And he was happy. Happy doing something and trying to find Anna.”
Her dad blew his nose, a loud, wet honking. Like a goose being tortured. Finally, he asked, “I don’t understand—did you find Anna? Is she with you?”
“No, but I saw her. We came very close to each other right before the march got broken up.”
“She was okay?”
“She was. The cops grabbed me and dragged me away. But Anna got away.”
“Shit.”
“I think I know where she’s headed. And we need to talk about that, because I’m ready to go find her. And I don’t want to waste any more time. She’s ahead of me by a little bit.”
“Where is she?”
Some of the eagerness and desperation had left his voice. He no longer sounded as curious as he had before. He sounded more resigned, like a man anticipating a fate he couldn’t avoid.
“She’s going to Rydell, Kentucky. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. And when Charlie . . . died, he left behind a note. He’d written down ‘Rydell,’ and the name ‘Combs family.’ Charlie acted like he knew something about this. In fact, he said he was going to tell me about it. So you must know something too. Right? I know they grow weed there. Why is Anna going to Rydell? Does she have dealings with this family? Do you know them?”
“Avery, this is all a misunderstanding. But it’s also very dangerous. Is Anna in Rydell yet?”
“I don’t know. But she had a few hours’ head start if she left right after the protest. Maybe more.”
“Avery, you need to go get her. I don’t know what she thinks she’s doing, but you have to get her out.”
“Dad, I can’t just keep chasing Anna across the state without knowing what’s going on. Is this about your job? Can you just tell me?”
He cleared his throat. “Yes, it is related to my job. The Combs family is a dangerous group. They’re involved in a lot of criminal activities. Okay? And it’s not safe for Anna to be going up there alone. You need to step in.”
“If it’s not safe or if something illegal is going on, then call the police. Lord knows you have enough contacts. Get them on it.”
Her dad sounded much calmer than usual. “Avery, I’d like to keep this inside the family. Okay? It’s a family matter. For us. Anna is just confused. She’s young, and a young person can get that way. I need you to bring her back here, to our house, and then we can all talk to her. That’s what I’ve wanted all along.”
“But you’re not going to—”
“Avery, I need you. You’re the only one I can count on. You and Charlie, of course. But he’s gone. Okay? Can you just do that for me?”
The old man was smart. He knew exactly which buttons to push. She wanted to tell him to screw off, to deal with his own problems. She wanted to say she was going to hang up the phone and call the police herself, send them into Rydell to drag Anna out by the scruff of her neck. If they could even find her.
But she didn’t.
Her dad had showed faith in her. Placed all his chips on her.
Was she supposed to say no to that?
“What does Libby have to do with this? She won’t call me back.”
“Libby’s confused as well. I’ll talk to her. You go find Anna.”
“Dad, I want to ask you something?”
“What?” He sounded irritable. Impatient.
“Why did you ask me to be Anna’s guardian ten years ago? I know you’re pissed about me saying no, but why did you need me to do it? Charlie was our guardian, wasn’t he?”
“And see, he ended up dead.”
“Dad.”
“Ten years ago”—he breathed into the phone—“somebody threatened us. Somebody from the past. Okay? And we were worried we could get hurt. Charlie and me. So we needed a plan. Your sister is a lot younger than you are. We had to make sure she was okay.”
“So you thought you and Charlie could get hurt, because this was someone you put away.”
“More or less. Yes.”
“And you thought Jane was in danger as well?”
“Absolutely. Jane could have been taken away.”
“Do you think the same people came after Anna and killed her roommate?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“Are those people in Rydell?”
“Could be. Yes.”
“So these people are pretty dangerous, right?” Avery asked.
“That’s what I’ve been saying. Did you bring something with you?”
“No. But I’m driving Charlie’s truck.”
“Check under the seat.”
She reached down, fumbled around. She felt grit and dirt against her skin. Then she felt the grip of a weapon. She slid it out and lifted it into her lap. “An M and P Nine.”
“That a girl.”
“Dad, if it’s this dangerous . . .”
“You can handle it. Okay? Just get there and get Anna before she goes too far. Then bring her back here. And we’ll talk. We will.” It sounded like he’d wanted to say something else and reconsidered. Then he said, “Just take care of yourself, champ. And your sister.”
He hung up.
56
The girl refused to get into the car with Yates. He offered to drive her and take just one car out into the countryside to the Combs farm, but the girl refused.
Yates couldn’t blame her. She had brains. And guts. A dangerous combination.
They stood on the street outside of Hutch’s with the girl studying his face. Yates held his breath, expecting at any moment for Anna to scream or cry, to run back inside and call the police, because she recognized him from that gloomy night outside her apartment building when she had come home and found Yates standing there in the dark, scouting the place. Looking for her. It was a short jump from that to saying he killed her roommate.
“What are you doing here,” she asked, “out where Christ lost his shoes?”
Yates looked at the building they’d just left, where the bartender practically had his giant face pressed against the grimy window. The only thing the dude had acted interested in all day.
Yates said, “I do some work for the Combs family, and you want to know where they are. I can show you. We can help each other out.”
“How can I help you?” she asked. She stood with her hands on her hips, her head slightly cocked to one side. She gave him a bit of the side-eye, like someone who was wiser than her twenty-one years.
“I’m just trying to do a good job. I think the family will be happy to see you.”
“Okay. But I’m keeping my distance from you. I don’t trust you.”
“I don’t trust me either.”
So he told her to follow him, which she did, and he led them outside of Rydell and onto a county road that initially cut through fields of harvested corn and soybeans and then into a stretch of trees that grew over the road like a canopy and blocked out the light.
Yates checked the rearview every mile or so. He expected at any moment for the girl—Anna—to peel off, take her car off the road, execute a three-sixty turn, and go in another direction. Back toward Breckville or where her parents lived. Anything but out into the remote countryside with Yates leading the way. A guy she didn’t know who she’d met in a bar. A guy she apparently didn’t recognize from the night he’d stood outside her building.
But Anna hung with him. She stayed close, made every turn he made. Traffic was light. At one point they passed a farmer rolling his combine down the road going in the opposite direction. A couple of other cars passed, but it was mostly quiet and still. It felt like a pleasant drive, like they were tourists out to look at the changing leaves. Find a roadside stand and buy a pumpkin or some cider. But they passed no such stands. They were too far out, away from the heavily trafficked roads where the weekend drivers might have wandered.
Yates made sure to keep his eyes on the road. He’d been to the Combs farm once, six months or so earlier. It was hard to find—and he couldn’t just search on Google Maps. He had a pretty good eye for landmarks, though, and a pretty good brain for directions once he’d been somewhere. The turnoff was coming up, so he kept his eyes forward more than he worried about what Anna was doing behind him. She’d hung with him so far, so she seemed to be in it for the long haul.
Yates’ heart surprised him by beating faster and faster. He’d see Hogan soon. And the Combs family. How many big chances did someone get? Not many. Not many at all. Yates knew one rode behind him right then, an opportunity to take a step up in the world. He didn’t intend to blow it.
The road dipped and rose again. They passed over a bridge that spanned a small creek. No, not a creek. Dead River. That was it. Dead River. What a name. Called that as long as anyone could remember because two early settlers had drowned there, trying to cross. Their bodies never found. The river meant Anna and he were getting close to Combs land. Very close.
Yates slowed, trained his eyes on the right side of the road. The trees were thick, growing close together, twining into one another like capillaries and veins. The undergrowth was thick as well—vines and weeds and bushes. Thick enough to lose oneself. Thick enough to disappear.
He slowed. Ahead a narrow opening in the trees. Not even a mailbox or a sign to mark the spot.
“That’s it. That has to be it.”
He put on his turn signal, eased almost to a stop before he guided the car onto the gravel drive. He watched, saw Anna slowing as well, her turn signal on. The car jounced over a small rut. The drive ahead disappeared into the trees. He might be in the wrong place, might find himself face-to-face with an angry farmer, an old guy in overalls with a shotgun crooked in his arm. Didn’t matter. Yates couldn’t turn back now.
He drove into the trees. It felt as if they were swallowing him rather than he was entering them. The road hooked to the left, and quickly his car would be out of sight from the road. But Anna stayed with him as the road straightened again.
A few hundred feet farther along, he saw the cattle gate. It was padlocked shut, and on either side hung a no-trespassing sign. He stopped, the tires kicking up dust. Past the gate, nothing was visible. More of the gravel road disappearing into the trees. He turned the car off and climbed out.
Anna stayed in her car, which was still running. Her hands gripped the wheel. The bunny might have been spooked. If she wanted to slam the car into reverse and go, she could. It wouldn’t be easy to back down the gravel road, and there weren’t any places to turn around. But it wouldn’t be easy to stop her. Still, if she went, so would he. He’d follow her back out to the road and bring her back again. In a very real sense, their fates were joined. He wanted things to keep moving in the right direction.
Finally, Anna pushed her door open and stepped out. She remained behind the door like it was a shield. “This is it?” she asked.
“It is.”
“How do we get in? Is there a bell?”
Yates shook his head. “They’ll be here.”
“How?”
“Nothing happens in these woods without them knowing. Besides, I can guarantee you, as soon as we left that dive bar, the bartender called and told them company was on the way.”
“For real?”
“Sure. That’s how these things work.”
Anna looked around. Late-season crickets chirped in the tall grass. A squirrel scurried away from them. Alice had landed in Wonderland. “They all acted sketchy in the bar when I said the family name.”
“That’s right. You said the magic word in this county.”
“And is that because they’re doing something illegal here?”
“Illegal?” Yates shrugged. “You could call it stimulating the local economy.” He watched her continue to look around. “You planning on staying? Because you don’t have much time to decide.”
Anna cut her eyes to him. “I’m staying. I promise.”
“Okay. Are you going to tell me what you want from them?”
“Are you related to them?”
“No. I’m just a worker bee.”
“Then you don’t need to know what I’m here for, do you?”
“I don’t. But maybe I could help.”
A crow cawed overhead and beat its wings.
“Okay, I’m not trying to be a dick,” Anna said. “Do you know what they’re like?”
Yates considered the question. “Tough,” he said finally. “Tough and hard.”
Anna kept a poker face, but some fear seeped through. She looked very young. Maybe—no, strike that—she definitely didn’t know what she was getting into. How could she?
And it wasn’t his problem, he reminded himself. His ass had fallen into the fryer. He needed to lift it out—and there had only ever been one person who could do that for him: her.
Why not go?
She slid open the nightstand drawer, saw Charlie’s wallet and loose change and other personal effects. She grabbed the keys to his truck and slid them into her pocket.
Fuck yes, she was going to Rydell.
PART III
55
Avery walked the six blocks back to Charlie’s truck
The walk helped.
She tried to focus on the warm breeze on her face, the sun bright. She tried to focus on life, not death. Not Charlie in the bed with his cooling hands folded on top of his body . . .
It felt strange to slide into the driver’s seat. The truck smelled like Charlie. Coffee and aftershave and sweat. His sunglasses sat on the dashboard. His dogs’ hair covered the seats. A tiny Gideons New Testament sat in the center console, well thumbed. Avery hadn’t noticed it before.
She had to call her dad.
She didn’t want to call him. And tell him. As complicated as her feelings were for the old man, she hated bringing him more bad news. For a moment, her mind flashed on a scheme to call Alisha and ask her to do it. But that was a chickenshit approach, the most cowardly thing possible. She was the oldest. She’d been with Charlie when he died. She needed to call.
So she did. She sucked in a deep breath like she was inhaling from a joint. She held it and she called.
Jane answered. “Oh, Avery, did you find her?”
“No, I didn’t. I need to talk to Dad. Can you put him on?”
“Avery, can you just tell me the truth? I don’t want to be lied to. I know Anna’s dead. Will you just tell me? We saw all the trouble there. It’s been on the news—”
“Anna’s not dead. I saw her. She’s alive and well.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure, Jane. Okay?” She reminded herself of her stepmother’s fragility. She didn’t want to add any stress or pain to the woman’s life. It was enough being married to her dad. “Jane, I promise I’m not lying to you. But I do need to talk to Dad.”
“Okay, honey . . . Are you okay? You sound upset.”
Jane. She was so sweet. It was always difficult for Avery to blame the dissolution of her family on someone she liked so much. “I’m okay. Thank you for asking.”
“Okay, I’ll get Dad for you—”
“Wait, Jane.”
“What?”
“Have you talked to Libby? She’s been trying to talk to Anna about this birthday gift her ex-boyfriend got her. Do you know anything about that?”
Silence filled the line. Avery imagined Jane standing there, phone in her hand, robe clutched tight.
“Jane?”
“Oh, Avery. Maybe you should talk to Dad about that. This whole thing is so very complicated. It always has been. I don’t understand it all. . . . He’s here. . . . Russ, it’s Avery.”
Rustling sounds, the clumsiness of the phone being passed over to the old man. His voice gravelly and sharp. “Did she find her?”
Then into the phone: “Did you find her?”
“No, I didn’t, Dad.”
“Jesus.”
“But I saw her. In the park at the protest. She was okay. And I believe I know where she’s going.”
“Where?”
“Hold on, Dad. I have to tell you something. Okay?” She tried to speak as calmly as possible to mitigate the shock of what was to come. “Are you sitting down?”
“No, I’m standing here with my stupid walker. Why do you want me to sit down?”
“Is Jane right there?”
“Of course. She watches me like I’m a newborn. What are you trying to tell me?”
Avery took another deep breath. Sucked the air into her lungs as deeply as she could.
“Dad, I met up with Charlie. And we went to the protest together to look for Anna. There was trouble there. The cops cracked down, and there were counterprotestors. It was chaotic and crazy. And we got swept up in it. There was a shooting—”
“I know.” Her dad’s voice lost some of its edge, as if it were a sharp knife rubbed dull by use. “Are you trying to tell me . . . ?”
He was still a cop. His instincts weren’t dull. He sensed trouble when it drew near.
“Dad, it’s Charlie. He had some kind of episode when the trouble came down. His heart . . .”
“He has a bad heart. I know that.”
“Dad, he didn’t make it. Charlie died in the hospital after the protest.”
Avery listened for something—anything—from the other end of the line.
A long silence drew out. She didn’t even hear breathing.
“Dad?”
“I’m here.”
“Are you okay?”
She waited again. Then her dad said, “No. No, I’m not. I’m too old for this bullshit.”
“Okay. I’m sorry. I know how close you and Charlie were.”
“Were you with him when it happened?”
Avery decided to lie. Better than saying she had been down the hall getting a Milky Way. “Yes, I was. He went peacefully. I was holding his hand.”
“I’m glad he wasn’t alone.”
“He wasn’t. And he was happy. Happy doing something and trying to find Anna.”
Her dad blew his nose, a loud, wet honking. Like a goose being tortured. Finally, he asked, “I don’t understand—did you find Anna? Is she with you?”
“No, but I saw her. We came very close to each other right before the march got broken up.”
“She was okay?”
“She was. The cops grabbed me and dragged me away. But Anna got away.”
“Shit.”
“I think I know where she’s headed. And we need to talk about that, because I’m ready to go find her. And I don’t want to waste any more time. She’s ahead of me by a little bit.”
“Where is she?”
Some of the eagerness and desperation had left his voice. He no longer sounded as curious as he had before. He sounded more resigned, like a man anticipating a fate he couldn’t avoid.
“She’s going to Rydell, Kentucky. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. And when Charlie . . . died, he left behind a note. He’d written down ‘Rydell,’ and the name ‘Combs family.’ Charlie acted like he knew something about this. In fact, he said he was going to tell me about it. So you must know something too. Right? I know they grow weed there. Why is Anna going to Rydell? Does she have dealings with this family? Do you know them?”
“Avery, this is all a misunderstanding. But it’s also very dangerous. Is Anna in Rydell yet?”
“I don’t know. But she had a few hours’ head start if she left right after the protest. Maybe more.”
“Avery, you need to go get her. I don’t know what she thinks she’s doing, but you have to get her out.”
“Dad, I can’t just keep chasing Anna across the state without knowing what’s going on. Is this about your job? Can you just tell me?”
He cleared his throat. “Yes, it is related to my job. The Combs family is a dangerous group. They’re involved in a lot of criminal activities. Okay? And it’s not safe for Anna to be going up there alone. You need to step in.”
“If it’s not safe or if something illegal is going on, then call the police. Lord knows you have enough contacts. Get them on it.”
Her dad sounded much calmer than usual. “Avery, I’d like to keep this inside the family. Okay? It’s a family matter. For us. Anna is just confused. She’s young, and a young person can get that way. I need you to bring her back here, to our house, and then we can all talk to her. That’s what I’ve wanted all along.”
“But you’re not going to—”
“Avery, I need you. You’re the only one I can count on. You and Charlie, of course. But he’s gone. Okay? Can you just do that for me?”
The old man was smart. He knew exactly which buttons to push. She wanted to tell him to screw off, to deal with his own problems. She wanted to say she was going to hang up the phone and call the police herself, send them into Rydell to drag Anna out by the scruff of her neck. If they could even find her.
But she didn’t.
Her dad had showed faith in her. Placed all his chips on her.
Was she supposed to say no to that?
“What does Libby have to do with this? She won’t call me back.”
“Libby’s confused as well. I’ll talk to her. You go find Anna.”
“Dad, I want to ask you something?”
“What?” He sounded irritable. Impatient.
“Why did you ask me to be Anna’s guardian ten years ago? I know you’re pissed about me saying no, but why did you need me to do it? Charlie was our guardian, wasn’t he?”
“And see, he ended up dead.”
“Dad.”
“Ten years ago”—he breathed into the phone—“somebody threatened us. Somebody from the past. Okay? And we were worried we could get hurt. Charlie and me. So we needed a plan. Your sister is a lot younger than you are. We had to make sure she was okay.”
“So you thought you and Charlie could get hurt, because this was someone you put away.”
“More or less. Yes.”
“And you thought Jane was in danger as well?”
“Absolutely. Jane could have been taken away.”
“Do you think the same people came after Anna and killed her roommate?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“Are those people in Rydell?”
“Could be. Yes.”
“So these people are pretty dangerous, right?” Avery asked.
“That’s what I’ve been saying. Did you bring something with you?”
“No. But I’m driving Charlie’s truck.”
“Check under the seat.”
She reached down, fumbled around. She felt grit and dirt against her skin. Then she felt the grip of a weapon. She slid it out and lifted it into her lap. “An M and P Nine.”
“That a girl.”
“Dad, if it’s this dangerous . . .”
“You can handle it. Okay? Just get there and get Anna before she goes too far. Then bring her back here. And we’ll talk. We will.” It sounded like he’d wanted to say something else and reconsidered. Then he said, “Just take care of yourself, champ. And your sister.”
He hung up.
56
The girl refused to get into the car with Yates. He offered to drive her and take just one car out into the countryside to the Combs farm, but the girl refused.
Yates couldn’t blame her. She had brains. And guts. A dangerous combination.
They stood on the street outside of Hutch’s with the girl studying his face. Yates held his breath, expecting at any moment for Anna to scream or cry, to run back inside and call the police, because she recognized him from that gloomy night outside her apartment building when she had come home and found Yates standing there in the dark, scouting the place. Looking for her. It was a short jump from that to saying he killed her roommate.
“What are you doing here,” she asked, “out where Christ lost his shoes?”
Yates looked at the building they’d just left, where the bartender practically had his giant face pressed against the grimy window. The only thing the dude had acted interested in all day.
Yates said, “I do some work for the Combs family, and you want to know where they are. I can show you. We can help each other out.”
“How can I help you?” she asked. She stood with her hands on her hips, her head slightly cocked to one side. She gave him a bit of the side-eye, like someone who was wiser than her twenty-one years.
“I’m just trying to do a good job. I think the family will be happy to see you.”
“Okay. But I’m keeping my distance from you. I don’t trust you.”
“I don’t trust me either.”
So he told her to follow him, which she did, and he led them outside of Rydell and onto a county road that initially cut through fields of harvested corn and soybeans and then into a stretch of trees that grew over the road like a canopy and blocked out the light.
Yates checked the rearview every mile or so. He expected at any moment for the girl—Anna—to peel off, take her car off the road, execute a three-sixty turn, and go in another direction. Back toward Breckville or where her parents lived. Anything but out into the remote countryside with Yates leading the way. A guy she didn’t know who she’d met in a bar. A guy she apparently didn’t recognize from the night he’d stood outside her building.
But Anna hung with him. She stayed close, made every turn he made. Traffic was light. At one point they passed a farmer rolling his combine down the road going in the opposite direction. A couple of other cars passed, but it was mostly quiet and still. It felt like a pleasant drive, like they were tourists out to look at the changing leaves. Find a roadside stand and buy a pumpkin or some cider. But they passed no such stands. They were too far out, away from the heavily trafficked roads where the weekend drivers might have wandered.
Yates made sure to keep his eyes on the road. He’d been to the Combs farm once, six months or so earlier. It was hard to find—and he couldn’t just search on Google Maps. He had a pretty good eye for landmarks, though, and a pretty good brain for directions once he’d been somewhere. The turnoff was coming up, so he kept his eyes forward more than he worried about what Anna was doing behind him. She’d hung with him so far, so she seemed to be in it for the long haul.
Yates’ heart surprised him by beating faster and faster. He’d see Hogan soon. And the Combs family. How many big chances did someone get? Not many. Not many at all. Yates knew one rode behind him right then, an opportunity to take a step up in the world. He didn’t intend to blow it.
The road dipped and rose again. They passed over a bridge that spanned a small creek. No, not a creek. Dead River. That was it. Dead River. What a name. Called that as long as anyone could remember because two early settlers had drowned there, trying to cross. Their bodies never found. The river meant Anna and he were getting close to Combs land. Very close.
Yates slowed, trained his eyes on the right side of the road. The trees were thick, growing close together, twining into one another like capillaries and veins. The undergrowth was thick as well—vines and weeds and bushes. Thick enough to lose oneself. Thick enough to disappear.
He slowed. Ahead a narrow opening in the trees. Not even a mailbox or a sign to mark the spot.
“That’s it. That has to be it.”
He put on his turn signal, eased almost to a stop before he guided the car onto the gravel drive. He watched, saw Anna slowing as well, her turn signal on. The car jounced over a small rut. The drive ahead disappeared into the trees. He might be in the wrong place, might find himself face-to-face with an angry farmer, an old guy in overalls with a shotgun crooked in his arm. Didn’t matter. Yates couldn’t turn back now.
He drove into the trees. It felt as if they were swallowing him rather than he was entering them. The road hooked to the left, and quickly his car would be out of sight from the road. But Anna stayed with him as the road straightened again.
A few hundred feet farther along, he saw the cattle gate. It was padlocked shut, and on either side hung a no-trespassing sign. He stopped, the tires kicking up dust. Past the gate, nothing was visible. More of the gravel road disappearing into the trees. He turned the car off and climbed out.
Anna stayed in her car, which was still running. Her hands gripped the wheel. The bunny might have been spooked. If she wanted to slam the car into reverse and go, she could. It wouldn’t be easy to back down the gravel road, and there weren’t any places to turn around. But it wouldn’t be easy to stop her. Still, if she went, so would he. He’d follow her back out to the road and bring her back again. In a very real sense, their fates were joined. He wanted things to keep moving in the right direction.
Finally, Anna pushed her door open and stepped out. She remained behind the door like it was a shield. “This is it?” she asked.
“It is.”
“How do we get in? Is there a bell?”
Yates shook his head. “They’ll be here.”
“How?”
“Nothing happens in these woods without them knowing. Besides, I can guarantee you, as soon as we left that dive bar, the bartender called and told them company was on the way.”
“For real?”
“Sure. That’s how these things work.”
Anna looked around. Late-season crickets chirped in the tall grass. A squirrel scurried away from them. Alice had landed in Wonderland. “They all acted sketchy in the bar when I said the family name.”
“That’s right. You said the magic word in this county.”
“And is that because they’re doing something illegal here?”
“Illegal?” Yates shrugged. “You could call it stimulating the local economy.” He watched her continue to look around. “You planning on staying? Because you don’t have much time to decide.”
Anna cut her eyes to him. “I’m staying. I promise.”
“Okay. Are you going to tell me what you want from them?”
“Are you related to them?”
“No. I’m just a worker bee.”
“Then you don’t need to know what I’m here for, do you?”
“I don’t. But maybe I could help.”
A crow cawed overhead and beat its wings.
“Okay, I’m not trying to be a dick,” Anna said. “Do you know what they’re like?”
Yates considered the question. “Tough,” he said finally. “Tough and hard.”
Anna kept a poker face, but some fear seeped through. She looked very young. Maybe—no, strike that—she definitely didn’t know what she was getting into. How could she?
And it wasn’t his problem, he reminded himself. His ass had fallen into the fryer. He needed to lift it out—and there had only ever been one person who could do that for him: her.
