“We’re going to be okay,” he said, not believing it. “Once he has his money, there’s no reason to kill us.”
She turned, lips quivering. For a moment she hesitated; then she threw herself across the seat, wrapping her arms around his neck, his back, ratcheting against him like she would never let go. “I love you so goddamn much.”
He smiled into her neck, ran his fingers through her hair. “Shhh.”
For a moment they held each other, and then she leaned back. “If we make it through, I’m going to – I’ll never-”
“I know,” he said. “Me too.” He glanced at the clock. Thirty minutes since they’d left the beach. He wanted more than anything to stay right here. “It’s time.”
Anna wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand. Drew a trembling breath, then a stronger one. Opened the cell phone and pressed three keys. “I’m ready.”
He nodded, feeling a sick heat through his bowels. He opened the car door with a squeak, swiveled to get a foot out.
“Tom.” Her voice a levee holding back too much. He turned, and for her sake made himself smile. She managed a thin smile back, eyes shining. “Be careful.”
He winked. Then he shut the door and started down the sidewalk before his nerve collapsed. Wolfram was a quiet street, trees and brick apartment complexes and the odd town house. He remembered helping Sara move in, angling her futon through the front door, hauling an armoire that had to weigh ten thousand pounds. Afterward, they’d headed to a nearby bar she knew, place called Delilah’s. Great music. The three of them had pounded Old Style and Jim Beam, sweaty and laughing and singing along.
He pushed the thoughts out of his mind. Too much at stake to be any less than a hundred percent. The clouds had begun to break, patches of scattered sun spilling through the trees. His mouth was dry, and his legs felt light. Tom dug in his pocket, came out with the brass key clutched in his good hand. Sara’s blinds were all closed, but he thought he saw movement at one of them. His heart felt like it might smash through his ribs.
He stepped onto the porch.
ANNA WATCHED HIM WALK AWAY, and every step cranked barbed wire around her heart. All this time they had been so caught up in chasing the things they thought they wanted, they had forgotten the things they already had. Never again. She thought it repeatedly, a mantra that would keep him safe and bring him back to her. That was all she wanted now.
And all she wouldn’t get. No matter what lies they had told each other, Jack wouldn’t let them live. No chance. But at least they’d save Sara and Julian.
With the phone in hand, she slid low in her seat until she could just barely see Tom climb the steps to Sara’s porch. As he reached the door, it swung inward. She couldn’t see inside, but she saw her beautiful husband hold up the key. He stood calm, strong, like trading his life for his family’s was the simplest choice in the world, and in the moment she most risked losing him she loved him more than she ever had.
A STRANGE SORT OF CALM settled on him. Facing the monster, the fear was still there, as much a part of the moment as the air he breathed. But it felt like something apart. He held the key in front of him, willing his hand not to shake.
Jack stood in the door frame with his arms crossed. White gauze stained with blood wrapped his left forearm. All the blinds were closed, and the light inside the house was dim, but not so dark that Tom couldn’t make out the shoulder holster, the way Jack’s fingers fell lightly, almost accidentally, on the handle of his gun. The moment stretched like a power line, so taut and charged it hummed.
Finally Jack said, “Where’s the missus?”
“Watching from somewhere safe, with 911 dialed into her cell phone and her thumb on the Send button.”
“Somewhere safe, huh?” Jack gave a bemused sort of smile. He leaned out the door, glancing left and right down the block. “You couldn’t just bring my money, could you? You people, always complicating things.”
“Nope. Simplifying them.” He took a breath, could taste the air. “You don’t want Sara or Julian. You’re willing to use them, but all you’re really after is the money, right?” He shrugged. “So swap us for them, and we’ll take you to the storage locker where we stowed it.”
“Let me get this straight. I walk out with you, hop in your car, and you take me to my money. And if I don’t, Anna calls 911. Is that it?”
Tom nodded.
“It can take ten, fifteen minutes for cops to respond to a 911 call,” Jack said. “You know how long that could feel?”
Tom’s mouth went dry, but he didn’t flinch. “That won’t get you what you want.” His hands were shaking, and he put them against his legs to hide it. This was the anchor everything hung on, the assumption that no matter how angry Jack might be, what he wanted more than anything was the cash. If that calculation turned out to be wrong, this would get uglier than he dared imagine. “Just let me make sure that Sara and Julian are okay, and then let’s go get your money.”
For a long moment, Jack just stared. Then he shrugged, stepped back inside the house. “Come on in.”
Stale light filtered through the closed blinds, making the familiarseem sinister. The air was thick with the smell of baby powder and something else, a faintly burned tang he couldn’t identify. Jack gestured toward the closed bedroom door. “In there.”
Tom walked ahead, back tingling with the knowledge that Jack was behind him. Easy. It’s working. There’s no reason for him to jump you. He knows Anna will call the police if he does, knows they’ll respond fast if she tells them who he is. So just do this and get out. Every step forward is one away from this house.
He put his hand on the bedroom door and pushed it open. The light was faint and dusty, and the smells stronger. He stood for a moment to let his eyes adjust, vague shapes resolving into a bed, the armoire he remembered hauling, the crib in the corner. He could see the outline of Julian lying within it.
A pair of legs stuck out from beside the bed.
Tom took the three steps to them without realizing he was moving. Sara lay facedown amid a pile of junk, postcards and books from the night table drawer yanked out of the frame. In the dim light, the mess of blood and tissue that used to be her back looked almost black.
Behind him, he heard the snick of metal against leather, the gun coming out, and then Jack said, “It was a nice plan, Tom. But I’ve got a different one in mind.”
ANNA HATED being helpless.
Sunlight danced on the dashboard. She watched Tom on the porch, saw Jack lean out the door, look in her direction. Fought the urge to duck lower, knowing the motion would catch his eye.
When she was a child, she’d pretended her eyes were laser beams, that they could cut and shear everything she saw. Now, pressed against the seat, powerless to do anything but wait and watch, she wished for those laser eyes. Imagined them blasting through the window, spearing into Jack, a beam of light that tore him open, cut him in half.
Her mind raced, thinking of all the ways this could fail. She had the windows half-open, but the porch was too far away for her to hear what Tom was saying. She stared, watched him rest his good hand against his thigh. After a long pause, he walked forward into the house.
She let herself breathe again. Good. They had agreed that if Jack pulled the gun, Tom would signal. The fact that he was walking in on his own meant it was working.
Still, this would be the worst part. Her palms were sweaty and her heart banged and her head hurt. A moment passed, then another. Tom wouldn’t dally, but he might have to calm Sara down, make sure she understood not to call the police. It could be a couple of minutes. On the other hand, if things were going wrong, every second she didn’t call was one more he might be getting hurt. She counted breaths, her thumb on the button.