She didn't like being held that way, but he did seem to be on her side. "Really?"
"Sure. Give it some time, and then maybe talk to him about being put on a kind of salary. God, you read about that sort of arrangement all the time, don't you?"
It was true, she guessed, but her mind was still in a whirl. She remained anxious-almost skittish. It wasn't what she had planned. It was becoming complicated, and it was slipping from her fingers. Just like always.
To give herself a little breathing room, she jerked her arm free of the man's grasp. In that split second, she both saw his face flash with anger and sensed one of the men right behind her suddenly moving as if to head her off.
It was all she needed.
She pretended to shift left, toward the midway and the solid column of people there, and then cut right as her escort went for the feint, pushing the off-balance brown-haired man out of her way as she cut into a narrow alley between the two buildings beside them, tipping over a large trash barrel behind her as she went.
It worked. She reached the fence separating the alleyway from the racetrack and climbed over it before the men behind her could clear away the barrel.
Opposite her was the covered stage, facing the grandstand to her left. She cut away from the music and the bright lights and ran north as fast as she could, making for the entrance of the track's central oval. She heard a fair attendant yelling over her shoulder at the men climbing the fence in pursuit.
The inner oval combined all of the fair's offerings. There was a second midway, complete with rides, tents, and booths, and a second crowd of people. On its far side, near the river, was also where most of the vehicles and trailers belonging to vendors and other personnel were parked in near-total darkness. As kids, that was often where Hannah and her friends ended up to indulge in some of their more private activities.
She quickly glanced back as she passed through the gate. All four men were coming on at a run.
Now convinced her life was at stake, she plowed heedlessly into the people before her, at once desperate and hopeful that her actions would cause problems for her pursuers.
She was right. Slipping by the initial shouts of angry surprise, she was aware of a secondary outburst being triggered by those in her wake. Risking a second backward look, she saw them being slowed and blocked by the protesting crowd.
Except that now there were only two of them.
Hannah kept struggling west toward the darkness. Like a passing fog, the crowd abruptly melted to a few stragglers as she passed the entrance to the second midway and headed for the horse barns barely visible in the gloom. If she could reach the far gate, leave the oval, cross the track, and work her way between the barns and the riverbank back toward the bridge and her car, she might still get away. At which point, she thought bitterly, old T. J. wouldn't know the meaning of the word "misery."
A man's shadow suddenly appeared out of the night, blocking the gate and her planned route.
She veered right, still inside the oval, running toward the lights of a small circular clearing lined with some secondary food booths. A thin cluster of people and their kids were milling around eating French fries and cotton candy.
She slowed slightly, tossed her hat away, and headed for a knot of two large families debating what to do next.
Startled, they made way for her as she knifed through their midst, closing behind her like a body of water. Hidden for just a moment from anyone following, Hannah ducked and slipped in between two booths, again aiming for the railing separating the oval from the surrounding track. She was now facing north. On the far side were the cow barns, filled with people as before, and beyond them the bridge to her car. She could almost make out the steep parking lot in the night sky above the low-slung wooden buildings ahead of her.
Stealthily, in the blackness of the narrow space between the two booths, she leaned over the railing and checked the track in both directions.
Nobody.
Shaking by now, sweating and near exhaustion, she climbed the railing and jumped.
She heard footsteps running from her left, the same direction of the man who'd blocked her exit earlier. Bolting in blind fear, she sprinted for the distant fence, climbed it at a run, missed her footing, and fell sprawling on the far side, twisting her wrist and skinning her face on the grass.
"You okay, lady?" a young voice asked from near one of the dimly lit barns.
She didn't answer. Didn't think to seek safety among the people caring for their animals. Didn't think of all the deputies that she'd avoided with scorn as a teen. She'd been reduced to one mindless goaclass="underline" to get to her car.
Stumbling, in pain, she set a straight course now, directly between the barns and toward the footbridge beyond, unaware and unconcerned about what might be happening behind her.
The bridge loomed into view, empty of people, poorly lit. Here, suddenly things were quiet again, on the fringes of the fair, with shadows cast long and deep by the bright lights behind her. She stopped abruptly, caught up in the contrast, a sense of foreboding catching in her throat.
Her target within sight at last, she moved only hesitantly toward it, her ears tuned to the slightest anomaly. But all she heard was the canned, repetitive music, the hum of the distant crowd, and the sleepy lowing of an occasional cow.
Hannah tentatively placed her hand on the bridge's handrail and stopped a final time to look around. One last dash should do it, up the hill to her car and gone. She reached into her pocket and removed her keys.
Again, the dark outline of a man appeared before her, this time blocking the far side of the bridge.
"Hannah."
The voice was quiet, almost otherworldly, coming not from ahead but seemingly from the night itself. She spun around, saw another silhouette approaching from where she'd come. She stared wide-eyed at the gap between the two barns she'd used earlier upon arrival, when she'd been feeling so upbeat and hopeful. A third outline stood there, waiting patiently.
On sheer impulse she ran east, upriver, where she knew very well there was no outlet. The bluff overlooking the flood plain pinched together with the river and eventually formed a sheer drop into the water. But it was the only way clear.
The fourth man-the one with the mustache-appeared so fast right before her that she actually fell into his arms, like a lover yielding freely. She didn't feel the knife go in, but merely her legs going limp, as if from simple exhaustion.
Which wasn't so unreasonable. She was very tired, after all, in all senses of the word. She looked up into his face, saw the gentle eyes, and wondered why she'd put up such a fuss. Now that they were together at last, he didn't seem so bad.
He carefully lowered her to the ground by the rippling water, moving with her as she lay down. The familiar sound made her smile. So many years ago, that young boy fumbling with her clothes. Such a peaceful, endearing rite of passage. A moment of pure innocence.
A time to remember.
Chapter 15
Joe knew he was fixating. Fully conscious that he'd caused the deaths of Katie Clark and a now presumed-innocent Peter Shea-but ignorant of why or precisely how-he'd tapped every resource to reopen the original investigation. His desk was piled high with files, reports, Internet printouts, phone message slips, and letters, some of them yellowed and worn with age, all relating to people who'd been peacefully hibernating in the boxes he'd retrieved from the basement weeks earlier.
He knew as a virtual certainty that somewhere in the midst of it all was someone, deemed unremarkable at the time, who now had good reason to keep the past where it usually stayed.