Once Dori was out, she pointed her gun at the commander, then said, “Wes, you’re going to help my friend here, then we’re all going to go for a walk.”
The man waved the end of his barrel toward the horse trailer. “Come on,” he said. “Around to the doors.”
Not seeing much of an option, Wes did as he was ordered.
“Open it,” the man said once they’d reached the back.
Wes grabbed the handle, yanked it up and to the right, releasing the latch. Because of the angle, gravity held the doors in place. He pulled outward on the one covering the right half, then gave it a little push so it swung all the way out, then over, where it slammed against the outside of the trailer with a loud bang.
The interior was bathed in darkness.
“The other one,” the man said.
Wes repeated the action, this time with the left side.
Now that both halves were out of the way, dull moonlight was able to penetrate a few feet into the trailer. With the exception of some debris jutting out of the edge of the darkness, the rest of what Wes could see was barren floor.
“Go on,” the man said. “Inside.”
“You’re going to lock me in?” Wes asked. “Why? What have I done to you?”
“Inside,” the man repeated.
Wes’s eyes narrowed. This was ridiculous. Whatever game they were playing, he was done.
“No,” he said.
The man raised his gun. “Inside.”
“No,” Wes repeated.
“Fine.”
Wes held his ground as the man sighted down his barrel at his chest.
“I would think you’d want to go inside,” Dori said.
Wes jerked at the sound of her voice. She and the commander had moved around the trailer and were standing a few feet away.
“I don’t care what you think.”
“Fine,” Dori said. She looked at her partner. “Come on. We’ll just leave her in there.”
Wes looked back at the trailer. “Leave who in there?”
Dori had already started to walk away. “What does it matter? You’ve made your choice.”
Wes took a step toward the trailer opening. It took a couple of seconds, but he soon saw the debris he’d noticed earlier wasn’t debris at all. It was a knee.
No longer even conscious of the guns behind him, he clambered into the back. The knee gave way to a leg, then a hip, and a torso.
Wes crouched down and gently turned the body toward him.
“Anna?”
LARS’S FIRST INSTINCT WAS TO DRIVE OVER TO the house he knew Dori had lived in years before, but he only went a couple of blocks before he pulled over to the side of the road and retrieved his phone. She could still live there, but if she’d moved, he would be wasting time he couldn’t afford to waste.
“What city, please?” a recorded voice said.
“Ridgecrest, California.”
“What listing, please?”
“Dori Dillman.”
There was a pause. “I have no listing for that name. If you would like to look up another listing, please say yes.”
“Yes,” Lars said.
“What city, please?”
“Ridgecrest, California.”
“What listing, please?”
Lars paused.
“What listing, please?”
He hesitated a moment longer, then it came to him. “Doreen Dillman.”
“One moment, please.”
If Lars heard one more “please,” he was going to—
The recording came back on and provided a phone number. When he asked for an address, it supplied that, too.
“Son of a bitch,” he said under his breath as he started the motorcycle back up. Good thing he’d checked. Her current address put her about a mile west of the Desert Rose Motel, nowhere near the place he’d been headed to.
The first thing he noticed when he arrived was that there were no cars parked in the driveway or along the curb out front. There were also no lights on in any of the windows. He pounded on the front door, waited, then pounded again.
No response.
He tried the doorknob. Locked.
“Wes!” he yelled. “Wes!”
He tested the door again, not to see if it was still locked, but to get a sense of its sturdiness. As was the case with many older homes, what had once been a solid barrier had become simply adequate. He took a step back, raised his right foot, then kicked. The sole of his shoe landed flat against the door next to the knob, creating a satisfying crack.
He raised his foot again and gave it a second shot. This time the noise was even louder.
It was the fourth one that sent the door flying open. He was through and into the living room before it had stopped moving.
“Wes!” he yelled.
Kitchen. Dining room. Family room.
All empty.
He raced over to the hallway that led to the back of the house. Halfway to the end was a bathroom. He stuck his head in. Nothing.
He counted three bedrooms. The first looked like it was serving as a home office—a desk against one wall, bookcases and filing cabinets along the others. Littered across the floor were stacks of papers and magazines and folders and boxes.
He moved down to the next bedroom. Empty. Completely. No furniture. No boxes. Everything empty, that is, except the closet. It was half full of clothes. Men’s clothes. On the floor was an old green duffel bag, Army issue.
The last bedroom was the master. This had a bed, a dresser, and a stand with a TV on it. The closet here was a walk-in. It was stuffed with women’s clothing. But the room, like everywhere else in the house, was unoccupied.
Dammit! He felt the urge to punch a wall, so he took a deep breath and tried to relax. Okay. Okay. They’re not here. But there’s got to be something that might tell me where they are.
He quickly opened all the drawers of the dresser, but only found more clothes. He moved down to the office and started searching. Barely a minute passed before he realized that if there was something there, it would take him too long to find it.
Desperate, he walked back into the main part of the house. The living room, nothing. The kitchen, nothing. The dining room—
He stopped.
Taped to the wall of the dining room were dozens of newspaper clippings. But one had been placed prominently in the center of all of them, with arrows scribbled across the page. It was also the most recent article, from just the previous week. It was the feature on the crash, of course.
All the inked arrows pointed at the same thing. A name circled in the text.
Wes Stewart.
Lars let out a breath. This is how she must have known Wes was in town.
Lars turned his attention to the other articles, examining them one by one. They were all much older, from back in Lars’s and Wes’s high school days. He was on the tenth one when he paused.
Of course, he thought.
He ran out of the house, not bothering to shut the door.
God, I hope I’m wrong.
But he knew he wasn’t.
“ANNA?”
Wes touched her check. Warm. And from her nose he could feel air moving in and out.
She was alive.
“Anna?”
Nothing. Not even a twitch.
“Pick her up,” the man said. He was standing just outside the trailer.
Wes clenched his teeth. “What did you do to her?”
“Pick her up, or I shoot her where she lies.”
Wes might have been willing to gamble with his own life, but not with Anna’s. He worked his hands under her body, then lifted her into the air. She groaned, but it was low, too quiet for anyone but Wes to hear.
“Good,” the man said. “Now bring her outside.”
His back to the door of the trailer, Wes whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ve got you now.”
He thought he felt her stir, but her eyes remained closed.
“Come on,” the man
said. “Move it.”
Wes carried Anna to the opening, then paused.
The man had moved back several paces. “I’m not giving you a hand. So try not to drop her.”
Wes turned sideways, then stepped carefully to the ground.
“What did you do to her?” he asked again.
“Let’s go,” Dori said.
She motioned with her gun for Forman to start walking.
“No,” Forman told her. “The only place I’m going is to town. Either you drive me, or you give me the keys to your car.”
The gunshot was quick, and unexpected. Forman fell to his knees, his left hand gripping his right arm, just below the shoulder.
“Let’s go,” Dori repeated, her gun still pointed at the commander.
Forman clenched his teeth and staggered back to his feet.
“You bitch,” he said.
“Watch your mouth, or I guarantee the next time I pull the trigger you don’t get up,” she said. “Now, that way.” She motioned to the path that led up to the crest.
They formed a single-file line—Forman first, then Dori, then Wes cradling Anna, and finally Dori’s partner—and began walking. The path was little changed from the last time Wes had been on it, a well-worn groove about two and a half feet wide with, at first, desert and scrub on either side, then more rocks and boulders the closer they got to the top.
As they approached the final, narrow segment that curved between two large boulders, Dori tapped the barrel of her gun against Forman’s back. “Don’t even think about trying something.”
If he had been, the warning was enough to keep him in check.
The shape of the rocks forced Wes to lean back and turn sideways as he shuffle-stepped to get both Anna and himself through. He made it almost to the end before his hip banged into a pointed obstruction.
Grunting in pain, he nearly lost his grip. He leaned farther back and was able to get Anna balanced without banging her into anything.
“Keep it moving,” the man behind him said.
“Wes?” It was Anna, her voice low and weak.
Wes quickly turned so the man would only see Wes’s back.
“Keep your eyes closed,” he whispered. “Pretend like you’re still out.”
“What?” she said.
“Please,” he said. “Just act like you’re still unconscious.”
Wes wasn’t sure whether she was following his directions or she had actually passed out again, but her eyes remained closed, and she was quiet.
Six more feet and the rocks fell away. Wes almost expected to hear music blaring and see dozens of half-drunk teenagers standing around a bonfire. But there was no music, no fire, and no one but them.
Tonight there was no party at the Drama Rocks.
Dori and Forman stopped twenty feet in front of the concave rock that had served as a backstop for decades’ worth of bonfires. The rock was a little blacker than before, but otherwise unchanged.
“Remember this place?” Dori asked Wes.
Wes could feel Anna tense at the sound of Dori’s voice. Not unconscious, then, he thought. Just doing as he’d asked.
“What are we doing here?” Wes asked.
“Here?” Dori looked around, then shrugged and shook her head. “We’re just passing through. Where we’re going is that way.” She nodded to the east. “Keep walking, Commander.”
Their little parade started up again. Every once in a while, Dori would let Forman know when he was getting off course by shoving him with the barrel of her gun. It took them ten minutes to reach the next ridge, then they followed the crest until they arrived at a rocky clearing about a quarter the size of the one at the Drama Rocks.
From this point the hills curved southward toward more ridges and more rocks. In the east a long slope descended into the waterless dirt bed of Searles Lake. Wes could see the shadowy forms of the Pinnacles off to the left and, across the lake bed straight out, the dark scar Lieutenant Lee Jamieson had created when he crash-landed his F-18.
“This is about right, isn’t it, Wes?” Dori asked.
Wes said nothing. But it was right.
She looked to the southeast and pointed at the next ridge. “And that’s where you took him.” She turned back. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
Wes remained silent.
“Come on. We met several times.”
“This is ridiculous,” Forman said. “Whatever’s going on between the two of you, I’m not part of it.”
“You’re right. You’re not.” Dori pulled the trigger of her gun again.
This time, as promised, the commander did not get back up.
Wes edged a step backward. He had to get Anna away. If he could get behind some of the rocks, he might have a chance.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Dori’s partner asked. He moved to the right, cutting off the gap in the boulders Wes had been angling toward.
Dori strode over, stopping just a few feet away.
“Who am I?” she asked.
Wes pressed his lips together.
“Who am I?”
“You’re Dori.… You’re … I’m sorry,” Wes said. “I don’t remember.”
“You don’t remember?” Dori raised her gun and pushed the barrel against Anna’s head. “Do you remember now?”
“Please,” Wes said. “I don’t. That was a long time ago.”
“But you remember my sister,” Dori said. “Michael says you visited her grave.”
Her partner nodded. “Yesterday afternoon.”
Mandy? Her … sister?
Wes tried to remember back. Mandy did have a sister. Older than her by a few years, and hardly ever around when Wes was over. Her name had been—
“Doreen?” he said.
Dori smiled, then moved the gun away from Anna’s head. “See, I knew you’d remember.”
“But your last name is Dillman,” Wes said, as if that would change everything.
“It’s what happens when you get married, Wes,” she told him as if he were a child. “You take the last name of your husband.”
Michael snickered.
Michael … Michael Dillman.
Wes remembered him more than he remembered her. This Michael Dillman, while still tall, had shed some of the pounds he’d used to go after quarterbacks during football season.
“Of course, I had planned on having an entirely different last name. Doreen Rice. Wife of Jack Rice. You remember him, don’t you?”
Jack Rice. Jesus.
“But what about Danny? You’ve been sleeping with him for days.”
The corner of her mouth rose in a smirk. “You think I’d really be interested in a moron like him? He was just a way to get closer to you.”
“Him and I are gonna have a talk as soon as we’re done here,” Dillman said. “Remind him it’s not nice to go after a married woman.”
Wes felt his anger rise, but he knew he couldn’t let it get the best of him. He was the only thing standing between these two psychos and Anna. “Let my friend go,” Wes pleaded. “And you can do whatever you want to me.”
Dillman smirked. “Don’t think she’s in any condition to go anywhere.”
“Besides, you’ll do what we want, anyway,” Dori added.
“Anna doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Wes said. “Just let her—” He stopped himself. He’d been so focused on Anna since he’d found her in the trailer, he’d totally forgotten—“Tony? Where is he?”
Dillman squinted. “Is that your other friend? The guy?”
“Yes.”
“Sorry,” Dillman said.
“What do you mean ‘sorry’?”
“He saw me putting that article on your bike. Couldn’t have him hanging around knowing about that.”
“Where are you keeping him?” Wes asked.
“He’s with Jack,” Dori said.
At first Wes didn’t know what she meant. Then it hit him. “Oh, no. No, no, no!”
Anna’s brea
th caught in her throat. She’d guessed Tony’s ultimate fate. Wes squeezed her lightly with one of his hands, hoping to convey the need for her to remain calm.
“He shouldn’t have been out that late,” Dori said.
“The articles,” Wes said. “The messages on the mirrors, too? The call to the police?”
Dori shrugged. “Sorry.”
“Were you also the ones who stole my equipment?” he asked.
Dori laughed, then used her gun to point at the still form of Commander Forman. “I think you have him to thank for that.”
“So what are you going to do now? Throw us down the mine shaft, too?”
“Your girlfriend, yes,” Dori said. “But not you. See, first you forced me to drive you and the commander out here with a gun I didn’t know you had. Then once both of you got out, I took off. But you made the commander hike to this place, and killed him.” She smiled sadly. “Unfortunately, in your triumph you neglected to pay attention to where you were going, and walked off the edge of the rocks, pretty much where you got rid of Jack. How does that sound?”
“No one’s going to believe that.”
“Sure they will. I have you on tape interrogating the commander in the car.”
“You also have everything that happened afterward.”
Dori shook her head, then held up a hand and mimicked pushing a button. “Turned it off before my husband got in. Oops.”
Wes looked at Dillman. “Look, I’m sorry about Jack. It was an accident. You should just let us go.”
“Jack’s been gone a long time,” Dillman said. “I don’t actually care what happened back then.”
“You did all this for me, didn’t you, baby?” Dori said.
Michael grunted in confirmation.
“But Mandy was your sister,” Wes said to her. “Jack Rice raped her.”
Dori scoffed. “That’s the same thing she tried telling me, but that’s not what happened.”
“What? I was there. I—”
She laughed dismissively. “You may have thought you knew my sister, but you didn’t. I lived with her. I knew how her petty mind worked. Jack was mine. But she couldn’t stand that. She hated the fact that I was in love. Every time he came to the house, she made sure to say hi to him and give him that ugly smile of hers. At the party she took advantage of the fact I was sick and couldn’t go, so got him alone and spread her little legs for him.”
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