Behind him, the door swung open and the bell chimed. Morgan quickly peered over his shoulder to see Gary enter the store. The plan was in place, and there was no going back now. With that in mind, Morgan hurried to the driver’s side and slipped open the door, regretting every second that passed with awful anticipation.
It wasn’t the best plan in the world, he thought, resting his knee on the driver’s seat and leaning across to check the carpet for clues. Gary was inside to distract Erika—to get in front of her in the line and keep the clerk busy if he could—while Morgan scoured the car for anything that might help. They’d figured that if they could find an invoice or booking slip for a hotel, then they could find out where she was going without having to risk following her. Sure, it was a reasonable hope, but the chances of getting caught were way too high. Now, as Morgan clunked open the glove compartment, all he could think of was what she’d do to him if she walked out now, watching him violate her personal space.
While his heart worked overtime, he rummaged through the thick stack of opened letters inside. He pulled them out and dropped them onto the passenger seat, spreading them out. They were all addressed to Mason Black—no surprise there—and none of it was any use. Just receipts for drive-thrus and invoices from mechanics in San Francisco.
He continued to search, his eyes occasionally darting to the front door of the gas station. Morgan wondered how Gary was doing in there. Had he bumped into Erika yet? Did she read his obvious detective vibes? Would she spook? Erika wasn’t dumb, that much was clear. Which meant he had to hurry up. As Gary had said, the clock was ticking.
Adrenaline pumping now, Morgan stuffed the papers back into the glove compartment and clicked it shut. He pivoted from his position, leaning into the back seat where an acrid smell filled his nostrils. What was it, he wondered? It was familiar—something he’d known his whole life. Body odor, perhaps? Yes, he’d smelled it before, but never this bad. He leaned further and checked the carpet, then dug his hand between the seats.
Nothing.
It wasn’t until he heard the noise that he truly felt like this was worth the effort. It was a thud, like a bowling ball being thrown to the ground, only without the echo. Morgan cocked his head and strained to listen, both confused and wary at the same time.
Again, that bowling ball sound.
This time it came twice in rapid succession. The car bounced. At first, Morgan thought it was his nerves agitating his stomach, creating an awful feeling like seasickness. But he held still, listening, feeling, waiting…
No question about it, he thought. The car definitely moved. More importantly, the thud was coming from the trunk. He froze, piecing it together in his mind while shock and fear seized control of his body. It was one of those things he just had to check out.
Exiting the car, Morgan tried hard to close the door without making a sound. Realizing he couldn’t do it, he pushed it to the latch and decided Erika might consider the fact she hadn’t shut it properly when she’d gotten out. From there, Morgan headed to the trunk to investigate the sound. He reached a shaking hand for the button, and just when his thumb touched the cold metal, a ringing sound from across the gas station made him jolt.
“Excuse me,” a man said from the doorway.
But not just any man. Morgan knew the voice better than he knew his own. He turned to see Gary standing by the door. He was talking to Erika, who stood with her back to Morgan, shuffling from one foot to the other as he made small talk that held her attention. Morgan knew he had to move, and as much as his burning desires told him to open that trunk, doing so would no doubt give him away.
It hurt him on an emotional level, but he had to let it go.
Feeling flat and hopeless, Morgan returned to Gary’s car. He watched for close to a minute before Erika headed back to the Mustang, and Gary slid into the seat beside Morgan.
“What did you find?” Gary asked.
But Morgan’s stare was fixed on Erika Givens, who stood beside her car door. She had one hand on the handle, the other on her hip. She frowned, bit her lip, and then scanned the area with her eyes. For one heart-pounding moment, she looked in Morgan’s direction. Her frown softened, and she shrugged, not fueling up but instead climbing into the car.
Morgan wasn’t sure what was happening, but he had a sense it wasn’t good. The fact she didn’t operate the gas pump made him curious, but he would never forget the way she looked at their car, her eyes cold and her expression completely flat.
Nobody was that casual, he thought.
Unless they knew they were being watched.
Chapter Twenty-Four
They sat in silence, watching. Waiting.
“What the hell is she doing?” Gary said with a nervous strain in his voice.
Morgan didn’t answer. The question kind of passed him by, breezing past him while he kept his focus on the Mustang. What the hell is she doing? It was a worthwhile question, but the answer could be a thousand things. The only fact was that she wasn’t moving.
“Did she recognize you?” Morgan asked.
Gary splayed out his hands. “From where? We’ve never met.”
“But maybe she got the sense you were a cop.”
“My suits are nice, pal, but they don’t have red and blue lights flashing on them.”
Morgan ignored the sarcasm and kept watching. All he could see was Erika’s hair, black like raven feathers but straight as blades. She didn’t move, only kept facing forward like she was too scared to move. That, or she was considering if she should move. Morgan let the question rest on his lips a little, tasting the uncertainty. “She knows, doesn’t she?”
“Knows what?”
“That we’re onto her. She can’t be that stupid.”
Gary reached up and adjusted the vanity mirror, using it to keep an eye on Erika. “Maybe. She didn’t make it too difficult to find her, but she’s being really goddamn sneaky by not letting us catch her in the act. Like I said before, I can march right over there and book her for driving the stolen car, but it could get better. We could find more if we just stay patient.”
And then they did.
The words barely had time to reach Morgan’s ears before he jerked to alertness. Across the gas station, Mason’s Mustang roared to life. It boomed and echoed across the distance, sounding more like a yelling demon to Morgan. There was barely time to register what was happening before Erika floored it out of the space, gliding onto the road and beelining it up the road. She was gone in an instant, faster than a fleeing bat.
“What the hell just happened?” Gary said, fumbling for the gearstick. The car clunked as it found the gear and they took off after her in the blink of an eye. “There’s no way we can keep up with that car. No way.”
Morgan remained silent, gripping the armrest and keeping his gaze dead ahead. Sweat broke out on his brow, but he couldn’t tell if it was because of the high-speed weaving between the other cars, or because the Mustang was far ahead, vanishing into the distance and taking all hope of finding Mason Black with it. There was nothing worse than going home empty-handed, and that only made the sweat intensify.
They drew nearer as Gary shifted the gears. By now they were far outside the city and on their way to Pittsburgh, a place Morgan had heard about many times but never been to. It was as imagined; long rows of trees lined both sides of the road. The sun creeped on the horizon of the never-ending road. Only a handful of cars were in sight, but none were the Mustang.
“I think we lost her,” Gary said.
Morgan stewed in the silence, grinding his teeth from side to side. Was this what it’d come down to? After all he’d faced in recent months—the challenges in his personal life, the tracking and capture of two serial killers—his success had come to an abrupt end, losing Erika Givens, and probably Mason Black too, in some dumb pursuit.
But that morose thinking had to be put down.
Ahead of them, the black outline of the Mustang reappeared. Morgan sat up in his seat,
the pains in his back vanishing to the depths of his mind while hope filled the void. He opened his mouth to tell Gary to speed up, but by then Gary was already pushing the car to its limits. Morgan just watched, closing the distance between them and the vehicle, his mouth turning dry as a stone at the thought of capturing Erika.
“If we get her, we arrest her,” Gary said. “No more games.”
Morgan agreed, but he had no time to voice it.
Far in front of them, the Mustang stopped. The door swung open. Erika stepped out, her hair swishing to each shoulder as she turned to look up and down the road. She held her gaze in Morgan’s direction, and although they were too far away to see her expression, he somehow knew it was a twisted, furious scowl of hate and disgust. The closer they got, the more he could identify, but by the time he could see her clearly, she took off into the trees, abandoning the Mustang on the side of the road. Her hair trailed behind her as she darted behind a wide trunk, becoming one with the darkness.
Morgan couldn’t take it anymore.
“Stop the car,” he blurted.
“But I—”
“Just stop it.”
Gary huffed a sigh and pulled the car to the side of the road. They were too far from the Mustang, but it was close enough for Morgan not to care. Before the car was completely still, he shoved open the door and leapt out, running in the direction he’d last seen Erika.
I’ve taken down The DC Carver, he thought, feeding courage into his own mind. I found the guy who killed my cousin. I’ve been knocked around, poisoned, and still emerged victorious. I will not be stopped by a woman who can outrun me.
He took those thoughts with him, inhaling and expelling cold winter air as he dashed into the trees—into the danger of the unknown—leaving Gary and the Mustang far behind as he chased after Erika Givens. No matter what happened, he couldn’t lose her.
Couldn’t lose Mason Black.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Morgan knew it was a loss before he even reached the trees. The darkness that followed served only as a reminder that he didn’t have the mettle for this. He was a private investigator for a reason; he could never be a hero cop. Hell, he could never even be a cop like Gary. There was a certain amount of courage and toughness required, and no matter how hard he tried to convince himself, he just didn’t have it.
The trees reminded him of that, each whipping branch striking his knees as if to say, “you’re just not fast enough.” Each snapping twig beneath his rapid footfalls told him he wasn’t welcome here. Was Erika welcome, he wondered? Did she have a right to be here, or was this simply her dark retreat—the only place she had to run, to escape them once and for all?
Ahead of him, Morgan saw the silhouette of the woman he pursued. She was far out of reach, merely a blur in the distance. In spite of that, he pushed harder, faster than he’d ever run before. Images of Nick Hansen and Arthur St. John blinked through his mind. He pushed them aside, focusing on the job at hand. Focusing on his breath, and how short of it he’d feel if he had to watch Amy Black’s heartbroken face while she learned that her father was gone forever.
No.
He couldn’t allow that.
Morgan ran faster, ignoring the pain. His cheeks were no longer cold, his body now hot with sweat. The speed he ran only helped, luring him into the woods at such a pace that cold air rushed to cool him. Erika was closer now, but as his vision blurred so did her outline. Where was she now? Dead ahead? Swerving and maneuvering between the tress and trying to shake him, as if they were still in some sort of high-speed car chase? Whatever she was doing, it was working. Morgan was losing her, exhaustion and panic finally catching up to him as a catalyst for sheer terror.
Completely out of sight now, Erika had blended with the distance. Morgan slowed to a steady jog, catching his breath while his heart worked overtime, booming in his chest like the beat of some rap song he couldn’t turn down. He came to a stop, spinning on his heel and searching for her. He checked the bare branches in case she’d dared to climb. But the woods were empty. The crows’ songs reminded him of that. A whisper of cold wind crept down his spine like a devious snake, and he knew for certain right there and then.
He’d lost Erika Givens.
And now he’d lost Mason Black.
How would he explain this to Amy? How could he even explain it to Gary? Then there was the question of how he’d let Rachel know he’d failed and that their young son would grow up with a useless father. Morgan took it out on himself so he wouldn’t take it out on anyone else, and it felt right. Nobody else was at fault. Not Gary. Not even Erika—she was nothing but a lunatic who’d stolen a car and done God-knew-what with Mason Black. It’d been down to Morgan to find out what exactly, and he’d failed.
Failed.
It was such a harsh word, but so fitting. Morgan retired his pursuit and trudged back through the trees at a fraction of the speed he’d come through them. With the Black family on the brain, he did all he could to collect his thoughts and steady his breathing. Sure, this was his fault, but he was an adult nonetheless, and adults had to face their problems head-on. That was why he took the time to explain it to himself: what’s done is done.
After minutes of blank, zombie-like walking, Morgan returned to where the Mustang was parked. Gary had pulled over his own car beside it, and he stormed over with a cell phone in his hand. “Are you all right? What happened?”
“I lost her.” Morgan lowered his head. “Sorry.”
“Maybe we can drive around to the other side,” Gary said, hurrying back to the car.
“That’ll take too long.”
“But if we—”
“She’s gone,” Morgan said, stopping him in his tracks. It was a strange feeling—the words were directed at Gary, but it felt as though he was finally explaining it to himself, laying out the bare truth of it all. “She’s gone, and so is Mason. We need to accept that.”
Gary sighed and walked back over, dropping the phone into his jacket pocket. “Right. Well… you gave it your all. I’ve called for assistance from the MPD, so we’ve got some time to figure out what we’re going to do with the Mustang.”
“What will happen to it?”
“It’ll be searched, no doubt.”
“And then?”
“Then it’ll go to—”
A thud startled them. Morgan spun toward the Mustang at the same time as Gary, and now it all came back to him. Before, when he’d been searching the car while Erika headed into the gas station, there’d been a knocking sound identical to this one. The only difference was that now they had the opportunity to investigate.
Gary drew his gun.
“You won’t need it,” Morgan said, because deep down he knew the truth of what was inside. They approached together. Morgan lightly put a hand on Gary’s gun, lowering it. They stepped closer, wet clumps of mud holding their feet in place.
“What is it?” Gary asked.
The thud came again.
Morgan had no need to explain. Sometimes a simple look at something was all that was needed to clear the air. He made that happen by reaching for the trunk, his shaking hand nearly missing the button altogether. When he pushed, it, he took a quick step back in case he was surprised—in case he’d put this together all wrong.
But then the trunk door rose toward the sky, slowly hissing open. A hand appeared, hanging over the lip of the trunk with dirt-covered nails on hairy, sweat-matted knuckles. Time seemed to slow down as Morgan stared at the hand, excitement and fear taking over. There was a shuffle, and then a face appeared. But Morgan only half recognized it; rugged good looks and a tough exterior had been replaced with scruffy facial hair and bloodshot eyes. Those same eyes met his, glanced at Gary, and then returned to look at Morgan, who only now realized he was staring with his mouth wide open.
“Whoever you are,” said Mason Black, emerging from the trunk. He had all the energy of a dying animal, but all the raw, limitless rage of a rabid one. “Stop gawking at m
e like a couple of idiots, and get me the hell out of here.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
There could’ve been cops on this stretch of road, but for Erika the thrill of the chase had already passed. She’d won, and as much of an anticlimax as that was, she wasn’t prepared to start over. That was why she waited for the right moment to stick out her thumb, waving down the next poor sap who was kind enough to share their car with her.
It was a middle-aged man with a red, round face who finally stopped for her. She climbed into the back seat to keep her face out of view, ignoring all his small talk. There were too many questions, and the only one relevant enough for her to answer was “where you headed?” For the rest of the journey, she simply sat and listened to Carole Carpenter’s soft voice flowing through the crackling speakers. Her thoughts were focused on the chase.
Since leaving her home, she’d known it was too good to be true. The fact that Morgan Young had appeared at her door was nothing if not a warning to get the hell out of there, and thankfully she’d listened. She’d even taken Mason with her, and for the most part that was a smart move. It was just a shame it turned out how it did: abandoning the car and running into the woods like some outcast being evicted from town. Chased out like some freak.
Erika wasn’t a freak, and she told herself that over and over.
The gas station was the next port of call, and that was where everything had fallen apart. Although she’d put everything in place—pouring out the small reserve of gas to threaten Mason with and keeping her business inside fast—it didn’t stop that man from talking to her. Who was he anyway? Erika had a suspicion he was a cop, as nobody dressed that smart spoke to someone like her unless they were selling something, and that was what had turned her attention back to the car, where Morgan Young was snooping around. She’d had no choice but to head back to the Mustang, even if just to begin a pursuit.
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