Tina glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. It was almost eight thirty.
“She should be here any minute.”
That was when her phone pinged on the counter, a text message from Stacey saying she’s just pulled into the driveway.
“Apparently she’s already here.”
The boys jumped to their feet, grabbing the tablets before they made a break for the door.
Tina said, “Tablets stay here.”
Max’s eyes grew wide like saucers.
“But, Mom!”
She tilted her chin down, gave him the look that said, Do you really wanna try me?
Max crinkled his nose but didn’t say anything, simply set his tablet aside, as did Matthew, and they called out goodbye as they tore off toward the door, Tina following them, stepping out to wave at Stacey as the boys loaded into her minivan, and soon the van disappeared down the street and Tina stepped back inside, closing the door and taking a deep breath.
She cleaned up the kitchen and headed upstairs to take a shower. Today was Monday, aka Laundry Day, but the laundry could wait. As soon as she was dressed, she headed back down the steps, grabbed her purse and keys, and headed outside.
Her Nissan was parked in the driveway, dusty in the morning sun. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten it washed. If and when they needed some extra cash—and that time was coming very soon, no doubt about it—her car would probably be the first thing to go. Though, Tina had to admit with a pang of disappointment, she didn’t expect them to get much for it. Maybe two thousand dollars if they were lucky.
As she backed into the street, her mind was so focused on how much she hated her life that she didn’t notice the car parked at the end of the block and how it pulled away from the curb to follow her.
Thirty-Two
Twenty-four hours earlier Nova Bartkowski was out in the middle of nowhere, in a cabin nestled in the woods, thinking about fly-fishing.
He had never been big into fishing before, but there was something about fly-fishing that was soothing. Standing in a bubbling stream with the woods quiet around you, whipping the line back and forth, watching and waiting for a fish to strike mellowed him out, calmed him down, and made him appreciate life in a way he never did before.
Of course, that was twenty-four hours ago, and things had moved fast after he received Atticus’s call. Now he was back in D.C. and following Holly’s sister down the highway. He made sure to keep far enough back that she wouldn’t notice, but also far enough back that whoever was tracking her wouldn’t notice either.
So far, he hadn’t spotted a tail, and that worried him.
They each had disposable cell phones, and each phone was logged into Signal, an encrypted communications app. They were in a group text, Nova and James and Erik and Atticus, so that way each knew each other’s movements. They had comms gear too, and could easily communicate via voice, but as James couldn’t talk, it was easier to shoot off a quick text.
Nova’s text not too long ago: Sister left the house. Following now. Don’t see a tail.
James responded: Mother still home.
Erik: Boys arrived @ zoo with what looks like friend & friend’s mother. Should I follow them in?
Nova thought about it. The zoo would be packed as it was the summer, and it was a public place, so he doubted the boys would be taken. But he figured if Holly’s family was in fact under surveillance and their lives were at risk, her nephews were prime targets. As was her sister. And mother. Not so much her brother-in-law. That was why they hadn’t bothered to follow him to work. It was a risk, and one Nova didn’t think they had any choice but to make.
He texted back: Yes. Keep us updated.
Ten minutes later, Holly’s sister exited the highway. Nova followed her up the ramp and turned right at the stop sign.
He kept checking the rearview mirror, hoping to spot somebody following, but so far nothing stood out. Which again didn’t make sense. Unless Holly’s family wasn’t under surveillance. Which meant that son of a bitch had been lying to them this entire time.
Soon it was clear where Holly’s sister was headed. Nova sent James a direct message through Signal: Sister headed your way.
It was a quiet residential area. The kind with large trees and sidewalks and a blue mailbox posted at the end of the one block.
Nova paused at the stop sign and watched Tina as she parked along the curb in front of Holly’s mom’s house. He circled the block and then came up from the south and parked behind James.
He stepped out of the car and scanned the quiet street. It was the kind of street that made random vehicles conspicuous. People knew what their neighbors drove, what their family and friends drove. A new vehicle might go unnoticed for a couple hours, maybe a day, but not much longer. So it wasn’t the kind of place a panel van could sit all day and night. Which meant whoever was watching Holly’s mom—assuming that was even the case—was doing it by other means.
Nova slid into the passenger seat and glanced at James behind the steering wheel.
“Should have brought you some coffee and donuts. My bad.”
James shrugged.
Nova tilted his chin at Holly’s mom’s house.
“Nothing, huh?”
James shook his head.
Nova said, “I’m starting to think this is a waste of time.”
James merely looked at him.
“You don’t think so?”
Another shrug.
Nova said, “I’m telling you right now, if that kid lied to us I’m going to fucking kill him.”
James picked up his phone and typed something on the screen. Nova’s phone vibrated with an incoming direct message.
I think he’s telling the truth.
“How can you be so sure? I haven’t seen a tail. Have you seen a tail?”
James tapped on his phone.
How long would you advise I stay parked here? Not too long before I’ll be noticed.
“Yeah, okay, I get the point. None of these are prime stakeout places. That’s why I’m starting to think this whole thing is bullshit.”
James shook his head as he typed out another message.
This is old school surveillance. There are other means.
“Like what?”
James seemed to carefully consider his response before tapping on the phone again.
I need to pick up some equipment. Can you wait here until I get back?
Nova didn’t know James well, but he knew the man took his work seriously and there was no use questioning him. He nodded and stepped out of the car and got back into his own car as James pulled away.
Thirty-Three
Her mother stepped away from the coffee brewer and returned to the kitchen table, carrying two mugs.
Tina said, “I could have helped you with that.”
Her mother set down the mugs and waved a dismissive hand as she sat across from her.
“I may be old, but I’m not completely useless yet.”
Her mother blew at the top of the mug as she studied her daughter. Tina stared down at her own coffee.
“How’s Ryan?”
Tina shrugged.
“He’s okay. Working a lot.”
“What about the boys?”
“They’re good. Stacey Holbrook took them to the zoo today.”
“I haven’t seen them in a couple weeks.”
Tina nodded slowly, still not looking at her mother.
“I know. It’s just been … hard lately.”
For the six months Ryan was unemployed, they’d had no choice but to dip into their savings, into the boys’ college fund, and right now they were living paycheck to paycheck.
This, Tina knew, was where her hatred of life began.
Ever since the boys were born she had stayed at home; Ryan made more than enough that they were quite comfortable, and she used the extra time to work on her art. Her paintings, she knew, were good but not great, and it was during those months after Rya
n was laid off—her husband not leaving for work in the morning as he usually did, but instead sitting at the dining room table and emailing his resume to firm after firm, calling old classmates who might know somebody who might know somebody—Tina realized she’d been fooling herself.
She fancied herself an artist, had once envisioned her work being displayed in an art gallery in New York, one of those ritzy places that would have an opening where they’d pop champagne and everybody would clap, and while she had never shared this dream with Ryan, he knew how much she loved to paint and had always encouraged her. And for a while it had been fine—again, they were quite comfortable—but now their savings were practically gone and she realized she needed to step up and find a job herself.
Only she had no idea what she could do. She’d been out of the workforce for almost twelve years. The gap in her resume would send up red flags at HR departments. And even assuming she did get called in for an interview, she worried she would say or do the wrong thing and embarrass herself.
After putting it off, she’d finally broken down and asked her mother for some money to help out. Her mother gladly wrote a check for two thousand dollars. Tina had felt tears stinging her eyes when she accepted it, promising her mother she and Ryan would pay her back in a couple months, definitely a couple months, all the while knowing it might take much longer.
Now her mother asked, “How’s the job search coming?”
Tina felt ready to burst out in tears. It was one of the reasons she kept her face tilted down, so she wouldn’t have to look at her mother. Wouldn’t have to see the disappointment on the woman’s face. The shame.
She whispered, “Not great.”
“Any interviews yet?”
Tina shook her head.
“Hey”—her mother reached across the table to touch her hand—“look at me.”
Tina blinked, shifted her focus up to meet her mother’s eyes. Her mother squeezed her hand and offered up an encouraging smile.
“Nobody ever said life was going to be easy. Everybody has hard moments. You and Ryan will make it through this.”
Tina wet her lips, tried to speak but couldn’t. She shook her head again. Looked away, stared off toward the living room, and sighed.
“It’s just … I feel so worthless.”
“Tina, don’t.”
“It’s true, Mom.”
Looking back at her mother, tears stinging her eyes.
“I’ve been a mother so long—have been a wife—I don’t know what else I can be.”
“You’re creative. There are plenty of places who would hire someone with your artistic talent.”
Tina wanted to bark out a laugh.
“I’m not talented.”
“Sure, you are. You made that painting right there.”
Her mother pointed off toward the piece hanging on the wall in the hallway, an abstract Tina barely remembered working on but which she’d given her mother for her birthday one year.
Tina said, “I’m not a real artist.”
Her mother squeezed her hand again, issued a soft sigh.
“I know it’s difficult, but you and Ryan will be okay. Do you need some more money? I don’t have much, but I could lend you a bit more.”
It hurt her heart to hear her mother say those words. This wasn’t why she came here. Not to beg for money. Not for her mother’s pity.
“I think we’re okay for now.”
“Are you sure? My checkbook is right in the next room.”
“Yes, I’m sure. I … I wanted to get out of the house. Wanted to come see how you’re doing.”
There was a heavy silence as they both considered the meaning of Tina’s words. In the next room, the clock softly ticked. Now it was her mother who tilted her face down so she wouldn’t have to look at her daughter.
Tina spoke quietly.
“It’s been almost a year since Holly … since she went away.”
Tina wasn’t sure how else to put it. She hadn’t learned that Holly decided to leave until it had already happened. Her mother had phoned her but Tina didn’t believe it at the time, thinking her sister was simply being melodramatic. Holly wanted to stop working as a nanny for the Haddens—a job Tina had never thought matched Holly to begin with—and had wanted to find a different job, and then she had just disappeared.
For the longest time her mother didn’t answer, staring down at her coffee, and then she sighed and took a hesitant sip. Set the mug back down, and glanced up at her daughter.
“I never told you about the day she came to see me. Well, I did tell you, but I left something out.”
Tina found herself leaning forward. She had never known her mother to keep secrets from her.
“What didn’t you tell me?”
Her mother looked back down at her coffee, shook her head.
“Holly had a bruise on her face that morning. I asked her what happened, asked her who hit her, but she didn’t want to talk about it. She said she … wanted to say goodbye. She said she would be leaving and might not be back. I didn’t know what she meant. I thought she was just being cryptic for some reason. But now it’s been almost a year, and I still haven’t heard from her.”
She paused, and a hopeful glint entered her eyes.
“Have you heard from your sister?”
Tina wanted nothing more than to keep the hope glowing in her mother’s eyes, but she didn’t want to lie to her either.
“No, Mom, I haven’t.”
Her mother tried to smile but it was a weak attempt.
“Your father’s been gone three years. Losing him was hard, and I thought it was something I could get over, and I thought maybe I was starting to, but then Holly …”
She paused, her eyes growing intense.
“What if something happened to her? What if she was in an accident or worse? How would we even know?”
Tina realized she had never been in a position where she needed to comfort her mother. She wasn’t sure she was up for the task, but she wanted to take this burden off her mother’s shoulders any way she could. She thought that if she could—if she somehow managed to make her mother feel better—that might help make her hatred of life subside.
Reaching across the table, Tina took her mother’s hand in hers and gave it a soft squeeze. She forced a smile.
“It’ll be okay, Mom. You know how Holly is. She’s like a cat. She always lands on her feet.”
Thirty-Four
Eventually the car slows to a stop, and the trunk pops open. Louis stands outside, the fob in his hand, but he’s not alone. Two freelancers stand behind him, their Berettas drawn.
Louis says, “Would you like to come out?”
It’s hard to judge how long I’ve been in the trunk. At least twelve hours. The sky behind Louis has some light in it, but it’s mostly dark, the sun about to set.
I sit up, slowly, my muscles having cramped from being squeezed into the trunk all this time, and the two freelancers take a step back for caution.
We’re parked behind what looks to be an abandoned warehouse. The SUV idles a couple yards away. I climb out of the trunk and tilt my head back and forth on my neck, stretching the muscles, and then I stretch my arms over my head and rotate my shoulders.
Louis watches with his blank gaze.
“Did you get any rest?”
I just look back at him.
“What do you think?”
Louis steps away, toward the SUV, and returns with a bottle of water. He hands me the bottle, and I take a long swallow, the kind that’s too greedy and causes water to dribble down my chin.
“Now what?”
Louis motions toward the car.
“Now we continue on our way. The only reason we stopped was because I felt it was time for you to get out of the trunk.”
What a gentleman.
My instinct is to try to sit behind the driver, but Louis knows better. He opens the rear passenger door. Once I climb in, he shuts the door and circles around to cl
imb in beside me, and the driver—another freelancer—starts the car and gets us moving.
I’m conscious of the Beretta holstered to the driver’s hip, just as I’m conscious of the Glock holstered to Louis’s hip. I could easily make a move for one, wrestle it away before the other reacted, but there’s the collar around my throat to take into consideration, plus the fact these assholes will kill my family if I don’t do what they say.
As we drive over the gravel toward the front of the warehouse and back onto the highway, I think about how many hours I’ve been in the trunk, how many miles that adds up to, and what Louis said before we left. So it’s no surprise when I spot one of the highway signs alerting drivers that Los Angeles is thirty-two miles away.
Louis sits slightly shifted toward me, which is smart. If I were to make a move, he’s better prepared for it. Plus, he still has the fob in his hand.
He says, “You should get some rest.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you.”
“You need to make sure you’re focused enough to accomplish this mission.”
“Get me a gallon of Red Bull, and I should be good to go.”
Louis makes a face and glances out the back window at the trailing SUV. The setting sun slants through the windows, casting a dark orange glow on the side of his face.
“What time is the hit, anyway?”
Louis looks at me again, considers his answer carefully, but then gives a slight shake of his head.
I frown at him.
“Hey—you want me to kill this guy, I need more intel.”
“You’ll get it when the time is right.”
“And when is that?”
“When we get there.”
“Where is there?”
Again Louis doesn’t answer. He’s looking annoyed. Which makes me think I might soon earn myself another zap.
“Look, aiming through a scope and pulling the trigger? That’s a piece of cake. When I’m out alone in a field shooting at a stationary target. And something tells me Cortez isn’t going to stand still long enough for me to get off the perfect shot. So I need to know what I’m dealing with. Where I’m going to be positioned. Where he’s going to be positioned. How many people will be around him. The time of day. Where the sun is placed in the sky. Whether there’ll be clouds. You know, important stuff like that.”
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