I Know Where She Is: a breathtaking thriller that will have you hooked from the first page

by S. B. Caves

  They waited a couple of minutes to make sure the Jeep was completely gone, and then Francine started the engine up again and rejoined the path. This time, knowing that the men in the Jeep were bound to discover bodies at the house, she threw caution to the wind and put her foot down. They bounced around the car as it sped along over the uneven terrain.

  ‘It’s going to run out, you know,’ Autumn said.

  Francine looked at the gas gauge. ‘We have over half a tank. That’ll get us far enough.’

  ‘I meant our luck.’

  ‘It isn’t luck,’ Francine replied. ‘Me finding you has nothing to do with luck or God or anything else. I never once gave up on you. I never stopped believing even when everybody else did.’

  ‘Did Dad?’

  ‘I don’t speak for your father,’ Francine said. ‘Autumn, I want to tell you something. I know you’ve been through hell all these years, but I’ve been going through it with you. Some days I felt like … I felt like I was close to you, like I was right there with you. Maybe that’s a bond a mother has with a daughter, but I think it’s maybe more than that. What I want to say is …’ She laughed. ‘I’ve thought about this moment every day since you were taken from me, going over every single thing I would say to you, and now—’

  There was a heavy crunch. Francine and Autumn lurched forward. The BMW jerked and fishtailed as Francine struggled to right its course. Light drowned the inside of the car, coming from the Jeep that had rammed them. Autumn screamed and the sound almost perforated Francine’s eardrum.

  ‘It’s them! It’s them! Get us out of here! Get us—’

  The Jeep rammed them again and Autumn was thrown forward against the constraint of the seat belt. Francine briefly let go of the wheel and the car slipped away from her. She quickly snatched it back and fought to gain control of the car, but the back end of the BMW was tugging to the right. She pulled the steering wheel in the opposite direction and there was a loud screech from the underside of the car.

  ‘Mom! What do I do?’ Autumn yelled, unbuckling herself.

  Francine looked up at the rear-view mirror but the Jeep had its full beams on in an attempt to dazzle them. The BMW was still winding in an S, and even with the feather-light power steering, she still couldn’t seem to rein the damn thing in.

  ‘Shall I shoot?’ Autumn yelled.

  ‘No!’ Francine snapped, just as the rear window shattered. A blizzard of broken glass showered them and there was a cacophonous stutter of gunfire. It took Francine a second or two to realise that it wasn’t Autumn who’d fired the shots, but the men in the Jeep.

  Autumn was hunkered down on the floor, her stomach pressed against the passenger seat. ‘Mom! Are you hit?’

  Francine didn’t know. Her whole body was numb and yet she was still driving for their lives, sticking to the path, doing her very best to throw the Jeep off. ‘Just stay down! Stay—’

  Another brief clap of gunfire chopped through the car. Francine could feel the bullets biting into the bodywork and zipping past her head, finding their mark in the windscreen, which somehow maintained its integrity despite being frosted with cracks.

  We’re gonna die after all, she thought, driving blindly now. At any second they were bound to collide with a tree or veer off the path.

  Autumn scooted up and used the butt of the rifle to punch out the shattered windscreen. With vents at both ends of the car now, the cold air charged through the vehicle like a speeding train. The Jeep gave the BMW another little nudge, but Francine had anticipated it and managed to increase the distance between the vehicles just in time.

  ‘Go, go, go, go!’ Autumn cheered manically as Francine zoomed away, the engine roaring like a mighty beast. The Jeep moved better on the terrain and did well to keep up, but there was still a sizeable gap between them.

  ‘Let them have it!’ Francine shouted.

  Without replying, Autumn aimed the rifle as best she could, but the movement of the car threw her balance off and the barrel wobbled as she tried to line the Jeep up in her sights. The vehicle was close enough to the BMW that she could see the guards’ eyes widen with surprise as she pulled the trigger. In that split second before the rifle erupted, Autumn and the men in the Jeep shared a moment of telepathy. Collectively, they knew she would not miss at this distance. You could have given the rifle to a blind man and every bullet would’ve punched home on a target as big as this.

  She screamed as the gunfire sprayed indiscriminately across the Jeep’s windshield. She did not let go of the trigger until the gun made a rapid clicking sound. The volume of the gunfire in the confines of the car turned Francine’s ears to water.

  Almost immediately, the light faded from the inside of the BMW. Francine checked her mirror and saw the Jeep rolling off the path like a drunk staggering home. Only one headlight still shone. The vehicle gently bumped a tree and came to a complete stop.

  In the distance behind them, the faint sound of a car horn wailed.

  30

  Soon after they joined the highway, the car began to sputter.

  ‘We have to get off the road,’ Francine said, and took the next exit. She didn’t feel great about turning off only a handful of miles from Stack’s Point, but the BMW was chewed to bits. While they’d been on the highway, the car had been dragging, and she suspected one of the rear wheels was shot out. When she pulled over on a side street and inspected it, her suspicions were confirmed. She and Autumn stood staring at the car beneath the glow of a solitary street light, the sound of the highway whispering far behind them. Bullet holes tattooed the bodywork. It looked like the car Bonnie and Clyde had been killed in.

  ‘What do you want to do?’ Autumn asked.

  ‘The car’s finished. We’ll leave it here,’ Francine said, and reached through the window to begin rubbing the prints off the steering wheel. Then it occurred to her how pointless the endeavour was and stopped. She thought about taking the rifle with them, but it was out of ammo. They weren’t exactly going to look inconspicuous walking around in the state they were in, but they were going to look even less so carrying an assault rifle. ‘Screw it,’ she said. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  They walked side by side down the silent street, like they were the last two people left on earth. It wouldn’t have bothered Francine very much if that was, in fact, the case. She reached out and took Autumn’s hand. ‘Hold Momma’s hand,’ she mumbled. Blood was pouring out of a gash above her right eye. She wasn’t sure what had caused it, but she thought she might’ve banged her head when the Jeep rammed them. Either that or the flying glass had sliced her. With her free hand, she wiped the blood away.

  Then she collapsed.

  ‘Mom!’ Autumn’s voice echoed down the street. She dropped and crouched by her mother’s side.

  ‘It’s okay, sweetie. I’m tired. I just need to get my bearings, all right?’

  ‘Let me go for help.’

  ‘No!’ Francine pleaded, and a galaxy of stars popped in her vision. With the last bit of energy she had, she cupped Autumn’s face and stroked her thumb against her cheek. ‘No, don’t leave me. You can’t leave my side. No more. You’re not … you’re not …’

  A black curtain fell, and Francine was no longer lying on the cold, wet ground, but floating on the surface of a warm pool, light as a lily pad. She flittered in and out of consciousness, the ache in her skull like a thunderstorm.

  When she came to, she realised she was deaf. She could see Autumn talking to her but couldn’t hear a word she was saying. She tried to say, ‘Just wait a second, honey,’ but she couldn’t hear her own voice either. She tried to sit up, and felt the entire street jerk away from her. Her equilibrium was off and the starless black sky became a swirling vortex. Her skull was overcrowded with a thousand angry complaints, and each time a new throb of pain registered somewhere, the lights began to dim. Was she dying? Perhaps if she were to let the lights go out completely, then yes, maybe she would die.

  She rolled away from Aut
umn and leaned on one arm. Thick red blood was falling from her face and onto the concrete beneath her. She struggled to get to all fours. She felt Autumn’s arm around her waist, then felt herself being hoisted up. As she rose, her feet melted into the ground and she completely lost her sense of weight and balance. Had she been shot and not even known it? The only other thing that seemed out of place on her body was the strange numb twinge that strummed along her spine. Paralysed, she thought. I got hit in the spine and now the shock has worn off and I’m paralysed. But that didn’t seem quite right either, because with Autumn’s help, she was walking, albeit slowly and awkwardly.

  ‘Can you hear me, Autumn? Because I can’t hear you,’ she mumbled.

  ‘I can hear you, Mom,’ Autumn said, struggling with her mother’s weight.

  ‘I don’t know if you can hear me … but I think I might be dying.’

  ‘You’re not dying, Mom. You’re just really hurt.’

  Speaking over her, Francine said, ‘I don’t know if I can go on. This is where my luck runs out, I think.’

  Autumn ignored her mother’s words and instead continued to usher her down the street towards the glowing sign of the Lucky 13 diner. It didn’t look too far away, but under the circumstances it might as well have been on the moon. If they could make it to the diner, there might be the slimmest of chances that they could get washed up, maybe have somebody tend to their wounds without calling an ambulance or alerting the police. How they were supposed to do this, Autumn wasn’t exactly sure. Judging by their reflections in the windows of the parked cars lining the street, the occupants of the Lucky 13 would take one look at them and dial 911 straight away.

  ‘Hold on a sec,’ she said and rested her mother up against the door of a Chevy. Autumn was dripping with sweat and shaking terribly. She wasn’t exactly sure how long her legs would hold her up given that she was undernourished and dehydrated. But she had to find the strength from somewhere, and now, at the very least, they could afford to take their foot off the gas just a little bit.

  ‘I’m okay,’ Francine said, resting her palms on the hood of the Chevy. ‘It’s all right now.’ She reached out and touched Autumn’s face, as though to reassure herself that it was real. ‘I got a bit jumbled up there for a second. Everything went all,’ she twirled her finger near her temple, ‘funny. I think it’s just the wiring is a bit loose, but it seems to be all right now.’

  ‘Can you hear me?’

  ‘A little bit. You sound like you’re talking to me from very far away.’ Francine laughed, and Autumn saw that her teeth were stained with blood. ‘It’s just shock. I’ll be right as rain in a few seconds.’

  ‘Were you shot? Where does it hurt?’

  ‘It’s all in my face and head. That’s why I’m messed up. Can’t think straight. Took a couple of knocks tonight.’

  Autumn nodded. Even through the blood streaming into her vision, Francine saw something terrible in her daughter’s eyes. They had taken on a fierce, animalistic quality.

  ‘We need to get back on the freeway,’ Autumn said. ‘The sooner the better.’

  ‘I agree, sweetheart. Hundred per cent.’

  ‘I can’t drive, though, and I don’t think you’re in any state to.’

  ‘We don’t have much of a choice.’

  ‘You can’t see properly. I’m going to get us a chauffeur.’

  ‘You’re going to have to explain … I can’t …’

  ‘There’s a diner just up ahead. I’ll wait for someone to come out and go to their car, and then,’ she removed the kitchen knife from the cotton belt tied around her summer dress, ‘I’ll get them to come with us.’

  ‘It isn’t …’ Francine used the parked car for support, palming her way over to the kerb and slowly sitting down. ‘It won’t work.’

  ‘Nothing we’ve done tonight should’ve worked. But it has. This is a piece of cake compared to all that.’

  ‘I don’t want you to leave me,’ Francine said. ‘You might not come back.’

  ‘I’ll come back. But I need to do this now, Mom. It’ll start getting light soon.’

  Francine nodded. ‘Wait, look, I can come with you …’ She tried to stand up, but came crashing straight back down.

  ‘Just stay still,’ Autumn hissed. ‘Don’t be so stupid. Sit there and stay still. I’ll be back soon, I promise.’

  ‘Honey … please … Just be careful …’

  ‘Here.’ Autumn leaned down and put the big book of names next to her. ‘Guard this with your life.’

  And with that, she turned and began walking towards the Lucky 13.

  * * *

  The yellow sun sits in the blue sky and smiles down at them. They’re at a picnic table in a park on a hot summer day, shaded by a magnificent oak tree. The gentle breeze sings with the sound of children giggling and is perfumed by a concoction of wonderfully scented flowers.

  Will places the hamper on the table and begins unpacking the food from inside. There are roast beef sandwiches with mayo and mustard, a big bowl of leafy salad, a container full of plump strawberries and a tub of cream to accompany them. He removes pre-grilled corn on the cob wrapped in foil, a bunch of glistening dark red grapes bursting with juice, huge, healthy apples, and finally a bowl of potato salad. Oh no, there is more. He takes out a bottle of champagne that has still somehow maintained its coolness, and three crystal flutes to pour it into.

  ‘Okay, here we go,’ he says, undoing the foil around the neck of the bottle before thumbing the cork out. With a pop and a plume of foam the champagne dribbles over his fingers, and all three of them squeal with delight. He takes his time pouring the champagne into the glasses while Francine and Autumn begin assembling the plates of food.

  Will doesn’t make a toast as he hands them each a glass, but they do say ‘Cheers!’ and savour the first mouthful. Francine says she can’t believe the champagne is still cold, the same way she can’t believe that the roast beef sandwiches are still hot. She takes a bite of one of the sandwiches, and after a second to let the flavours pass over her taste buds, she knows that it is quite simply the best thing she has ever tasted. They all eat, taking a bit of this and a bit of that, putting the food away in no discernible order. Will bites into a hard-boiled egg, then plucks off a couple of grapes and munches them contentedly. Autumn crunches into a crisp shiny apple and the juice runs down her chin. She laughs, wipes it away and smiles at Francine.

  They sit and eat and watch another family across the field. The family – a mom, a dad, three young children and a Labrador – are kicking a soccer ball around; it seems to be a game of kids versus adults. There are no goals and no seemingly obvious point to the game, but the children are breathless and sweaty and laughing like loons and the parents are just as happy, encouraging the kids then gloating playfully when they manage to steal the ball from them. The laughter collects in an unusual but delightful series of notes, like a person attempting to play a harp for the first time.

  Francine is the first to spot the dark clouds gathering on the horizon, looming gloomily above the hill. Slowly but surely they begin to broaden, infecting the otherwise perfect blue sky. The family with the soccer ball notice it and their game comes to an abrupt halt. ‘Looks like it’s going to rain,’ the dad says and picks up the ball. The kids groan with disappointment as their father explains that they will have to continue the game another day, but for now it’s best to get going before the storm hits.

  ‘Typical,’ Francine says, wiping her mouth with a napkin. ‘This was almost a perfect day.’

  Will nods. Then he smiles, ‘But who said any of this was real in the first place?’

  She frowns, momentarily confused by the comment. She’s about to ask for clarification, but Autumn interrupts her.

  ‘Mom, are you all right? Can you hear me?’

  The heavens grumble, and now the whole sky is charcoal grey and blinking with lightning. Francine holds her hand out to test for rain, as though the downpour might somehow miraculously
miss their patch and they can continue with the day.

  Her palm becomes wet.

  ‘Mom, can you …’

  * * *

  ‘… hear me?’

  The rain smattered against the window next to her. She was moving. She opened her eye – the one that wasn’t completely puffed closed – and saw that she was cooped up beside Autumn in the front seat of a van.

  ‘Say something if you can hear me, Mom,’ Autumn said. She was sitting next to a fat man in dungarees who was driving the van. He glanced over at Francine then back to the road in front of him. Francine’s good eye roamed over to Autumn’s hand. She had the knife pressed against his ribs.

  ‘I can hear you,’ Francine croaked. She sat up and saw that it was daytime. The sky was white and they were back on the highway.

  ‘Where am I telling this man to drive to?’ Autumn asked.

  ‘Sycamore,’ Francine said. She allowed what was left of her senses to return and then said to the man, ‘Excuse me, sir. What’s your name?’ Her voice was croaky.

  ‘Fred,’ the man replied, his jowls wobbling in rhythm with the vibrations of the van.

  ‘Fred, I see you’ve already met my daughter here. I’m glad she hasn’t hurt you, because from first appearances anyway, you seem like a nice man.’ She stopped, clutched her booming head and carried on. ‘I’m sure you probably hate us for inconveniencing your evening. I’m sorry that you feel that way, because whether you mean to be or not, you’re the first friendly face my daughter and I have seen all night. I have to apologise on behalf of both of us for the knife – it is completely necessary. But I also know you’re an innocent man just trying to do his job, so I’ll tell you how things are going to run from here on out.’ She paused; the effort of speaking was like a sledgehammer against the interior of her skull. ‘When we hit Sycamore, you’re going to pull over and park up at Clucky’s, and then you’re going to get out of the van. We are going to take the van and borrow it.’