I tore open Mom’s door and leapt inside the room. Slammed it shut and locked it.
“Oh!” Mom cried, woken from sleep.
Hard steps sounded in the hall. My left hand scrabbled across the wall, seeking a switch. There. I flicked it on.
Light flooded the room. My eyes squinted, blinked. In a split second I took in Mom, rising up in bed, fright tearing her face.
The footsteps stopped outside the door. I spun toward the sound, both hands on my gun.
A kick—and the door burst open.
Mom screamed.
A man hulked in the threshold.
My finger yanked the trigger. One, two, three times. The shots clanged in my ears.
A strangled cry. The man listed sideways. Where had I hit him?
Something heavy hit the floor. My eyes jerked down to see a big gun with a very long barrel, dropped from the man’s fingers. Was that a silencer?
“Hannah!” Mom shrieked.
The man staggered. Cradled under his left arm were my laptop and small backup drive. He pressed them to his side. Bent down, fumbling for his weapon.
I saw the top of a bald head.
I fired again. Saw the bullet hit his right hand.
“Unngkk.” He straightened and looked at me, stunned and unsteady. For one terrifying moment our eyes locked. It was Samuelson.
I couldn’t move.
He dragged in air. For the first time I saw a patch of red spreading on his chest. A bullet hole.
His eyelids drooped. “We’re both dead.” The words ground from him like gravel.
Samuelson turned and stumbled away.
I stood rooted to the spot, gun wavering in my hands. As Mom wailed behind me, Samuelson’s heavy treads headed through the kitchen. The back door opened and slammed.
A dozen thoughts screamed in my brain. “We’re both dead.” Why? What had I done? And—the man had come for my laptop? Why?
“Haaannaaaah.” Mom sounded like a petrified child.
I whipped around, laid my gun on the dresser. Ran to hold her. “It’s okay now, he’s gone.”
“What happened, why did he—”
“Shh, it’s okay.” Tears streaked her face. I wiped them away.
My computer. The truth hit home.
God, tell me this isn’t true.
Mom held onto me and cried. “You had a gun! You shot him.”
My throat tried to close. “I know, I know.”
“Is he gone now?”
“Yes. But he might be back.”
“Call the police!”
I wanted to. How I wanted that. But I couldn’t trust San Carlos police now. They were part of the San Mateo Sheriff’s Department. As were Harcroft and Wade. And no one had come to our aid. The officer outside, our supposed protection, had to have heard the gunshots.
“We have to leave. Right now.”
“Leave?”
I yanked the covers off her legs. “Come on. Hurry.”
“Where will we go?”
Yes, where?
“Come on, get up.” I swung her legs over the edge of the bed. My heart still galloped, adrenaline zinging my nerves. Thoughts whirled in my head. No time to sift through which ones were crazy and which made sense.
My laptop. And my backup drive.
Thank goodness I was still dressed in my jeans and sweatshirt. I flew around Mom’s room, yanking out clothes and throwing them into a suitcase I dragged from her closet. Threw her medicine in as well. Mom’s eyes were wide, her gaze jerking around the room. Her hands flailed in the air, seeking what to do.
“Here, put these on.” I thrust blue knit pants and a green shirt into her hands.
“What about under—”
“Here.” I threw a pair of panties on the bed.
How long had passed since Samuelson left? Two minutes? One more, and we had to be out of there. I pulled a coat for Mom off its hanger, told her to put it on.
His gun. I spun around and spotted the large weapon still lying on the floor near the wall. What to do with it?
I kicked it into the hall. Couldn’t leave it loaded in the room with Mom.
“What are you doing?” Mom wailed.
My own gun lay on the dresser, with one bullet left. I scooped it up.
In the hall I kicked Samuelson’s gun again, toward the kitchen. When it was far enough away from my mother, I ran to get a plastic grocery bag. Set my own gun on the kitchen counter. Without touching the man’s gun I scooped it inside the bag and wrapped it up, then darted to my room and shoved it in a drawer.
Wait. I yanked the drawer open. What if they came back and ransacked my house? I couldn’t leave the gun here. If it contained fingerprints, it was evidence.
From my closet shelf I pulled down a tote bag and shoved the wrapped gun inside. Thrust the bag over my shoulder. Hustled back to the kitchen and threw my gun inside the tote as well.
“Let’s go, Mom.” I ran into her room and pushed her toward the hall. Picked up her small suitcase.
“Wait, my hat!”
“There’s no time.” I thought my heart would burst.
“I’m not leaving without my hat!”
My head snapped back and forth, looking for it. There—on her dresser. I grabbed it and stuffed it in her coat pocket.
I took no clothes from my room, just the box of extra bullets. These, too, I dropped in the tote bag. I snatched up the coat I’d worn earlier that day from the front closet, and my purse. Clutching Mom’s hand, I steered her through the kitchen and into the garage. Pushed her into my car and belted her in. Her suitcase and the tote bag I threw in the backseat. I kept my purse up front. My cell phone was in it.
Wait. Shouldn’t I have my gun close?
I grabbed it from the tote bag and stuck it in my purse. Mom was so confused she didn’t notice.
In the car I pushed the button for the garage door. My pulse whooshed in my ears. Would we get out? They could be sitting right out there, waiting for us . . .
I’d shot a man. Pulled the trigger four times. What if he died?
The door rolled open. I screeched out of the garage and driveway. On the street I threw a wild look at the sheriff’s van. Wouldn’t the deputy inside follow once he saw me rush out of there?
I punched the garage door shut and took off down the street, passing the van.
It didn’t move.
“Hannah, you’re driving too fast.” Mom clutched her seat. “Where are we going? I want to go home.”
“We can’t.”
At the first corner I hesitated. Which way? Where on earth could we go?
I turned left, heading for Edgewood Road. From there I gunned up to 280 and turned south.
Mom was crying. “What’s happening, where are we going, who was that man?”
I hunched over the steering wheel, my back like granite. “That man tried to kill both of us.”
“Why?”
“Don’t know. I just know I need to get you somewhere safe.” Someplace where I could stop and rest. Think this through.
“We should call the police!” Her voice bent upward.
I said nothing, my throat tight. We couldn’t call law enforcement. It was clear Samuelson had come to my house for two reasons. First, for my computer and backup drive. Second, to kill me. Maybe Mom too. The only reason he’d want to take my laptop and backup drive would be to get rid of the copy I’d made of that video.
And the only people who knew I’d made that copy worked for the sheriff’s department.
Who from that department was working with those fake agents? Harcroft? Wade? Or both. Maybe someone else who’d been told about the video.
I’d bet it was Harcroft. He’d seemed suspicious of me the moment we met.
What did that video mean? Why was it so important?<
br />
Questions and protests spilled from Mom’s mouth. I shut her out. I had to think.
Two clear points of action lasered through my brain, both of which had to be done now. Call Emily. And hit the nearest bank for the biggest ATM withdrawal I could make.
We wouldn’t be going home anytime soon.
Chapter 12
Stone’s phone buzzed. Roz’s number. He was late. Stone cursed and punched on the line. “Where are you?”
“It’s done.”
“So why aren’t you here?”
Roz’s breath sputtered.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.”
Stone’s eyes narrowed. “What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing. Just took . . . longer than I thought. Hurrying . . . back to my car. Be there soon.”
The man didn’t sound right. “You have her computer?”
“Yeah. And backup drive.”
“What’d she tell you?”
“Nothing. She doesn’t know . . . anything.” Roz’s breath came in spurts.
“What do you mean doesn’t?”
“Didn’t. Didn’t know.”
Stone worked his jaw. “Did you kill her or not, Roz?”
“Yes.”
“And her mother?”
“Y-yeah.”
“You did.”
“Yeah.”
Stone sniffed. Was Roz lying? “If you’re just leaving her house you should be here in twenty minutes.”
“I’ll be there.”
And he just might be sorry. Stone would get out of him what had happened.
“Can’t wait, Roz.”
Chapter 13
I veered off 280 at Woodside Road and turned left, looking for the nearest bank. There was little traffic at this hour. The digital clock read 3:37.
They’d come for me, wouldn’t they. Even if Samuelson was dead, Rutger was still around. And who knew what people they worked with? Or for?
I might have killed a man!
Who at the sheriff’s department was working with them?
Why? I hit the steering wheel with my fist. Why was this happening to us?
“Hannah, don’t worry.” Mom tried to soothe me, even as her words quavered. “We’ll be all right.”
She had no clue.
Who did I think I was to run from these people? In my mind, I flicked through movies and TV shows of innocents trying to outrun heartless criminals. Like bunnies fleeing a pride of lions.
I spotted a Wells Fargo down on the left and pulled into its parking lot. Drove right up to the ATM.
“Mom, stay in the car. I’ll just be a minute.”
She sniffled. “Where are we?”
“The bank.”
Hitting an ATM after dark went against one of my own safety rules. I couldn’t help glancing around as I slid my card into the slot. The max cash withdrawal was $300. I took it all. I already had another $300 in my purse.
Back in the car I stuffed the money in my purse and headed off Woodside, onto residential roads. I needed a darkened curb where I could pull over and call Emily.
A few blocks down I found what I needed. I rolled to a stop but kept the engine running.
“What are you doing now?” Mom fingered the collar of her shirt.
“Calling Emily.”
“Won’t she be sleeping?”
“Yes.” My fingers trembled as I pulled out my cell phone.
Emily picked up on the first ring. “Mom?” Her tone bordered on panic. I never called at this hour.
“Hi.” I tried to lighten my voice, but it came out sideways.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t have long to talk. We had to run from the house.”
“Why?”
Briefly, I told her.
“Mom!”
“We’re driving at night, Emily!” Mom yelled toward the phone. “Your mother got me out of bed!”
“I can’t believe this.” Emily’s words hitched. “You’re on your way to the police, right?”
“We can’t go to the police.”
“Why?”
“Because our ‘police’ are the sheriff’s department. And they are the only people who know I put a copy of that video on my laptop.”
Shocked silence. I could imagine Emily’s mind whirling. “Where are you right now?”
“Somewhere off Woodside Road. I hit the bank for some money. I have no idea where I’m going.”
“Come here.”
“That’s the last place I’d go! You think I want to lead those men to you?”
“But you can’t just run.”
“We have to. At least for now. Until I figure something out.”
Emily’s breathing stuttered over the line. “You’re telling me the sheriff’s department is trying to kill you?”
“Maybe they didn’t know that would happen. But one of them told somebody about the video.”
“If they didn’t want to get you killed, they’ll help you now. They’ll protect you.”
“Most of them, yes. But who told? Who can I not trust? And will that person inform someone who’ll come after us again?” Bubbles of air knocked around in my lungs. “If it was just me, that would be one thing. But I’ve got Mom.”
“I—” Emily’s voice caught. She was crying. “So where are you going?”
“To a hotel somewhere. So I can think this through.”
“You can’t stay on your cell phone.”
“Why?”
“They can track you by it, Mom. If people are after you, they can use your phone.”
I pressed back against the seat. I’d never thought of that. “Okay. I’ll . . . turn it off and just use it to call you when we get to the hotel.”
“No. You can’t use it at all. You have to turn it off and leave it like that.”
“Then how do I talk to you?” I couldn’t be cut off from Emily.
“Use the phone in your hotel room.”
“Won’t that show up on my bill? What if they trace me to the room and see that number? It’ll lead them to you.”
“Mom, I’ll be okay. I’m worried about you.”
“No, you won’t be okay!” My voice rose. “They would have killed your grandmother, Emily! Do you think I want them to get my daughter too?”
“They hurt Emily?” Mom leaned toward me, face stricken. “No!”
“She’s okay, Mom, she’s okay.” I squeezed her arm. For her sake I had to get hold of myself. “Look,” I said into the cell, my mind fighting to process, “I’m going to turn off my phone now and drive. I’ll call you in an hour or two from a pay phone. Right now I just need to get out of this area.”
“Promise you’ll call.” Emily’s words caught.
“I will.”
“Mom, I’m so scared.”
Me too, I wanted to say. Me too. “We’ll be okay. I’ll figure this out. Gotta go now.”
“I’ll be praying.”
“Thanks. I love you.”
“Love you.”
I ended the call and turned off the phone.
My head flopped back against the seat rest—just for a second. Then I threw my car into gear and took off down the dark street. We had to get out of there. Rutger had to be somewhere nearby, trolling the streets for my car. Thank goodness I’d gotten gas in Half Moon Bay, and the tank was still almost full.
Heart pummeling, I turned the corner, headed back toward Woodside Road. From there, it would be a quick hop to the freeway. We wouldn’t stop again for a long time.
“Hannah.” Mom plucked at my sleeve. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
Chapter 14
Emily tossed her cell phone on the bed and dropped her head in her hands. How could this
be happening to her mom?
“She’s crazy for not going to the police,” Emily said to her darkened room.
Or was she? Her mother wasn’t exactly known for being a conspiracy theorist. And she wasn’t all about drama, either.
Emily swung her feet to the floor and stood. What could she do? Not sleep, that was for sure. The minutes would drag like weeks until her mother called back.
What if she never called back?
Emily’s breath pooled in her chest.
Hand pressed to her mouth, Emily paced her small bedroom until her head was about to explode. What was on that video anyway? Her mom should’ve let her see it. Her work days were all about videos. Maybe she’d see something that her Mom hadn’t—
Online backup.
Emily stopped.
How long had Mom left her computer on after copying that video? Over half an hour? That would be long enough for the auto backup to their shared online account to kick on. Emily had set up the account a few years ago, after her mother’s computer crashed with no backup.
Parents and technology.
If that video had been sent to their account, Emily could download it to her computer.
She flipped on her bedroom lamp, blinking in the sudden light. Flung herself into her computer desk chair. She woke up the computer and cruised to the Internet. Logged into the account. Her fingers trembled as she checked the time and date for her mother’s last upload.
There was the file: Morton’s Video.
Real subtle, Mom.
Emily eyed the file name. If she downloaded it, and the man who’d stolen her mom’s computer managed to break into this account, he could track the download to her.
Only one way around that.
With a few clicks she sent the video file to her computer. Then she deleted the account.
Back hunched, Emily leaned forward to watch the video.
It was pretty much what her mom had explained. No sound. A machine shaking, then letting off steam until the whole screen went white. The final sequence of another machine near an electrical power plant. Black smoke came from that one.
Emily sat back, frowning. Then watched it again.
Near the end her eye caught something at the bottom right of the picture. What was that? She paused the video. Some kind of pixelation. In technical terms, “noise.” Was it just poor quality? The end of the video was more blurry than the beginning. Or was it supposed to be there?
Dark Justice Page 9
