CHAPTER 28
They’re two hours from the airport when Lucy falls asleep, startling occasionally as she slides into dreams. She begins to mutter, just slightly, at one point. Saying, ‘I will take you,’ perhaps reliving the kidnapping. Simone isn’t sure.
It’s probably the first time Lucy has closed her eyes since she was taken, and something in Simone relaxes suddenly and satisfyingly like snapped elastic as her daughter’s breathing eventually steadies and the muttering stops.
She lets out an exhale herself, her shoulders dropping, jaw unclenching, the tight ball of wool in her stomach tugged and unravelled.
They’re far from danger, they’re far from free, and yet: they’re alive.
She grabs for the phone, shamefully not dropping her speed even a little, and sees that Damien is on his way to the airport, too, scant on details: Coming, he has written. Del Rio DRT. The precision of the airport code. Her reliable husband, her friend.
She drives and drives and drives, spends the next half an hour telling herself truths that tangle like intersections and feel like lies. They are not on the run. They are victims. They are not perpetrators. She will not let the kidnapper’s version of events become her own.
The world looks the same, but isn’t, not any longer.
Normal life as Simone knew it ended several days prior: when she was pissed off with her lost baggage, the late hour, desperate to see Lucy.
She aches for it, those moments when she was just Simone the mother, the wife, the chef, internally criticizing people’s burritos in airports and feeling jet-lagged. Nothing more, nothing less.
As she navigates the highways, burning panic simmers off, reducing and reducing to something concentrated but more manageable. Five minutes later, her phone beeps. It’s Damien, asking her to call him. Anxiety shimmers over her skin. What now?
She drives a little further, then sees a petrol station up ahead. It has a small shop with a night hatch still open, and a scrap car yard. Simone pulls into the forecourt and brakes hastily. Still Lucy sleeps. She manoeuvres the car away from CCTV, into the darkness of the shadows.
Damien doesn’t answer the phone. Confused, Simone tries him again. This time, it diverts to voicemail after two rings.
She parks up, gets out of the car to find better signal, but doesn’t walk away; of course she doesn’t. Instead, she leans against the warm car and tries him again, her eyes never leaving Lucy’s moonlit sleeping form.
Two more calls. Both go immediately to voicemail. And somewhere deep inside, Simone knows that something has shifted again. The moments feel the same, they feel recognizable in some way, like punctuation. The instant Lucy was taken. The ransom. The shooting.
And now this.
A WhatsApp alert arrives: Damien has turned on disappearing messages.
Simone frowns. What? Disappearing messages? Fear presses a plunger hard into her stomach.
Damien begins typing.
Can’t speak. Check the news.
Message deleted.
‘What?’ Simone whispers to no one, her mouth dry.
She tries to breathe, to not let the panic back in. She glances up at the shop. It looks empty, the cashier maybe in the back. Not a single car passes. There’s silence. Lucy’s head is lolling, unaware, part of her chin shining silver with drool.
She takes a breath, then googles Texas news. And it’s there.
THIS IS A brEAKING NEWS STORY THAT WILL BE UPDATED AS SOON AS WE HAVE MORE INFORMATION a disclaimer reads at the top in red and white.
DOUBLE SHOOTING IN SHAFTER says the headline. Simone scans the article, frantic.
A MAN was shot dead only hours ago in a rest stop in Shafter, Presidio County. Dashcam footage has been handed in. Police are urgently trying to find two women who match the stills taken below.
Simone’s hands begin to shake. Her entire body goes hot.
There was a camera.