Chapter Twelve
The sun bled light through the cracks in the cabin.
I hadn’t slept a single minute. Didn’t even shut my eyes.
I just kept replaying Dawson’s manifesto over and over again.
Rehearsing the brief glimpses of the plans that I’d seen so I could tell police exactly what he was planning once I got the chance.
He wasn’t keeping me here because he wanted me.
Only because he needed me. I didn’t know for what yet, but I was clearly a part of his violent plan.
He’d been restless all night too. After his apology, he’d gotten up from the mattress and made a pallet on the floor in front of the fire with sleeping bags.
I was tuned in to every sound from his direction all night.
How was I going to stop him? The responsibility of the moment felt bigger than anything I’d ever done in my life.
He obviously trusted me on some level because he’d left me alone to go to the bathroom outside a few minutes ago.
Same as he’d done last night. I could’ve easily gotten up and run away in the middle of the night after he’d fallen asleep.
Why wasn’t he worried about that? It was possible he had the cabin rigged in some way to wake him up if I left.
Either way, how did he know that I wouldn’t be hiding around the corner of the door to crack him over the head with something when he came through?
My ruminating was interrupted by him coming back inside.
He strode over to me with the backpack strapped to him.
Dread hurtled up my throat and twisted my stomach.
His face was tight. All serious. He’d turned into a different man during the night.
Back to the one that had grabbed me in the park.
The same one that had written that letter in his notebook, justifying hurting other people.
Whatever soft side, taking care of me while I was sick, had awakened, he’d turned all those feeling parts off.
Those were the ones I needed to get turned back on if I had any chance at stopping him.
“Get up,” he said, kicking the side of the mattress. His voice gruff. “We’re going to go for a drive now that you’re feeling better.”
I stumbled out of the bed. Pulling all over my shirt and shorts to get them adjusted right on my body.
I’d been in the same clothes I was wearing when he stole me.
I couldn’t imagine how I smelled. I hadn’t had a shower since we’d been here.
Hadn’t even washed my hands. There was cold water in the sink but no soap.
I smelled like someone that had been living on the streets for weeks.
I followed him outside with my mind reeling and spinning.
I quickly glanced into the back of the truck.
A black duffel bag sat wedged against the wheel well.
The zipper was gaping just enough to show the edge of something metallic.
A tangle of wires peeked through like veins, barely visible beneath a blue tarp.
He stopped when we got to the cab and turned to me, dangling the keys from his hand. “You’re driving.”
I stared at him. “What? Why?”
“Because you’re helping me with something really important today,” he said like there was no room for discussion, and tossed me the keys.
I caught them instinctively but didn’t move from my spot. It felt like I was dreaming.
He pointed at the door. “Get in the truck.” This time he said it like he meant business.
For a second, I thought about screaming.
But no one would hear me, and even if they did, by the time they got to us, he would’ve shut me up however he saw fit, or taken off.
So, I crawled into the truck like someone else was controlling my body.
Could I roll down the windows and start yelling for somebody to help?
Maybe as soon as we got close enough to a gas station or one of the tiny towns along the way down the mountain. Could I get us pulled over?
But what if he just killed anyone we came into contact with? Shot people that got in our way with reckless abandon. The thought of it was horrifying.
He climbed into the passenger side, still wearing his backpack.
He took it off and set it in the space between us.
Then shut the door behind him. He placed the gun on his thigh and motioned to the driveway.
“Just pull out of the driveway and take a left at the end of the street. We’re going to start driving down the mountain. ”
My mouth was instantly so dry I couldn’t breathe at the sight of the gun.
I tried to act nonchalant, but he’d put it there on purpose.
Obviously. As much of a threat to me as it was to whoever else he planned to use it on.
My body was hot like it’d been with my fever, but this wasn’t from a fever.
This was raw, unadulterated fear. The kind that shrank your insides and the world down to nothing.
I started the truck and stifled the cries threatening to explode from inside me.
I pulled out of the driveway and onto the road.
It wound down the mountain in sharp curves and blind turns, forcing me to concentrate.
Part of me never taking my eyes off the gun on his lap. His finger grazed the trigger.
“Speed up,” he said. “You’re driving like a grandma.”
“I’m not used to these roads,” I muttered. “You want us to crash before we even get there?”
His jaw tightened and he grunted, but he didn’t argue with me.
“Where are we going?” I asked as the speedometer inched up along with my heart rate. He ignored me. My palms sweat against the wheel.
Dawson rolled down his window and lit a cigarette, smoking in front of me for the first time. His hands trembled as he flicked the lighter. He looked like a man unraveling. I had to be careful, but I couldn’t give up trying. What would I do if I couldn’t stop him before we got back to LA?
“The gauge is red. I think something’s wrong with the engine,” I lied as I shoved the gearshift into park without him seeing me do it.
He leaned over and squinted at the dashboard.
“Shit,” he said. “It is red. Maybe you should pull over, quick.”
I nodded and pulled over to the shoulder. I put the truck in park for real this time.
“Stay here,” he ordered, shoving his door open and stepping onto the side of the road. But I ignored him and jumped out right along with him.
“I’ll pop the hood,” I said, reaching underneath it before he could stop me and groping for any wire that I could find. I jerked a handful of them before pulling up the hood and stepping back. “Here you go. Hopefully you can figure it out.”
Dawson cursed again and waved at the air. “Piece of shit.” He kicked one of the tires. “Get back behind the wheel. I’ll figure it out.”
I slid into the driver’s seat and eyed the backpack, weighing whether or not he could see me and if it was worth the risk to go through it.
Please let someone come by. I’d jump out into the road and create the biggest scene.
But no such luck. He banged around underneath the hood until he got it running again.
We rumbled back onto the highway after only twenty minutes on the shoulder. He’d fixed the wire with electrical tape from the backpack, but the truck still coughed like it was struggling to breathe. Dawson bounced his knee.
We rounded the bend. We’d be within the city limits in another hour. What would happen once we were there? Did he plan on killing me along with everyone else?
I kept my eyes on the road and tried to keep my voice calm. “Can you please tell me what we’re doing?”
“I’m making a little video to share with the world, and your job is to film everything I do today.
We’re headed to Atticus. As long as you’re with me, everyone will leave me alone.
The police aren’t going to shoot me if you’re with me.
” He’d replaced the ski mask with a blue baseball cap pulled down low.
“We can use your code to get into the building and elevators.”
I wasn’t just his witness—his way to share it with the world—I was also his way into the building. That’s the main reason he needed me. Of course that was it. How’d I miss that? Access codes are the first thing HR disables when someone gets fired or leaves.
Everything clicked into place with startling clarity.
That’s why he’d taken me to the cabin first instead of dragging me straight to the office that morning.
He needed the time to wait for my head to clear after the blow so I would be coherent enough to help him and terrified enough to be compliant.
Did he really expect me to record him gunning people down?
Was there any way that I could warn people?
I could call 911 the moment he handed me the phone.
Except then he might shoot me. All I could think about were the X’s he had in the lobby on his map of the building.
There were so many people down there during the day.
There’d be kids too. They’d just opened a pediatric dental office on the second floor.
My voice trembled with nerves, but I forced the words out. “She wouldn’t want this.”
“What did you just say?” he snapped.
“Your daughter.” The words were out before I could reel them back in. “She wouldn’t want you to do this.”
“You’re absolutely right! Of course my daughter doesn’t want this.
She doesn’t want any of this. You know what she did want?
!” His eyes were wild and lit with fury.
“To graduate first grade. To get pink roller skates for her birthday. She was so excited to get her nails done with her mom and cousins. That’s what Aurora wanted. ”
“I understand how hard this must be for you. I can’t even imagine what it must be like to lose your daughter. It’s unbelievable and—”
He cut me off. “Shut up! You don’t know anything about my daughter.”
“You talked about her when you fed me soup. When you sat beside me all night. You think this is for her, but it’s not. It’s for you.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” He worked his jaw while he spoke. His breath came sharp and fast. “Everyone’s going to see what a broken system we live in. They let a little girl die.”
“Yes, but hurting other people doesn’t bring her back. Would Aurora want her name remembered that way?”
He smacked me. Right across the face, before I even knew it was coming. “Don’t you dare say her name. Don’t you ever say her name again.” He worked his jaw and dug his fingers into his knees. “You don’t know a damn thing about it. I said be quiet. Drive.”
My cheek stung from where he’d slapped me.
The only sound was the tires on asphalt and the shrill ringing in my ears as he lit another cigarette and stared out the window.
The blur of trees whipped past us on his side of the truck.
His hand trembled every time he brought the cigarette to his lips. Angrily blowing out the smoke.
I’d wanted to trigger something emotional in him so that I could connect with his humanity and make him think like a loving father, but all I’d done was make him angry.
More determined. My fingers clenched the steering wheel.
Every muscle screamed at me to slam my foot on the gas and fly until the tires lifted off the road.