Chapter 10
Ellie was crying softly, pretzeled up in the footwell. He put his hand on her wet head. “Wait here. I’ll be right back, I promise.”
Avoiding the broken glass in his bare feet, he got out and walked over to where the man lay on the blacktop.
His limbs were torn open and bent the wrong way.
His chest was partly crushed. His forehead had a large dent in it.
The gun was five yards away. Peter knelt and put his hand on the man’s neck, feeling for a pulse.
Nothing. He was a middle-aged white guy.
Peter was struck again how killers looked like anyone else.
Peter already had his phone and wallet. He returned to the idling pizza car.
It was shredded. He opened Ellie’s door.
“It’s over, kiddo. Time to go.” She looked at him, eyes unfocused, face pale as death.
She didn’t move. “Come on, Ellie. I’ve got you.
” He took her arm and coaxed her out enough to pick her up in his arms.
She wrapped herself around him like an octopus, burying her face in his neck. “I’ve got you,” he said. “I’ve got you.” She was so small and thin. The lightness of her body, the fragility of it, terrified him. As if she was barely there at all.
He carried her over to the killer’s idling pickup and put her in the passenger seat. He buckled her in, then walked around the hood and climbed behind the wheel and drove away.
Driving barefoot, he covered three or four miles very quickly, weaving through traffic and blowing past stoplights, checking his rearview the whole time.
His feet were cold and his head was killing him.
He wished he’d taken a pizza, then felt like an asshole.
But he was alive. And starving. And Ellie had to be starving, too.
Although she sure wasn’t talking. Instead she sat shivering and wet with her arms wrapped around her knees, her face turned away. That was worse than screaming.
This was all Peter’s fault. He’d told her and KT that they’d be safe with him. And he’d fucked it up. Maybe worse than he’d ever fucked up anything in his life. And that was saying something.
He finally saw a sign for Dunn Lumber and pulled into the parking lot beside a half dozen other vehicles. Then he found Durant’s card in his wallet and pulled out his phone.
“Captain Durant here.”
“A man came to the hotel.” Peter put a big hand on Ellie’s back. He tried to keep his voice even, but he didn’t do a very good job. “He killed KT and a pizza delivery guy. The cop who was supposed to keep watch was already gone.”
Ellie’s shoulders heaved with silent sobs. Durant cursed. “What about the girl?”
“She’s with me. I took the killer’s truck. He’s dead in the motel parking lot. We’re in the wind.”
“Okay,” Durant said. “Let me make some calls. Are you north or south? We have a precinct in Northgate, at 103rd and College, and another in Belltown, Eighth and Virginia.”
“When you have the scene under control, call me and I’ll come back and give a statement. I also need my things and Ellie’s. Then we’re gone.”
“Mr. Ash, you can’t just leave. People are dead. You killed a man. There will be an inquest.”
“Are you kidding? You told me it was over, that it was just one guy with mental health issues. This new asshole had a suppressor on his pistol. He waited until the cruiser left. He definitely had some kind of training. Whoever sent him, they have resources. Also, the only people who knew we were at that motel were cops.”
“Mr. Ash—”
“No, Durant. The guy didn’t stop after killing KT.
He came after me and the girl, too. So there’s no way I’m trusting you or your people to keep Ellie safe.
I’ve got her now, and I’m not telling a fucking soul where we’re going.
I need you to run interference for me on that.
And I need access to the investigation, like you promised KT. ”
“Mr. Ash—”
Peter lowered his voice. “Her mother is dead. You said it was over, Durant, but it wasn’t. Not even close. The threat letter said We are Legion, remember?”
A pause, filled with unearthly silence. “I’ll talk to the chief. We’ll work something out. Give me an hour.”
Peter cleared his throat. His eyes burned. “Durant.”
“Yeah.”
“Once I get Ellie somewhere safe, I’m going to find out what this is about. And end it. With or without your help.”
Durant’s voice was quiet. “We’ll talk about that when you come in. I’ll call, okay?”
—
Peter was still soaking wet and barefoot. So was Ellie. She’d stopped sobbing and stared out the side window vacantly. He could only imagine what she was thinking about.
He cranked the heat until it roared. The killer’s Toyota smelled like ten years of cheap cigars. The instrument panel was covered with dust, as if their settings hadn’t been adjusted in years.
He rummaged through the center console but found only the usual crap: loose change, a charging cable, cheap reading glasses, a tire pressure gauge.
Nothing that might tell Peter why the guy had targeted KT for death.
He should have gone through the guy’s pockets.
Although that would have pissed off Durant, and Peter couldn’t afford to do that.
Despite Peter’s demand for the captain’s help, there was zero guarantee he’d get it.
Durant’s bosses might well override him.
In their minds, they’d be right to do so.
They’d certainly want to keep the Toyota as evidence.
At the very least, Peter needed a new ride.
He also really needed a weapon. He leaned over and popped the glove box.
No gun. Just a thick owner’s manual in a cracked vinyl document folder.
Below that, held together by a rubber band, lay a thick stack of folding paper maps, the kind that were common in gas stations before the era of smartphones.
All the Western states, starting from the Dakotas down to Texas.
Beneath the maps was a small black rectangle. A cheap smartphone. He found the button to turn it on and was rewarded by a prompt for a four-digit passcode. Not Peter’s skill set. He wiped it on his shirt to get the fingerprints off, then dropped it on the center console’s junk pile.
It immediately fell on the floor. He picked it up again. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he was starving. Without thinking about it, he tucked the phone into his cargo pocket. Then put his hand gently on Ellie’s shoulder. “Hey. Can we talk a minute?”
She didn’t turn to look at him. Her voice was flat. “What.”
“I know you’re hurting,” he said. “But we have a few decisions to make. First, food. Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“Well, I’m starving. And pretty soon, you will be, too. But I don’t want to go inside a restaurant. There’s a drive-in burger place just up the road. What do you think?”
“Whatever.”
Her voice was a bottomless pit. Peter was pretty sure he didn’t have the skills for dealing with this poor girl. But right now, he didn’t have a choice. Time to adapt and overcome.
He put some cheer in his voice. “Okay, let’s do that. Maybe a milkshake?”
Burgermaster was a Seattle institution with a broad ketchup-red carport that would shelter two dozen cars from the worst of the weather. Peter found an open spot on the end, out of sight from the road, where they could escape in two different directions.
The drive-in chain had significantly upped its game since Peter had last eaten there, now making their burgers from local grass-fed beef. “Man, this looks good,” he said. “What do you think?” She didn’t respond. She still wasn’t looking at him.
A carhop walked over. Peter ordered bacon burgers, fries, onion rings, milkshakes, and handed over a third of his remaining cash. Then he took out his phone again and punched in a number.
“Jarhead. What up?”
Peter felt his breath come more easily, just hearing Lewis’s voice, slippery as motor oil and twice as dark. “Something’s happened and I need a favor. Like, now.”
“Lay it on me, brother.”
“A good vehicle. Something capable and reliable and relatively invisible. Legally registered, but not in my name or yours. Here’s the hard part.
I need it in an hour, two at most, dropped near Fortieth and Aurora in Seattle.
” Around the corner from the motel. “And a roll of tinfoil, if you can swing it.” He’d have asked for a gun, but he needed something clean and most of the people Lewis knew wouldn’t be.
“Lemme make some calls. Sit tight.”
“Thanks,” Peter said, but Lewis was already gone. He hadn’t even asked why. They had a lot of history.
The food arrived, and Peter adjusted the windows so the trays could hang off the outside. His mouth began to water immediately. He took a bite of his burger. Paradise.
Ellie’s meal was right in her line of sight. He nudged her shoulder. “Maybe a few bites? You’ll feel better, I promise.”
She shook her head wordlessly. He didn’t like this new quiet version. The Ellie he’d met at her school was snarky, confident. Even after running from Geoffrey Reed, she’d asked him some pretty ballsy questions. But now she’d lost her mother.
He took another chunk out of his burger. Basic survival tactics, eat when you can. “Mmm, bacon. You’re really missing out. I hope you’re not a vegetarian.”
She ignored him.
He took a big slurp of his chocolate shake and felt the sugar charge into his system. “Wow. Only a crazy person would turn down that milkshake.”
She shifted in her seat to get even farther away from him.
He set down his burger, took two French fries off his tray, and stuck one up each nostril. He turned to face her. “These fries are delicious.” His voice came out funny.
Her head floated sideways, her eyes slanted at him. He heard a puff of breath. Not a laugh, exactly, but something.
He dropped the fries out his window. “Please,” he said softly. “Just a few bites. You need the energy.”
She didn’t answer. But her hand floated out to her tray, pulled a fry from the paper packet, and stuck it in her mouth, chewing mechanically. After a moment, she reached out and took another one.
He took the lid off the container of ketchup and placed it on the dashboard, then set the bag of onion rings beside it and tapped her on the shoulder. She ignored him. But a moment later, she grabbed the rings and the ketchup and put them on her own tray.
Progress.