Chapter 41
FORTY-ONE
Gabriel looks sober this morning, albeit quieter than usual, and is hyper-focused as he slides behind the wheel.
The plan could fail and blow up in our faces, but I cling to the possibility of success like my life depends on it. Within the hour, I could be inside the camp’s gates.
I have my phone and will be ready to call the police if things go wrong.
I also intend on taking videos and photos, sending them off to expose Megan Hale and anyone else involved in what happened to Sadie.
I even plan on going live on social media, so I can have witnesses to the ugly truth behind the camp’s doors.
As Gabriel pulls out of the parking spot and drives toward the Townstead Wholesale store, I pull out my phone.
I navigate to the local news website and scan the headlines, searching for anything about Gabriel’s dead PI.
I barely slept last night thinking about what happened to him.
Then I see it, and the pit of my stomach falls.
LOCAL MAN FOUND DEAD IN APPARENT SUICIDE ATTEMPT IN RESTAURANT PARKING LOT.
51-year-old Lawrence Summers was found dead in his vehicle outside Lobster Grill restaurant.
The next words of the article make my blood run cold.
He died from a single, apparently self-inflicted gunshot wound. A handgun was recovered from the scene.
The air freezes in my lungs and my vision starts to narrow, cutting out everything else around me. I reread the words and let them register in my mind one by one.
“Gabriel,” I ask, “is there a chance that the PI committed suicide?”
Gabriel’s jaw tightens. “You mean that he shot himself? I don’t think so. His hands were empty, resting in his lap. I didn’t see a gun anywhere near him.”
It can only mean one thing. The official story is a complete lie. Whoever did it found a way to twist what really happened, erasing the truth to cover their tracks.
“Why do you ask?” Gabriel throws me a glance.
“Just wondering.” I put away my phone, clasp my hands inside my lap, and stare straight ahead at the road in front of us, ignoring the trickle of sweat at the back of my neck.
If I tell him what I just read, he might get distracted and mess up our plan.
There are not many cars on the street, and everything is going pretty smoothly so far. But inside my chest, each heartbeat feels like a hammer hitting glass, attempting to shatter every last bit of hope I’m holding on to.
“Are you okay to still do this?” Gabriel asks. “If you changed your mind, I can go instead.”
“No, I’m fine. I’ll do it.” I don’t dare look at him. If our eyes meet, he will read the truth from mine.
The human body has its own early warning system, a radar that senses danger before it shows up. My body is screaming, every nerve on edge. But there’s still a chance that against all odds, this desperate plan could succeed.
Still, my mind can’t stop thinking about everything that could go wrong.
What if I don’t make it into the truck? Or worse, I could get inside only to be discovered halfway to the camp when they make a delivery stop elsewhere and find me cowering behind the boxes. Every possible failure plays out in my mind. Each scenario ends with me getting caught.
But Judy is inside, she risked it all for Sadie without a second thought. I won’t think twice either, especially given the fact that I brought Sadie into that place. She was my responsibility and as long as she’s inside and alive, I’m getting in. No danger is too great.
I’ve known that girl since she was a little baby. I watched her grow up. I held her in my arms, fed her while she stared deep into my very soul.
My love for Sadie and Judy, and the need to make everything right, trumps any kind of fear that’s trying to stop me.
This realization sits quietly inside my chest and settles inside my bones. I’m ready.
We finally arrive at Townstead Wholesale, and Gabriel parks a few blocks away, then kills the engine. Without speaking, we get out of the car and walk the short distance to the store. My fully charged phone is in my jeans pocket and I have nothing else on me.
“Are you ready?” Gabriel finally asks when we arrive at a bright yellow and white building, making our way to the metal gates behind the store. They’re wide open and inside two white trucks with the store logo—a cartoon banana—stand side by side in the loading area.
“But which one is it?” I ask, rather than answering his question.
“Let me go inside and see if I can find out anything,” he suggests. “Why don’t you go back to the car? I’ll call you.”
“No, I’m not going back to the car.” What if he’s trying to trick me? For all I know, he wants to get into the truck himself. “I’ll be right outside the gates.”
He doesn’t argue with me, just walks away, glancing over his shoulder once.
Five minutes tick by with no sign of Gabriel. Holding my breath, I edge closer to the gates and risk a glance around the corner.
There he is, deep in conversation with a man wearing a bright-yellow uniform shirt. He must be the driver. Behind them, two store workers heft boxes into the back of an open truck. Stacks of crates line the interior.
Gabriel finally returns, slightly out of breath. “The one they’re loading now is our truck. I overheard the workers while I was asking the driver for directions.”
The two workers head back inside the store, but not the driver. He’s sitting on a crate near the other truck’s bumper, smoking a cigarette, his phone in his other hand.
“Gabriel, I have to do it now while he’s distracted. What if the crates the other guys are getting are the last ones and they won’t go in again? The truck is already almost full.” I glance at my watch. Five minutes to ten.
Gabriel nods. “But that driver could look up any second. Let me distract him again. When I do, run.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Please be careful, Scarlett.”
He walks over to the driver, who gets up from his crate, cigarette dangling from his lips. They exchange words I can’t hear, then the driver nods and gestures for Gabriel to follow him. I catch him say the word “map” over his shoulder before they both move to the front of the vehicle.
I don’t hesitate. I sprint to the truck, ignoring the warning signs my body is sending me. I make it in without being seen, scrambling through the dozens of crates, until I’m deep inside, covered by most of them. Not long after, I hear voices, and more boxes and crates are loaded inside.
Through the holes in some crates, I see they’re filled with food, cleaning supplies and some sealed boxes.
It does not take long before the doors of the windowless truck are slammed shut and I’m plunged into complete darkness.
My heartbeat counts forty seconds before the truck rumbles to life and starts moving.
I suck in a deep breath, listening to the hum of the engine and the sound of the wheels on tarmac.
It feels like I’ve been sealed inside my coffin.