CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

THE 290 WAS stop and go, so we took 1st Street to William Cannon.

“This is a wild goose chase.” Marisol had been trying to convince me to stop and regroup for the entire five minutes we’d spent blowing stop signs on the way to her house. “They send you to a commuter station, then leave your truck there complete with coordinates for my house. We should go back to the lab.”

“It was your idea to leave the lab, elevator microwave and all.”

“Maybe I was overconfident.”

I shook my head while barreling through a yellow. “No such thing. You either assess the situation correctly or you don’t. Confidence is what enables you to act on the correct assessment even when the situation’s impossible.”

“Where did you get that?”

“My father. He lived by those words. Died by them too.”

“And you?” Marisol templed her ARGs.

“I haven’t died yet. Who you calling?”

“Lab security.” She paused. Then, “report.”

I tried to focus on her expressions, but the road contained enough slow moving traffic to keep me focused primarily on staying alive.

Marisol pointed and I spun the wheel, hooking right onto Vega Ave. “Oak country. Swank.”

She ignored me, grunting in response to something from the other end of the connection. “Fine. Continue current course of action. I’ll bring Buckner home ASAP.” She cut the connection, turning to me. “The lab’s safe. The twi—” she caught herself too late, “mercenaries broke off the attack soon after we left. Not much further now. My drive’s on—”

“I know they’re twitchers, Miss Cruz. No need to tiptoe.” I slowed the car to a normal speed. “They’ve evolved. Somehow my work is the next step in the process. I get it.”

“What you don’t get, Dr. Buckner, is that your work is the final step in the process.”

“No, Marisol.” I broke down, my exhaustion catching up with me. “What I don’t get, is the process. Period. How do they do what they do?”

“How have you defeated them?” She threw it back at me.

“I—” I shrugged and shook my head. “I haven’t.”

“I saw what you did in the lab.”

“Half of it’s real, half of it isn’t.”

“No.” Marisol seemed repulsed by me, pushing herself against the passenger door. “You moved like one of them, but faster.”

“I nearly got us all—”

Red and blue lights flashed in the rearview mirror.

“Oh, mierda. How long has he been following us?”

Marisol scrutinized the policed car using the side mirror. “He looks legit. Don’t worry, I can get us—”

“I’ll just floor it.”

“Don’t be an idiot. What, and pull up to my house with a police escort shooting at us? How is that going to help get Evie back?”

“Point taken.”

“Just shut up and let me do the talking.”

I pulled over gently onto the shoulder, searching the scrub and isolated stands of live oak for any signs of a trap. It didn’t feel right, running into a cop this close to Marisol’s place, this close to the given coordinates, and out pretty much in the middle of nowhere.

We waited motionless for the long seconds it took the officer to work his way up to my window. His partner had stayed by the squad car, holding the radio in his hand.

“They’re running the plates.” I spoke without turning my head, barely moving my lips.

“So what?”

“The truck. The accident earlier.” My mind flashed, a memory coming back. “There was another car.”

The officer tapped the back window, standing well clear of the vehicle. “Sir, I need you to show me your hands.”

I lifted both hands, holding them in plain sight. “Is there something wrong, officer?”

“Open the door and step out of the truck, slowly.” He spoke firmly, loudly without yelling. The hand on his holster, as much as his voice, indicated he meant what he said.

“Will do.”

“Just stay cool. Give me a chance.” Marisol whispered.

Before I could open the door, three more squad cars appeared over the hill in front of us. I checked the rearview to find one more approaching from behind, all of them at excessive speeds. “Marisol?”

“How big of an accident were you in?”

“People could have been killed. I don’t—”

“Buck.”

“I was in the desert. There was blood, a minivan.”

“Buck!”

Instinctively I glanced sideways as the officer dove for the roadside ditch.

“Drive!” Finally I looked up through the missing windshield. Jerking, I sparked the ignition and slammed the truck into reverse, all the while watching the upside down patrol car plummet down right on top of us.