I ran blind, I don’t know how far, before I realized the Camry was rolling beside me. Griffin pulled ahead and up to the curb. The passenger door opened. “Get in.” I was past thinking. I got in.
He drove fast but carefully, not saying anything. I was hunched up, knees to elbows, hyperventilating, trying not to see red blossoming behind Ty’s head, puddling behind Harley’s. I heard Griffin say, “Where’d he shoot?”
“His mou—” I gagged, and he pulled over. We were on the two-lane highway. I staggered through a muddy ditch, the puke already spilling from my mouth, and heaved and heaved in the long grass by a fence. I scrabbled under my clothes and ripped off the tape and wire and threw them as far as I could. When I turned around, panting and acid-mouthed, I was almost surprised to see the car was still there. I got back in and we pulled away. “I didn’t know he had a gun,” Griffin said. He didn’t look at me.
We took some kind of backroad into Port Hope. As we started down it, Griffin said, “What’s done is done. Maybe it’s better this way. In that place, they may not find him for days. There’s no connect. You’ll be long gone.”
I looked at him. He was clutching the wheel with both hands, looking straight ahead. He said, “The guy in Tucson didn’t die.” He looked a thousand years old, and I hated him for every second of them. I said, “You got nothing on me now anyway. You try telling anyone, and I’ll tell them about this. I’ll tell them how you assaulted me sticking on that wire.” I spat on the dash. I spat on the seat. I clawed the roof liner and armrests, then started swiping at everything around me. “And they’ll find my fucking DNA all over your car no matter how much you clean it—and all over you.” Then I lost it and started swiping at him, hitting him. He had his arm up to keep me off and the car was swerving and then he backhanded me across the face. It hurt like hell. I yelled and stopped hitting. I couldn’t breathe right. I touched my face. Blood was running from my nose. More blood. It was all over my hand. My face was throbbing, but everything inside me had gone flat and cold. I moved my hand around, flicking it to spatter my blood all around the interior. Then I slowly rubbed a big smear into that gray upholstery. “That’ll cost you your max from the bank machine,” I said. “Unless you’re just going to kill me.” I was so far gone right then, I don’t think I would have cared if he had.
He got me the money. I stood by his car while he did. Nobody was around. In Port Hope, they rolled up the sidewalks at six o’clock. “Go,” he said. I knew I would, but I wasn’t telling him that. I shouldered my backpack. “Maybe I’ll see you around,” I said. I took a step away, then turned back to him. “Sure hope you were right about Ty.”
I meant it as a last shot at him, to get under his skin forever, but as soon as I said it, I thought I was going to be sick again. Griffin didn’t say anything. He got in the Camry and started it up.