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“You’ve got a signal,” Bob announced.
Sandra put her foot on the brake, and the van slid to a stop.
“Why are you stopping?” Bob asked, his voice tinged with criticism.
“Because if I go around that corner, the signal will disappear.” She took the phone out of his hand and dialed 911 for the second time that evening.
“Hello.” She tried to sound pleasant as she identified herself and explained the situation.
The operator sounded confused. “But the victim is still at the theater?”
“Yes, but the killer is heading back toward Plainfield, or he might even already be there. I’m not sure how fast he’s—”
“The police still need to go to the crime scene, ma’am.”
Sandra swallowed her irritation. “I know that, but they don’t all have to go there, do they? Especially when the killer is about to get away?”
“How do you know he’s the killer?” Her skepticism nearly vibrated the phone.
“Because he admitted it, right before he took off running.”
“Oh. All right. I’ll send a unit your way. What is your location?”
Sandra told her for the second time, though she had to estimate. Somewhere between the narrow Maple Stream bridge and the Plainfield town line. She started driving as she explained this, knowing she wouldn’t be all that heartbroken if she lost the signal now. As she thought might happen, the call turned to fuzz and then to a dead line as the minivan descended into another valley.
“Look!” Bob cried out, pointing out the windshield.
Sandra looked, but she didn’t see anything. Did angels have supernatural eyesight along with everything else?
“What is it?” Peter asked.
“I think it’s his truck,” Bob said quietly.
Sandra slowed, still trying to see whatever it was Bob was accusing of being Otis’s truck, and then there it was, in the ditch, on its side. “Oh wow, I hope he’s all right.”
“That’s why I like you, Sandra,” Bob said. “Because you genuinely care about people.”
The praise made her uncomfortable. She hadn’t meant to be sappy about Otis’s welfare. He was not a nice man, but she didn’t want him dead. “I thought you liked me because I help you on secret sleuthing missions.”
“Uh, who called who here?”
Touche. She pulled the minivan over to the side of the road and turned her flashers on. “Now what?” Should they get out? Should they wait for the police? Was Otis even dangerous at this point? She didn’t think so. Ethel had almost gotten the best of him. If she could take him out, the three of them should be able to handle him, right? Without waiting for Bob to answer, she slowly climbed out of the van. She pulled the collar of her coat up, grateful for the extra costume-room-layers she’d borrowed. “I think we should stay together,” she said loudly, again surprised by the authority in her own voice.
“Good idea. Let’s.” Bob was suddenly ahead of her, almost to the truck, a supernatural head start that annoyed her. It wasn’t fair. Peter, on the other hand, was nearly pressed up against her.
“Do you want to wait in the car, honey?”
“No,” he said quickly. “You said we should stay together.”
Honestly, she wasn’t sure what the right play was. It might be safer to leave her son in the minivan. Or, it might be safer to just keep driving and get him home to his bed. She sent up a silent prayer for protection and hoped she wasn’t being too foolish.
“He’s not here.” Bob stood on the edge of the road, staring down at the pickup. Sandra, wanting a closer look, slid down into the ditch, almost going onto her butt in the process, and peered in through the windshield. Sure enough, he wasn’t in there. She looked around, using her phone for a flashlight, as she’d given the actual flashlight back to Peter. “There!” She pointed to fresh tracks heading into the woods.
“Why would he go into the woods?” Peter asked.
Sandra didn’t know. Wasn’t he worried about freezing to death? It wasn’t sub-zero or anything, but it was below freezing, and the wind chill had to be knocking on dangerous. She didn’t know what to do. If she let him go, he might die. If they pursued him, one of them might get hurt. Still, she didn’t think this was likely. She looked at the safe minivan parked in the darkness and then she looked at the woods. She hated being indecisive.
“Come on, Mom. Let’s go find him. We’ll be fine. It’s not like he has a gun or anything.”
We think. Who knew what he had stashed in that giant truck?
Peter started for the woods, and Sandra grabbed him by the arm. “If we’re going, I’m going first.”
“Actually”—Bob miraculously appeared in front of them—“I’ll go first. I’ve obviously got the best eyesight.”
Obviously. Though, he was kind of cheating by being an angel and all. “Okay, let us know if you see anything,” Sandra whispered, and then took care to take quiet steps as she walked through the noisy crust on top of the snow.
It was no use. While Bob glided along with near silence, Peter and she sounded like a couple of lumbering Sasquatches.
They walked and walked and Sandra was glad she was in good physical shape. Uphill and down, Otis made a straight beeline through the forest. Whether he had a destination in mind remained to be seen, but he was sure staying on course.
Bob stopped short and held up a hand. Sandra and Peter almost crashed into him as they too came to a halt. “What is it?” she whispered.
“Is Otis a hunter?” Bob asked.
Sandra had no idea.
“Yes,” Peter said with certainty.
Bob turned toward them and then stepped so close to Sandra that he made her uncomfortable.
“What is it?” She fought the urge to step back.
“Don’t look. We don’t want him to know that we know, but he’s in a tree stand up ahead.”
Now that was creepy. She immediately looked.
“Don’t look!” Bob snapped.
“Oh stop it. He can’t see my eyes from his perch, unless he’s got angel eyesight.”
“I thought he might be a hunter, because he’s acting like he knows these woods.”
“He’s always bragging about his hunting stories. Fishing too,” Peter said. “Sometimes I think he’s lying. No one catches that many fish.”
“If he throws people down stairs, he probably lies about fishing too,” Bob offered.
“So what do we do?” She didn’t want to climb a tree.
“I’m not sure. Do you have a signal?”
Sandra checked her phone. “No. But I probably will if we go uphill again.” She looked around for a hill, but couldn’t see anything beyond the range of her phone’s flashlight. “Or maybe I should climb my own tree.”
“Can he see us right now?” Peter asked.
Bob thought for several seconds. “Not sure.”
“Can he hear us?” Peter asked in a mouselike voice.
“I don’t think so. He’s at least a hundred yards ahead of us.”
“Maybe we should go back.” Peter’s voice quavered in fear. Or maybe he was just cold.
Sandra took his hand into her own. His fingers were icy. “Maybe we should.” Once again, Sandra was annoyed by her own indecisiveness.
Then they heard a semi-manly shriek followed by a mighty crash from about a hundred yards ahead.