Chapter Eight

Claire had been very impressed by the island’s hospital when she first arrived. She’d expected a glorified clinic, perfectly serviceable but unable to handle bigger emergencies. In reality, she found a three-story care center that rivaled some of the hospitals she’d seen in much larger cities. “We have to do as much as we can,” one of the doctors once told her, “because we’re too far away to call for back-up. If we try sending a patient to Seattle for emergency care, odds are good they won’t survive the trip. We’re their only hope.”

As she entered the gleaming blue cube of the lobby, she spotted Dr. Rachel Crawford at the nurse’s station. Rachel was a petite Asian woman who had the ability to make everyone feel like she was taller than they were. She walked with her shoulders back and chin high and moved with such authority that most people couldn’t help but see her as their superior. She was also the wife of Alexandra Crawford, the fire chief.

She saw Claire and excused herself from the conversation she was having, crossing the lobby. She changed direction so they were walking shoulder to shoulder.

“I assume you’re here to see the prisoner.”

“If that’s okay with you.”

“Fine with me,” Rachel said, “but I don’t think you’re going to get much out of him.”

Claire said, “Stubborn?”

“Probably. But your wife shattered his jaw. It’s going to be a long time before he speaks again, and even then he might end up with a speech impediment.”

“I’ll scold Jodie for her ruthlessness.”

Rachel said, “You’d better.” Her lips curled into a smile.

They were in an empty stretch of hallway, so Claire put up a hand to stop Rachel. “How’s Alex doing? She and Rucker worked together for a long time. Finding him must not have been easy.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t.” Rachel’s mood sobered. “She’s doing well. Sleepless nights, you know, loss of appetite. The sort of thing you’d expect from working a colleague’s death. But she knew the two of you were closer, so it would have been worse for you. She was more than willing to take the relatively softer blow to protect you from a knock-out.”

Claire nodded. “Tell her I appreciate it.”

“Tell her yourself. Over dinner, sometime when the weather is better.”

“Deal.”

They continued around the corner and Rachel pointed at a closed door. “Your man is in there. He’s in a pretty foul mood. Go make it worse.”

“I’ll do my best. Thanks, Rachel.”

“Mm-hmm.” She started back the way they’d come. “Give my love to your love. And tell her the garage should have security cameras outside.”

“They tried to abduct her in broad daylight. I don’t think they would have been scared away by a few cameras.”

“Screw that. I just wish I could see the footage.” She mimed a Babe Ruth swing, made a ‘that must have hurt face,’ and waved her fingers as she rounded the corner.

Claire went into the room. Harvey Moses had pulled a chair over to sit at the foot of the bed, facing the prisoner. Packard looked like he’d been dropped into the bed from a great height and didn’t bother to rearrange himself. Harvey Moses glanced at Claire as she came in, nodded, and then looked back at Packard. He was glaring at her, one corner of his lip pulled up in what probably would have been a sneer if his face wasn’t so swollen and bruised.

“Boss.”

“Hey, Harv,” she said. “Are you boys getting along?”

“Oh yeah. He’s not much of a conversationalist, but we’re enjoying each other’s company a lot.”

She said, “Great to hear it. Why don’t you stretch your legs?”

Harvey Moses looked at Packard. “No, I’m... I’m pretty good right here.”

She broke the staring contest. “I mean it, Harvey Moses. Go for a walk. Get a snack.”

“The nurses have been bringing me whatever I need. I’m good.”

“Then go pee,” she said sharply.

He looked at Packard. He stood up and moved closer to Claire. “Boss, you know how much I respect you and all that. But I really don’t think I should leave you alone with him.”

“He’s cuffed to the bed.”

“Yeah. He’s not the one I’m worried about. I think if you were thinking clearly, you’d want me in here. Just in case.”

Claire met his eye. “I understand. But I still want you to go.”

Harvey Moses sighed. He looked at Packard, then shrugged. “I’ll take a stroll. But I’ll be back.”

“Thanks,” she said.

He left the door open behind him, a not-so-subtle signal, but Claire pushed it shut. She watched through the narrow window next to the door to make sure he actually went down the hall. Once he was gone, she turned and looked at Packard.

“My wife,” she said.

Packard glared at her.

She walked forward. “Wyman went after my wife. He sent you to do it. I don’t care if it wasn’t your idea. It’s your face she’s going to see when she thinks about it. And I want you to think about her every time you look at the new shape of your face. Because this...?” She waved a finger toward his jaw. “That’s going to do some permanent damage to your looks. She’ll take comfort in that. That’s what she’s going to hold onto when you try creeping into her nightmares. She’ll see your fucked-up face. She’ll hear the sound your ankle made when it snapped. And she’ll go back to sleep and dream of driving fast with the wind in her hair.

“But I don’t have that, Teddy. Your face is in my head, too, but I didn’t see you get hit or hear your bone break, so I can’t use that to make you go away.” She leaned in closer, almost close enough for him to lunge at her. She lowered her voice to almost a whisper. “So that’s what I’m going to think about, Ted. How to get rid of the man who went after my wife.”

He cleared his throat. He kept his eyes locked on hers, but there was a tightening at the corners that told her he was scared.

She straightened and put some distance between them. “So we have you. George Lile. And Dennis Wyman. All I need are three more names. Jodie left your hands alone, so you can write or type whatever you want. Three names. If you give them to me, that might make me like you a little bit. We’ll never be friends. But it’ll at least get you off my mind.”

She took a pen and pad from her pocket. She ripped off a page, put it on his bedside tray, and pushed it over his torso. He stared at the paper for a second, then picked up the pen and started writing. Claire waited until he was done and had slapped down the pen before she moved closer. She craned her neck and looked at what he’d written.

“Clark Kent, Luke Skywalker, and Mickey Mouse. You could be telling the truth. Stranger things have happened, I guess. I once knew a guy in Chicago named Mason Perry. You know, like Perry Mason, but-- never mind, probably before your time.”

She took back her pen and paper.

“George didn’t want to play along, either. He was a real asshole about it, too. But I did eventually learn his name. I’m going to learn the names of your friends, too. And you’re not going to get credit for helping out. That’s a shame. Because you are starting at such a huge deficit, you should be taking all the bonuses you’re offered.”

Teddy muttered something, but his teeth never moved apart.

“I’m going to assume that was derogatory,” Claire said.

Harvey Moses came back. He looked at the bed, clearly relieved to see Packard was still in one piece and hadn’t suffered any further damage.

“Hey, Harvey Moses,” Claire said.

“Hey.” He handed her a bag of Raisinets. “You two have a nice chat?”

“Thank you,” she said as she opened the candy. “Yeah, we got to know each other pretty well, didn’t we, Teddy?” To Harvey Moses, she said, “Are you okay to stay here with him until we get you some relief?”

“Oh, yeah. He can help me with the crossword.”

She nodded and patted his shoulder. “Call the barn if you need us to bring you anything.”

“You got it.”

She gave Packard one last look before she left.

He was the one who looked away.

***

Claire was in the bedroom packing a bag when Jodie got home. It took every bit of willpower she had to stay away from the garage, to physically confirm Jodie was okay, but she knew that if she did that she’d never be able to leave.

So she stayed at the station and went through the records Mallory had sent her. Wyman was clean (“Suspiciously clean,” Mallory said in the email, “for someone who hangs out with criminals.”), but Lile had a beefy rap sheet. Grand theft auto, destruction of property, domestic abuse charges, public indecency, public drunkenness, all sorts of assholery. She requested Theodore Packard’s record and found plenty of information without bringing the FBI into it. Teddy was well known by the Seattle police for various instances of petty larceny. Apparently, he thought he was ready to graduate up to abductions.

Claire put all thoughts of them out of her mind as soon as she heard the front door close. “I’m in here,” she called. She was still mostly in uniform, though she’d taken off the blouse and was wearing a plain white undershirt. She’d also untied her hair so it hung loose on her shoulders.

Jodie cautiously came into the bedroom, pausing at the threshold. “Hey...”

“Hey.” Claire frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you mad?”

“Mad? About...”

“I fucked up your case. Randall told me he can’t talk. If I hadn’t--”

Claire laughed and crossed the room to take Jodie into her arms. “You could have knocked his damn head off and I wouldn’t give a damn. You were so amazing today.” She stepped back and looked her over. “Are you sure you’re okay? Did your arm bruise?”

“No, it’s fine.” She rubbed the spot through her sleeve. “I was just nervous because you never came by to check on me.”

“You said... I thought...”

Jodie shook her head. “I know. I don’t know why, and I know that you probably assumed I wanted you to stay away. I would have sent you away if you had shown up. But the more time passed without seeing you, I thought, well, maybe...”

Claire kissed Jodie between the eyebrows. “I will never be mad at you for defending yourself. You’re my hero.”

“Where’s the asshole now?”

Claire squeezed Jodie’s uninjured shoulder and pulled away to go back to the suitcase. “Hospital. He’s refusing to cooperate even in writing, so I don’t think it matters that you broke his jaw.”

“I guess that makes me feel a little less guilty.” She looked at the suitcase. “Sorry, where are you going?”

“We’re going to the mayor’s residence.”

“With a suitcase?”

Claire looked at her. “Yeah. Patricia offered. Given everything that’s happened, I thought it would be better to err on the side of caution. They have a wall and a gate. It’s not likely anyone will get close enough to try anything.”

Jodie crossed her arms over her chest. “Claire, I’m not leaving my home.”

“Yes, you are. We are. Just until this whole thing with Wyman is settled.”

“This is our home.” She raised her voice slightly. “You’re going to let these guys run us out of our home?”

Claire went back to her. “These guys have the kind of records you don’t mess around with. And that’s just the two we’ve been able to catch. Who knows what the others are capable of? I’m not taking the chance.”

“I won’t let these guys run me from my home.”

Claire snapped, “And I won’t walk in to find someone else I love...” She caught herself, the shouted words dying in a choked sob. She twisted away from Jodie and put a hand over her face. She was shaking everywhere. All she could see was a bloody bed and Elaine Mallory’s wide-open eyes. Nausea threatened to overtake her but she fought it down, compromising with a ragged sob.

She didn’t remember dropping to her knees, but she felt Jodie’s arms going around her, pulling her close.

“I’m sorry,” Jodie whispered. “I wasn’t thinking about her.”

Claire found one of Jodie’s hands with hers and squeezed. “I can’t lose you, Jodie. I just barely survived losing Elaine. If I lost you...”

“You won’t.” Jodie squeezed Claire tighter and kissed her hair. “I’ll go. I’ll go.”

“Thank you.”

They sat on the floor together until Claire felt like herself again. Jodie whispered, “Come here,” and helped her up to the foot of the bed. They sat next to each other and Jodie moved her lips to Claire’s neck. Claire closed her eyes and hummed softly, appreciating the tender kisses until she noticed Jodie was working the button on her pants.

“Jodie...?”

“I was almost abducted today. I’ve been buzzed ever since it happened.” She moved her lips to kiss Claire’s jaw. “I just need to be reminded I survived. And I’m not going to have sex with the mayor down the hall, so tonight is our only chance. I can do it myself in the shower if you’re not--”

“No.” Claire took Jodie’s hand, guiding it into her pants. She lifted her hips and turned her head. Their lips met and Jodie repositioned her wrist to get a better angle. Claire started to lean back, easing Jodie’s body so she would end up on laying on top of her.

Something shattered outside.

Jodie jerked her hand back as Claire fastened her pants, both jumping up and moving toward the door.

“Jodie...”

“Don’t tell me to hide.”

“No. I was going to tell you to stay by me in case that was a distraction.”

Claire retrieved her gun from the belt she’d discarded earlier and led the way out of the bedroom. Tires screeched on the road, but that didn’t mean the threat was gone. She paused at the doorway to the living room and watched Jodie run into the kitchen. She retrieved one of the stainless steel knives from the wooden block next to the stove. Claire remembered unwrapping those knives on Christmas morning, a gift honoring her then-newfound love of cooking. The word CURRAN was written in gold script on the handles.

She pushed those thoughts away to focus on the current threat. Jodie came back to her, nodding that she was ready for whatever might happen. Claire opened the front door, swept the porch to confirm it was clear, and stepped out onto the snowy lawn.

Her squad car was on fire.

The driver’s side window was broken, and bright orange flames curled up over the roof. More fire bloomed across the front and back seats. Steam rose from the frost that had accumulated on the car’s body since she got home, and the snow around it was quickly evaporating into puddles of shimmering water. It would have been beautiful under other circumstances, but Claire only searched the area for signs of the arsonist.

“Stay close to the wall,” she told Jodie as she ran across the lawn. Her socks were immediately soaked through and her toes were numb as she stood on the edge of the road and looked in both directions. There were no tracks since the road had been plowed earlier in the day.

“Claire?”

“Yeah,” she said, turning back toward the house.

Jodie was staring at the burning car. “I think I’m ready to move into the mayor’s residence.”

“Yeah.”

Claire checked the lawn again to make sure no one was lurking in the shadows. They’d go inside, she would double-check every door and window while Jodie called the fire department, and then they would get the hell out of the house.

***

The town’s volunteer firefighters managed to extinguish the fire without much trouble, but the squad car was left as a smoldering ruin in the aftermath. Plumes of grey smoke swirled up into the air. Claire noticed the low clouds had returned, and assumed snow would start falling by morning. She and Jodie were on the porch of their house as Alex Crawford examined the scene. The chief was off-duty but had arrived in her personal vehicle when she heard what was going on.

Claire had used the time before their arrival to take photos of the driveway and lawn. Most of the snow around the car had melted, but she managed to get shots of a few scattered footprints that didn’t belong to her or Jodie.

When the fire was out and Alex had a chance to examine the remains, she walked over to join them on the porch.

“Very preliminary, nothing written down, but I would say this is arson.”

“I won’t quote you on that, Chief,” Claire said.

Alex smiled wryly and gestured at the driver’s side window. “They broke the glass with a stone, which is lying on the passenger seat, then tossed in a bottle that shattered against the steering wheel. Then they lit a match and...” She made an explosion with her hands. “Are you two okay?”

“We’re fine. We have a place to stay tonight. Deputy Ewing is going to watch the house to make sure they don’t come back.”

“Do you need a ride to where you’re staying?”

Claire nodded. “That would be appreciated. Thank you.”

She put the bags in the back of Alex’s truck and called to make sure the Hood-Colbys were ready for their arrival. Then she and Jodie squeezed into the truck next to Alex and headed out. Jodie twisted to look over her shoulder at their house, and Claire squeezed her hand as soon as it was out of sight.

The mayor’s wife, Jill, was waiting in the door when Alex pulled through the gate. “Swanky sort of safe house,” she said under her breath.

“Maybe you’ll get lucky and someone will try to kill you soon.”

“Been there, done that,” Alex said. “I like a quiet, boring life.”

Jill came out onto the porch, and Claire saw that a little girl had been peeking around the corner of the doorway behind her. Alex apologized for dumping them and running, but she wanted to get back to finish securing the scene at their house.

“Claire, Jodie.” She smiled and greeted Jodie with a hug. “Welcome to the big house.”

“Sorry for imposing on you,” Jodie said.

Jill waved off the apology and ushered them inside. “We’re grateful for the company. And Izzy...” She closed the door to see her daughter had retreated back to hide behind the stair railing. “Apparently, Isabel is shy, but she really likes quizzing new people. Come on, honey. You remember Deputy Claire and Miss Jodie. And now her name is Sheriff Claire, so remember that.”

Isabel marched out onto the porch, but her face remained unsure. “Hi, Sheriff Claire.”

“Hi, Izzy.”

To Jodie, she said, “What’s your job?”

Jill looked horrified, but Jodie only laughed. “I fix cars.”

“Real cars?” Isabel said, her worry evaporating.

“Yep. Cars, trucks, motorcycles, I do all of it.”

Isabel turned without another word and ran up the stairs, lifting her knees as high as she could to take them two at a time.

“Uh-oh,” Jill laughed. “You’ve done it now. These days she’s really fascinated by what people do for a living. And she loves, loves, loves cars.” She smoothed her hand over her hair and looked at them, their bags, and then toward the kitchen. “Have you eaten...?”

They confirmed they had. Claire said, “We’ll do our best to stay out of your way while we’re here.”

Isabel came running downstairs and stopped in front of Jodie. She held up a small yellow Hot Wheels car cupped with both hands. When she spoke, she carefully formed each word. “Ford Tuh-ri-no Co-bwa,” she said, then corrected herself. “Co-bra.”

Jodie said, “A 1969, if I’m not mistaken. It’s awesome.”

“It’s my favorite,” Isabel whispered.

“Well, I’d really like to see the rest once I get settled in.”

Isabel beamed, nodded, and ran back upstairs with the toy.

Jill said, “Well, I know how Jodie’s going to be spending her stay with us. I hope you brought a book or something, Claire.”

Claire had been dreading this moment. “Actually, I’m... I’m just dropping Jodie off. I’m heading back out.”

“The hell you are,” Jodie said, then looked to make sure Isabel hadn’t returned. “Claire. You’re not going after them.”

Claire didn’t waver. “I am.”

Jill took a step back. “I have some papers to grade, so...”

Jodie waited until she was gone, then stepped closer to Claire. “No.”

“I have to.”

“You said you didn’t want to relive what happened in Chicago,” Jodie said. “Have you ever wondered what Elaine was going through while you were missing? I don’t want to get word from Alex that she’s pulled you out of a wrecked car. I don’t want to lay awake tonight wondering if I’m never going to see you again.”

Claire looked down at her feet. “If not me, who? Who is going to help those women? Who is going to stop Wyman from doing this over and over again?”

Jodie stepped back and turned away from her. “Go.”

Claire sighed. “Jodie...”

“Just go.” Her voice was defeated and sad, which was worse than anger would have been.

“I love you,” Claire said.

“Yeah, I know.”

Jodie didn’t look at her as she headed up the stairs to go look at Isabel’s cars. Claire waited until she heard the sound of the seven-year-old’s voice before she let herself out of the house.

***

Claire walked back to their house, nearly a mile in blustery wind that occasionally peppered her face with ice crystals. It was a torturous walk, but it was one she felt she deserved. The street in front of her house was ridiculously crowded, with the fire engine parked on one side, the town’s only remaining squad car on the other, and a tow truck parked sideways in the road with its warning lights flashing on their neighbor’s houses. Yellow crime scene tape had been stretched between the mailbox and the fence’s end post, blocking their driveway and the charred wreckage of her cruiser.

Alex saw her coming and came to meet her. “Are you like one of those dogs who instinctively wanders home if the gate is left unlocked?”

“Yeah, maybe. Are you going to take the car?”

“We were about to start loading it up. Why?”

“I just need it out of my way.”

Alex looked at her and decided not to push it. “Give us about twenty minutes.”

Claire nodded and went into the house. In a town where it was easy to walk pretty much everywhere, it was easy to get by with just Jodie’s car and the squad car. But they had another vehicle, which they kept in a garage at the end of the driveway. She had to dig through their junk drawer to find the keys, but they were there. She knew the car would run because Jodie made it a point of pride to give the car a check-up every few months.

“I’d be a pretty shit mechanic if I had a brick sitting in my backyard,” she said. “I know I wouldn’t trust that mechanic to work on my car.”

The warning beep of the tow truck echoed through the house. While the squad car was being loaded onto the bed, she went down the hall to retrieve some extra ammunition. She had no idea what she was going to face in the next few hours, but she wanted to be prepared. She passed a framed photo on the wall, the same photo she passed every day but had stopped noticing a long time ago, so she went back and made herself look at it.

Their wedding day, standing with the harbor behind them. Claire, looking above the camera with a pained look. Jodie, looking off to the left, caught mid-laugh at Claire’s discomfort at posing for the picture. They were both in button-down shirts, but Jodie wore a bright blue bowtie with hers. She didn’t remember who had taken the picture. Rucker, Randall, a few other cops, and some of Jodie’s coworkers were all there, but she couldn’t remember who had been the one to ask for an official picture.

“This is torture for you, isn’t it?” Jodie had asked as she pressed up against Claire’s left shoulder.

“The ends justify the means. I can handle it. As long as you’re here.” Claire paused. “But it’s almost over, right?” Jodie laughed, and that’s when the picture was taken.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She took it out and saw the first line of Jodie’s text displayed on the screen. “I love you.” Claire took a breath and then opened the full message. “It was petty and stupid of me not to say it, tonight of all nights, given what you’re doing.”

Jodie had definitely said it. She said it by being angry with her for not staying, by being scared and wanting her to be safe. She may not have said the words, but the feeling was definitely expressed in an unmistakable way.

“You were right to be angry,” Claire wrote in a reply, “but I also don’t believe I’m wrong. I’ll be safe. I love you.”

“I love you too,” arrived within ten seconds of Claire sending the response.

She turned off the phone and slipped it into her pocket. A glance through the front window showed her that the driveway was clear, so she turned out the lights and locked up the house. Her feet crunched the snow as she crossed the lawn and pushed up the rusty garage door. Worktables were cluttered with junk and tools lined all three walls, but the majority of the space was filled by a tarp-covered car. She stared at the cloth and what she knew lay under it, what the car symbolized. She’d needed a car that wasn’t traceable to her. She had no destination in mind beyond “away,” distance, and every city she passed achieved that goal.

There were weeks when the car was her home. She’d slept in every seat of it, sometimes spent twenty-four hours straight behind the wheel, and for a time she’d been positive she would die in it.

Claire stepped into the gap on the driver’s side, gripped the tarp, and slowly pulled it back. Dark blue chrome that gleamed even in the barely-perceptible light. She gathered the tarp in her arms and dumped it on the table, opened the door as far as she could, and slipped into the driver’s seat. She wrapped her fingers around the cold leather of the steering wheel.

She was transported back in time, to Saxe, Texas. Oklahoma City. Road Ends, Montana. Shepherd, Washington. Crystal Springs, Nevada. She remembered men who held her prisoner, who put guns to her head, who threatened and hurt her, who tied her to the back of a car and dragged her through a desert. She lowered her head and closed her eyes. She flexed her fingers on the wheel. Starting the car would be waking up a side of herself she’d long ago put to bed.

It had always been safer to be someone else. To be Chloe Lassiter, Carmen Landry, Claire Lowe. Or Claire Curran.

She could hide. She could drive back to the mayor’s residence, go upstairs, and watch Jodie play Hot Wheels with a seven year old. It sounded like paradise, honestly, even if she wasn’t comparing it to this freezing car and the threat posed by a group of men who had already proven themselves capable of murder. She leaned forward and put her head on the wheel.

It didn’t matter what name she used, she was still the same person she always was. She was the person who jumped into the fire to save someone else from burning. She took the keys out of her pocket and sat up straight as she slipped them into the ignition.

The Mustang roared to life.