The choice should be easy. I should simply do what’s right and try to rescue Laura. But being wanted for murder creates a delicate balance in my universe. Tipping to either side, even the slightest bit, could result in my being caught.
At first I convince myself that it’s not cowardly to ignore my gut on this. It’s survival. Giving up my ability to survive in order to rescue Laura, when I could be entirely wrong about her being in that house, is not wise.
Instead of spending time watching Frank Dotson’s house, I should be digging up all the evidence I need to make my case back home, so I can save myself when the time comes. I should be digging into Keegan’s and Rollins’s financial situations, proving they’re criminals masquerading as cops, proving that they killed my father and made it look like suicide, proving that they murdered Brent and set me up. I should be trying to figure out who else is in it with them.
But I’ve tried over the years to prove those things and have gotten nowhere. To expose them, I have to risk being found.
The idea of suicide surfaces again, but I quickly banish it. I don’t want anyone to say, “There, I told you those Coxes were suicidal. It’s in their blood. Like father, like daughter.” No, they’re never going to have more reason to believe my dad took his own life and left his twelve-year-old daughter to find him.
But if they find me and drag me back to Shreveport, death is inevitable anyway. I’ll never have the chance to talk.
Loneliness is a side effect of my reality. I need to talk to Hannah, just to tamp that loneliness a little. Though I’m tired and want to watch the Dotson house again tonight, I drive two hours out of town. I buy another disposable phone, activate it, and call my sister. I let it ring twice, long enough to register a “missed call.” Then I give her an hour to get away from any possible bugs in her house or car. I know this could all be for naught, because she has a child and a husband and can’t just leave whenever she wants. But when I call back, she answers.
“Hey,” she says.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“In the parking lot of Walgreens. I didn’t want to go anywhere after dark that wasn’t lit up.”
“Good. I’m sorry to get you out at night.”
“Are you all right?” she asks.
“Yes. I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“I’m glad you called,” she says. “Listen, I have a message for you.”
I draw a breath. “From who?”
“From Dylan Roberts.”
My heart jerks. “Hannah, you haven’t admitted we talk have you?”
“No, but if you sent him the thumb drive, it’s pretty obvious. Just listen. He sent a note to my in-laws’ house. The return address was another sporting goods place in Seattle, just like your package to me.”
I sigh. “Did they open it?”
“No, they think it’s something else for Jeff ’s birthday.”
“What does the note say?”
“It says, ‘Tell her to create a dummy e-mail address and contact me at this address. Urgent. My eyes are opening.’ ”
She reads out his e-mail address, and I write it down. “So you think I should risk contacting him?”
“You’re smart. Do what you’re doing with me. Drive out of town. Go to a library and get online. Create an e-mail address. If it’s traced, it’ll be traced to the library, not to you.”
“What about him? How do I know he’s being smart? They could be watching him and intercept my e-mail.”
“I think he’s too smart for that. He knows how things work,” she says. “I think you should do it. I want you to know what he knows.”
“I’ll think about it,” I say. There’s a long pause, and I hear the wind on the line. I picture my sister standing in the parking lot at night alone. “You need to get back home.”
“Wait,” she says. “You haven’t done anything about that girl Laura, have you?”
“No. Not yet.”
“I’m begging you to stay off the radar,” she says. “Don’t mess this up trying to rescue someone else. It’s not worth it.”
I know my sister means well with those words, but as I drive back to Shady Grove, I have a lot of time to think. Laura Daly’s life isn’t worth my risk? If I’m the only one who has an inkling of where she might be, how dare I put it out of my mind? Now there might be two lives, instead of just one. Laura and a baby. What if they really are there?
I have trouble sleeping when I get back to my new apartment. I give up around four in the morning and get up and look out the window into the dark. The streetlight in front of my building is flickering, indecisive about whether to provide a safe glow for the road or snuff itself out entirely.
I don’t want to be snuffed out. I look up at the night sky, stars flickering. I ask God if I still have a function. Or have all my lies robbed me of my soul? Am I just a liar with a fake ID? Or does God see me as a living, breathing, compassionate girl who cares about Laura Daly?
For someone who doesn’t know if she believes in God, I’m sure aware of him a lot. I recognize that irony.
As the sun blanches the darkness from the sky, slowly brightening into day, I make my decision. I will save Laura Daly if I can, no matter what it means for me.