I plugged it in the charger at speed, almost swerving out of the lane. But traffic was light and I knew I wouldn’t hurt anybody. If a cop tried to pull me over, he’d have to chase me to the press conference. I wasn’t stopping for anybody.
I kept a hand on the steering wheel. My speed went to sixty, then seventy on streets with a forty-miles-per-hour limit. I steered around cars, vans, and SUVs.
I pressed the button to call Gabby and held the phone to my ear.
The phone rang and rang. She didn’t pick up.
I scrolled to the text function, hit dictate, and sent her a text.
A blue text bubble popped onto the screen:
No! I hit Route 202 and accelerated to eighty, then eighty-five. The road rumbled. The asphalt was smooth. My hand gripped the wheel, steady.
I tried to think who else to contact. Martin. I scrolled to his number and called. I let it ring and ring, then hung up. He must have been in surgery. He wasn’t easy to reach but he always called back. But I knew it would be too late.
I zoomed ahead on Route 202, weaving in and out of lanes. I tried to accelerate but the car shuddered, underpowered. If I were in the Maserati, I’d have been there yesterday.
I called my mother. She could reach Gabby. I held the phone to my ear. It rang and rang, then went to voicemail.
I called my father. It rang, then I remembered the FBI had seized his phone.
I thought fast. My parents would be at the office. I started to call the main number, then remembered I unplugged the phone yesterday.
I called 911, a Hail Mary pass. As soon as the call connected, I said, “Hello, emergency, I’m calling because my sister’s life is in danger and—”
“Sir,” the dispatcher said calmly. “Please let me have your name and address.”
I told her. “But it’s not about me, it’s about my sister, she’s at Hessian Post Plaza off of Route 202, giving a press conference. I’m on my way there—”
“Excuse me, sir. Are you with your sister at this time?”
“No, but someone’s going to kill her. It’s part of a conspiracy and this guy is a killer—”
“Sir, if this is a joke and—”
“It’s not, I swear. You have to believe me. Send the cops to Hessian Post Plaza.”
“Sir, please speak more slowly—”
I hung up, knowing I couldn’t explain. I’d be there in seven minutes, faster than any cop anyway. I whizzed past corporate centers and shopping centers. I could see Hessian Post Plaza in the distance on the right.
I checked the clock. It was eleven o’clock.
I could only pray they were running late.
I spotted an old brown Honda behind me and felt like I had seen it before, but I couldn’t be sure.
I accelerated, clenching my teeth.