Chapter 3 - THE FIRST MISTAKE
Ray stared at his phone.
I stared at Ray.
Then he ended the call.
“Claire.”
“Stay where you are.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand enough.”
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You were searching for us in the dark.”
“I was searching for the drive.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
Ray looked down the highway.
“No.”
His voice sounded different now.
Scared.
“Actually, you should be terrified.”
Behind the drainage pipe, Noah made a tiny coughing sound.
Ray heard it.
His eyes moved.
I stepped between him and the pipe.
“Don’t look at my son.”
“Claire, your parents told me they were trying to scare you.”
“My parents left a six-year-old with asthma beside a freezing highway.”
“I didn’t know Noah was with you.”
I laughed once.
It came out hard.
“You heard my mother ask about him.”
Ray rubbed his face.
“That’s when I realized this had gone too far.”
“When?”
“Ten minutes ago.”
“Convenient.”
He reached slowly into his jacket.
I lifted the rock.
“Take your hand out.”
“My phone.”
“Leave it.”
He did.
Ray looked fifty-five that night.
For the first time, he looked seventy.
“Your father called me around midnight,” he said. “He told me you stole business records.”
“I copied records with my name all over them.”
“He said you were trying to blackmail him.”
“With what?”
Ray said nothing.
“Exactly.”
The wind cut across the highway.
Noah coughed again.
I made a decision.
“Give me the truck keys.”
Ray stared at me.
“What?”
“Keys.”
“Claire—”
“My son needs warmth.”
“If you take the truck, Walter will know I helped.”
“He asked you to leave us out here.”
“He’ll destroy me.”
“Get in line.”
Ray flinched.
Then he pulled the keys from his pocket.
Before he handed them over, headlights appeared from the south.
This time they stayed on.
Bright.
Fast.
Ray turned.
“Oh, hell.”
“What?”
“That’s Walter.”
My father’s SUV came around the bend.
Ray grabbed my arm.
“Get Noah.”
I twisted free.
“Don’t touch me.”
“If he sees you, this gets worse.”
“It already got worse.”
The SUV accelerated.
Ray ran to the pickup.
I yanked Noah from the pipe.
“Run.”
My son’s little boots slipped in the gravel.
I lifted him and carried him to the passenger side.
Ray climbed behind the wheel.
“You drive,” I snapped.
He started the engine.
Walter’s SUV was maybe three hundred yards away.
Ray pulled onto the highway.
“Seat belt.”
I buckled Noah in.
The pickup shuddered as Ray pushed it harder.
Behind us, Dad’s headlights filled the mirrors.
Noah looked back.
“Grandpa’s coming!”
“I know.”
“Why is he chasing us?”
I touched his face.
“Don’t worry about that right now.”
Walter moved into the opposite lane.
He pulled beside us.
For one second, I could see my parents clearly.
Dad driving.
Mom beside him.
Diane looked directly at me.
No tears.
No fear.
She lifted her phone.
Then smiled.
Ray’s phone rang.
He ignored it.
It rang again.
And again.
The road curved.
Walter swung the SUV toward us.
Metal slammed metal.
Noah screamed.
Ray fought the steering wheel.
“Walter!”
The truck skidded toward the shoulder.
“Hold on!”
Another impact.
My head struck the window.
The desert spun.
Ray managed to straighten the pickup.
Then my father dropped behind us.
I breathed.
“He stopped.”
Ray didn’t answer.
“Ray?”
His face had gone white.
“What?”
He pointed ahead.
Blue lights flashed in the distance.
Police.
Relief hit me.
Then Ray whispered, “Claire, those cops aren’t coming to rescue you.”
My stomach tightened.
“How do you know?”
“Because your parents called them before they left you.”
“Called them about what?”
May you like
Ray looked at me.
“They told police you kidnapped Noah and threatened to kill him.”
