J. Jance - Web of Evil

Watching the lights of the not-quite-sleeping city speed past outside the window, Ali knew it was late but she didn't know how late. Somehow, in the course of the struggle on Robert Lane, her wristwatch had disappeared. Huddled too far in the corner of the backseat to be able to see the clock on the dash, Ali was damned if she'd ask Jake Maxwell for the time of day. Finally, as they sped through Ontario, she caught sight of a huge neon clock at a Ford dealership. It was 2:12 exactly. No wonder she was tired.

As they drove, Ali couldn't help being struck by the latest irony in her situation. Earlier that evening and without either her knowledge or permission, someone working for the Joaquin organization had followed her every move by using the very tracking device that, even now, was still in her pocket. Through the soft denim material, she could feel the presence of that smooth round disk. Fortunatelyor unfortunately, depending on your point of viewthe people who had been so vitally interested in her whereabouts earlier were now all under arrest. So even though it was technically possible for someone to track her, it seemed unlikely that anyone would do so.

With a sinking heart, Ali realized that all the high-tech GPS technology in the world wasn't going to save her and her son. When it came to being rescued, she and Chris were on their own.

Still maintaining an uneasy silence, they traveled eastbound for some time. As they approached the merge with the 60, Ali's hopes rose. Off to the right, she saw the lights of a phalanx of emergency vehicles sweeping onto I-10 ahead of them. When Ali first caught sight of them, she hardly dared breathe. She watched them for a few hopeful moments, praying that the lights were somehow related to what was happening to them, praying that Jake wouldn't notice. And he didn't. But by the time Chris negotiated the I-10/60 merge with its tangle of complicated traffic and disappearing lanes, the parade of cop cars or ambulances or whatever that Ali had put such hope in had shot on far ahead and completely out of sight.

Despairing, Ali closed her eyes and concentrated on some straightforward praying.

At last Chris spoke again. "Where are we going?"

"Don't worry," Jake replied. "Just stay on the Ten. I'll tell you where to turn. It won't be for a while yet."

"If we're going very far, we'll need to stop for gas."

Ali caught her breath as Jake leaned forward and peered over the front seat.

"All right," he said finally, having read the gauge for himself. "I guess you're right. We do need gas. Pull off at the next exit, but find a full-service pump. No one gets in or out of the vehicle while we're stopped, understand? No one!"

Somewhere in Beaumont they pulled off the freeway and stopped at a convenience mart. While the three of them sat in the car and waited for the slow-moving attendant to fill the tank, Ali was startled by the ringing of her phone. She looked at the readout.

"It's my mother," she said. "She was supposed to come by the house tonight. If she did, she's probably upset that I'm not there. She'll be worried. She might even call the cops."

"Answer it then," Jake said. "But put the phone on speaker first, and don't try anything funny. Understand?"

Ali understood all too well.

"Alison?" Edie said when she heard her daughter's voice. "Are you all right? Where are you?"

Sometime earlierwas it hours or days?with an armed and unstable April Gaddis standing in the kitchen at Robert Lane, Ali had somehow managed to convey the gravity of the situation to Dave by speaking to him in a kind of code. Now, though, with Jake Maxwell's gun digging into her ribs and with him privy to both sides of the conversation, speaking to Edie in code simply wasn't possible.

"I'm fine, Mom," Ali said as reassuringly as possible. "I got called away from the house by an emergency with an old friend. There wasn't time to let you know. I'm sorry."

"You couldn't have called?"

"No. Calling just wasn't possible."

"Well," Edie said, sounding both perplexed and disgruntled, "the gate is shut. A cab brought me over, but I can't get inside. What am I supposed to do, stand around here all night?"

Ali could have given her the gate code, but she didn't. If something happened and Ali and Chris didn't survive, the parked Cayenne would be the only real evidence as to what had happened to them. Ali didn't want that evidence disturbed.

"Use the cab and find a hotel then," she said. "I won't be able to get back there before sometime tomorrow."

"What about Chris?" Edie asked. "Where is he?"

"Staying with friends," Ali said.

"It's just that it's not like you to be so irresponsible, Ali," Edie said. "You're sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine," Ali said quickly. "I've got to go now, Mom. Take care. I love you."

It hurt to think those might be the last words Edie Lawson ever heard from her daughter, but they were the best Ali could do.

Seconds later they were back under way. "You still haven't said where we're going," Chris reminded Jake.

"That's because you still don't need to know."

"Mexico," Ali supplied. "Oaxaca. At least that's what he told me earlier."

"Shut up!" Jake said.

The barrel of his gun dug deeper into Ali's ribs, but she was grateful that it was pointed in her direction rather than in Chris's. He had his whole life ahead of him. As for hers? If she had to gamble her life to save her son's, that's exactly what she'd do.

Ali looked out across the darkened desert where mountains loomed black against a star-studded sky. They were only a few miles west of the Highway 111 turnoff and the place where the speeding train had plowed into a parked Camrythe place where Paul had died. Ali couldn't help wondering if maybe she and Chris were destined to die there as wellin much the same manner.

"I need to take a leak," Chris said from the front seat.

"Me, too," Ali added quickly. "I had way too much coffee earlier."

Jake immediately seemed to assume that their request for a pit stop was nothing but a ploy. And up to a point it was. Although Ali genuinely needed to use the facilities, it was also her sincere hope that in the process of getting in and out of the car, there would be an opportunity for Chris, at least, to get away.

"You'll just have to wait," Jake said. "You can hold it for a while."

Soon, though, and now that she was thinking about it, Ali really couldn't hold it any longer. She had drunk way too much coffee.

"I really do need to go," she said.

"I told you, we're not stopping."

"Fine," Ali said. "If you don't mind sitting in a puddle of urine, neither do I."

"There's a rest area coming up in a few minutes," Chris said. "Maybe we could stop there."

"Oh, for God's sake!" Jake exclaimed. "Stop then. By all means, but the two of you go in and out of the restroom one at a time, and your cell phone stays with me. Give it to me. Yours, too, if you've got one," Jake told Chris. "Hand it over."

As Chris signaled to merge onto the rest area exit ramp, Jake held out his hand to collect first Chris's phone and then Ali's. Chris passed his back. Involved in reluctantly handing over her own, Ali never saw exactly what happened. One moment they were slowing to exit the highway. The next the desert came alive with the flashing lights of a dozen police and emergency vehicles as the Alero gave a sudden violent lurch and veered to one side. Then it staggered forward on the rims of four instantly flattened tires.

"Nail strips!" Jake shouted in a panic. "Keep driving. Keep driving."

But Chris had already reached another conclusion and slammed on the brakes. As the vehicle slowed and came to a stop, Ali heard a voice she barely recognized as her own, screaming at her son.

"Get out," she screeched at him. "Go! Go! Go! I'm right behind you."