Майкл Корита - If She Wakes

“No.”

“You’re going to have to,” Abby said, and as she spoke, her eyes drifted higher on the mirror, and she estimated the distance to the curb and the slope that led over the jogging path and down to the boardwalk and that deep-channel harbor. If she could get it in reverse and keep her foot on the gas, she’d at least be able to take this sociopath down with her.

“You think you’re done?” the kid said, sounding surprised. “That’s a disappointing attitude from someone with your resilience.”

It was less than thirty feet to the curb, and once she cleared that, gravity might handle the rest. If the kid fired, the bullet was going to obliterate Abby’s brain and any control she had over the wheel and the gas pedal, but as long as momentum and gravity worked together, the Tahoe might make the water.

“I was thinking we could go back to the house in Tenants Harbor,” the kid said, and his smile brightened when Abby’s eyes returned to him. “Yes, I knew you were there. Beautiful spot. Love that detached studio too. Made me feel creative. The whole place is nice and peaceful, though, much better than this parking lot. And we’ll need to pick up your guns. They’re likely to concern the Realtor.”

When Abby still didn’t move, the kid sighed and said, “If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead by now, get it?”

Abby pulled the gearshift down. She considered reverse, passed it, and put the car into drive.

“How’d you find me?” she asked.

“Bauer’s phone is in the glove box, and I enabled tracking. I did the same to yours, but you were smart enough to get rid of that one. You didn’t check the Tahoe out fully, though. Poor choice, Abby.”

All day and all night, Abby had believed she was off the grid, hidden. In reality, she’d been exposed and at the kid’s mercy.

“Why’d you let me live?” Abby asked, pulling out of the parking lot and turning right, then left, putting them back on Route 1, headed south.

“Priorities. You were there for the taking if I needed to do it, but the phone was the bigger problem, and I didn’t think you had that. Tell me, where was it?”

“Under the driver’s seat. You didn’t check the Chrysler out fully. Poor choice, asshole.”

The kid laughed, and suddenly the pressure of the gun was gone from Abby’s skull. “I like you,” the kid said. “I really do.”

“It’s not mutual.”

“I struggle at first impressions. Give me time.”

“Okay,” Abby said, and then she added, “Dax.”

It was the only card she had to play, the only thing she knew about him that might make him pause, but he took it in stride.

“There aren’t many people left who call me that, but go right ahead. It’s always been my preference. And, Abby? Keep a close eye on your speed, please. You’re going pretty slow, and it would be a bad day to be pulled over.”

“Where am I driving?”

“I told you.”

“We’re really going back to the house in Tenants Harbor?”

“I think we should. We could use a private, peaceful place like that to talk.”

“Not much to talk about. You’ve won.”

“Plenty to talk about, and if you hadn’t polluted Penobscot Bay with that phone, we might already understand each other better. But I’ve always preferred face-to-face conversations, anyhow. We’re going to be together for a while. Gerry is waiting on your call, and you will need to be alive to make that. Good news for you, right?”

“Gerry?”

“That’s the name of the man who answered the other phone. Gerry Connors. Crusty old bastard. I liked him. For a long time, I liked Gerry just fine.”

“He’s the German?”

“No. He’s not. But we’ll get to the German before we’re done, I think. I’m pretty sure we’re going to need to do that.”

He shifted in the backseat, and Abby looked in the mirror again and saw that he’d hooked his right foot over his left knee, as relaxed as a passenger in a chauffeured car. Which, Abby supposed, was exactly what he was now.

“You don’t work for him?”

“I did. But I think the relationship is on the rocks at this point.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Sure you do.” He leaned forward. “You’ve already tested him. You offered him the phone for my life once. You’re going to do the same thing again.”

How did he know this? He’d known Abby’s location; he knew her movements, her calls, her words. How was he so damned omniscient?

“By the way, Abby, where is the phone now?”

She could lie, but what was the point? “My jeans. Front right pocket.”

The kid nodded, satisfied. He leaned back in the seat, slouched and nearly uninterested, although the gun was still pointed at Abby’s back. It would be easy to spin the car and throw off his balance, and Abby thought there was a good chance she could do that and buy enough time to get out, but she couldn’t imagine she’d buy enough time to get out and find cover. The kid would shoot before then. Abby could flip the car, of course, but then she was as likely to die as he was.

“Do you know what’s on it?” the kid asked. “Do you actually have a clue what’s on the phone?”

“No.”

“It’s just a phone?”

Abby hesitated but realized there was no point in holding out. “It’s a fake. Looks like an iPhone, but it isn’t. As far as I can tell, it’s not really a phone at all.”

For the first time, the kid showed real interest. He shifted into the middle of the seat, where he could keep the gun trained on Abby’s head and watch all of her movements, and said, “Pass it back to me, please. I’m trusting that you won’t reach for the gun in your jacket instead. Remember, you’re still alive due to my choices and to yours. Make the right ones.”

Abby took her right hand off the wheel, slid the phone out of her pocket, and passed it back. The kid accepted it and leaned away. For a while, he didn’t so much as glance at the phone; he kept his eyes on Abby, assessing her.

“Keep driving, and you’ll keep living,” he said. “Can you do that? Keep driving?”

“Yes.”

The kid looked away then. Down at the phone. The gun was still in his hand, but his attention was compromised.

Flip the car. Just do it, you coward, flip it and take your chances. You’ll have witnesses and people calling 911 and police cars screaming out here...

She kept driving. She couldn’t will herself to flip the car, even though she’d walked away from worse before. She tried to tell herself it was because of the gun in the kid’s hand.

While Abby drove, the kid alternated between glancing at her and studying the phone. He never lowered the gun, keeping it in his right hand as he turned the phone over carefully in his left. When he finally spoke, it was softly, almost to himself.

“Didn’t expect that.”

Abby didn’t respond. The kid was silent for a moment, and then he looked up and said, “You know who’s on the screen, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“A picture of Tara. Interesting. Any idea why that would be there?”

“No.”

“But you’ve taken a swing at it, I see. It looks like you tried her name, maybe?”

Abby nodded.

“Do you know why that didn’t work?”

“No.”

“Guess.” The kid slouched back against the seat, the phone in his pocket now, all of his attention on Abby. “Show me some promise, Kaplan. Offer a strong theory.”

“It’s all fake.”

“What does that mean?”

“That the picture is pointless, maybe. A smoke screen. It’s not how you unlock the phone.” She glanced in the mirror and saw the kid staring intently at her.

“How do you think the phone is unlocked, then?”

“I’m not sure.”