I Will Find You(51)
A crowd has formed. Most stop to watch for a few seconds. Some stand to see how it all plays out. I lower my head and let myself blend in with the onlookers. My pulse is back under control now. I start whistling as I walk east, trying so hard to look casual and inconspicuous that I feel like I stick out like a cigarette at a fitness club.
A few blocks later, I risk glancing behind me. No one is following me. No one is chasing me. I start whistling louder now, and a smile, a real live smile, comes to my face.
I’m free.
Chapter
20
When Rachel finally got to her front door, bone-weary exhausted in a way she had never experienced before, her sister Cheryl was pacing on the front stoop.
“What the hell, Rachel?”
“Let me just get inside, okay?”
“You helped David escape?”
Rachel opened her mouth, closed it. “Just come inside.”
“Rachel—”
“Inside.”
She pulled her keys out of her purse. Rachel lived in what was generously dubbed a “garden apartment.” She’d recently applied for a job with a free local paper, a job for which she was immensely overqualified—but hey, beggars can’t be choosy. The editor, Kathy Corbera, one of her favorite journalism professors, had advocated for her, but in the end, the publisher knew about her past and wanted to avoid even the slightest whiff of scandal. Understandable in today’s climate.
Rachel pushed open the door and headed straight for the kitchen. Cheryl was close behind her.
“Rachel?”
She didn’t bother to respond. Every part of her ached and begged for numb. Rachel had never needed a drink so badly. The Woodford Reserve was in the cabinet next to the refrigerator. She grabbed the bottle.
“You want one?”
Cheryl frowned. “Uh, I’m pregnant, remember?”
“One won’t hurt,” she said, pulling down a glass from the cabinet. “I read that somewhere.”
“Are you for real?”
“You’re sure you don’t want some?”
Cheryl just stared daggers. “What the actual fuck, Rachel?”
Rachel filled the glass with ice and poured. “It’s not what you think.”
“You call me all mysterious yesterday. You say you’re visiting David, just like that, out of the blue. You say we need to talk when you get back home and now…?”
Rachel sucked down a sip.
“Was this what you wanted to tell me?” Cheryl continued. “That you were going to help him escape?”
“No, of course not. I had no idea he was going to escape.”
“So, what, your being up at Briggs was just a wild coincidence?”
“No.”
“Talk to me, Rach.”
Her sister. Her beautiful, pregnant sister. Cheryl had been through such hell. Five years ago, Matthew’s murder had knocked her to her knees, and Rachel never thought that her sister would be able to get up again. To the outside world, Cheryl was moving on. New husband, pregnant, new position. But she wasn’t. Not really. She was trying to build something, something new and strong, but Rachel knew that it was still flimsy and flyaway. Life is fragile at the best of times. The foundation is always shifting beneath our feet.
“Please,” Cheryl said. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“I’m trying.”
Her sister looked suddenly small and vulnerable. She was almost cringing, as though waiting for the blow that she knew was coming. Rachel tried to rehearse the words in her head, but they all came out sounding stilted and weird. You could rip this bandage off slowly or quickly, but either way, this was going to hurt.
“I want to show you something.”
“Okay.”
“But I don’t want you to freak out.”
“Seriously?”
Rachel had given the hard copy she’d printed out to David, but she had the amusement-park pic she’d snapped at Irene’s house on her phone. She took one more gulp of the bourbon, closed her eyes, let it warm her. Then she grabbed her phone. She hit the Photos icon and started swiping. Cheryl had sidled up next to her. She was watching over Rachel’s shoulder.
Rachel found the photo and stopped.
“I don’t understand,” Cheryl said. “Who’s this woman and these kids?”
Then Rachel put her thumb and index finger on the boy behind them and zoomed in on his face.
Chapter
21
The FBI surveillance van carrying Max and Sarah sped to a stop in front of Hilde Winslow’s building. Max spotted six cruisers and an ambulance. Sarah was staring at a computer monitor and talking via her earpiece to someone on the phone. She signaled that it was important and for Max to go out on his own. Max nodded as the van’s side door slid open.
An agent Max didn’t know said, “Special Agent Bernstein? The suspect got away.”
“I heard on the radio.”
“The police are in pursuit. They’re confident they’ll catch him.”
Max wasn’t so sure. It was a big city with plenty of nooks and crannies and human beings. It was always easier to vanish when in plain sight. He and Sarah had been watching the attempted capture in the high-tech FBI van, live-streaming four of the pursuing officers’ bodycams as they ascended to the roof.