What Happened to the Bennetts(72)

I reached the road. Milo fired again, gaining on me.

A passing minivan swerved crazily, and I figured Milo had hit him. The tractor-trailer going the opposite direction stopped to avoid the collision.

I zoomed onto the road, fishtailing into a left turn. The minivan trailed off into a ditch. The driver of the tractor-trailer jumped out of his cab.

Milo kept firing. The tractor-trailer driver returned fire. Traffic stopped abruptly. The gunfight played out in the headlights of the cars.

I sped away to the lethal cracking of gunshots. Cars slowed to a stop. I weaved through them and kept pressure on the pedal.

I checked the rearview mirror. Behind me was darkness. So far, no SUV headlights. I didn’t know what had happened to Milo.

I raced off.





Chapter Forty-Six



I sped away, one eye on the rearview mirror. Cars appeared behind me, but none was Milo. I didn’t have time to process anything. I had to get away.

There was only one road heading out, and I kept going. In time I heard sirens. Their scream grew closer. I spotted police cruisers speeding toward me in the oncoming lane, heading to the composting plant. Their light bars flashed red and white. Traffic in their lane pulled over.

I slowed with the other cars in my lane, a temporary gaper block. Three cruisers with blaring sirens flew by, spraying gravel and silt.

I picked up speed when the traffic did, then drove as fast as I could. I turned off the main road at my first chance, heading for the back roads. It was farmland again, and the houses were far from the road and dark. I was one of the few cars, and the only sound was the shaky shuddering of my own breathing.

I drove along in the dark. I tried to control my respiration. I could feel my shirt soaked from sweat. I shook as adrenaline ebbed from my system. My body was coming to understand I was still alive.

I swallowed hard, trying to get some saliva going. I blinked my eyes clear, trying to focus. The road ahead was dark and empty, a single lane weaving through the countryside. I knew I was heading west, which was as good a direction as any. I couldn’t go south because that way was Delaware, and the FBI.

I tried to process what just happened. Milo had known what I was going to tell George. He wanted to kill me before I got the chance. But I had busted him in front of Nerone. Unfortunately, Nerone had paid the price.

I flashed on the horrifying scene. Like with Hart, Nerone’s death gave me no comfort. I felt stunned and shaken, driving forward. I thought of the security guard at the composting plant calling 911. Milo had killed him, too. My sole consolation was that I was trying to bring it to an end. I knew what I had set in motion and I could only pray it would work. All hell had broken loose tonight, but the truth was inching to the surface.

I tried to think what Milo would do next, assuming he hadn’t been killed or arrested. Soon, Big George would be hearing that Nerone had been murdered at the composting plant and wouldn’t understand why. His first call would probably be to Milo, but I couldn’t imagine what kind of explanation Milo would come up with. It would take some grade-A bullshit and Milo had never been to law school.

I breathed slowly, and my brain began to function. At some point, police scanners would report a gunfight at the composting plant and a description of Milo’s SUV. Milo had to know that he couldn’t keep a lid on his secret much longer. Something told me he wouldn’t be going back to Big George. It would be too risky. Milo would have to go on the run, and I didn’t know if Milo would stay in contact with the FBI as an informant or break with them, too.

I realized that Milo would still be after me. I knew the truth about him and I wasn’t stopping until I told Big George. The FBI would still be looking for me, and Dom would know exactly what I was up to, after the police figured out that my car was on the scene, too. The composting plant would have cameras and there had been plenty of witnesses on the road. Sooner or later, Dom would figure out that the newly black car used to be white.

The sky began to brighten as I headed uphill, on a single lane road that cut through a field. After a terrifying night, dawn was coming. The sun had yet to show its face, but its wispy golden rays brushed the darkness away, imperceptibly, inevitably.

I felt my hopes lift, without knowing why. My lungs filled, and a peace came over me. I realized I was thinking about Lucinda.

I reached for the phone, but stopped myself. I wanted to talk to her, but it was too risky. I didn’t trust the FBI not to tap our phones or bug the house. I bet that even a text could locate me.

I returned my hand to the wheel.

I didn’t know what I would say to her anyway.





Chapter Forty-Seven



The sun climbed the sky as I drove west, taking the route through small towns to stay off anybody’s radar. I hadn’t eaten in ages, but I passed fast food restaurants that might have security cameras. Finally, I found one that catered to truckers, judging from the parking lot, and I pulled in.

I slipped on my sunglasses before I got out of the car. The diner was a long rectangle with a single door on the left, crudely recessed in a dingy white clapboard front. There was a row of small windows cluttered by advertisements for cigarettes, beer, and chewing tobacco.

I pulled open the door, greeted by the aroma of brewing coffee and frying bacon, and the place was abuzz with a nervous tension. Truckers in baseball caps and flannel tops filled the booths and counter, eating breakfast, checking their phones, and talking excitedly, as if they knew each other, which maybe they did.