The Unwilling(74)

“I don’t think so.”

“But people were around?”

“Yeah, sure. Cars. Bikes. Regular people.”

“Anyone especially close or paying particular attention?”

“Ken, what’s going on?”

“You boys need to leave.”

“Why?”

“Listen, kid. You called me for help, and I came. Now, I’m saying jump, and that’s what I need you to do.”

I didn’t move. I made a point of it.

“All right, damn it. Fine.” Ken leaned in close, more cop now than ever. “The window’s been forced, but the front door is undamaged. That means someone came in through the back, and left by the front. Could be a simple burglary. Smash and grab. Happens all the time. But the rag you found—that sweet smell—that’s chloroform. It’s an anesthetic.”

“What are you saying?”

“Forced entry. Chloroform. Signs of a struggle. Worst-case scenario, someone took her.”

I said, “Jesus, Sara…”

“That’s worst case for her. We haven’t talked about you.” I touched my chest, and his features hardened. “Listen, son. Tyra’s dead and Sara is missing. Martinez and Smith already have doubts about you, especially Martinez.”

Chance said, “Wait. What doubts?”

Burklow scowled, but answered the question. “After Tyra turned up dead, they found Gibby here with Sara. Given the circumstances and timing, any cop would wonder—victim’s roommate with the suspect’s brother—but these guys are assholes, too, and no fans of Bill, either. They’re being quiet about it, but deep down, they’re asking themselves if Jason was working alone or not, and if not, who else was involved. Gibby knew Tyra. He knew where she lived and what she drove, maybe her patterns and movements. He’s been romantic with Sara—that means inside access, familiarity. Now this thing with Sara … the timing is a problem.”

I understood at once. “Because Jason is in prison.”

“If something has happened to Sara, it is literally impossible that Jason had anything to do with it. Martinez and Smith will think, Accomplice…”

“And if people here saw us…”

“Easy, now. Let’s not panic.” Burklow put one hand on my shoulder and the other on Chance’s. “You boys were never here. You get me? You know nothing of chloroform or a jimmied window or a broken lamp. You didn’t call any cops. Understand?” We nodded, and he gave us both a squeeze. “Go on, then. Get the fuck out of here.”



* * *



For me, the next minutes passed in a haze. I made a left turn. I stopped at red lights. Burklow thought Sara had been taken. Chance had little doubt that he was right.

“We could have walked in on him. Do you hear me? A few minutes earlier, and he might have killed us, too. This close, man. This damn close.”

He’d said something similar twice already, but I didn’t care about the same things as Chance.

“Dude, I am talking to you. This close!” Chance showed a thumb and finger, half an inch apart. “Can you at least acknowledge that?”

I shook my head, thinking entirely different thoughts. “We need to do something.”

“Do what?”

I thought, Find Sara, save Jason.

Chance must have understood because he said, “Pull over, Gibby. Park the car.”

“Why?”

“Just park the car.”

I turned into a Rexall parking lot and stopped beside a strip of dirt littered with pull tabs and cigarette butts.

“Turn off the engine.”

I did that, too. It was hot in the shade. Traffic blew past on the four-lane.

“Now tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking we should find the guy.”

“We talked about this.”

“You talked about it. I listened.”

“Find the guy. Shit. Just find him. I mean, look at your face! Find him!” Chance got out of the car, and traffic blew past. “I’m going to buy some smokes.” He went inside, and stayed for a long time. When he came back, he was calmer. He lit a cigarette, and hung his arm out the window. “How would you do it?”

“I have no idea.”

“And if you did find him?”

“I don’t know that, either.”

“Damn, Gibby … just … shit.” He tossed out the cigarette, barely smoked. “You’re an impossible friend. You know that, right? A pain-in-the-ass, impossible friend.” I kept my mouth shut. “Don’t smirk like that.”

“It’s not a smirk.”

But it kind of was, and Chance knew it.

He said, “Okay, genius. What next?”

“We need a new car,” I said. “Before my mother finds out we stole this one.”

“How do you propose to find a car?”

“Come with me.”

I walked to a pay phone across the lot, and dropped in two dimes. “Becky, hey. It’s me.”

“Gibson French, I was hoping you might call.”

“Was there ever a doubt?”

“Well, you did see me in my underwear.”