Chapter 49: The Police Car

The grave was an open wound, the dirt a dark bruise against the snow. Elena grabbed the letter from the plastic bag, shoving it into her bra. The brace was too heavy to carry. She threw it back into the hole, onto the bones.

"Leave it," she said to Julian. "We have the letter."

"It's not enough!" Julian cried, his voice raw. "It's just paper!"

The police cruiser was ten yards away, its lights strobing red and blue. Sheriff Brady stepped out, his hand resting casually on his holster.

"Evening, Mrs. Hawthorne," he drawled. "Doing a little gardening?"

"Where's Vane?" Elena demanded. "Is he in the car?"

"Mr. Vane is indisposed," Brady said, walking toward them. "He asked me to give you a ride home. He's worried about your mental state. Digging up graveyards? That's not very... stable."

"I found the body, Brady," Elena said, pointing to the hole. "The baby he murdered."

Brady glanced into the grave. He didn't flinch.

"I see a hole," he said. "And I see three trespassers."

He looked at Beatrice. "You're bleeding, Ms. Hawthorne. You should let us take you to the hospital."

"I'd rather bleed out," Beatrice spat.

Brady sighed. "Have it your way."

He pulled his gun.

"Get in the car."

"No," Julian said. He stepped in front of Elena. "You're not taking her."

"I'm taking all of you," Brady said. "Or I'm leaving you here. Your choice."

He racked the slide.

Elena looked at the gun. Then she looked at the cruiser. The back door was open.

"We'll go," she said.

"Elena, no!" Julian grabbed her arm.

"Get in the car, Julian," she said, her eyes locking onto his. "Trust me."

She walked toward the cruiser. Brady smiled, lowering the gun slightly.

"Smart girl."

Elena reached the car. She put her hand on the door frame.

Then she kicked the door. Not shut. Open.

It swung out, hitting Brady in the knees.

He stumbled, the gun firing wild into the air.

"Run!" Elena screamed.

She didn't run away. She ran toward the truck. The black truck that had rammed them. It was parked behind the cruiser, idling.

She yanked the door open. The keys were in the ignition.

"Get in!"

Julian and Beatrice scrambled into the back seat. Elena threw the truck into reverse.

Brady was up, aiming.

A bullet shattered the side mirror.

Elena floored it. The truck roared backward, smashing into the front of the cruiser. Glass showered the road.

She spun the wheel, shifting into drive. The truck fishtailed, then gripped the asphalt.

They sped away, leaving Brady cursing in the rearview.

"Where are we going?" Beatrice shouted. "He'll call for backup!"

"We're going to the one place he won't look," Elena said, her hands shaking on the wheel. "The one place that isn't on the map."

"Where?" Julian asked.

"The place where Vane keeps his *real* inventory," Elena said. "The place Marcus found in the microfiche."

"Marcus is in Arizona," Beatrice said.

"No," Elena said. "He sent me a text before the signal died. An address. In Portland."

"Portland is three hours away!"

"Then we better drive fast," Elena said.

She looked at the fuel gauge. Half a tank.

"Elena," Julian said softly.

"What?"

"Look at the GPS."

Elena looked at the dashboard screen. It was glowing.

But it wasn't showing a map.

It was showing a message.

*You're going the wrong way, Elena.*

*Turn around.*

The screen flickered.

*Or Leo dies.*

Elena slammed on the brakes. The truck skidded to a halt in the middle of the empty highway.

"He has him," she whispered. "He has Leo."

Vane wasn't waiting for the police. He wasn't waiting for a trial.

He was waiting for her.

And he had the only leverage that mattered.

"Turn around," the screen flashed.

*Come home.*

It wasn't a request. It was an invitation to a slaughter.

But Elena didn't have a choice.

She turned the truck around.

He wasn't there to arrest her. He was there to escort her back to her cage.