Perilous Read online

  “Do you think they’re listening to us?” Amanda said to Jaci. Jaci shook her head.

  Sara looked up. “What will Neal and Ricky do? When they can’t reach us?”

  Jaci said, “Maybe they’ll tell your mom.”

  “Yeah,” Amanda said, her eyes widening. “They’ll get help. They’ll find a good person.”

  A good person. Jaci doubted she would ever know who was good or bad again. She wasn’t even sure she could trust her own family.

  They drove for more than an hour, getting farther and farther away from Rome, New York. How would Ricky and Neal ever find them?

  An engine revved loudly seconds before the cruiser slammed forward.

  Jaci screamed, reaching her hands out as the SUV flipped upside down and came to a stop. Her face rammed into the bench before she crumpled into a heap.

  She opened her eyes, tasting blood in her mouth. Everything blurred in front of her, but her fingers felt the ceiling ridges underneath her. Adrenaline surged through her, and she forced herself to her feet.

  Someone whimpered next to her. She tried to focus on the huddled form. “Sara.” She shook the girl’s arm. “Sara, are you hurt?”

  Sara got to her feet. “What happened?”

  “An accident.” Jaci didn’t know whether to fear or hope. “This might be our chance to escape.”

  She looked around for Amanda. She heard the sound of distressed metal behind her. Someone was trying to open the door. She tensed.

  “Jaci, I can’t wake Amanda.”

  Jaci hurried to Sara’s side, feeling for Amanda’s neck. Please, please don’t let her be dead. She wasn’t. There was a pulse, strong and steady.

  “How is everybody?” The voice came from outside.

  Jaci knew that voice.

  “Ricky and Neal,” Sara breathed.

  “The driver has a nasty gash on his face, but his heart rate is good,” said Neal, his voice right by the door. “The man next to him is waking up. I think they’ll be okay. They were wearing seatbelts.”

  The door creaked open, revealing a darkening sky. Jaci pressed her fingers to the opening, trying to help widen the gap.

  “We weren’t going that fast, after all,” Ricky said, his tone defensive. He helped Jaci out. “Are you all right?”

  “Amanda’s unconscious.” He had a bright red gash on his forehead. She touched it.

  “Yeah, that.” He touched her own head. “You have a matching one.”

  She pressed a palm to her hairline. It came away red. “I hit my face.”

  Ricky got his arms under Amanda, the orange backpack strapped across his back. He scooted her across the upside down van. “I need some help with Amanda.”

  “Hold this for me. I’m going to need both hands.”

  Neal tucked a gun into Jaci’s jeans pocket and joined Ricky, wrapping his arms around Amanda’s torso.

  Jaci touched the cold metal. “A gun?”

  “Is everyone all right?” Neal asked as they pulled Amanda out.

  “Yeah,” Jaci said, waving it aside. “My vision’s blurry. Doesn’t matter. We’ve got to run.” They weren’t out of trouble yet. “How are we going to get away?”

  She squinted, trying to find the getaway car that Neal and Ricky must have brought with them.

  “On our feet,” Ricky said. “Come on, let’s cross that highway.”

  “On our feet?” she echoed. “What happened to your car?”

  He pointed to a crumpled black object. “There.”

  They were almost across the road when they heard, “You! Stop where you are.”

  “Go, go, go,” Neal said, struggling to move quickly under the load he shared with Ricky.

  “He’s going to radio for back-up,” Jaci gasped, her footsteps faltering.

  “No, he won’t,” Ricky said, “because then he’d have to admit that you girls were in Rome. You’re a top-secret case.”

  “But we’re not,” Neal reminded him. “They come after us, they get the girls.”

  A gunshot sounded behind them.

  “Stop, or I will shoot again,” the man shouted, running after them.

  “Jaci,” Neal shouted. “Shoot his legs.”

  She grabbed the gun Neal had stuck in her jeans pocket and jerked to a halt.

  “I can’t!” She held the cold metal in her hands and pictured in her mind the glint of metal in the sunlight, Claber’s hand extending.

  “Jaci.” Neal’s voice was urgent, demanding. “Do it now.”

  “You can’t make her do that,” Ricky yelled.

  “You have to, Jaci!” Neal snapped. “I can’t get to you in time.”

  Jaci turned around. You have to do this. Where was he? “I can’t even see him,” she wailed.

  “Just do it,” Sara yelled.

  She thought she saw a blurry object coming closer. Jaci pointed the gun, closed her eyes and pulled the trigger once. The gun exploded loudly, knocking her backwards.

  “He’s still coming! Do it again,” Neal hollered.

  She pulled the trigger two more times.

  “He stopped.” said Neal.

  “Did I kill him?” Jaci shrieked. Her hands trembled as she kept the gun trained on the spot where he had gone down.

  “No,” Sara said, running back to grab her arm. “And he made it across the street before he collapsed.”

  Sobs wracked her body, and Jaci clutched the weapon in her hands.

  Callie. Callie was shot. Claber shot Callie. She let Sara drag her along, hardly able to breathe.

  They stumbled forward for another ten minutes, Ricky and Neal dragging Amanda between them, before they slowed down.

  Neal let go of Amanda and bent over, resting his hands on his knees and panting.

  “What did I do?” Jaci cried. “I shot a policeman. What if I killed him?” Her head throbbed. She couldn’t focus on anything.

  “We need to break into a farm house,” Neal said. Perspiration dripped from his brow.

  “Maybe we can knock and beg for help, or if we have to, just take it, but we need medical supplies. Amanda’s hurt. Jaci’s cut. And you,” he added, touching the bloody gash on Ricky’s face.

  Ricky jerked his head away. “What if they call a hospital? Or the police?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Neal retorted, eyes flashing. “We take one thing at a time.”

  They approached the first farmhouse they saw. It was evening, and so far no one had come after them. The sky had a pasty gray color to it.

  Jaci pressed a hand to her throat, her sobs dying down to tiny gasps. It hurt to breathe. She tightened her grip around the barrel in her hands, trying hard to maintain rational thought.

  Ricky glanced back at her. “Sara, take the gun from her.”

  Sara reached over, grasped the gun and pulled it away. She tipped it upside down and shook it, then knelt and buried it in the grass and leaves.

  Chapter 34

  Jaci stumbled along, allowing Sara to pull her forward. They stopped in front of an old house. Halos ringed the lights around the windows. She stared at them. So ethereal.

  “No dog. That’s good,” said Neal.

  “So what’s the plan? We just knock on the door and ask to spend the night?”

  Sara’s voice was in her ear. She tried to pull away, but Sara’s hand was tight on her arm.

  “No, I think it’s better to hide. It looks like it might snow. We need to get in there somehow without being noticed. They won’t turn us in if they don’t know we’re there.”

  “There might be a cellar. A lot of the old houses in Idaho have one.”

  Too loud. Jaci whimpered and put her hands over her ears. Or tried to. Her hands didn’t move.

  “Good thinking.”

  Jaci felt herself being pulled along again. There was a black hole in front of her, sucking out all the light. Sara guided her toward it. Jaci dug her heels in and fought against Sara’s grip.

  She panicked, crying out. Two more hands grabbed her
forearms and pulled her in. Silky hairs brushed her face, stuck to her mouth and eyes, tried to suffocate her.

  Then she was alone. Someone turned on a light. The orb danced around the stifling darkness around her.

  “This thing probably hasn’t been used in ages.”

  “Put Amanda down here—careful, Ricky. Okay, good.”

  “She doesn’t like dirt,” said Sara.

  Someone groaned, low and pitiful. A moan.

  “Amanda?”

  “Neal? I must have blacked out. What happened?”

  “Ricky and I rescued you from the police.”

  “How?”

  “Not that hard. There’s two of us. I created a diversion while Neal snuck into the police station.”

  “And you found out where they’d taken us?”

  “Yeah. I walked past a room and overheard them talking about you.”

  “But then what? What did you do, hitch a ride?”

  “We had to steal a car.”

  “You guys stole a car?”

  “Okay, I stole it. Neal came along for the ride. We rammed it into the police van.”

  “Ricky’s a pro.”

  “I’ve never rammed a police car before.”

  Jaci heard their voices as if from far away.

  “I think I hurt my arm somewhere.”

  “Let me see. Well, I’m not a doctor, but I don’t think it’s broken. I think you sprained it above the elbow.”

  “What happened to Jaci?” Jaci turned her head at the sound of her name.

  “She’s not okay, Neal.”

  Neal scooted closer to her and grabbed her shoulders. “Jaci? Can you hear me?”

  Of course she could hear him. There was nothing wrong with her ears. She blinked.

  “What happened to her?”

  “She shot someone.”

  “You’re all outlaws now. Just like us.” Ricky’s voice was closer to her now. Strong arms went around her, bringing with them a scent of smoked pine.

  “Is she in shock?”

  “I think so. She’s not shaking, sweating, or feverish, though, so I think she’ll be okay.”

  She closed her eyes. She would be okay? Like they knew anything.

  October 19

  Little Falls, New York

  The antique phone in Canal Side Inn rang at precisely seven in the morning. Carl’s arm flopped off the bed, banging the end table before grasping the phone.

  “Hello?” He cleared the morning grog from his throat.

  “Detective Hamilton, this is Lieutenant Hodges with the Little Falls police department.”

  Carl sat up. “Did someone call about the girls?”

  “Not exactly. But there was an incident in Rome yesterday. The report from the state trooper said a stolen vehicle rammed into a police transport off of highway 81. Interviews with the toll booths reported two teenage boys behind the wheel. One said they looked alike. You had mentioned the girls might be traveling with the missing twins from Johnsburg.”

  “Ricky and Neal.”

  “We think so.” There was no mistaking the pride in Lieutenant Hodges’ voice. “One of the twins was previously arrested in Johnsburg for automobile theft.”

  Carl was already changing his clothes. “Do you mind getting me the phone number to a local car rental?” He had no idea how far Rome was. But if he left now, he might make it before lunch.

  “No problem. Should I call Rome and let them know you’re coming?”

  Good question. Carl considered it. “No. I’ll surprise them.”

  Rome, New York

  Rome was only an hour from Little Falls. An hour gave Carl plenty of time to think. And he had questions.

  Rome was right next to the Adirondack Park, and a logical place for the girls to come out. The girls had phoned Mrs. Yadle. The boys had stolen a car and chased down a police car. None of it made sense.

  The only conclusion Carl came up with was that the two boys were chasing something. Something the police had.

  The girls. It had to be. And why hadn’t the police contacted either Little Falls or Idaho Falls?

  He parked his rental car at the police department, slipping on his sunglasses. It was a bright, beautiful October day. He opened the glass door and marched to the clerk desk.

  “Detective Hamilton.” He flashed his badge. “I’m here to investigate yesterday’s incident.”

  The woman looked at him. “One moment, please.”

  She picked up the interphone. “Sergeant Gates, there’s a man here to speak with you. About what happened yesterday.”

  She looked up. “Take the elevator upstairs. Second room on your left.”

  “Thank you.” Carl glanced around at what appeared to be a quiet, normal police station.

  Sergeant Gates, a large man with sandy blond hair and an easy grin, greeted him at the door and invited him in.

  Carl sat in the upholstered chair by the desk. “I’m Detective Carl Hamilton. Can you tell me what happened yesterday when that police cruiser was hit?”

  “Where did you say you’re from, Detective?”

  Carl pulled out his badge and handed it to him. “Idaho.”

  Gates examined it, lifting a brow. “Idaho.” He handed it back. “And you’ve been put on an investigation in New York?”

  Carl shook his head. “No. I have other business here. I’m more interested in the perpetrators of the attack.”

  “Ah.” Gates nodded. “Two of our officers were traveling to another facility. Somewhere along Highway 81, a large truck crashed into it from behind, knocking the vehicle from the road. It ended up upside down in a ditch.”

  Carl scribbled quickly. “Who did the truck belong to?”

  “Anthony Stout. He was unaware that the vehicle was missing, as he was in the library studying. We informed him when we called him.”

  “Do you know who was driving it?”

  “We don’t know as of yet. The toll booths along the way saw two teenage boys driving a black Toyota Tundra. Perhaps you have some ideas?”

  “None that I can say.” Carl could tell this man was playing his cards close to his chest, fishing for information. “What about the officers? They didn’t see anything?”

  A shadow crossed Gates’ face. “One was unconscious at the time. The other was shot, apparently while in the attempt of pursuit. He hasn’t woken yet.”

  Carl looked up, a heaviness gripping his chest. “I’m sorry to hear that. The boys were armed, then?”

  “He was shot with one of our guns. They took a gun from one unconscious officer and shot the other.”

  Carl shook his head. Not good. “Has the weapon been found?”

  “Not yet. We’re searching the surrounding countryside. And as soon as we know who we’re looking for, we’ll have alerts out.”

  “Did you check the car for prints?”

  Gates checked his watch. “I believe the results should be in within the hour.”

  That meant, within the hour the New York police would know Ricky Collins had been in that truck. He would be wanted for grand theft auto, destruction of property, obstruction of justice, and assault of an officer. Big charges.

  Somehow, Carl knew, he needed to find that boy before the police did. “Do you have a motive, Sergeant? Do you know why the boys would be after the police?”

  Gates shrugged. “It must have been some sort of vendetta. We suspect they’ve been in criminal mischief before.”

  “Were there any other passengers?”

  Gates’ eyes shifted to the upper left corner of the room. It was quick and subtle, but Carl saw it.

  Whatever he’s about to say, it’s a lie.

  “Just the officers.”

  Carl leaned back in his chair, staring at his notepad and biting the tip of his pen. He debated calling the man on his lie.

  He glanced up. “Did you see the fax yesterday that went out to all police departments in New York and Pennsylvania?”

  A slight widening of the eyes. “Fa
x?”

  Carl opened his file and pulled out the confirmation sheet. “Yes. Looks like your department confirmed receipt at 7:02 PM.”

  “Oh, yes. That fax. I saw it.”

  Carl leaned forward. “Have you seen those girls, Sergeant?”

  “No, Detective. I haven’t. But if they show up here, I’ll definitely give you a call.” Gates stood and came around his desk. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help. Was there anything else?”

  “Oh, you’ve been of plenty help.” Carl stood as well. “One more thing. Where was the cruiser going?”

  “Buffalo,” the man said, a little too quickly.

  Carl wrote it down. “Thank you. I’ll be in touch.”

  He left his card on the desk and let himself out. The man was lying. Carl had studied his map, and I-81 would never get someone to Buffalo. Gates had tried to pretend he hadn’t seen the fax. And he lied about the girls. They had been here.

  He stepped out of the elevator and came around to the clerk’s desk. “I didn’t catch your name. What is it?”

  She looked up from her typing. “Betty.”

  “Did you work yesterday?”

  She nodded and went back to her typing.

  He placed his badge on the counter. “I’m about to arrest this entire department for deliberate obstruction of justice. I have a few questions, and if you answer them correctly, I might not have to do that. So, if you’ll please stop what you’re doing and come with me?”

  He had her attention now. She stood stiffly and came around the desk.

  Carl smiled and slipped his arm around her forearm, guiding her out of the building. He grabbed his badge before they left.

  “It’s all right. I won’t hurt you. I need to know what you saw yesterday.”

  Chapter 35

  Light slipped into the cellar from the crack where the doors met. A rooster crowed outside. Jaci blinked and sat up, wincing. Her head hurt.

  Ricky smiled at her. A line of dried, black blood trailed a gash on his forehead. “You look better. How are you?”

  She tried to remember why she wouldn’t be fine. Where was she? Why was he hurt?

  And then the memory came back to her in a flash. The crash, Ricky, the gun— “Oh,” she cried. “I shot him.” She covered her face with her hands.