Chương 10
It was an old landline, loud and shrill, cutting through the low rumble of the paramedics loading Colt into the back of the ambulance outside.
Harris reached over and hit the speaker button. "Lusk Combat Club, Deputy Harris speaking."
There was no greeting on the other end. Only the frantic, ragged sound of Claire’s voice, breathing so hard she sounded like she was running up a flight of concrete stairs in the dark.
"Sloane!" she screamed, the speaker buzzing with the volume of her terror. "Sloane, if you're there, pick up! Pick up the phone!"
I lunged forward, slamming both hands down on the counter. "Claire! I’m here! What happened?"
"They took her, Sloane!" Claire’s voice shattered into a ragged, breathless sob, competing with the blare of a vehicle horn in the background. "They took Lainey!"
The air in my chest went completely still. "Who took her? Where are you?"
"We were in the parking garage at the hospital," Claire cried, her voice hitching wildly. "We were walking to my car. Two men in an unmarked white van with state plates pulled up behind us. They had paperwork, Sloane! They had an involuntary emergency commitment order signed twenty minutes ago by Magistrate Garris in Newport! They said Lainey was an imminent danger to herself after a reported suicide attempt!"
I looked at Boyd Lusk.
The car dealer wasn't screaming anymore. He wasn't red-faced.
He was standing six feet away, his arms folded neatly across his chest, smoothing the lapels of his expensive wool suit with his thumb. A slow, thin, hideous smile was spreading across his face, cold and dead as an unlit lantern.
"They're taking her to the private behavioral wing at New Bern Creek, Sloane," Claire sobbed through the speaker, the sound of her nails scraping against her phone casing coming through the line. "Boyd sits on the board of trustees there. They won't let me in the van. They said if I tried to follow them, they'd arrest me for interfering with a court-ordered medical transport!"
The line went dead with a flat, hollow click.
The gym was silent again, save for the hum of the fluorescent fixtures and the steady drip of Colt’s blood hitting the edge of the mat.
Sheriff Harlan Wallace stood entirely still, his heavy hand resting on the stag-horn grip of his .45, his face suddenly gray under the brim of his campaign hat. He looked at Boyd, then at me, the full scope of what the car dealer had set in motion settling over the room like an iron weight.
"Sloane," Wallace began, his voice dropping an octave, stepping into my path as I turned toward the exit. "Don't you do it. New Bern Creek is outside my county line. If you drive up there tonight, you're crossing into state jurisdiction, and you won't have Marcus's video to protect you."
I didn't answer him.
I didn't look at the Sheriff, and I didn't look at the two young deputies standing with their mouths slightly open.
I looked directly at Boyd Lusk.
"You should have let your nephew take the beating, Boyd," I said, my voice so quiet it barely disturbed the dust in the air.
I turned my back on the law, walked out through the double glass doors, and stepped into the Carolina dark.
Chapter 4: The Paper Cage
The heavy door of the F-250 slammed shut, cutting off the wail of the departing ambulance and the glare of the gym’s neon lights. I turned the ignition. The old 7.3-liter diesel roared to life with a low, bone-deep vibration that shook the dashboard.
I reached across the passenger seat, popped the glove box, and pulled out my mobile phone. There were three missed calls from Claire and a text from an unsaved number that read simply: *Walk away while you can still breathe air, Sloane.*
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Boyd’s work. He wanted me panicked. He wanted me driving fast, making sloppy errors, crossing double yellows so some state trooper could pit-maneuver me into a ditch before I reached the county border.
I ignored the text and dialed Claire directly, putting the phone on speaker and dropping it into the cup holder as I dropped the transmission into gear.
