Chương 5
Then nothing.
Nathan opened the center console.
His backup phone was gone.
The emergency system showed no cellular connection.
A small plastic panel beneath the dashboard hung loose.
“Disabled,” he said.
Eli climbed into the passenger side.
Nathan looked at him.
“What?”
“You said we needed to leave.”
Nathan started the SUV.
The engine ran.
“Seat belt.”
Eli stared at him.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“Somebody just tried to run you over.”
“Seat belt.”
Eli put it on.
Nathan drove.
The tires fought the mud before catching the service road.
Neither spoke until the bridge disappeared behind them.
Nathan drove with both hands fixed on the wheel.
His wrists shook.
Eli watched him.
“You should probably go to a hospital.”
Nathan nodded.
Then drove past the turn that would have taken them there.
“Where are we going?” Eli asked.
“Police.”
Eli sat straighter.
“No.”
Nathan looked at him.
“My mother is in jail because somebody made police believe a lie.”
“And somebody just tried to kill me.”
“They’ll take the compass.”
“They should.”
“No.”
“They need evidence.”
“They’ll give it back to Daniel.”
“That is not how evidence works.”
“That’s what Ray thought too.”
Nathan tightened his hands around the wheel.
“You cannot base everything on one frightened maintenance worker.”
“He’s dead.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying it like it makes him less right.”
Nathan glanced at him.
The boy had tucked the compass under his shirt again.
“Then where?”
Eli gave an address.
Nathan recognized the neighborhood.
Working-class row houses west of downtown.
“Your home?”
“No.”
“Whose?”
“My friend’s sister.”
“The phone repair expert.”
“Her name is Tasha.”
“How old is Tasha?”
“Nineteen.”
Nathan closed his eyes briefly.
“Perfect.”
“She’s smarter than you.”
“I have no doubt.”
Eli leaned his head against the window.
For several minutes, he said nothing.
The adrenaline began leaving his body.
Nathan saw it happen.
The boy’s shoulders slumped. His hands began trembling.
“You cold?”
“No.”
Nathan turned the heat up.
Eli did not object.
Twenty minutes later, at a red light, Nathan noticed the boy was asleep.
His head had fallen sideways against the glass.
Nathan looked at him longer than he should have.
Then the light changed.
A horn sounded behind him.
He drove on.
Tasha Greene lived above a laundromat that stayed open all night.
She opened the apartment door holding a tire iron.
Her hair was wrapped in a scarf. She wore pink pajama pants and a sweatshirt advertising a community college.
When she saw Eli, her face changed from anger to relief.
“You little psycho.”
Eli stepped inside.
Tasha hugged him hard enough to lift his boots off the floor.
Then she saw Nathan.
“You.”
Nathan waited.
She lowered Eli.
“You’re Nathan Vale.”
“Yes.”
She raised the tire iron again.
Eli sighed.
“Tasha.”
“What?”
“He’s with me.”
“That sentence is not helping.”
Nathan looked at the tire iron.
“I’m not here to hurt anyone.”
“Rich men always sound so surprised when they have to say that.”
Nathan had no answer.
Eli walked toward a table crowded with phone parts, charging cables, cereal boxes, and two mugs.
“Did anybody come?”
“No.”
“Call?”
“No.”
“Knock?”
“No.”
Tasha looked between them.
“What happened?”
Eli pointed to Nathan’s face.
“Someone tried to kill him.”
Tasha stared.
Nathan said, “That is becoming my working assumption.”
“Sit down.”
He sat.
Tasha locked the door, added the chain, then pushed a chair beneath the knob.
Nathan watched.
“You do this often?”
“Only when billionaires show up bleeding.”
“I’m not a billionaire.”
“Tragic.”
Eli took a small key from inside his boot.
Tasha crossed to a metal toolbox beneath the kitchen counter.
She unlocked it.
Inside was an old prepaid phone wrapped in a plastic grocery bag.
Nathan stood.
Eli stepped between him and the table.
“Don’t.”
“I’m not taking it.”
“You keep taking things.”
Nathan looked at him.
Eli did not back down.
Tasha powered on the phone.
It asked for a six-digit code.
Eli entered it.
A folder appeared.
Nathan leaned closer.
Photographs.
Documents.
Audio files.
Tasha opened a recovered message archive.
Nathan saw Lucas’s name.
His knees weakened.
He sat again.
“Play it.”
Eli looked at him.
“Are you sure?”
Nathan almost told him not to ask stupid questions.
Then he understood.
“No,” he said. “Play it anyway.”
Tasha tapped the first audio file.
Static filled the small kitchen.
Then Lucas spoke.
Nathan had heard his son’s voice thousands of times in memory.
Memory had changed it.
Smoothed it.
Deepened it.
Made it solemn.
The real voice was younger than Nathan expected.
Irritated.
Breathless.
“Ray, it’s me. I need the dock camera drive. Don’t call me back. Just pull it before Daniel gets here tomorrow. There’s a folder marked Northgate. I copied what I could. If he asks, you never saw me.”
The recording ended.
Nathan stared at the phone.
Tasha looked away.
Eli stood very still.
Nathan whispered, “Again.”
Tasha played it again.
The second time Nathan heard the hesitation before Daniel’s name.
The third time he heard background water.
The lake.
“Next.”
Tasha opened another file.
Lucas’s voice returned.
Lower now.
“Ray, forget what I said about Dad. Don’t contact him yet. Daniel knows I copied it. If he finds out you helped me, he’ll come after Dad too. Keep the compass. If I don’t call you by Friday, give it to him when you have something he can use. Not before. He won’t believe you without proof.”
A pause.
Then Lucas added, almost as an afterthought:
“And don’t trust Caroline just because she cries.”
The recording stopped.
Nathan did not move.
Tasha’s refrigerator clicked on.
Somewhere downstairs, a washing machine entered its spin cycle and began thumping unevenly.
Nathan stared at the blank screen.
“Play the last sentence.”
Tasha did.
And don’t trust Caroline just because she cries.
Nathan stood so abruptly the chair scraped backward.
“No.”
Eli watched him.
“No.”
Nathan walked toward the window.
Rain streaked the glass above the laundromat sign.
Tasha folded her arms.
“Who’s Caroline?”
May you like
“My wife.”
“Ex-wife?”
