Back to the county road. Get help. Save Daniel.
Yanking the gear shift into reverse, she twisted around and backed out down the little lane, its twin tracks of raw dirt like a set of train tracks and good thing. She needed the help to stay on course.
It was forever before she emerged into the open air, twelve years if it was a moment. And when she got to the asphalt, she barely looked for traffic. She just backed right out into the middle of the road, spun the steering wheel, and took off. She needed to get far enough away to dial the sheriff—
As her phone rang, she jumped and fumbled with it. “Hello—”
“I’m okay. I’m all right—”
“Daniel!” She hit the brakes for no good reason. “Where are you?”
“I’m coming through the woods on a southwesterly tack. I have no idea how long it’s going to take me to get out to the road.”
“Where’s the soldier? Or whatever he was?”
“I tied him up with a zip cord he had. I just left him there and ran.”
“Thank God.” She closed her eyes briefly. “I’m looking for a place to pull over—”
“Get where no one can see you and I’ll tell you where the tracker is. You need to take it off and throw it away first. You’re still in danger until you do that—”
At that very moment, one of the trailheads into the preserve appeared. It was the route that led up the “ugly side of things” as the locals put it, so there was no one parked in the small, shaded area.
“I’m here,” she said as she pulled in. “I’m stopping, I mean.”
“Good.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” She put the gear shift in park. “Are you—”
“I’m just having a nice jog in the woods. Enjoying the view. You know, touristy stuff.”
She closed her eyes again. “Where am I going under this car?”
“Driver’s side. It’s right behind the front wheel. You’ll see it with your phone light.”
“Okay.”
Getting out, she dropped to the ground and shimmied under. There was heat coming off the engine block, transmitted through the metal of the frame, and the smell of oil and dirt made her sneeze.
“You still there?” she said as she put Daniel on speaker and turned on the light.
“Yup.” His voice was tinny. “Where are you?”
“Under the car.”
“Where are you stopped?”
“Burning Tree Trailhead. The parking lot. There’s no one else here.”
“Okay, turn your head a little right. It’s—”
“I got it.”
The black whatever-the-hell was larger than she’d thought, about the size of her palm, and as she moved her light around, it was like something out of a 007 movie.
“Is there any chance I take it off and it explodes?” she said.
There was a pause. “Yeah, that might happen. I don’t know.”
Lydia cursed. “Remind me not to ask you for my risks of cancer.”
“Nah, you’re good with the cancer. You eat right, exercise. Although what are your genetics like?”
“I’m a total mutt,” she muttered as she got a grip on the device. “Okay, am I counting down or just doing it?”
“Just do it.”
“Great time to live the Nike slogan.”
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath—
“Shit!” she said as she ripped it free.
“Lydia? Lydia!”
“Oh, God, it’s blinking.” She turned the thing over in her hand. “What the hell is it?”
“Throw it! Throw it as far as you can—just fucking throw that thing into the woods.”
In a scramble that left her banging her head as she came out from under the car, she jumped up, hauled back, and put every ounce of strength into a Lamar Jackson, pitching the device into the trees.
“Lydia?” came Daniel’s voice. “Did you—”
“Yes, I threw it.”
“Get out of there.”
She didn’t waste a second: In the car. Not even a seatbelt. Slamming in reverse and skidding on the dirt as she k-turned and took off.
“You okay?” Daniel said.
With a shaking hand, she put the phone up to her ear even though he was still on speaker. “I’m not. No. I’m not. Where are you?”
“Still in the woods.”
“Are you safe?”
There was a pause, during which all she heard was the sound of him running and breathing. “You don’t have to save me, Lydia. I told you, I’m always fine.”
Out on the county road, she just drove in whatever direction her car was pointed in. Every time she blinked, she caught snapshots that dismantled her composure further: the bathroom at Peter Wynne’s, the soldier walking under the deer stand … and then what Daniel had done to protect them both.
The newscasters had called Eastwind already. She just knew it. Who else could they go to?
“Lydia?”
“I don’t know where I’m going,” she mumbled.
“Then just keep driving.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because that’s all you need to do. Don’t hit anything and just let yourself go.”
She blinked. Blinked again.
When something hit her windshield, she jumped. It was just rain, though, a dappling of fat drops that landed like miniature fists on the glass.