Shaw continued, “We have to assume he and his two men know about it. They could be on their way here now.”
“What men?” Parker asked.
“I don’t know who they are. But the way they operated they’re probably pros, muscle. From some crew—a gang. Maybe they were hired by your husband or they owed him from when he was a cop and he called in a marker. They’re helping him find you.”
“Oh, no,” the woman whispered.
Frank: “You mean, like hitmen?”
Shaw nodded.
“Mom!” A gasp. Hannah’s eyes opened wide.
“They attacked the clerk in Sunny Acres and found your room. You left just before they got there.”
At this news Hannah looked away. She’d be thinking of her infamous selfie.
“Oh, Alli,” Frank whispered.
“The clerk?” she whispered.
“He’s okay.”
Hannah asked, “Was my dad with them? At the motel?”
“I don’t think so. They probably split up, to have a better chance of finding you.” Shaw looked at Parker. “If you’ve been offline, then you don’t know about your lawyer.”
“David?”
“He’s missing. Presumed dead. The police think Jon was trying to find your location from him.”
Tears flowed now. She covered her face with her hands. “Oh God, what a nightmare...”
There’d been enough talk. Shaw said, “We’ve been here too long. We need to leave now.”
“Where?” Parker asked.
“I know somewhere,” Frank said. “A fishing lodge on Timberwolf Lake. A friend of mine owns it. He’s out of town. There’s no connection to me, and it’s way out in the woods. Impossible to find.”
“Good,” Shaw said.
Parker said to Frank, “You come too.”
“I will. You go ahead. Let me get this place battened down. The shutters and doors. It’s break-in proof and there’s a central station alarm, if they try.” He gave Shaw the address of the lake house.
Shaw was then aware that Hannah was looking at him, her face a curious mix of defiance and caution. He smiled to put her at ease and said, “It’s Hannah, right?”
She nodded. He didn’t extend his hand. But she did and he shook the warm, dry palm.
He said, “It’s going to be okay.”
She regarded him with an expression that was eerily adult and seemed to ask, How on earth could you possibly know?
58
Placid.
The lodge that Frank Villaine had sent them to, a modest beige clapboard structure, was on a lake that, in this breezeless valley, was flat as a piece of glass. Surrounding the oblong body of water were a thousand trees, ten thousand, some clothed in vibrant color, some green, some brown, some dead and gray. The spiky skyline was inverted on the mirror surface of the water.