Page 84

CHAPTER 84

RED AND BLUE SHEETS of light cut through the deep purple of the forest shadows, making the trees that lined the highway look weirdly festive. Dave Summerly pulled the car to a stop two hundred yards or so from the incident and parked at the end of a long queue of vehicles. Baby could see the pink mist of road flares in the distance. She was unsteady on her feet as she stepped out.

It was the reflective tip of a mini-pop-up camping marquee that made the yelp escape her throat. She knew what those foldout marquees were for — patrol cops erected them over bodies in the road to shield lookie-loos from the carnage.

“Oh God, Rhonda! Oh God!”

Baby took off running. Vehicles idled on either side of her. Ordinary families and single travelers checking their phones, trying to see ahead, adjusting their radios. Separated from her nightmare by mere glass. She could feel Summerly at her heels, but he wasn’t yelling for her to stop. The marquee came into view, surrounded by squad cars and uniformed officers. Baby spotted the nose of Rhonda’s white ’58 Chevy Impala through the chaos. The classic car was pulled over onto the shoulder. A tire was off. The door was hanging open.

Baby didn’t even see the officer waiting to catch her until he cut expertly into her path, secured her waist in a bear hug, and spun her to a stop.

“Hold it, ma’am. Hold it. Hold it.”

“That’s my sister!” Baby screamed. “I’ve got to get to her!”

“No one can access the site at this moment. Absolutely no one. I’m gonna have to ask you to — ”

“I’m Officer Dave Summerly.” Baby looked up. Summerly had his badge out. “You gotta tell me who’s on that scene,” he said.

“I ain’t gotta tell you shit, sir!” The officer puffed his chest at Summerly, his hand out, palm up. “This is a closed cordon! I’ve got my orders.”

Baby didn’t make the decision to kneel; the ground just seemed to rush up at her, welcoming her with its sun-warmed steadiness. She pressed her hands against the asphalt and tried not to be sick. She was aware that Summerly was barking orders and cursing and there was shoving going on above her, but all she could do was look at the little black bits of tar on the surface of the highway under her fingers.

And then a string of words hooked her and dragged her up like she was a fish on a line.

“Look, buddy, all I can tell you is it ain’t anybody’s damn sister under that tent.”

Baby grabbed Summerly’s jeans and climbed up him. His arm wrapped around her like a great, solid life buoy.

“It’s a dude.” The cop yanked off his hat, raked a hand through his hair, and turned to check the whereabouts of his boss. “Okay? Okay? The victim’s a male. Now go back to your goddamn vehicle, will ya?”

Baby and Summerly walked back along the line of cars, the curious faces of drivers following them, and tried to regroup.

“Is it Brogan?”

“I don’t know,” Summerly said. His eyes searched the asphalt.

“If it’s not him, who is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why is her car here?” Baby roared. “Where is she?”

“Baby,” Summerly said. “I know exactly as much as you do right now.”

They held each other. With her chin on his shoulder, Baby looked down the highway and saw a thin smoke tendril rising from the distant forest.

“What’s that?” she asked.

She turned him around, pointed. The smoke was drifting diagonally with the evening breeze.