Page 122 of I Will Ruin You

“Hey,” Andrea said.

“So here it is.” I let go of the handle and held out my hand, expecting Gerhard to give me the backpack.

“Not so fast,” the woman said.

“It’s here,” I said. “It’s all here. Look, I’m not a part of this. That asshole basically kidnapped me to help him do this. Just give me the backpack and let us get the hell out of here.”

Gerhard handed the backpack to Andrea, grabbed the case by the handle, and set it on its side on the pavement. He got down on his haunches, took a key from his pocket to undo the lock that held the two zippers together.

Fine, I thought. See that it’s all there, give us the backpack, and let’s get the hell out of here.

He undid the lock, pocketed it and the key, and then slowly drew back the two zippers so he could flip open the top of the bag. I had a view of the contents that was almost as good as his, lit by one of the parking lot lamps.

Gerhard froze.

I didn’t know what was supposed to be in there or how it was supposed to be packaged, but it seemed obvious from his reaction that this was not what he was expecting to find.

“What the fuck?” he said under his breath.

He started pulling things out of the bag. A bottle of shampoo, a pair of shoes, some wadded-up clothes. The more items he pulled out, the farther he tossed them, getting angrier and angrier, shouting, “Fuck!” and “Cocksucker!”

I took one quick look back at Stuart to see whether he was aware that something was amiss. He had stepped out from behind the driver’s door, had a puzzled look on his face.

“Is there a problem?” he called out.

Andrea was looking over her partner’s shoulder to see what had so upset him. She was grim-faced as he stood and gave the bag a good kick with his right foot.

I’m not sure when she got her hand on a gun, or what pocket she pulled it from. But it was there now, and it was pointed straight at me.

This was not good. This was not good at all.

Fifty-Seven

Trent and Bonnie continued to drive aimlessly around Milford.

“I’m sorry,” Bonnie said. “This is starting to seem pointless.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind. You never know. We might get lucky, see something.”

Bonnie slowly shook her head in dismay. “I just don’t—”

The sound of an incoming text stopped her midsentence. Bonnie looked down, the phone already in her hand in case she received a call or message from her sister.

“What is it?” Trent asked.

“What the...”

“What?” Trent asked.

She raised the phone up briefly so he could see the screen. There was a number at the top, and then a text of just two words.

“Who’s it from?” he said.

“I don’t know.”

“What’s it say?” He hadn’t been able to make out the message when Bonnie had flashed the screen at him.

She said, “There’s typos, but I think it’s meant to say Walnut Beach.”