Page 66 of The Bone Code

“Would I kid about something like that?” Ryan’s eyes sparked like sapphires in the flickering candlelight. “Gardner remembered Rupert, vaguely recalled Agnes and their son, Zeke, from the few times the two had stopped by. Their last name is Schultz, by the way. He didn’t care for Zeke.”

“Why not?”

“Jimmie’s reasoning was unclear.” Ryan finished his soup and laid his spoon on the table. “Weekdays, Rupert stayed at Idle Acres because it was closer to the plant where he worked. Weekends, he drove home to a spit-on-the-map town called Ferdinand.”

Downing a slug of beer, Ryan leaned back in his chair.

“And?” I prompted.

“I did some detecting in Ferdinand.”

Ryan’s account was terminated by the arrival of our food.

My selection was all I’d hoped it would be. The dessert, a tall concoction involving chocolate mousse, cherries, and whipped cream, was even better. By the time we finished and Ryan paid the bill, over my protests, it was half past ten.

Ornery after a day of restraint, the storm was finally letting loose. Ryan offered to go for the car, but I insisted we both make a run for it. A brief argument, in two languages, he agreed.

Hand in hand, we jogged up Laurier, largely deserted except for cars forced to both curbs. The deluge pounded their windshields, hoods, and roofs. The wind, gusting now, spun dead leaves in circles around our feet. Buildings, trees, and utility poles appeared as peachy blurs in the muffled radiance of the sodium lights.

We were sprinting, hunched, water streaking our hair and faces, when the street was illuminated from behind. I saw Ryan glance over his shoulder, followed his sight line to a set of headlights half a block back.

I could see little through the veil of rain. But two things registered. The paired orbs were enlarging. A fog light, glowing amber on the left, was dark on the right.

A few seconds, then the headlights winged left and disappeared onto avenue Durocher. Ryan quickened our pace. Uneasy?

Moments later, a vehicle turned onto Laurier from avenue Querbes, ahead and coming our way. As before, I couldn’t make out the model, the plate, the driver, or the number of passengers. But a single detail was clear. One fog light was dead.

“That’s the same car!” I shouted to be heard.

Not needed. Ryan’s grip on my hand had tightened, and his body had tensed.

Before he or I could react, an engine growled, and the headlights swelled in a rush.

The car was barreling straight at us.

16

Friday, October 29–Saturday, October 30

The next sequence of events seemed to last a lifetime. In reality, it played out in seconds.

The headlights drilled through the downpour, expanding and separating with terrifying speed.

Ryan’s years of training kicked in. Grabbing my shoulders, he spun me and shoved with both hands.

I flew sideways. One foot caught the curb, and I crashed to my knees.

Raising myself up on my palms, I twisted for a view of the street.

Ryan was a black silhouette in the blinding glare of the double beams.

Words flashed in my mind. From some long-ago passage on threat assessment.A vehicle’s first pass is to confirm. Its second pass is to kill.

No!A voice screamed.

Mine?

Unbidden, my mind logged data. The vehicle was low and sleek and sounded like theMillennium Falcon. The driver was a blur behind the wheel. When he floored it, the rear tires spun on the wet pavement. The car fishtailed and arrowed straight for Ryan.