Ransom River (45 page)

From the corner of her eye Rory saw him point at her. “She
did this
to me. Get the goddamned kid.”

Rory held Addie tight against her hip. “We’re getting out of here, Boone.”

“You could say that. But not with her. She’s mine.”

Confusion seemed to pop from Amber’s eyes. She stood as though paralyzed, her face slack, the color draining from her skin. “No. Boone, not…”

And Rory realized she was seeing raw, inchoate fear.

“Mirkovic’s coming,” Amber said. “If he finds you with Addie, what’ll he do?”

Rory’s nerves began to crackle. The barrel of the shotgun nudged against the side of her head. She smelled gun oil and cordite.

Boone pried Addie from her arms. The little girl stiffened. She didn’t cry, but she knew something was wrong. Amber continued to stand like a piece of melting plastic.

Rory said, “The sheriff’s department heard. They know. They’re on their way.”

“They’re quick,” Boone said, “but not
this
quick.” He snicked the gun into Rory’s hair again. She flinched.

He laughed.

He stepped back, propped Addie on one hip, and aimed the shotgun at Rory’s chest. Addie held out her hands to Rory, fingers opening and closing.

Boone spun her away. “Forget her,” he said. “Who’s my girl? Give me a kiss.”

He began to tickle her. Awkwardly he dug his fingers into her ribs. She squirmed and flinched.

“Laugh, baby,” he said.

Addie twisted and squealed unhappily. “No, Uncle Boone, stop.”

“Come on, it’s funny.” His smile was half-cocked, fading.

Rory heard the back door open. In the hall behind Boone, a shadow moved. Riss slid into view.

Engrossed in trying to make Addie adore him, Boone couldn’t see her. The hairs on Rory’s arms and scalp stood to cold attention. Riss inched silently into half light. She watched Boone with the child. And as Boone’s laughter scathed the room, her face darkened.

She glided forward, eyes unblinking. “What are you doing?”

He turned, startled. “Where you been?”

She walked up and took Addie from him. The little girl whimpered and looked at Amber.

“Nana.”

Amber held on to the counter like it was the rail of a sinking ship.

Riss said, “What’s Rory doing here? And looking like a drowned dog.” She glanced at Boone. Got a full view of his face. “What the hell—”

“She burned me. The bitch
burned
me.” Boone hitched the gun in his arms. “And she tried to get away.”

Amber put a shaking hand to her lips. “Riss, Boone…what have you done?”

“Shut up,” Riss said. “Where’s Mirkovic? Where are his men?”

Rory found her voice. “They’re coming. And they aren’t bringing brownies and punch.”

Riss eyed her with calculation.

“Mirkovic’s coming for Addie, and he’s furious that you lied to him,” Rory said. “We need to get the hell out. All of us, right now.”

Riss looked at her, now more incredulous than suspicious. “You don’t get a say.” She cocked her head at Boone. “Get something to restrain her with. We got to give her to Grigor.”

Boone’s lips parted. “She burned me. She tried to kill me. I’m not giving her back to him.”

Riss’s eyes flared. “Afterward, Boone.
After
the money gets located.” She shook her head. “Did you get her on video?”

“We will,” he said.

Amber said, “Riss, you told Mirkovic Addie’s his child. But…”

“For fuck sake, it was a lie,” Riss said.

Rory said, “We need to leave. Right now. Mirkovic’s men won’t trust Boone anymore, because he let me get away the first time. They’ll take me. And because they don’t trust him they’ll also take Addie.”

Riss scoffed.

Rory said, “And maybe you, Riss.”

“Hell no.”

“Lee’s
your
dad,” Rory said. “A Mackenzie through and through, right? Who’s going to make the biggest emotional impression on him?”

Riss went quiet.

Christ on a flying monkey, would these people not understand what she was telling them?

“Riss, the sheriffs are coming,” Rory said. “They’ll arrest you.”

And Riss smiled. A slow,
I’ve got you
smile. Rory’s stomach dropped.

Riss turned to Amber. “Thanks for phoning to tell me the sheriffs were so concerned about you. I called them back. They were relieved to know we’re on the way to your brother-in-law’s house and won’t need them to stop by.”

Amber said, “Riss. No.”

Addie twisted in Riss’s arms and stretched a hand toward Rory. Riss roughly pushed it down.

One play. That’s all Rory could think of. One more play. Now.

“I’ll take you to the money,” she said.

Riss turned. Boone turned.

Rory said, “It’s yours, every dollar.”

Boone’s eyes brightened. Riss seemed to calm to the smoothness of agate.

“You know where it is?”

“I found out.”

“How?” Riss said.

“I’ll tell you on the way.”

Boone said, “I knew it, you liar.” He pointed at her. “She knew all along. Your dad took her with him when he hid it.”

“No,” Rory said.

Riss raised a hand. “We’re not going anywhere until you tell me how you know.”

Boone said, “Let’s move. She can prove it real quick. She takes us or she doesn’t. Proof.”

But Riss didn’t move. She held Rory in her sights, as Addie fussed and reached for Amber. She held the little girl like she was a slimy object.

She shook her head. “How did you know this was about the money?”

“The courthouse siege,” Rory said. “The gunmen mentioned it.”

“No way,” Riss said.

“They were amateur hostage takers, not top-notch mercenaries.”

“That doesn’t mean they’d talk about the money.”

“Their plan went balls up five minutes in. They started talking about
everything
,” Rory said. “Mirkovic had promised them huge rewards to get them to take the risk. They wouldn’t do it for a flat fee. They refused to attack the trial unless they got a percentage of what Mirkovic was aiming to recover. He told them it was a mammoth stash of cash.”

“That prick,” Riss said.

Rory remembered what Seth had told her about convincing people a false identity was the real deal in undercover work: Mix some truth into your lies.

“Your dad’s postcards,” she said.

Riss’s face hardened. Boone said, “What?”

“Your dad sent postcards to me when I was little. You ripped them off my corkboard and tore them up.”

“What are you talking about?” Boone said.

“Your dad sent me postcards from Mexico after he fled the country,” she said, slowly, articulating each word. “You destroyed some, but I had a drawer full of them.”

Riss’s face slowly turned crimson.

“After the siege, I put two and two together,” Rory said. “Who else could they be after, these people? Me? I’m broke. My parents? They’re a teacher and forest ranger living in an old ranch house. No, they wanted something from Lee. And there was only one thing that made sense. The robbery happened right around the time he left. The money was never recovered. I figured he wouldn’t take that secret with him—he’d want somebody to know. And the only thing that connected him to me was the postcards.”

Boone stepped forward. “Where are you hiding them?”

The gun loomed in his hands, the barrel long and black. She tried, harder than she’d ever tried anything, not to let tears creep into her voice.

“I got them from my parents’ house and gave them to Seth,” she said.

Riss shook her head as though clearing her ears. “You’re fucking with me.”

“No.”

Boone’s parted lips turned into a fishy gape. “Seth.”

She turned her glare on him. It took nothing. She was half a breath away from losing it.

Riss said, “Wait. Wait a second. You’re saying my dad wrote you the location of the money and you never went to look for it? That’s beyond bullshit.”

“Of course he didn’t. But he always wrote in rhymes, or puzzles. When I was little I thought he was sharing his adventure with me. But yesterday I reread them. They’re map coordinates, longitude and latitude. He was leaving clues.”

“Why you?” Riss said. The
Why not me?
was in her voice like lye.

“Because he knew they’d always be there. I would collect them. My parents wouldn’t move. They’d hold on to them—on to all my stuff—like treasures.”

Riss glared. She stepped forward and slapped Rory in the face. Amber gasped. Addie jerked and began to cry.

Rory’s face stung. She took it.
Don’t lose your shit.

“The cash is in the mountains,” she said.

“You goddamned princess,” Riss said. “Where?”

“The national forest. I’ll take you to it.” She pointed out the door. “But we need to leave right the hell now, before Mirkovic gets here. ’Cause if he does, he’ll cut you two out of the deal like that.” She snapped her fingers.

Boone nodded. “Yeah. Come on. We’re the ones who can cut Mirkovic out of the deal. Move it, girls.”

Rory stood firm. “You, me, and Riss. We’ll go.”

Boone waved toward the door. “Everybody in the truck, come on.”

“No,” Rory said. “Let your mom take Addie someplace else.”

Riss’s expression turned sly. “Why?”

“Besides the fact that Mirkovic is
coming here right now,
we can’t take Addie. She can’t even hold still in your arms. We’re going to the forest to dig up twenty-five million bucks. We don’t want a crying baby drawing attention to us.”

Boone was halfway to the front door. But Riss hadn’t moved.

“You’re not as clever as you think you are,” Riss said. “Go. Addie’s coming with us.”

Bringing the little girl along, she pushed Rory to the door.

They walked outside and headed to the wrecker. It was parked seventy yards up the hill, where Rory hadn’t been able to see it from the house. The
wind had picked up. The screen door flipped back and smacked against the wall, battering, like ruined applause. Across the road, half-hidden in a grove of live oaks at the edge of a gully, was Riss’s Toyota Land Cruiser. She must have coasted over the lip of the hill with the engine off and parked it out of sight before she snuck in the back door.

Boone held Rory by the hair, shotgun jammed into her ribs. Riss followed, shoving her between the shoulder blades.

“You don’t have to push. I’m taking you there,” Rory said.

She listened for Mirkovic’s SUV parade, but the wind blew through the oaks and eucalyptus, a hard brushing sound that overcame all else.

She felt, despite everything that had happened, a depthless surprise, like a gut punch, that her own family was this greedy and animalistic, that, unchained, they grabbed for everything without regard for life, for love, for others. They were a cheap documentary on the power of hatred and need, come to life.

The crumbling road stretched black and empty down the hill, all the way to the floor of the valley. It cut like a gnarled cable through dry scrub and empty fields. The city lay distant, beneath a beige haze, like a cataract. The sharp blue-gray ridges of the mountains rose beyond it, rocky and isolated. Boone gazed at them eagerly. His thirst for the money seemed ready to turn him inside out.

Riss shoved Rory again. Rory felt some swirling approach of danger, of violence, of cold endings. She pinned her eyes on the truck.

“We need tools. And bags,” Riss said.

Not in a million years was Rory going to suggest where to find shovels and a bag big enough to hold a body.

Boone pushed her into the passenger side of the wrecker’s cab. He climbed in behind her and clambered across her lap, pivoting over the shotgun as if it were a vaulting pole. A thread of sweat rolled down her back. Boone dropped into the driver’s seat. He laid the shotgun across his lap, aimed at her stomach, his left hand awkwardly clawing the trigger. With his right he turned the ignition.

Leaning forward, he peered past Rory out the passenger door at his stepsister. “Follow us in your car. It’ll take two vehicles to carry everything.”

Riss backed away, nodding. Addie squirmed and sniffled in her arms.

Boone stomped on the clutch and ground the shift into first gear. He checked the rearview mirror and turned his head to look out the driver’s window.

Where, Glock raised and aimed at his face, stood Seth.

R
ory let out a breath that was beyond shock, beyond disbelief. Seth was standing on his own feet, eyes clear and focused, hair disheveled. Shirt damp. Gun shining. Her heart beat hard against her ribs and her voice rose in her throat, a cry of joy.

Boone sat astounded, right hand on the wheel, left on the trigger of the shotgun. Seth held the Glock in a two-handed grip, chest high, the barrel aimed square at Boone’s face.

“Federal officer. Don’t move,” he said.

Rory blinked. Felt a firework detonate in her chest.

“Put your hands on the dashboard,” Seth said.

Boone stared straight at him. His hands didn’t move.

Head pounding, Rory pitched out the passenger door. She hit the asphalt and scrambled to the back of the wrecker, out of the line of fire. Down the road, near the El Camino, Riss had stopped on her way to the garage.