The Botanist (19 page)

Chapter 30

Cody drove slowly back from the prison, turning everything Resputa had said over in his mind. The sex offender’s information had opened up more questions than answers, and Cody felt a compulsive urge to shower, but it hadn’t been quite as bad as he would have thought.

Maybe Cody was finally moving past Resputa, becoming strong enough not to let Resputa get to him anymore.

He ran through a mental list of everything he’d have to do in the morning, and wondered whether to call the captain. Either the captain would be waiting up for him, anxious to hear what Resputa had to say, or he’d holler at Cody for not letting it wait until morning.

Cody glanced at the digital clock below his car’s radio. It was nearly 4 a.m. He didn’t have any missed calls, and nothing Resputa had said was urgent, so Cody decided it could wait until morning.

Fifteen minutes later, when he was still half an hour from home, his cell phone buzzed. Maybe the captain was waiting up for the news after all.

To his surprise, the name displayed on the screen was Court’s. Why was Court calling him at this hour? A soft, creeping dread stole into his stomach. He pushed the green button on his phone.

“Yeah?”

“Cody, where are you?”

“Half hour from town. Why?”

“Come to the hospital.”

Cody swallowed, not sure he wanted to ask the next question. “What happened?”

“It’s Tom. Someone broke into the safe house. He’s hurt.”

“What about Alex?”

“She isn’t there, Cody. We have people looking for her. A neighbor saw a tall man in a cop uniform shove her into the back of an unmarked van.”

Panic rose in his chest. “I have to go look for her, Court. I’ll meet the units at the safe house and go from there.”

“
No,
Cody—”

“But—”

“This
just
happened, Cody. She managed to call 911 so we got there only minutes after. They can’t have gotten far; we’ll find her. But you need to get to the hospital. Right.
Now
.
”

Cody waited. Panic of a different sort rose up. What was Court getting at?

“Is Tom all right?”

“No, Cody, he’s not. It’s bad. The captain already went to pick up Margaret and the kids. You need to get here, Cody. Now.”

Cody let the cell phone slip through his fingers and slammed his foot down on the accelerator.

Slowly,
Alex’s awareness returned. It seemed to her that the van was flying along at an impossible speed, while her limbs took evolutionary eras of time to respond to her brain. After what seemed like years, she began to feel her fingers and toes again, then her feet and hands, her wrists and ankles. Her limbs began to tingle.

With awareness, the pain increased. That was the nice thing about oblivion: you were too out of it to realize how miserable you were. Her heart pounded in her temples and it felt like a fifty pound barbell was balancing on the side of her head.

Finally she tried to move a sand-filled foot—and it worked! Alex cautiously turned her head so she could see her abductor. He was staring out at the dark road from behind the wheel of the van. Alex’s hair rested over her eyes and it was dark outside, so she didn’t think he’d be able to tell she was awake. She had to be careful. If he realized, he might knock her out again.

Without moving her head, she let her eyes roam over the interior of the van. It was mostly empty, but a doorless cabinet had been built into one side. It held random tools and debris.

On the floor was a dark lump. It sparkled with a dull metallic gleam when a streetlight gleamed through the window. A tire iron, perhaps? Alex couldn’t tell, but she was sure it was the weapon the Botanist had used to subdue her. He’d left it on the floor, four feet out of her reach. He was certain she’d be unconscious until they reached their destination, wherever that was.

She had to act, but she was still woozy, and her limbs were only sort of doing what she told them. Once she hit him, he’d know she was awake and trying to escape, so she’d have to make it count. She wouldn’t be able to kill him with a tire iron; she didn’t have the physical strength or the emotional will power. But then what? Even if she hit him and jumped from the van, where would she go? Cody wasn’t nearby to save her this time. The Botanist would just return with the van and get her.

She could take the tire iron with her, but that would be too hard to cart along in her weakened state. Besides, what would she do? Fight him off all the way back to town? They must be miles away. He had the advantage because he had a vehicle.

Alex knew what she had to do. She didn’t know if it was possible, but she had to. She
had
to. Her life depended on it. And she’d be damned if she was going to let this lowlife cart her off to the middle of the desert and make a victim out of her. She would
not
be buried in a mass grave—a sob story that evening crime dramas would no doubt rip from the headlines. Alex gritted her teeth, sprang to her feet, and grabbed the tire iron. Immediately the fifty pound weight moved from the side of her head to her forehead, and she became aware that her vision was compromised, but it was too late to back out. The second he glanced in his rearview mirror, she was done for. She let her arm drop all the way back behind her so she’d get a full range of motion. Then she swung the tire iron forward, arcing it toward her abductor’s head.

At the last second, he glanced up, his puffy eyes widening. He twisted around and threw a mammoth hand up just in time to catch the tire iron, keeping it from splitting his melon.

Despite that, her effort was not entirely in vain. The tire iron slammed into his outstretched hand, and she was sure she broke something—fingers, if nothing else.

Her suspicions were confirmed when he tried unsuccessfully to hold onto the tire iron, but she pulled it easily from his grip. She whipped around to aim for his head again. He leaned out of the way just in time, but the iron glanced off the top of his head. They swerved, and Alex was thrown to the floor.

Okay, so she hadn’t thought about the fact that he could crash the van and kill them both, but she wasn’t about to go down without a fight. Her head was still pounding but the adrenaline blocked out most of the pain.

She got to her feet, ready to aim for his head again, but he was thinking fast now, too. He slammed on his brakes, sending her into the dashboard. Before she could push herself up, his fingers closed around her throat. They were rolling forward because he hadn’t bothered to put the van in park. His fingers tightened, and Alex knew if she couldn’t get away, this would be it.

At the least he was trying to make her pass out, and this time she probably wouldn’t regain consciousness. At worst she’d pissed him off enough he would actually strangle her. She kicked and twisted and flailed her arms, but it did no good.

Alex slammed her hand down on the console between the driver and passenger seats, feeling for anything that might help her. Her fingers closed over something long and skinny and hard—a writing pen, maybe?

She told herself to concentrate, but it was hard to focus on what she was doing, tell her lungs to draw breath through the tiny, needle of an airway she had left,
and
fight the panic rising in her gut.

She turned the pen so the pointy side was—she thought—toward her attacker. Then she abandoned breathing all together and threw her entire strength into this one, last-ditch effort, grasping the pen tightly in her fist and thrusting it forward. She felt it stick into something . . . and he let go of her throat.

Alex sucked in a massive, painful gulp of air, then tried to look at him. Her vision still wasn’t right, as if blood vessels in her eyes had popped, marring anything directly in front of her. She had to turn her head to the side to see him, as though she were wearing reverse blinders.

He was staring down at the pen she’d stabbed him with. It was sticking straight out, just below his collar bone. He looked puzzled, like he was trying to decide whether or not to remove it. For the first time, Alex could see his entire face, free of sunglasses, false facial hair, or anything else. It was dark outside, but the full moon supplied enough light to see him clearly.

His face was deeply scarred and his jaw was slack on one side, making him look deformed. Even in the moonlight, she could tell his skin was pasty white and everything about him screamed of malnutrition.

His hesitation was enough to spur her into action, though now her head, chest, lungs,
and
limbs all throbbed with pain. Tears of fatigue coursed down her cheeks as she twisted away from him and picked up the tire iron, which had fallen to the floor beneath her. She got to her feet and swung it as hard as she could. This time she connected solidly with the side of his head. He slammed against the driver’s side window with a resounding crack. He still didn’t pass out, but was too stunned to react.

Alex reached across him and opened his door. Then she perched on the passenger seat and kicked. It took seven or eight savage kicks before he toppled out, but she did it. He hit the ground, but was already stirring, trying to get up, moving as if in slow motion.

Alex got into the driver’s seat, yanked the door shut, and slammed her foot down on the gas pedal. She went forward twenty feet, swerved wide, did a U-turn, and then sped back the way they’d come.

By the time she passed him, he was on his feet. He pounded on the side of the van as she passed, and she was afraid he’d grab onto the handle. Terrifying images of him being dragged, but holding on and managing to get inside the van filled her head, but he didn’t have the strength. She left him limping after her in the dust.

Alex couldn’t see much, so she relied on her peripheral vision and hoped she was driving in a straight line. Actually, if a cop thought she was drunk and pulled her over, it would be a blessing. Well, unless it was
him.
How would she ever trust cops again after this? She tried to keep her mind on Cody. Him, she trusted, and he was a cop, too, albeit not one that would probably pull her over for a traffic violation.

She’d recognize the street lights when she got back to the city. From there, she thought she’d be able to navigate her way to the police station. She just had to pray the road she was on took her back into the city, and not farther out into the desert.

Chapter 31

When a
ka-thud
announced that the dirt road had become pavement, the ride became smoother. The asphalt looked pale in the headlights compared to the surrounding darkness. She reached an intersection. Up ahead was only darkness. To her distant right there was light, but it was too far away to tell what the source was. Still, light spoke of civilization, so she turned toward it.

Twenty minutes later, Alex started to recognize things—a general store, a gas station, a bridge over the highway in front of the school. She was on Main Street, heading through the center of town.

Oddly, when the Botanist took her this time, he hadn’t gone back to where he’d tried to abduct her before, near the historical monument. Rather, he went the opposite direction, coming out on the southern side of town. Where had he been going?

When she was almost to the station, lights in her peripheral vision caught her eye. They were red and blue, like cop lights. She put on her breaks and turned her head every which way, trying to figure out where she was. After several minutes she realized she was in front of the hospital. So not squad car lights, but ambulance lights? She wondered if they could have found Tom already. She had no idea how long she’d been gone.

Alex debated. She shouldn’t drive any more than strictly necessary, and she needed medical attention. Even if the detectives weren’t here, the hospital staff would call them for her. She turned the van onto the narrow road that led to the hospital, but only got half way down it before she had to slow again.

Something was in the road out ahead of her, but she couldn’t tell what. It looked like a dark blur to her.

“Stop, ma’am.”

Alex jumped at the voice outside her window.

“Where are you going, ma’am?”

Alex realized what she was seeing was a roadblock. The man outside her window was one of the cops assigned to it.

“Can you roll down your window, ma’am?”

Alex tried to find a circular handle—the van was way too old for power windows—but there wasn’t one. She fumbled around for a minute, but she didn’t know how to get the window down or how to tell the cop that she couldn’t, so she opened the door.

She knew it was dangerous to get out of a car when the cop hadn’t told you to, but she was too tired to care. Her strength was fading. She tried to step out of the van, but her legs weren’t working particularly well. She fell out of the vehicle and stumbled until she could shut the driver’s side door and lean against it.

“Ma’am, what are you—?” The cop’s voice was guarded.

Alex could imagine how terrible she looked. She was covered with Tom’s blood, her hair was a mess, and after wrestling with the Botanist, she was willing to bet her face could be the punch line of a black-and-white-and-red-all-over joke.

“Ma’am, are you—?” His voice had taken on a sound of awe, but to Alex he sounded hollow and far away.

She tried to speak. If they hadn’t found Tom yet, she had to tell them to go get him. She couldn’t force her voice out any louder than a whisper, though, and she was having trouble stringing full sentences together.

“Tom,” she whispered, “Detective . . . hurt . . . the safe house.”

She heard the cop step toward her.

“Are you Alexandra Thompson?”

“Alex!”

The voice was familiar, but it took a few more sentences before she realized it was Frank’s. His voice was far away and his shoes thumped on the pavement as he jogged over to her.

“Alex, what happened?” There was a moment of shock while he took in her appearance. “Is that your blood?”

“No. Tom’s . . . he’s hurt.”

“We know. He’s here, in the hospital.”

“Is he . . . okay?”

There was a minuscule hesitation. “The doctors are working on him. Alex, tell me what happened.”

“Cop from before. He stabbed Tom; hit me with a tire iron.”

“Then what?”

“I woke up, hit
him
with the tire iron, and kicked him out of the van. Came back.”

There were several seconds of stunned silence.

“Really?” Frank asked, sounding impressed.

Alex nodded, but instantly regretted it, as it made the world sway violently.

Frank shouted in the other direction. “You, officer! You wanna catch a really bad guy today?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Round up as many men as you can. I want at least five squad cars with ten men. Go now!”

Frank stepped closer to her, and she could feel his breath on her face, though she still couldn’t see him clearly.

“Alex, this is important. Where did you kick him out?”

“I don’t know . . . the highway, south of town.”

“How far south of town? Did you see a mile marker?”

“No. Can’t see anything. Couldn’t even see the mileage gage in the van.”

“What do you mean you can’t see anything? You were just driving.”

“He hit me with a tire iron. It’s all blurry.”

Immediately Frank’s arm was around her waist, holding her up. She sagged against him with relief, not sure how much longer she could remain standing on her own.

“Anything you can tell us, Alex. Anything. He doesn’t have a car. We can go get him right now if we know where to look.”

“Stay on this road. When . . . get past the lights—way past—a dirt intersection. Turn right . . . went slowly on that road for . . . twenty minutes from where I kicked him out.”

“Okay. Officer! When the other unies gather here, tell them to wait for me. I’m taking her up to the ER.”

“Yes, sir.”

Frank helped her hobble along, though in truth he was almost carrying her. She couldn’t get her feet to move the way she wanted them to. She tried to hold her own weight up, but it was exhausting. The distance from the roadblock to the sliding door of the emergency room was probably only a few hundred feet, but it took a lifetime to cross.

Muted voices murmured around her. In the periphery of her vision, she could see blurry forms of men standing around, watching her. Radios spouted voices and static alternately, and everyone was talking on cell phones. Even Frank was talking to someone—to her or was he on a phone, too?—but she couldn’t make out what he was saying.

Then there were forms of people coming toward them. One voice stood out of the din and brought Alex’s head up.

Her eyes were getting worse, not better, but the voice, height, and vague, blurry features were all recognizable as Cody’s. Alex was so relieved to see him she wanted to cry.

“Alex?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “God Almighty.”

Cody came up beside her and started to put an arm around her. She didn’t know if he meant to take over for Frank or not, but she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him with what strength she had left. Then his arm was under her knees and she was being carried.

“I’ve got her, Frank.”

“I’m going out with the uniforms, Cody. Tell the doctors she’s got a head injury, reported blurry vision.”

“I will.”

Even Cody’s voice became muted as she drifted farther from consciousness. Shapes and colors became more indistinct, until there were only shades of black and white and soft echoes all around. Then, mercifully, the darkness enveloped her.