Chapter 23
Even at night, I’m familiar enough with this road to know the turnoff for the boat launch is coming up on my right. Heading to the river is a long shot, but one I’m willing to take with Frank Dozier practically in my backseat and no guarantee of what might happen if I get on the highway or continue racing around out here in the country. So I hope, with my bare foot pressing down on the accelerator and my speedometer still hovering in the eighty mile-an-hour range, that my knowledge of the area and of the gravel road down to the river trumps Frank’s. Praying to the gods of Jason Statham and Nicolas Cage and every other actor who’s ever filmed a high speed chase, I tap the brake just enough to turn off the county road, the back end of the Camaro fishtailing and clipping a tree.
Kieran allows himself a mild freak-out once he realizes where we are. “You know there’s a river down here, right?” he yells over the roar of the engine and the crunching of gravel.
“Yup,” I say, not taking my eyes from the darkness in front of me flanked by trees. “But I’m hoping our friend behind us doesn’t. Hold on.”
We’re going so fast I can barely control the car, my foot leaving the gas pedal several times as the ruts in the gravel bounce us around, the seatbelt squeezing me as if it wants to slice me in half. From the corner of my eye, I notice Kieran’s taken my “Hold on” command literally, both hands grasping his seatbelt harness above the shoulder. Despite the blinding lights from Frank’s car shining in my back window, I’m able to make out one final dip coming up in the path ahead, right before the road widens out into the boat launch area. The Camaro rumbles over the rut as I slam on my brakes, and my seatbelt tightens against me as I turn to the right to keep us from launching into the river before I yank hard left to avoid going into the woods. The car fishtails once again and the brakes can’t slow my speed enough to prevent the back end from smashing into a tree, the crunch of metal and shattering glass deafening me before fading out for a moment as momentum jerks my body sideways, my temple slamming into the still intact driver’s side window. I snap back, the only sound in my ears the protesting moan of the engine after being put through so much work. As if to reward the car for a job well done, I reach forward and click the key to the “off” position, the atmosphere eerily silent once I do.
“Zip?”
Kieran’s voice seems far away, and when I turn to look at him, my vision blurs and all I can see is a black blob and something that sort of looks like a face, but I can’t be sure the blob is Kieran. “Whoa,” I whisper, my head lolling around on my neck as if it’s no longer completely attached…
Next thing I know, I’m sitting on the gravel beside the car, Kieran’s tuxedo jacket slung over my shoulders and my head resting on his chest, his palm a dull thud against my cheek. “Stay with me, okay?” he begs. “Okay? Zip?”
“Wha…”
“I think you might have a concussion,” he says, although his voice sounds like it’s coming through a tin can. “We need to keep you awake.”
“Who?” I mumble, my mouth feeling as though it’s lined with fur. After I swallow, I try once more to form words. “Who gon keep you wake?”
“Who’s going to keep me awake?” Kieran translates. “Good question. At least you’ve still got your sense of humor, so that’s something.”
Kieran lifts my body off the ground, my limbs limp as snapped rubber bands. I’m not sure what’s happening, but something triggers the muscle memory of putting one foot in front of the other in order to walk. The world swims before me in hazy ripples of darkness, my head floating around on my neck. “Okay, you’re doing great,” he tells me. “You’re—”
My knees hit the ground. Hard. I collapse on my side, moaning, before my stomach lurches and I throw up.
“Oh, God. Sorry. Sorry. My body gave out on me for a minute,” Kieran’s voice says from somewhere far away. “Look, I’ll be back soon, okay? I’m going to try to find your phone.” He sits me upright on the rocks and drapes his jacket around me once again. My head throbs, and in an effort to keep it attached to my body, I lean forward and pull my legs to me, Kieran’s jacket sliding from my shoulders. My arms and chin come to rest in some kind of hot, slimy wetness I can’t really see, but I can smell it—blood, maybe?
My stomach empties out again, and all I want to do is lie down here in the gravel and…and…
After I’m not sure how long, I awake to rocks digging into my cheek and a firm hand shaking me back to consciousness. Kieran sits me upright once again and places cold hands underneath my arms so he can pull me off the ground. “We need to walk, okay?” he says, my head so foggy he sounds like he’s talking to me underwater. “Keep your arms around me.”
I lean into his chest, his shirt wet and cool and welcome against my face as we begin to move, my forehead grazing the prickly damp hair on his chin. The sensation of stubble against my skin sets off a brief chain of logic in my addled brain—Kieran’s always clean-shaven, and he definitely would be tonight. Even in my altered state, I’m shocked and scared enough that instinct tells me to pull away. As soon as I do, the world spins in front of me, my legs buckling. “Whoa, there,” says the voice I thought belonged to Kieran, but now I’m not sure. Maybe I’m still passed out. Maybe I’m dreaming this.
Maybe I’m dead. And if I am and this is heaven, consider me so not impressed.
“Kieran?” I whimper, trying to make sense of what’s happening. If Kieran isn’t the one holding me up, then who is? Frank?
“Hang onto me and keep moving,” the voice orders. “You need to stay awake until help gets here.”
I’m in no condition to argue and definitely in no shape to fight this person, whoever he is, and as he doesn’t seem to have any immediate intentions of killing me, I lean in again and let him steer me around, the rocks stabbing into my feet and his Kieran-like voice tethering me to consciousness. “Okay. You’re doing fine. Just a little bit longer. I can hear the sirens now…”
Someone yells, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. “No—I swear,” my rescuer calls out into the darkness. “I’m not going to hurt her. Or you. I’ve called for help. Don’t you hear the ambulance?”
A muffled voice responds, too far away for me to understand anything, and my rescuer again claims he’s trying to help. “I’m serious—I’m not here to hurt either of you. I just want to do right by you for once. Why would I have called for help if I wanted to hurt you?”
The other person doesn’t say anything—nothing I can hear, anyway. “Here,” my rescuer begins, nudging me forward. “Take her. Keep her moving if you can until the ambulance gets down here. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I’m supposed to believe that?” the other voice responds, sounding an awful lot like Kieran—Kieran at the bottom of a well.
“I’m unarmed and I don’t want to hurt you, I swear. Take her,” my rescuer insists, also sounding a lot like Kieran at the bottom of a well.
Okay—I’m obviously brain-damaged. These guys can’t both be Kieran. I try to shake the confusion out of my head, but the motion only makes the wooziness worse. For a second, I sense two pairs of arms on me, then only one pair circles my waist and I feel the light brush of lips grazing my forehead.
“See? I’m unarmed. Frank’s gone. I don’t want anything bad for you kids. I’m trying to set things right here.”
I’m aware of the low whine of a siren coming from somewhere, and the voice of my rescuer—I think it’s him, anyway—sounds even further away. “I don’t have time to explain right now. Just check your jacket pocket later.” The voice keeps fading, but I hear him say something like “Take care of her—she’s a good one.”
“Yeah,” Kieran says against my ear, before the quiet gives way to the bleating ambulance pulling into the boat launch area.