When All The Girls Have Gone (13 page)

“I’ll get it,” she said.

She waved him off, got the door open and jumped up into the seat.

Max loped around the front of the vehicle, climbed in behind the
wheel and fired up the engine. He paused long enough to shrug out of his windbreaker and sports coat. She noticed that he did not unbuckle the gun belt.

She removed her anorak and put it neatly on the floor of the rear compartment to dry.

Max put the SUV in gear and drove cautiously down the steep, graveled driveway.

Charlotte looked back at the darkened cabin.

Roxanne Briggs, illuminated by the glow of the lantern, was at the window, watching them drive away.

“That is one unhappy woman,” Charlotte said.

Charlotte turned back around in her seat and studied the scene through the windshield. The rain was still coming down. It was going to be a long drive back to Seattle.

She realized that the uneasy sensation that had been icing her nerves for the past couple of days had grown more intense during the interview with Egan Briggs.

“Briggs didn’t seem to know anything about Louise Flint,” she said after a while.

“No,” Max said. “He didn’t.”

“He didn’t even recognize her name, so obviously she didn’t travel to Loring to speak to him.”

“Evidently.”

“I guess that’s not very surprising. Briggs is retired, after all. Louise had no reason to look him up.”

“Not unless she thought she had a lead on the man who attacked Jocelyn. In which case it seems likely that she would have wanted to talk to the cop who handled the case.”

“Just like you wanted to talk to him,” Charlotte said.

“Right.” Max reduced his speed to drive around a fallen tree branch. “But maybe Louise Flint had another reason for making the trip to Loring.”

“Any idea what that reason might be?”

“Not yet.”

“Maybe she came across some information that convinced her that Jocelyn’s attacker was still living in the area.” Charlotte paused. “But why would she try to investigate on her own?”

Max glanced at her. “You don’t think Louise was the type to try to conduct her own investigation?”

Charlotte considered that for a moment. “To be honest, I didn’t know Louise well enough to be able to predict her actions. But I can tell you that Jocelyn would not have wanted Louise to take any risks on her behalf.”

Max changed gears, slowing the SUV a little more to deal with the bad road.

“Maybe Louise didn’t realize that she was taking a risk,” he said.

“Or maybe she really did drive all the way to Loring for some reason that had nothing to do with Jocelyn.”

“Then we’re back to coincidence, and I’m not buying that,” Max said.

“Not to change the subject, but did Mr. and Mrs. Briggs strike you as a bit eccentric?”

“A lot of retired cops are a bit eccentric. Some get downright paranoid. Hazard of the job.”

“I suppose I can understand that.”

“I’ve got no problem with eccentricities,” Max said. “Got a few of my own. What bothers me is that Briggs showed almost zero interest in Louise Flint.”

Startled, Charlotte turned partway around in the seat. “What do you mean? He said she hadn’t contacted him. Why would he be interested in a woman he never met?”

“Because we drove all this way to ask him about her. Because we brought up Jocelyn’s assault case. And most of all because Louise Flint is dead. In my experience, cops don’t blow off that kind of data.”

“You think he should have been more curious about Louise?”

“Yeah, I do. And there’s something else I didn’t like.”

“What?” Charlotte demanded.

“Briggs claimed that he watched for reports of attacks against women that exhibited an MO similar to the one Jocelyn’s assailant used.”

“Right. He said there were only two more that year and then they stopped. You were the one who told me that criminals don’t change their methods very much.”

Max checked his rearview mirror, frowning a little. Then he returned his attention to the rough road.

“No,” he said. “But sometimes the smart ones refine their techniques.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“It’s possible that the blindfold was part of the attacker’s fantasy. But what if it was just a means to an end—part of his strategy? What if the purpose was simply to make certain the victim was helpless and to ensure that she couldn’t describe her assailant?”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning there are other ways to achieve those objectives. Drugs, for example.”

Charlotte caught her breath. “That theory opens up some very scary possibilities.”

“Yes, it does. You said that the reason your sister’s case wound up in the deep-freeze file was because the evidence box disappeared.”

“Right.”

“What if someone made certain it got lost?”

Understanding slammed through Charlotte. “Are you suggesting that Briggs may have destroyed the evidence box?”

“I’m just juggling chain saws at the moment. But according to what I found online, Egan Briggs retired less than a year after your sister’s case went nowhere.”

Charlotte exhaled slowly. “Briggs kept telling us that he believed Jocelyn’s account of the assault. But Jocelyn was convinced that he didn’t believe her. Still, why would he go so far as to make the evidence box disappear?”

“You told me that the college authorities applied a lot of pressure on the local cops.”

“Yes, but to deliberately destroy evidence? That is . . . breathtaking.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time that people in power have leaned on the local police to make a crime go away. Briggs might not have liked it, but if he didn’t have the support of his superiors, there wouldn’t have been much he could do about it. Maybe he had nothing to do with losing the evidence box. But the fact remains, it vanished.”

“And any way you slice it, he should have shown more interest in Louise Flint’s death.”

“Right.”

“So why would he invite us up here and pretend to be helpful?” Charlotte asked.

“I can think of a couple of reasons. He may have hoped to persuade us to discontinue the Loring angle in our investigation.”

“And reason number two?”

“He wanted to see how much we already knew and find out where we were headed.”

“So, while we were trying to extract information from him, he was doing the same thing to us.”

“Just a theory.” Max glanced in the rearview mirror again. “Looks like we’re not the only ones trying to get off this mountain before the worst of the storm hits.”

It was late afternoon, but twilight descended early in the mountains. When Charlotte checked the side mirror, she saw the laser-bright headlights of another vehicle flash briefly.

The twin beams disappeared when Max drove around another tight curve. She turned in her seat and looked back through the rear window.

The headlights of the other car appeared again, closer this time.

“It looks like the same SUV we saw parked at the Briggses’ cabin,” she said. “Whoever it is, he’s driving awfully fast for these conditions.”

“Yes.” Max gave the rearview mirror another swift, assessing look and then he concentrated on his driving. “He is.”

“Maybe Briggs is trying to catch up with us because he remembered something about the case.”

“You really believe that?”

“Well, no.” She studied Max’s hard face. “You think we might have a serious problem, don’t you?”

“Yes, I think we’ve got a serious problem.”

He took one more look in the mirror. “Whoever it is, I’m not going to risk trying to outrun him. I don’t know the road as well as he does and the visibility is too low. So we’re going to bail.”

She took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said.

“Okay?”

“It’s not like I’ve got a better plan. So, yeah, okay.”

“The bridge is coming up soon. There’s no cover on this side, but the woods are pretty thick on the other side. As soon as we’re across, I’m going to pull over. Get ready to jump out when I give the word. Head into the trees. Understand?”

“Yes,” she said.

“I’ll be right behind you. If he gets out of the vehicle to pursue us, we’ll have the advantage of plenty of cover.”

There didn’t seem to be anything else to say, so she said nothing.

Max went into a close turn, accelerating hard on the far side. She realized he was trying to buy them a little time to get over the bridge and into the shelter of the trees.

The narrow bridge suddenly appeared. The river looked even higher now. Just another sixty seconds, Charlotte thought. That was all the time they needed.

“Shit,” Max said very softly.

He started to brake.

Charlotte opened her mouth to ask him why he was changing his mind. Then she saw the massive tree that had fallen across the road at the far end of the bridge. It blocked the narrow strip of pavement as effectively as a brick wall.

The front wheels of the SUV were already on the bridge.

“Hang on,” Max ordered.

He slammed the vehicle into reverse and managed to back up a few feet, angling the SUV to the left side of the road.

Briggs’s vehicle shot out of the last turn before the bridge. The driver must have taken in the situation in an instant. He slowed but not much. Charlotte realized he was taking aim at Max’s SUV.

Max hit the switch to lower the windows.

“He’s going to push us into the river,” Max said. “Grab the handhold and brace yourself. The air bags will probably blow. Don’t unfasten your seat belt until we’re in the water.”

There was no time to think about what was happening. Charlotte reached up and took what she hoped would not prove to be a death grip on the handhold. Before she could ask any questions, Briggs sideswiped the SUV with enough force to send it hurtling forward off the muddy riverbank into the water.

The explosion of the air bags was followed immediately by the impact of the landing. For a few seconds Charlotte could not focus. She heard Max giving orders and followed them blindly.

“Seat belt,” he snapped.

She fumbled with her seat belt and got it undone.

“Window,” he said. “You won’t be able to open the door. Whatever you do, don’t lose contact with the car.”

She managed to scramble halfway through the open window.

“Grab the door handle,” Max ordered. “Don’t let go.”

She reached down, groping wildly for the outside door handle. Miraculously she found it.

“Got it,” she shouted.

Max pushed her all the way through the opening. The shock of the cold water hit her with such paralyzing force she could not catch her breath.

“Don’t let go of the door handle,” Max said again.

“I won’t.”

She realized he was not following her. Instead he was scrambling into the rear seat, reaching for something in the cargo area.

Water was filling up the interior of the SUV very quickly.

“Max,” she shouted. “What are you doing?”

“I’m here,” he said.

He emerged through the rear window behind her.

The SUV was now firmly in the grip of the river. The water was carrying it swiftly downstream, away from the bridge.

She looked back one last time and caught a glimpse of Egan Briggs. He was out of his vehicle, standing on the bridge. He had a gun in his hand. She saw him take aim.

She thought she heard the crack of a shot being fired, but in the next instant the river took them around a bend and out of sight of the bridge.

“We’re going to get on top of the car,” Max said. “Just do as I tell you. Got that?”

“Yes.”

He thought her voice sounded steadier. He took a closer look, doing a fast assessment. He needed to know if she was in a state of panic. That would complicate matters even more.

She seemed to realize what he was doing.

“I’m okay,” she said. “I’ll panic later.”

“Good plan,” he said.

Adrenaline had kicked in, he decided. Like him, she was wholly focused on survival now.

“I’ll go first,” he said.

The water was up to the edge of the front windows because the weight of the heavy engine was dragging down the front end of the SUV. There was still enough air left in the interior of the vehicle to keep the SUV afloat for another couple of minutes but no more.

He gripped the window frame with one hand and reached up to grasp the luggage rack with his other hand. Bracing one foot on the bottom edge of the window frame, he hauled himself up on top of the vehicle. It wasn’t easy because his soaked clothes and his boots might as well have been lead weights.

When he was sure his grip was secure, he crouched, leaned over the edge and reached down.

“Give me your left hand,” he said. “But don’t let go of the door handle until I tell you.”

She reached up. He locked his fingers around her wrist.

“Got you,” he said. “Let go of the door handle. Try to get one foot on the bottom of the window for leverage.”

She was already in motion. She managed to brace one foot on the lower edge of the window frame just as he had done.

He hauled her up out of the water and onto the top of the SUV. She was breathless from the exertion and thoroughly soaked, but she crouched on the luggage rack and looked at him.

“Now we hope for an eddy, right?” she said.

“You’ve done this before?”

“No. But I took some kayak lessons a few weeks ago. I know how eddies work.”

“Okay, that is very good news.”

He allowed himself a small sigh of relief. He wasn’t going to have to explain the principles of fluid dynamics. Anyone who had spent time on a river understood eddies. They formed when water hit an object like a boulder. A whirlpool effect was created on the far side of the obstruction, producing a reverse current. If they could get into an eddy near the edge of the river, there was a good chance that the countercurrent would wash them up onto the bank.

He took off his belt and looped it loosely around Charlotte’s waist.

“When I say jump, we’ll go together,” he said. “I’ll hang on to the belt to make sure we don’t get separated.”

She nodded.

Driven by the strong current, the SUV swung in a slow arc, pivoting around the heavy front end. Max studied the river. Eddies frequently formed immediately after a bend or a natural obstruction.

“There’s a bunch of boulders coming up,” he said. “There should be an eddy right after them. Get ready to jump.”

The SUV bumped along, scraping the river bottom in places, swinging lazily from side to side. The vehicle was almost completely submerged now.

The SUV was dragged past the boulders seemingly in slow motion. He saw the change in the surface of the water that indicated the eddy and tightened his grip on the leather belt.

The boulders slipped past.

“Now,” he said.

Charlotte didn’t hesitate. They went into the slack water on the far side of the rocks. For a few seconds he worried that he’d miscalculated. But he got his feet under him. He felt Charlotte catch her balance, too.

They were close to the edge of the river. The water was fairly shallow and the eddy formed by the boulders protected them from the heavy current.

They staggered up the muddy bank and onto the road. The chill of the air felt like a blast from a freezer. Charlotte was shivering. So was he. It was time to stop worrying about drowning and start thinking about the dangers of hypothermia.

“We need shelter,” he said. “The rain is easing up, but the wind is getting worse.”

Charlotte looked around. “We passed several cabins and a couple of closed lodges on the way to Briggs’s place.”

“Right. Let’s move.” He pulled the two small plastic packets out from under his shirt. “Here, take one of these.”

She accepted one of the packets. “Emergency thermal blankets?”

“I keep a stash of them in the emergency kit. Couldn’t bring the whole damn kit, but the blankets will help us ward off hypothermia until we find shelter.”

They unfolded the paper-thin reflective blankets and wrapped them around their shoulders. They started walking down the road.

“Out of sheer curiosity,” he said, “what made you sign up for that course in kayaking?”

“My therapist told me I needed to learn to be more spontaneous. One of the residents at Rainy Creek Gardens suggested kayaking. Mildred said she’d done it for years. She told me it was a great way to meet outdoorsy-type men.”

“How’d that work out for you?”

“Quite well, actually. Here I am in the great outdoors—with a man.”