Dawn's Light (26 page)

“Then let's don't do it. Let's just go back. You can turn yourself in. We can pay the money back. Maybe they'll let you go after the restitution is paid.”

That would be fine if it was just as he'd told her. But there was no restitution for murder, or for assaulting a police officer. He had no choice but to run. “I need you to stay quiet,” he said. “I don't know for sure if anybody's here.”

She shut up, and he led her quietly around the building. There were seven cars there that they had converted, but the keys to each were inside the building. One of them was a pickup truck. Maybe that was the one he should try.

“Okay, we can put the bikes in that truck.”

She seemed satisfied at that, so they retrieved the bikes and rolled them to the truck. He put them into the bed. The truck was locked, so he found a crowbar and knocked the window out. He unlocked it, then dusted the glass fragments off the seat. “Get in.”

They hadn't been able to bring the car seat for the baby, but it wouldn't have mattered. The truck was so old that it didn't even have seat belts, so Analee climbed in and held the child in her arms. Holding his flashlight in his teeth, Clay got under the dashboard and hot-wired the engine. It rumbled to life.

He pulled himself up into the driver's seat, looking to see how much fuel he had. Only an eighth of a tank, but that was enough to get them all the way out of town. Maybe he could get a little more out of the filling station next to the building.

He backed the truck out and pulled it around to one of the fuel tanks. He tried it, but the spigots were locked soundly in their cradles, so that no one could steal fuel.

Oh, well. Maybe he could go from one police station to another, siphoning gas out of their squad cars. It was risky, but they were the only ones he was sure had gas.

He got back into the truck and closed the door. The baby was already asleep in Analee's arms. Analee looked resigned to the situation they were in, and she was quiet—a rare occurrence. He hoped she stayed that way. He pulled the truck out of the parking lot and headed north.

sixty-two

M
ARK WAS DRIPPING WITH SWEAT AND OUT OF BREATH
by the time he reached the sheriff's department. He burst through the front doors and cried out to the dozing deputy, “Give me the keys to your car. They got away!”

Billy London got to his feet. “What? Who got away?”

“Clay Tharpe.” He saw the keys lying on his desk and went to grab them. “He took the distributor cap off my car so I couldn't go after him.”

Billy followed him to the door. “Who's Clay Tharpe?”

“A murderer, that's who.”

“The one who killed that little girl today?”

Mark swung around. “Killed? Don't tell me she's dead!” He grabbed Billy's arm. “Did Beth die?”

“No, I don't know. I just thought—”

“Did someone come tell you she's dead?” he screamed.

Billy fell back over a desk. “No, I haven't heard anything. I meant to say he
attacked
the little girl.”

Mark let him go. He stepped back, adrenaline pounding through his heart.

“Man, get a grip. You should go home and get some rest.”

“I can't,” Mark said. “They're gonna get away. Then what good are we?” He looked down at the keys in his hand. “Look, if any of the squad cars come back in, tell them we're looking for a man and a woman on bicycles with a baby on the back.”

“How will they know it's them?”

Mark wanted to slug him. Through his teeth, he said, “They'll be the only man and woman with a baby on bicycles at three in the morning.”

Then he hurried out to the car parked haphazardly at the curb. He started the car and headed in the direction he thought the Tharpes had gone. His heart still hammered from his fright at the thought of Beth dying. “God, please don't let her die. Pull her through this, Lord. We can't lose her.”

As he prayed, his eyes searched frantically through the night for the killer who had duped him.

sixty-three

B
Y DAWN
, M
ARK HAD GIVEN UP ON TRYING TO FIND THE
Tharpes. He had searched every street in Crockett. The knot on his head where Clay had hit him with the plank had swollen. It hurt like an ice pick probing through his brain, and the skin was crusted with dry blood. He was hungry and thirsty and utterly exhausted.

When he finally came back to the sheriff's department at 7:30 a.m., he learned that a car had been stolen from the conversion plant. There was no doubt in his mind who had taken it. That explained how they'd gotten out of town without being caught, but he had no clues as to which way they had gone or what their destination might have been.

Wheaton and the rest of the guys on the daytime shift insisted that he go home and get some rest while they canvassed the Tharpes' neighborhood and talked to his coworkers. Maybe there were relatives nearby—parents, cousins, uncles, or aunts. Good friends who might live in other towns.

“We'll find them, I promise you,” Wheaton said. “Tharpe is behaving like a guilty man, and these crimes won't go unpunished.”

But Mark wasn't so sure. He sat on his desk, staring into space, trying to think of some way to speed up this process.

“Mark, I'm ordering you to take off and get some rest.”

“I can't.” He felt his emotions coming forth like a tsunami, rolling its deadly waves over his lungs, his heart, his throat. He was losing control, drowning. He rubbed his trembling mouth, closed his eyes.

Wheaton's voice softened. “Mark, go to the hospital. Be with your girl. She needs you.”

His shoulders shook with his failure. “I wanted to take her good news.”

“You tried. You did more than anybody else did. And it's not over. We'll get him.”

Mark wiped his face and tried to toughen up.

“Take one of the patrol cars,” Wheaton said, patting his back. “Get somebody to look at your head. While you're gone, we'll get a mechanic to replace the distributor cap on the van Tharpe vandalized.”

Mark drove to the hospital and sat in the parking lot for a moment, trying to pull himself together before he saw Deni. The last thing she should have to do was comfort
him
.

He found the surgical ICU waiting room on the third floor. Families clustered in distinct areas all around the place, some of them sleeping, others talking quietly. They all looked like they'd been to the front lines in a war with death.

Across the room, Logan slept on a blanket on the floor, and Jeff was out cold in one of those plastic recliners. Deni sat next to him—and next to Craig. She was sound asleep, her head resting on Craig's shoulder. Craig's head was rolled on top of hers, and he, too, was asleep. Mark's throat closed up, and he thought of turning and walking away. But the fight in him rose again, and he resolved that he wasn't letting Deni go, not like this.

He stooped in front of her, touched her knee. She jumped.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“You're here.” Extracting herself from Craig, she fell into Mark's arms, and he rose higher on his knees and held her with all his strength. He felt her tears on his neck, breathed in the scent of her hair, basked in the comfort of her embrace.

“I wanted to come earlier,” he whispered. “But I was out chasing Clay Tharpe.”

“Is he the one who hurt her?”

“No doubt in my mind,” he whispered against her hair. He pulled her to her feet. “Let's go sit somewhere else.”

She glanced back at Craig. Her movement had awakened him, and Mark saw the challenge in his sleepy eyes. She took Mark's hand and pulled him to an empty area. “Mark, did you catch this guy Tharpe?”

He didn't want to worry her with the details. “Not yet. The department's still working on it. Tell me about Beth.”

“She's still in a coma. She won't wake up.” She noticed the bloody bruise on his forehead, touched it gently. “What happened to you?”

He forced a smile. “I'm working on a scar to match the one on the other side, so I'll look balanced.”

She didn't find that funny. “Did somebody hit you?”

“Yeah, with a two-by-four, but don't worry about it.”

Vengeance flashed in her eyes. “Was this the guy who attacked Beth?”

“Yes, I think it was.”

Deni's eyes rounded. “I thought you hadn't caught him.”

He sighed. “I had him, but he swung and knocked me off balance, and he got away.” He touched her face, wanting her to understand. “I went after him. I've been looking for him for five hours.”

There it was again, the tsunami, choking him, pulling at the corners of his lips, burning his eyes.

She pulled him back into her arms and held him, and he let the storm have its way. She didn't let him go.

He hated himself for his weakness, and hated even more the fact that Craig had witnessed it. He pulled himself together and wiped his nose on his sleeve. As he pulled out of her arms, his gaze collided with Craig's.

Deni seemed to notice. “I didn't mean to fall asleep on his shoulder,” she whispered against his ear. “He was sitting next to me, and I must have slid over when I fell asleep.”

“Do me a favor,” he said, “next time don't sit next to him.”

“I won't. Please don't be upset about that.”

He shook his head. “No, we have plenty of other things to be concerned about.”

He saw Doug coming into the room, looking exhausted. He smiled when he saw Mark. “Hey, buddy,” he whispered so as not to wake the other families.

Mark got up and embraced him. Quickly, he told him about his night, and his close call with Tharpe.

“Valiant try, son,” Doug said. “I appreciate that a lot.”

“Get some rest, Mark,” Deni said. “Just sit down and close your eyes for a minute. I'll be right here. We'll wake you if we hear any news about Beth.”

Mark looked at Craig, met his cool gaze. No, he wasn't going to sleep.

But to appease Deni, he pulled out the footrest on his plastic recliner, and laid his head back.

sixty-four

M
ARK HADN'T MEANT TO DOZE OFF
. W
HEN HE WOKE
, he realized that a couple of hours had passed. Deni wasn't there. Craig still sat in the chair he'd been in when Mark arrived. His clothes were rumpled, but he still looked like the professional he was. Thick stubble darkened his jaw and dark circles underlined his eyes.

Mark lowered his footrest and pushed his hand through his hair.

“Didn't mean to nod off. Where's Deni?”

Craig looked like he didn't want to answer. “She went to relieve her mother for a few minutes, while Kay cleans up.”

Mark said nothing else. The two of them sat in silence, seats away from each other, waiting. Finally, he saw Doug coming through the door. His eyes were wet. “How is she?” Mark asked.

“The same.” He motioned back to the door. “Go in and see her if you want. Deni's in there alone right now.”

Craig's mouth fell open. “I thought it was just family.”

Doug looked down at him, then back up at Mark. “Mark is family.”

It was all Mark could do not to strut after that. He headed to the ICU, told the nurse whom he was there to see, and she gave him a set of scrubs. He pulled them on, fixed the mask over his mouth and nose, and found some gloves, hoping he wasn't dragging any germs in with him. When he'd done everything the nurse told him to do, he went into the room she pointed to.

Deni got up and kissed him. “You're awake.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Sorry I nodded off.” He walked to the side of the bed, and tears rimmed his eyes as he looked down at his young friend. He'd never seen anyone look this bad before. Her face was swollen, her head shaven and bandaged. He thought of Clay Tharpe with his hands around her throat, smashing her head against a tree trunk. Mark could feel his blood pressure rising. His hands shook as he reached down and stroked Beth's arm.

“Talk to her,” Deni said. “Maybe she'll hear you.”

He leaned over, putting his face close to Beth's. His voice wobbled. “Wake up, Sparky,” he said. “A lot of people out here are really worried about you. We need you. Get better. You can't let this beat you. And just so you know, I'm on the trail of the man who did this to you. He's never gonna hurt anybody else. We'll get him. Don't you worry.”

Still, there was no response.

Mark wanted to race out of the building with his sights set on Tharpe like a guided missile, and do to him what he'd done to Beth. “It's not right,” he said through his teeth.

Wiping his face, he looked around the room. “Let's get her some books and read to her. She must be bored to death, lying there like that. If she's the least bit aware—”

“Do you think she is?”

“I heard about a guy who was in a coma, and he knew sign language. He communicated with his mom that way.”

“But I've asked her to move a finger if she can hear me, and she doesn't.”

“Still. It might stimulate her brain, help her to come to. What books does she like?”

“She loves the Chronicles of Narnia.”

“Are they at home? I could go get them.”

“That would be great,” Deni said.

He leaned back over the bed. “You hear that, Sparky? We're gonna filibuster you until you snap out of it.”

He kissed Deni, then left her there. He ripped off the mask and gloves and took off his scrubs. Dropping them into the laundry bin, he headed out of the ICU, determined to make Tharpe pay for what he'd done.

sixty-five

B
Y THE TIME
M
ARK RETURNED TO THE SHERIFF'S DEPART
ment, Wheaton and the dayshift deputies had finished questioning Tharpe's neighbors and coworkers.

Wheaton had listed all of their leads on a big dry-erase board in the back room. “We found out that both of his parents are dead,” Wheaton said as he sat on the table opposite the board. “But it turns out that his wife has parents who live up in Huntsville. And the neighbors said she's been real homesick for them since the Pulses began. They haven't seen her baby yet.”

Mark's brows came together as he studied the board. “Any other relatives?”

“The neighbors didn't know of any, so I guess there aren't any important ones. I think Huntsville's our strongest lead.”