Deadlock (29 page)

He thought,
What if it had gone off when the man was outside the van?
and felt dizzy again.

He shifted his gaze back up to the rear windows. He couldn't do it.

He did not have enough courage to step on the bumper and look in.

Baby!

I can't. I just can't.

He imagined stepping up, panicking, and grabbing hold of the van as though it were his mother. The guys inside would come out and pull him off. They would toss him in the back with Logan, and that would be that. His mom would go crazy, probably come looking for him, and they would get
her
.

Besides, the interior was probably too dark to see anything. They likely had Logan tied up or drugged, or he was sleeping. Dillon would have risked everything for nothing.

He squeezed his eyes shut and lowered his head. Was he talking himself out of looking through the window because he was scared? Or was he being smart, cautious? His father used to look at it from the other angle:
when is bravery just plain stupidity?

It was true that his weight on the bumper might alert the men to his presence and that he might not be able to see Logan inside anyway. And what did he stand to gain? If he saw Logan inside, he'd know for sure. If he didn't, then Logan might or might not be in there. If he could tell Hutch without a doubt that Logan was there, he knew Hutch would tear through those guys inside like a hurricane with teeth. He might do it anyway, just for the
chance
of rescuing his son. Dillon believed Hutch would do it for
him
.

Bravery or stupidity?

Gotta know the difference.

Dillon pressed his hand against one of the rear doors.

Logan, are you in there? Hang in there, friend. We'll get you. Your dad will.

He turned and crawled away. He expected to hear the doors opening, voices yelling for him to stop. But nothing happened. He crawled past six cars, then turned in toward the XTerra.

FORTY-FOUR

“Don't you ever do that again! Do you hear me?” Laura yelled into Dillon's wide-eyed face. She yelled in
attitude
, not in volume: Dillon had told her the men they had seen were close.

In the backseat Macie groaned. She sat up, still mostly asleep.

“I'm sorry,” Dillon said. “I just thought—”

“No! You don't think! You're a child. This isn't a game. Those men mean to kill us, all of us!” Laura closed her eyes, and tears spilled out. Her breath came in sputtering hitches.

“I'm sorry . . . Mom?”

She felt Dillon's hand on her arm.

She looked at him. The entire time he'd been gone, she had imagined him getting shot, stabbed, strangled. The only thing that had kept her in the car was the fear that her going after him would be the very thing that would draw attention to him and get him killed. He looked at her now with those puppy-dog eyes, that sweet, expressive mouth. She wrapped her arms around him, pulled him close.

“What's going on?” Macie said.

Laura disentangled herself from Dillon. She held her hand to his face, taking it in, relishing his being alive. She turned in the seat. “Macie, did you get some sleep?”

The girl rubbed her eyes. “Yeah.”

Laura frowned at her. “You know those guys from the house, the soldiers? They're here.”

“Why?”

“They did something to your dad's car. I think they're waiting for him too.”

“What'd they do to it?”

Laura looked at Dillon. “I'm afraid to guess.”

Macie came fully awake. “What?”

“That guy had something in the duffel bag,” Dillon said. “He went under the car with it, and came out without it. There's only one thing it could be.”

Laura peered through the window at the Honda. She turned her head, as if following a line, toward the van. “They can see Hutch's car from where they are?”

“It's a clear shot over the roofs of other cars.”

She knew Dillon was right: it had to be a bomb. It was the cigarette pack–sized device, the one with the red light, that bothered her more. There was something about their
looking
right at Hutch when they activated it . . .

“Okay,” she said. She found Macie's eyes with her own. “This is tough stuff, but I don't know how to make it better without your hearing. Think you can handle it?”

Macie was silent for a long moment. Then she nodded. “If it'll help save Dad and get Logan back, I can handle it.”

“Dillon,” Laura said, “do you think Logan is in the van?”

“I don't know,” he said. “I couldn't look inside.”

While she talked, she looked at Dillon, throwing glances at Macie, but her words were really meant for herself. She was getting it out and reeling it back in, organizing it.

“Here's what we know: Some people—probably Brendan Page's people—attacked us and took Logan. They tried to kill us. Hutch called to warn us, but something cut him off. We don't know what happened after that on his end. We have to assume he's coming home, because he knows we need help. We don't have any way to reach him, so we're here at the airport parking lot, waiting for him. Other men—probably the same people who attacked us—are here too. They may or may not have Logan with them. They put something—probably a bomb—under Hutch's car. Have I got it all?”

“We have one of the soldiers who attacked us tied up in the back of our car,” Dillon said.

Laura nodded. “We think he wants to get away from his . . . employers.” Her eyes grew big. “He's really got some issues.”

“So,” Dillon said, “take away all the
probably
s, and I think that's it.”

To make the girl feel part of it all, Laura looked at her. “Macie?”

“I want Logan back,” she said. “I want my dad, and he has to stay away from his car.”

Has to stay away from his car
. . . Didn't everything boil down to that? At least right now. Logan was next, but they needed Hutch back alive.

“So we watch for Hutch,” Laura said. “We make sure he stays away from his car.”

“How are we supposed to do that?” Dillon said.

“When we see him, we yell and scream and get him into the XTerra. Then we drive away before the bad guys get us.” She held her palms out, as if to say,
See? Simple as that.

Dillon squinted at her.

She knew that look: he was assessing whether or not she was serious.

Slowly, as if talking to a child, he said, “He could come from behind the car and we wouldn't see him until he was in it, or so close to it that it wouldn't matter. But if we get closer to the car, so he sees us sooner, those guys watching will spot us.”

Laura thought about it. “We have to get to him before he reaches the car. How do we do that?”

“The airport,” Marcie said. “Stop him there.”

Laura's nod turned into a shake. “We don't know what airline he's using. We don't know when he's coming. Do we wait in the East Terminal or the West? There are too many ways to miss him at the airport. That's why we came here in the first place.”

She turned from Macie to Dillon, hoping one of them would somehow pull a magical solution out of the air. They gave her blank stares.

Macie said, “You have to stop him. Please.”

“Mom,” Dillon said, “why don't two of us go to the airport, one for each terminal. The other can stay here.”

“No,” she said immediately. “No way. Doing that would put one of you out in the open, alone. I can't risk that.”

“But we don't have any choice,” Macie said.

“I have a choice about putting you guys in more danger or not.” She looked between them. “I choose not.”

They were silent for a while. Laura wondered if the kids felt the sense of claustrophobia that she did—like all the bad in the world was swirling around them, pressing in. The XTerra was a bubble, temporarily keeping them safe, but she felt the air pressure changing outside. It was building, threatening to crush them.

Dillon said, “We can't let Hutch get to his car.”

She squeezed her eyes closed. Despite the bad guys and what was probably a bomb in Hutch's car, she felt the airport was even more dangerous. At least here, they could hunker down, stay out of sight. She hated Page for putting her in this position. “I'll go,” she said. “
I'll
watch for him at the airport. You guys stay here. If you see him, stop him. Yell and scream, but don't go near the Honda, you hear? Get him in the XTerra and get out of here fast.”

Their faces were twin expressions of hopelessness.

Laura said, “It's not perfect, but it is what it is.” She took a deep breath.

It hurt, leaving them, but waiting wouldn't help and could be a terrible mistake, if she missed Hutch.

“I better get going. If Hutch rushed to the airport as soon as he called to warn us, he could be here anytime now. I'll get to one of the shelters on the other side of the lot and wait for the shuttle there.”

“Stay low,” Dillon said. “Don't let the bad guys see you. They know what we look like.” His eyes followed the path she would take. “You should probably crawl. Or do what that guy did, duckwalk. Fast.”

“You're the expert,” Laura said.

“What about
him
?” Macie said, looking over the back of her seat. From her expression, she could have been watching an autopsy.

“Michael,” Dillon said.

“When he wakes up, give him some food, but stay away from him.”

“No problem there,” Macie said.

Laura touched Dillon's neck. She kissed him. “You guys stay down too. Those men might decide to take a look around. And, Dillon, no matter what happens, don't be a hero, you understand?”

He smiled. “You too.”

When Laura put her hand on the door handle, Dillon covered the dome light. She opened the door and slipped to the ground. Then she crawled back inside and tugged the door closed.

“I can't,” she said. “I can't leave you here. Not with . . . them.” She squinted through the side window toward the van. Macie's face rose into her field of vision.

“Please,” the little girl said. “You said those men are watching my dad's car. They don't know we're here. We'll be quiet. Please.” She seemed on the edge of tears.

“Mom,” Dillon said, “if Hutch gets to his car . . .” He shot a glance at Macie.

Laura shook her head. “I hate this.”

Dillon squeezed her hand. “We'll be okay.”

Laura opened the door and forced herself to climb out. Everything told her to stay; everything except the part of her that wanted to stop Hutch before he showed up at his car. She gave them a final look, drawing courage from their sweet, frightened expressions, and pushed the door shut.

FORTY-FIVE

Laura followed Dillon's advice, crawling and duckwalking all the way to the end of the aisle. She stopped twice and almost returned to the XTerra. Then she remembered Macie's face, so much pain carved into her porcelain features. The lines would cut deep into the child's soul if they didn't reach Hutch in time. She thought of Dillon, how his resolve would slip away at night—as though it retired before the rest of him did—and he'd cry quietly in bed. She would often lie down with him, holding him and gently rocking him until he fell asleep. Who would do that for Macie? The question got her moving again.

Two cars and a bus passed on the cross street ahead of her, but no vehicles turned in. She saw no pedestrians until she herself became one, walking upright and purposeful. The cold night air raked itself over her arms and legs, cut through her thin blouse. Her breath plumed out in front of her. Soon enough she'd be on the shuttle, then in the airport.

For a few minutes she was alone in the shelter. She thought of Dillon and Macie hunkered down in the XTerra seats, peering over the dash at Hutch's Honda. As courageous as Dillon was, she knew he had to be scared. She hoped that Macie's presence helped him be brave. She was another person to help bear his burden, but also she was someone he could protect.

He was like Hutch that way; maybe he got it from Hutch: he was at his best when doing for others, especially when that doing entailed protecting. But the longer those children sat in the car, watching for Hutch, jumping at the slightest sound, the more frayed their nerves would become. She hoped that didn't translate into doing something foolish.

In her own frazzled state she imagined all those foolish things: returning for another shot at seeing Logan in the van; sneaking to Hutch's car to find out just what the heck it was those men had put under it; untying Michael for whatever reason. In her mind, none of those scenarios ended well.

What was she doing, leaving the kids alone? There were killers fewer than a hundred yards from them, a bomb closer than that.

Just stand up and walk back
, she thought.
Well, walk, crouch, and crawl back.

They could figure out another way to warn Hutch. But how? Nothing was sure. Even leaving the kids in the car and going to the airport wasn't sure, but it seemed the
most
sure of everything she could think of doing.

She could get both Dillon and Macie to watch the other side of the terminal. Then both of them would be in peril. And what if Hutch slipped them anyway? No one would be at the car for a final chance at keeping him away from the explosion.

They could leave a note or write something on the Honda. That would be an invitation for the bad guys to come get them. Besides, they could just remove the message, and it was a bomb, for crying out loud: they'd just set it off while Hutch was standing next to it, reading the message.

They could call the cops, but doing that with Logan in the bad guys' possession felt wrong. There could be a shoot-out, and Logan would be caught in the middle, maybe used as a shield. Or they could hurt him in retaliation.