Set the Night on Fire (34 page)

T
he snow began in earnest as they advanced up the Michigan shore. The wind picked up too, and blowing snow obscured the view. Lila turned on the radio. The all-news station warned that a storm from the Plains was closing in. Ten or more inches were expected, and blizzard conditions were predicted.

Traffic slowed to a crawl. Lila hunched forward, peering into the blinding white. Flashes of red occasionally blinked—the hazard lights on the cars in front. She rolled her shoulders and cranked up the defroster. Uncomfortable as they were, Jergens had to be in worse shape. He was on a bike with little traction, no protection from the elements, and no heat. Unless he’d pulled off the road somewhere and was waiting out the storm. That would be the smart thing to do.

Despite the intensity, the storm was eerily silent, the quiet broken only by the thud and swish of the wipers. An early dusk descended, and the light turned blue, then purple, then disappeared. Swirls of white slanted sideways across the van’s headlights. Lila’s eyes grew heavy, and she blinked to stay alert.

“What do we do if we tie Jergens to Kerr?” Lila asked.

“We call the cops. Let them handle it,” Dar said.

“Except that if Jergens is the one who took a shot at me, threw the grenade, and attacked me in an alley, he’s committed to killing me. And since I cut him with the HideAway, it’s personal. The police won’t be any help. Especially if we catch up to him before they do.”

Dar tightened his lips.

She yanked her thumb towards the back of the Econoline. “The .38 is on the floor back there. In my bag. I need it.”

Dar twisted around, grabbed the bag, and stowed it under the front seat.

Her cell trilled. Benny confirmed that Jergens was heading north on 196 toward Grand Haven, but the signal kept fading in and out.

“Must be the weather. We’re in the middle of a blizzard,” Lila said.

She disconnected and slowed even more, trying to keep the car from skidding off the road. She felt exhausted and drained. Twenty minutes later she was about to pull over when her cell buzzed again.

Benny. “The signal’s stopped. For about ten minutes now. At the junction of 196 and 31. Near Holland. Could be a rest stop. Where are you?”

“About twenty miles south, I think.”

“Well . . . ” Benny cleared his throat.

“Thanks.” She rang off and told Dar. “So what do you want to do?”

The snow was unrelenting. It glittered in the headlights from oncoming cars, but the headlights grew fewer and farther apart. The defroster grew sluggish; Dar had to keep wiping the glass to remove the condensation. “I think we ought to call it a day.”

Lila hunched her shoulders. “But we’re almost there.”

“It’s time to call the police. Let them handle it.”

For someone who’d fought the system for so long, he was putting a lot of faith in it now, Lila thought. “Let’s just check out the rest stop. See if he’s there.”

“And then what?”

Lila didn’t answer.

I
t took almost an hour to get to where Routes 196 and 31 met outside Holland, Michigan. Just before the junction was a highway rest stop. Lila followed a ramp to a one-story building with glass doors. A row of parking slots in front of the building was practically full, and she could see a crowd of people inside. The interior was brightly lit, and heads bobbed as people chatted, faking a camaraderie they would forget once the storm subsided.

Lila slowed the van. “Do you see him?”

“No.”

She looked around the parking area. “I don’t see the bike, either.”

“I’m going inside to check.”

“I’ll go with you!”

“No.”

“Please, Dar.”

“He won’t do anything with so many people inside.”

Dar opened the van’s door and slid out. Lila watched him disappear into the swirling white. Her stomach churned. She leaned over to the passenger side, grabbed the bag he had stowed under the seat, and pulled out the .38.

A few seconds went by. There was no way she could stay in the car while Dar was inside. She started the engine, backed out of her spot, and cruised slowly past the row of cars. She was nearly at the end when she spotted the Enduro. She recognized the plastic bumpers extending from each end. Most of the cars nearby were covered with a thick layer of white, but the motorcycle was bare.

Jergens was here.

She had to find Dar. She nosed the van around, circled the access road, and headed back to the building. In her haste, she gave the Econoline too much gas and sent it into a skid. She wrenched the wheel to the right. The van kept sliding. She was going to plow into the line of parked cars! The van straightened out with just inches to spare. Gripping the wheel, she drove back to where she’d parked, only to find the space had been taken by another car.

She thought of leaving the van in the middle of the access road with the engine running, but decided that was a bad idea. For the second time she coasted past the row of parked cars, hunting for a spot. Finally she pulled into a space at the end of the line, ironically two spaces from the motorcycle. She slipped the .38 into her pocket and got out.

It was ominously quiet, the snow muffling all sound. She plodded steadily through it, but her nerves frayed with each step. Finally she reached the door and pushed through. She searched the throng for Dar. He was tall—he should stand out in a crowd.

She didn’t see him.

She went to the vending machines—maybe he was getting coffee. Not there.

Maybe he was in the men’s room. She walked over to the entrance and waited at the door. A gray-haired man emerged, then a man holding a little boy’s hand. No Dar. Lila shifted. She would ask the next man who came in to check on him. She looked at her watch. Nearly ten minutes since he took off. She couldn’t wait any longer. She took a quick look around. Seeing no one, she snuck inside.

The men’s room was remarkably clean, with six stalls and three urinals. Thankfully, no one was at the urinal, but she did see a pair of feet in the second stall.

“Dar?  Are you there?”

“Huh? Who’s there?” a voice asked.

“Dar?”

“I sure as hell am not,” the voice replied. “And what the hell . . . 

“Sorry . . . ” She hurried out as another man entered. He gave her a bewildered look.

Lila’s heart was thumping, and her hands shook. Dar was in trouble. She could feel it. She looked around. People entered the rest stop through a set of glass doors on either end of the building. Floodlights illuminated each door and the area around it; if not for the blowing snow, she might have seen all the way to the road. As it was, the visibility was barely three feet. Still, she doubted Jergens would try anything near the entrances. Too many people coming and going.

That left the sides of the building, which were shrouded in shadow. She huddled into her coat, felt for the .38, and went outside.

It was dark, and the snow was gusting so fiercely it was impossible to see. She stayed close to the walls and crept around the building. She kept her eyes down, searching for footprints, but saw only dizzying eddies of snow.

“Dar?” she called out.

The wind threw her words back in her face. She kept going. She wasn’t sure how long it took to reach the entrance at the other end, but when she did, she saw nothing. No disturbances. No footprints. No Dar. She started around the other side of the building, the side that faced the exit ramp. It seemed darker here, but more protected, and the wind was less intense. She’d only gone a few steps when she saw imprints on the ground. She stopped. Snow was filling them in, but she could see two sets of footprints. One set stopped abruptly, replaced by long runnels, as if something—or someone—had been dragged.

She pulled out the .38, then started forward again. Suddenly she heard a growl. She pivoted around, but it was too late. Jergens was charging her, head down. She tried to dodge him, but the snow slowed her, and he rammed her up against the wall of the building. Her head snapped back and exploded in pain. The world started to spin. The .38 slipped out from her hand, and the ground came up to meet her.

* *

Lila swam up from the void. It was becoming familiar, she realized hazily, although the darkness wasn’t as deep or thick this time. Slowly she opened her eyes. She was on the floor of the Econoline. Her hands and feet were tied. An inert figure lay beside her. Dar. Was he alive? She squinted, saw the rise and fall of his chest. Relief washed over her.

A foul odor drifted down. She turned her head to the side. Jergens was kneeling over her, his gun nuzzling her cheek. Was he going to attack her? Rape her? Had he already? Her clothes were still on. Her coat, too.

“Time to get up. You’re driving,” Jergens said. He teased the barrel of the gun up and down her cheek.

She licked her lips. She felt heavy and logy. “My head. I . . . I can’t.”

He prodded her temple with the gun. “You can and you will.”

She tried to sit up. Again she looked over at Dar. He hadn’t moved, and she could no longer see his breath. Fear flooded through her. “What did you do to him?”

Jergens grinned. With his mouth open, his breath smelled even more rank. “Don’t worry about him.”

Keeping the gun on her, he slipped his other hand into a pocket and brought out a knife and cut the ropes binding her hands and feet. She considered kicking him in the balls and grabbing the knife, but he kept himself too far away.

“Now . . . you’re going to get up. Nice and easy. Climb into the driver’s seat. And don’t try anything stupid.”

She raised her head. A wave of nausea overwhelmed her. She choked it back.

“Let’s go, let’s go.”

Lila moved slowly, stretching and contracting her muscles.

“Come on. Get into the seat.”

She did what she was told. She felt clumsy and slow. She landed in the driver’s seat with a thump. Jergens rode shotgun, keeping his weapon trained on her. The keys were in the ignition. He leaned over and started the engine.

“Now drive.”

She gripped the wheel and slowly backed out of the rest stop.

* *

By the time they reached the outskirts of Grand Haven, it was midnight. Tree branches bowed under thick blankets of white. The tracks of cars preceding them were practically filled in. The town looked deserted. It was as if they were the only souls on earth. As she drove, Lila caught glimpses of the lake. It was frozen solid at the shoreline, the ice covered by fresh snow.

Jergens directed her down a narrow lane where an iron gate blocked the road. On one side was a gatehouse. He made a call on his cell. “We’re here.”

A moment later the gate opened.

“Drive,” Jergens said.

Lila inched the van down a winding driveway. Tires crunched on snow. The wind screeched. Lila could just make out a large structure at the end of the drive. She rolled to a stop in front of an imposing house that looked solid and ostentatious.

The driver’s-side door flew open, and cold air whipped through the van. Someone aimed a blinding light at her face. She squeezed her eyes shut. Beneath her closed lids, she could feel the light hover on her face. Then it swung away.

“Out of the van,” a man’s voice ordered.

Lila slid to the ground. A man in a thick parka, wool hat, and boots stood in front of her. He was holding a high-powered flashlight in one hand, a gun in the other.

“Go around to the back of the van,” he said.

She did what she was told. The beam of light followed her.

“Stop.”

She stopped in front of the panel doors.

“Turn around.”

As she did, the flashlight lingered on her face again, then swung away.

“You’re Philip Kerr,” she said. “My uncle.”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

Jergens got out of the passenger seat, came around, and released the panel doors. Gripping Dar’s legs, he began to drag him out. Dar groaned. Lila was relieved. The fact that he was making sounds, however pained, meant he was coming around. Jergens grabbed Dar by the shoulders and propped him against the van. Dar’s knees buckled, and he went down. Jergens hoisted him back up and shoved him against the panel door. This time Dar managed to stand.

A gust of wind swirled snow around them. “Why did you bring us here?” Lila pointed to Jergens. “Why not shoot us at the rest stop?”

Kerr flung the light in her face. The glare was blinding. She tried to twist away. When she couldn’t, she turned back and drew herself up. “Well?”

Kerr didn’t answer at first. Then he made a croaking sound, a laugh, bitter and soulless. “You
are
your mother’s daughter.”

Lila was momentarily distracted. A longing that had been buried deep within her surfaced. How was she like her mother? Her looks? Her voice? Her mannerisms? She wanted to know. But this man was her enemy. He was going to kill her. She couldn’t ask.

“There were too many people at the rest stop,” Kerr said briskly, as if he’d never said a word about her mother. He looked briefly at Jergens. “And I need to make sure it’s done right this time. Three times you tried to finish the job, but here they are. If I didn’t know better, I might think something other than sloppy work was at stake.” Kerr swung the flashlight to Jergens, who threw up a hand to shield his face.

“Maybe we’re just good,” Lila replied.

Kerr grunted, then motioned to Jergens. “Is that true, Jergens? Are they just good?”

Jergens scowled. “No man, it’s not that. I did exactly what you told me. It just . . . well . . . it wasn’t easy.”

“It would seem not.” Kerr aimed the light back on Lila. “You keep your gun on Gantner. I’ll cover her.” He turned to Lila. “Let’s go.”

“Where?” Lila asked. She had no weapons. No protection. Neither did Dar. But, maybe if she thought fast enough, was clever enough.

“Start walking.” Kerr pointed into the storm.

She had to level the playing field. At least try. She glanced at Dar. He seemed fully conscious now, and was watching her with a curious expression. Was he thinking the same thing?

She looked at Kerr. “No.”

He raised the gun. “What did you say?”

“My father can’t walk with his feet tied,” she said. “Not in this weather.”

Kerr tipped his head to the side, as if considering the request. Then he motioned toward Jergens. “Untie his feet.”

He shone the light on Dar’s white gym shoes. They were soaked through. Dar had to be freezing.

Jergens pulled out his pocketknife, crouched at Dar’s feet, and sliced through the rope. Again she thought about kicking him and grabbing the knife, but she knew Kerr would pull the trigger. Jergens straightened up and slid the knife back into his pocket. His left pocket.

Kerr motioned with his gun. “All right. Let’s go.”

Dar’s hands were still tied behind him, but Lila couldn’t think of any way to free them without reminding Kerr that hers weren’t.

Jergens gave Dar a shove. He stumbled forward. Lila thought he might fall, but he stayed on his feet.

“Move,” Kerr said.

They started to slog through the snowstorm. First Dar, then Jergens, his gun at Dar’s back. Then Lila, followed by Kerr with his gun trained on her. Lila’s gloves had disappeared somewhere back at the rest stop, and her hands felt numb. She made fists, then relaxed them to keep her circulation pumping.

Eventually they reached an open expanse. Lila guessed it was maybe fifty yards from the van. All she could see was a swirling, twisting veil of white, but in the distance she heard a smacking sound. The beach. With the waves slapping where the lake wasn’t frozen. The snow cleared for an instant, and she saw the water. It was covered by a blanket of white that looked solid enough to walk on. Twenty yards away a pier jutted out over the ice like a bony finger.

Jergens slowed as they approached the pier. “Stop,” he yelled to Dar.