knew the canyon well.
A single, innocuous residential street led into the canyon, and appeared to be the only way to enter or leave. Smaller streets branched and re-branched from this larger street as it wound its way higher, but the smaller streets appeared trapped in the canyon. This wasn’t true, but the convoluted route using these smaller back streets wasn’t easily found. Pike and I knew this way, and another, but I was betting the tail cops behind me didn’t, and wouldn’t, until I was already gone.
I didn’t use my blinker, and gave them no warning. I turned abruptly, at the last second, onto the sole street into the canyon. The trail car was forced to turn with me, and the flankers had no choice but to fall into line. Just like that, they were bunched together, and behind me.
They’d feel a quick jolt of panic, worried that I could give them the slip, but they’d feel better when they checked their maps. They’d see only one way in or out of the canyon, so the lead car would fall back to give me plenty of room. One car would remain at the bottom to guard the exit, and the rest would follow, confident they had me trapped. I was counting on their confidence. They wouldn’t know they were wrong until I was gone.
I wound and twisted to the top of the canyon, where the street ended and the fire road began, at a heavy black gate. Cars belonging to hikers and dog walkers lined both sides of the street. Pike texted again as I parked.
GO
Pike was nearby, watching.
I gathered everything connected to Amy Breslyn, locked my car, and hurried around the gate. There was only one street in or out of the canyon but two ways to leave. I would be gone in fourteen minutes.
I tucked the yearbooks under my arm like a football and fell into an easy jog.
A quarter-mile in, Pike texted.
1W2M
The first car had arrived with two male occupants. I picked up my pace.
At the half-mile mark, a second text arrived.
2W2MW
A second car had arrived, this one with a male and female team.
I slowed at the mile marker to shoot Pike a text. I was almost gone. Half a mile to go.
CALL?
The burner chirped. I hated the chirp.
I said, “What’s happening?”
“Two men in a light blue Dodge two-door. White guy with long blond hair. Latin guy driving, high and tight.”
“That’s them. What about the second car?”
“Gray Sentra. Man and a woman. The woman is driving.”
The Sentra meant there would be a third car. They wouldn’t leave the exit unguarded.
“What are they doing?”
“The Latin dude walked up past the gate, but he’s already back. No way he saw you.”
“Tell me if they leave.”
I picked up my pace again. I didn’t want them to leave. I wanted them to waste time trying to figure out why I came to this place, and whether they should hike in after me, or hang back and wait. The more they talked, the better. Each minute they yakked brought me a minute closer to gone.
The burner chirped again.
“Sentra leaving.”
I jogged faster, and saw gated homes ahead. Three minutes to go. Maybe four.
“The Dodge?”
“Still here. The blond is on the phone.”
Sooner or later, they would bring up a map and study the area at the mouth of the fire road. They’d eventually expand the map, and trace the fire road to a housing development separate from the canyon to which I led them. And this was when they’d realize I’d lost them.
Pike said, “The Dodge is rolling. They’re coming your way.”
“Hundred yards.”
A bright yellow gate at the top of a cul-de-sac marked the end of the fire road.
Pike said, “Green Lexus. Key behind the left rear. Tank’s full.”
I squeezed around the gate, and felt for the key. The Lexus was ten years old, but purred in a flash.
Halfway down to the freeway, a gray Sentra blew past going uphill, but the man and woman inside didn’t see me. The light blue Dodge turned in front of me as I reached the bottom, and powered up the hill. The men in the Dodge didn’t see me,
A single, innocuous residential street led into the canyon, and appeared to be the only way to enter or leave. Smaller streets branched and re-branched from this larger street as it wound its way higher, but the smaller streets appeared trapped in the canyon. This wasn’t true, but the convoluted route using these smaller back streets wasn’t easily found. Pike and I knew this way, and another, but I was betting the tail cops behind me didn’t, and wouldn’t, until I was already gone.
I didn’t use my blinker, and gave them no warning. I turned abruptly, at the last second, onto the sole street into the canyon. The trail car was forced to turn with me, and the flankers had no choice but to fall into line. Just like that, they were bunched together, and behind me.
They’d feel a quick jolt of panic, worried that I could give them the slip, but they’d feel better when they checked their maps. They’d see only one way in or out of the canyon, so the lead car would fall back to give me plenty of room. One car would remain at the bottom to guard the exit, and the rest would follow, confident they had me trapped. I was counting on their confidence. They wouldn’t know they were wrong until I was gone.
I wound and twisted to the top of the canyon, where the street ended and the fire road began, at a heavy black gate. Cars belonging to hikers and dog walkers lined both sides of the street. Pike texted again as I parked.
GO
Pike was nearby, watching.
I gathered everything connected to Amy Breslyn, locked my car, and hurried around the gate. There was only one street in or out of the canyon but two ways to leave. I would be gone in fourteen minutes.
I tucked the yearbooks under my arm like a football and fell into an easy jog.
A quarter-mile in, Pike texted.
1W2M
The first car had arrived with two male occupants. I picked up my pace.
At the half-mile mark, a second text arrived.
2W2MW
A second car had arrived, this one with a male and female team.
I slowed at the mile marker to shoot Pike a text. I was almost gone. Half a mile to go.
CALL?
The burner chirped. I hated the chirp.
I said, “What’s happening?”
“Two men in a light blue Dodge two-door. White guy with long blond hair. Latin guy driving, high and tight.”
“That’s them. What about the second car?”
“Gray Sentra. Man and a woman. The woman is driving.”
The Sentra meant there would be a third car. They wouldn’t leave the exit unguarded.
“What are they doing?”
“The Latin dude walked up past the gate, but he’s already back. No way he saw you.”
“Tell me if they leave.”
I picked up my pace again. I didn’t want them to leave. I wanted them to waste time trying to figure out why I came to this place, and whether they should hike in after me, or hang back and wait. The more they talked, the better. Each minute they yakked brought me a minute closer to gone.
The burner chirped again.
“Sentra leaving.”
I jogged faster, and saw gated homes ahead. Three minutes to go. Maybe four.
“The Dodge?”
“Still here. The blond is on the phone.”
Sooner or later, they would bring up a map and study the area at the mouth of the fire road. They’d eventually expand the map, and trace the fire road to a housing development separate from the canyon to which I led them. And this was when they’d realize I’d lost them.
Pike said, “The Dodge is rolling. They’re coming your way.”
“Hundred yards.”
A bright yellow gate at the top of a cul-de-sac marked the end of the fire road.
Pike said, “Green Lexus. Key behind the left rear. Tank’s full.”
I squeezed around the gate, and felt for the key. The Lexus was ten years old, but purred in a flash.
Halfway down to the freeway, a gray Sentra blew past going uphill, but the man and woman inside didn’t see me. The light blue Dodge turned in front of me as I reached the bottom, and powered up the hill. The men in the Dodge didn’t see me,
Similar Books
