It doesn’t work.

So just wanting to pound Dylan into the dirt isn’t enough to turn me into the Incredible Hulk, she thinks. Bummer.

24

When Luke sees her approaching, he goes still. She figures his tight, uncomfortable-looking smile is meant to mask his concern.

“Do you need to go to the bathroom?” she asks.

“Um . . . no, not really. Why?”

“Can you get behind the wheel?”

“What?” he asks.

“Just get behind the wheel.”

“OK. But are you . . .”

When she walks to the back of the Jeep, he throws up his hands and gives in to her command.

She places Jason’s disposable phone behind the passenger-side tire.

“Start the engine!” she calls to him.

“Are you getting in?” he asks through the open window.

“In a minute. Just start the engine.”

“And then what?”

“Back up a few feet.”

He does. At first it looks like the phone’s going to get spit out from under the advancing tire, but then the tire catches just enough of its bottom section to crush it with a loud crunch.

“Again!” she says.

Luke rolls the Jeep forward a few feet, then repeats the action. There’s a series of soft pops as the interior of the phone gives way. When Luke pulls forward again, the tire leaves behind a spray of broken pieces that are close to being unrecognizable. She kicks them into the dirt beside the road with one foot.

Then, before she can think twice about it, she raises both hands and gives a double middle-finger salute to the empty field, the tree she stood under, and the sky overhead. She spins in place, hands up, birds out, until she finds herself standing next to the Jeep’s passenger-side door. Luke stares at her.

“So I guess the call didn’t go well?” he asks.

Forcing breath into her lungs, she slides into the passenger seat. She wants to meet Luke’s joke with one of her own, wants to look him in the eye and return his sheepish smile. But she can’t. She can’t because the world seems too small all of a sudden. Because her life, once again, has been reduced to a thin stream moving through a channel carved by psychopaths.

Before she can reconsider, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out the Post-it note with Bailey’s URL on it. She extends it to Luke. He doesn’t take it.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“Your brother. It’s the URL he gave us. For when you go talk to him.”

“Aren’t we both going to talk to him?” he asks.

“No. You should leave me here.”

“Leave you here. What? That’s crazy. It’s like a forty-five-minute walk back to town. I’m not—”

“I’ll have Marty come pick me up.”

“Well, do you have another phone with you? ’Cause the last one’s kinda roadkill now.”

“No, I don’t. Maybe you could call him after you—”

“OK, you know what? Let’s just stick with the original plan and—” She grabs his hand when he reaches for the gearshift.

“Luke, if Bailey talks to me, he could end up in more trouble than he’s already in.”

“My brother’s hiding out from the FBI. Probably in a foreign country.”

“I know.”

“I’m just saying you’d be hard-pressed to make things any more difficult for him.”

“I know,” she says. “And given the situation I’m in, it’s still possible.”

His smile fades, but she’s not seeing surrender in his eyes. She’s seeing determination, calculation, an unwillingness to give in to her fear. Is it too soon to call it loyalty?

“OK. Then let me just ask this. And I promise you—no, I swear to you—your answer will never leave this car.”

She nods.

“Did you kill someone?” he asks.

Her mind flashes to the biker somersaulting down her windshield. Would the guy be dead if he hadn’t tried to run her off the road? Nope.

“No.”

Although, she thinks, given who Dylan claims to be working for, he could probably make it look like I did.

“Did you rob someone?” he asks.

“No.”

“But someone’s after you?”

“Yes. This is more than one question, Luke.”

“And you made time to drop in on me during all this?”

“You would have made a really good FBI agent.”

“I know. So . . . your drop-in?”

She studies his face; his expression’s blank. Another sign he’s switched into investigator mode.

“I thought you might be in on it,” she says.

His eyes light up with surprise.

“Correction. Marty thought you might be in on it. This . . . thing . . . It’s big, and, uh, when I told Marty about it, he said you showed up in town after interviewing with the FBI and maybe . . .”

“Maybe what?”

“Maybe you were trying to find me. Or watch me. I don’t know—he just thought you might be part of it.”

Luke’s barking laughter fills the Jeep. It sounds genuine, and it leaves him breathless, doubled over, and gripping the top of the steering wheel with both hands. “That’s awesome,” he finally manages.

“Awesome?” she asks.

“No, it’s just that . . . I mean, if you had any idea how completely lame my life was right now, the fact that you’d think I’m involved in some sort of massive conspiracy . . . It’s pretty funny, Charley. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make light of your situation. But seriously, all I do is drive around a town I never wanted to see again, getting into fights with guys like Marty even as I try to convince them I’m not the giant prick I used to be, and then I go home to my mostly empty house, watch free porn and fall asleep, usually after the third beer and a frozen dinner. But honestly, I like your version of my life better. It’s way more exciting.”

“Well, if you want excitement, I can definitely give you some of that.”

“Sounds like it.”

“And it wasn’t my version; it was more Marty’s version,” she says.

His laughter proves so infectious, she finds herself smiling despite herself. After a few deep breaths, their eyes meet. He’s looking at her in a way she’s not used to being looked at. With a mixture of eagerness, concern, and longing. Maybe not for her specifically. But for the chance to be part of something.

“Is that what you’re looking for, Luke? Some excitement?”

“I told you what I was looking for,” he says quietly.

“Remind me.”

“A chance to do right by you.”

“You already did that when you told me the truth about Bailey.”

“I’m not leaving you out here, Charley.”

“I’ll give you points just for driving me this far.”

“Not enough. I mean, I’ll do whatever you want. But I won’t feel like my job is done if you cut me loose now.”

All right, buddy, she thinks. You asked for it.

“I was seeing a psychiatrist where I was living in Arizona. I confided everything in him, everything I’d been through with the Bannings. Afterward. We talked for months. Then he convinced me to take this antianxiety drug. He said it just came on the market, and he gave me a sample.”

She has his full attention now, can feel his gaze heating up one side of her face. But if she looks him in the eyes, she’ll lose her nerve.

“What I didn’t know is that he’d contacted one of my worst stalkers and given him enough info to break into my house that night. The same night I took the pill. But when he attacked me . . . the drug. It wasn’t just an antianxiety drug. It was something else. It made me strong.”

“How strong?”

“Very strong.”

“OK.”

There’s fear in his expression. She can see it. But at least there isn’t You’re fucking nuts, lady in his eyes. She knows damn well what that looks like, and there’s no sign of it. Still, he could have his own idea about what very strong means, and it’s probably not even close to reality. If she shows him the video, though . . .

“Are you on it now?” he asks.

“I took another dose before I saw you. In case you were . . .”

“Oh.” He nods, eyes wide. “Oh, OK. Wow. All right. So I shouldn’t piss you off, I guess. I mean, is that how it works?”

“No. That’s not how it works.”

“How does it work?”

“You would have to terrify me. You’d have to make me believe my life was in danger. That level of fear, that’s what kicks the drug into action.”

“And you thought your life would be in danger if you came over to my house?”

“I just wanted to prepare for the possibility. That’s all. It’s not like I dosed up so I could come over and kick your ass, all right?”

“Of course not.” But he struggles to swallow, and his voice sounds weak.

“Are you gonna be all right? You look pale.”

“It would be easier if I didn’t believe you. But I do. And so I’m freaking out a little right now. Right? I can admit that. I mean, I’m still a man if I admit that, right?”

She laughs, nods. It eases his tension a bit.

“Keep going. So the stalker . . . Is he . . .”

“I didn’t kill him, but I came close. Then I left to get the police. It was adrenaline, I thought. But once I got on the road and I ran into the bikers, I realized it had to be the drug.”

“Bikers,” Luke says flatly. “Bikers . . . in Arizona. Holeee . . . that story on the news? That was you?”

“No. Not entirely.”