Girl, Stolen(2)

Thanks to Roy, Griffin knew how to get in and out of a locked car in under a minute. He could do it even when someone was climbing out of the next car, and they wouldn’t notice a thing. Sometimes, just for a thrill, Griffin would even give a nod as he straightened up with the J. Crew bag or the box from Abercrombie. Then he would stroll down to his own car, parked near one of the exits, and put the bags in the trunk. After the trunk was full, he would drive into Portland and across the river to Eighty-second Avenue, where any of a string of secondhand stores was happy to buy new merchandise for resale, no questions asked.

The Escalade had been a gift, a surprise present meant just for him. Anyone who was stupid enough to leave the keys dangling from the ignition, in full view of the world, deserved to have the car taken away. And he couldn’t wait to bring it home and present it to Roy.

That’s what Griffin had thought, anyway, until the blanket in the backseat turned out to have a girl underneath it.

Ignoring the girl, ignoring his own panicked thoughts, the explanations and rationalizations he was already practicing for when he got back home, Griffin drove as fast as he could without losing control. Too fast for her to risk jumping out. He kept his head half turned, one eye on the road and the other on her. Weaving around slower cars, Griffin took a side street, and then another, until finally he was on an empty road that cut through a piece of scrubland. On each corner, a big white sign advertised it for sale to any interested developers.

As soon as he slowed down, the girl came at him, outstretched hands curved into claws, screaming like a banshee. Her head was cocked to one side, and her eyes were wide and staring. She looked crazy. Maybe she was.

Throwing the car into park, Griffin tried to deflect her, raising his shoulder and turning his head. At least no one was around to hear her. Her fingernails raked down his right cheek, and he could feel she had drawn blood.

He had to do something, but what? He squeezed between the seats. Griffin just wanted her to calm down, but he ended up wrestling with her, both of them struggling in a desperate silence. Finally, he managed to straddle her and pin her arms to her sides. He was bigger than she was, and he was working on pure adrenaline. At least she had stopped screaming. The sound of their ragged breathing filled the car. He became aware of a quiet hum – he had never had time to turn off the car. Straightening up, he managed to quickly reach over and turn off the key.

“I’m sorry,” he said into the complete silence. “Let’s talk about this. But you have to promise that you’ll stop trying to kill me.”

“I will.” She nodded, her eyes not meeting his. Griffin figured she was probably lying. In the same situation, he knew he would lie.

He exhaled. “Look, it’s an accident you’re here. I just wanted the car, not you. I didn’t even know you were in the car.”

“Then let me go.” Her voice was low and hoarse. She took a deep breath and then started to cough, a deep, racking sound. She kept her head turned away but still, little flecks of spit landed on him. When she spoke again, it was in a whisper. “Please, please, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone.”

Even Griffin wasn’t that dumb. “I’m sorry, but do you think I really believe that? By the end of the day, my description would be handed out to every cop and broadcast on every radio station in town.”

A strange expression played across her face, the ghost of a smile. In the cold, the engine ticked as it cooled. “But I won’t be able to tell them anything. Didn’t you notice that I’m blind?”

Blind? Griffin stared at her dark eyes. He had thought they weren’t really meeting his because she was looking past him for help, searching for a way out, assessing the situation.

“You’re really blind?”

“My cane’s on the floor.”

Still wondering if she was tricking him somehow, he looked on the floor. Sitting next to a small black purse behind the driver’s seat was a folded bundle of white sticks.

Griffin imagined doing what she asked. He could let her get out. Maybe give her her cane, maybe not. She could probably hear cars okay, and it wasn’t like there were a lot of them. Instead of getting run over, she would flag down the next vehicle that came along. But as soon as someone stopped for her, it wouldn’t be long until the police were involved. The brand-new Escalade didn’t exactly blend in. What if someone passed by here only a minute or two after he let her go? He was thirty miles from home, thirty miles from where he could hide the car. It would be all too easy to track him down. And after that, it was still the same nightmare scenario. All of them locked up and the key thrown away for good.