Slow Burn(77)

    I pushed the door open again.

    Griffin was standing up, a look of confusion on his face.

    “Who would call you?”

    Then his eyes widened. “Beth.” He dove for the phone, picking it up. “Hello.” He listened, his expression hardening. “Fuck you, Knox. How do I know you even actually have her?” He was quiet, stony-faced. “Beth?... I’m coming to get you.... No, I’m—” He ripped the phone and dashed it against the floor. “Motherfucker.”

    He threw his towel off and began getting dressed quickly.

    “What happened?” I said.

    He didn’t answer me. He tied his shoes.

    “Griffin, who called you?”

    “Op Wraith,” he said. “Guy named Knox. The fuckwad who knocked up Beth. The fuckwad who didn’t give a shit when I told him I was supposed to kill her and his unborn child.” He got up, throwing his pack over his shoulder, and stalked out of the bedroom.

    “Griffin,” I called after him. “Where are you going?”

    No answer.

    I picked up my duffel bag. I darted down the stairs.

    He was heading out the front door.

    I ran after him, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Wait!”

    He turned to me.

    My towel was falling off. I struggled to tuck it back in. “Where are you going?”

    “He’s going to kill her,” said Griffin. “I promised her I would keep her safe.”

    “How did they even find her? I thought she’d been there safe for months?”

    “I don’t know. But I talked to her. And he got my phone number out of her. She begged me not to come. She said they’d kill her anyway. But I have to go. I promised her.” He went through the door.

    “Griffin, wait for me,” I said.

    He didn’t stop. He just walked out into the rain.

    I was still in my towel. I didn’t have shoes on. It was cold outside.

    And he was going without me.

    I hurried out into the rain, clutching my duffel bag tight against my chest. Maybe my clothes wouldn’t be ruined.

    Griffin was inside the car next door, the one he’d checked out earlier.

    I dashed over to the passenger side. It was unlocked. I crawled inside.

    Griffin had the wiring out underneath the dash. I’d seen him do this before.

    I pulled the door closed. He didn’t even acknowledge me.

    The door to the house opened. The same man leaned out. “What are you doing?”

    Griffin got the engine to start. He closed the door and backed out of the driveway.

    “You’re stealing my car!” the man yelled after us.

    Griffin ignored him too.

* * *

    I changed out of my towel on the road. I combed my wet hair with my fingers. If Griffin noticed that what I was doing was strange, he didn’t let on. He wouldn’t talk to me. He ignored every question I asked him. He drove eighty miles an hour, swerving around slower cars. His face was set and firm, his gray eyes steely.

    He didn’t say a word until we made it back to Beth’s neighborhood.

    Then he seemed to notice me again.

    “They’ll know I’m coming,” he said. “They’ll be waiting for me. They probably did this because they know we’re together. They want to draw you out. You’re what they’re after. They don’t care about me. You should probably stay in the car.”

    “No,” I said.

    “You should have stayed in Nantucket,” he said. “Why are you here?”

    “Griffin, I’m not going to be separated from you. I want to help. Tell me what to do.”

    He shook his head. He seemed different than I’d ever seen him. Colder. “Every second I waste here is a second she doesn’t have. They don’t need her anymore. You understand?”

    “No,” I said. I had no idea what he was talking about. And I had no idea why he was acting the way he was acting. He was almost a different person.

    “They needed her to talk on the phone to me,” he said. “Once she did that, they knew I was on the way. They could have killed her right after we hung up.”