WADE: I object to the term culpability.
MORSE: Really. Just what would you call it, sir?
Chapter 16
Monday, February 25, 2013
My head swam.
I felt like a refugee—so near to home and yet so far. The night seemed to close in around our car. Mom informed me two more times she had “to go,” and I knew that meant now.
I didn’t have time for this. But there was no choice. I had to find an all-night grocery store. It would have a bathroom.
At Woodside Road I turned left toward town, away from the freeway. My own hands wanted to fight the turn. If nothing else I could go to the Safeway at Sequoia Station in Redwood City. The one where I shopped. But my car and license plate felt like glowing neon as I drove down the almost empty road. How long before the people who were chasing us discovered I wasn’t dead? How long until Harcroft and Wade learned I’d bolted?
I so needed my computer. If I could find a hotel we could hide in for awhile, I’d want to get online, learn more about Morton Leringer. Who was in Raleigh? Someone who could help me out of this mess?
Without my laptop, I felt more helpless than ever.
My brain churned and churned—until I realized I was already nearing El Camino. Had I passed an open grocery store? Too late. Turning north on El Camino, I headed toward the familiar Safeway.
“I have to go.” Mom’s face pinched.
“I know. We’re almost there.”
“Why don’t we just go home?”
“Mom, please—!” I bit down on my frustration, fingers curling into my palms. This was not the time to lose patience with my mother.
Not the time for her to lose it either.
I would have to think of something to tell her. Something to keep her quiet and make her just . . . go along with me.
We reached the store and the near barren, huge parking lot. I pulled into a space and turned off the engine. Mom pulled her hat from the pocket of her coat and put it on.
“Mom, you can’t wear that right now.” Weren’t we easy enough to spot already? The two of us looking disheveled, Mom in mismatched blue and green? What store employee wouldn’t remember us if she sported her purple hat?
“Of course I can.”
“No, you can’t.”
Her face started to crumble. “Why are you being so mean to me?”
Tears bit my eyes. I couldn’t do this. Not with Mom. She’d fight me every minute.
“Listen.” I touched her cheek. “We don’t want people in the store to remember us, okay? And if you wear your hat, you’re always so pretty in it, people will remember.”
Her eyebrows knit. “What does it matter?”
“Remember that man in our house? He had a gun. He was going to kill you. If he comes looking for us, we don’t want people remembering they’ve seen us.”
“Oh.” Confusion twisted my mother’s face, then her eyes caught a glimmer. “Was he trying to find out about Morton’s daughter in Raleigh?”
“Yes, Mom. He was.”
My mother’s lips firmed. “Well, we just won’t tell him.”
“That’s right. So we don’t want him—and the other men he’s working with—to know where we are. Because if they find us, they’ll try to pull the information from us.”
“They’re bad people.”
“Very bad.”
“But they acted so nice when they came to visit.”
So she’d recognized Samuelson. “They were just trying to trick us.”
“Oh.”
“Do you see why you can’t wear your hat?”
“I do.” Mouth set, Mom placed her hat on the floor of the car. Chin held high, as if she held back the forces of evil, Mom allowed me to herd her into the store, bare-headed.
After we’d hit the bathroom I thought about food. Mom would be hungry in a few hours. Hustling her around as best I could, I grabbed some donuts—not very nutritious, but Mom loved them—and crackers and cheese. And two large water bottles.
At the counter, we were both silent. Mom refused to even look at the checker, as if the man were a personal spy for the “bad people.” Still, there were very few customers in the store. And we didn’t look like typical night-shift shoppers. How easy it would be for someone to remember us.
I hustled Mom to the car, placing the food in the backseat. One water bottle remained up front for us to share.
We headed south on El Camino. Back up Woodside to 280, then south. I didn’t know where I was going or where I would stop. But we would at least be a little closer to Emily. Not that we could see her, but I couldn’t bear to flee in the opposite direction.
“Hannah.” Mom’s voice quivered. “We’re in trouble, aren’t we?”