Dark Justice(44)

A siren whooped. With a leaden heart, I signaled and pulled over.

Mom looked at me. “What was that?”

I couldn’t reply.

My eyes flicked back to the rearview mirror. The police car wasn’t behind me.

What—?

In my peripheral vision, I saw him speed by.

I gawked at the car, disappearing down the road. Was he chasing someone else?

“Hannah, what are we doing?”

Thick relief weakened me, the relief of waking from a horrible nightmare. I dropped my chin toward my chest.

“Hannah?”

I tried to breathe.

“Are you sick?”

“No, Mom. I’m . . . fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

I raised my head. “I just needed to let the police car pass. He was after somebody.”

Mom pulled in the sides of her mouth. “At least it wasn’t you.”

A sick little laugh pushed up my throat. “Yeah.”

“Well, good then.” She raised her shoulders and let them fall. “Let’s go. I want my tea.”

I pulled back onto the road, my body numb. Within a minute I realized something. That policeman must not have heard the notification about me and my car. Yet. But he could at any time. When he did, would he remember seeing us?

Muscles wooden, I drove. The exit for Highway 99, leading to Fresno, seemed to take forever to reach. I turned south on it, watching my car eat up the road. I longed for it to gobble faster. Sheer willpower—and the fear of attracting another policeman’s attention—kept me from flooring the accelerator.

We reached the outskirts of town. Here we were in the most danger, with police cars liable to come along at any time. My heart beat harder, and my throat felt parched.

“Are we there?” Mom plucked at her pants, a sign of uneasiness.

“Almost.”

“Can I have my tea?”

“I hope so, Mom.”

“And a nap?”

“That would be great, wouldn’t it.”

I had no idea where my aunt lived. It had been years since I visited her.

Slipping down a busy street, I looked for a 7-Eleven or gas station. Something with a pay phone. I could swear my car pulsed with light and sound. Everyone who saw it would be reaching for a phone to call the police.

What if my aunt had seen the news? Would she turn me in the moment I called?

Maybe I shouldn’t do this.

But what, then?

Blocks went by before I spotted a phone at a Quik Stop. I turned into the parking lot and cut the engine. “Mom.” I looked her in the eye. “It’s very important you stay in the car. I’m going to try to call Aunt Margie.”

“Who?”

“Aunt Margie. Remember?”

“Oh. Roses.”

“You’ll stay in the car?”

She shrugged. “Okay.”

Praying she wouldn’t change her mind, I hurried to the pay phone and looked up Aunt Margie’s number—and found it listed.

Thank You, God.

I punched in the number and turned around, watching Mom and the street as the phone rang. One ring. Two. My eyes closed. Please.

The third ring cut off. “Hello?” My aunt’s rich alto voice.

“Aunt Margie. It’s Hannah.”

“Why, Hannah, how nice to hear from you.”

Her unsuspecting tone thumped me in the chest. She hadn’t seen the news. Maybe she’d let us stay for a while and rest.

But what if she got into trouble for helping me?

“Aunt Margie, I’m in Fresno, and I need to come see you.” I couldn’t keep the tension from my voice.

“Of course, dear. Is your mother with you?”

“Yes. She’s fine. Can you give me directions to your house? It’s been so long since I’ve been there.”

“All right. Where are you?”

I told her. With no pen and paper, I repeated her directions twice. She lived about two miles away. “Thank you. Do you have room in your garage for my car? I’d like to pull into it.”

“All right. Less walking for Carol.”

“Great. See you soon.”

I crashed down the phone and got back in the car.

“Where are we going?” Mom asked. She had donut sugar on her lips. I wiped it off for her.

“Aunt Margie’s. Remember her?”

“I had a friend named Margie once.”

“Yes. You told me.” I started the car.

“Oh.” She lay back against the head rest and closed her eyes.

Two miles, and we’d be home free. For the moment. My eyes flicked again and again to the rearview mirror, searching for a police car. By the time we reached the house I’d swear we’d gone ten miles.

The garage door stood open. I pulled inside and saw Aunt Margie waiting for us, hands clasped at her waist. She was a large, no-nonsense woman, round and soft-skinned, her hair pepper-gray. As I stepped from the car, she hit a button to slide down the door.