Aunt Margie moved to open the garage door. “I’ll be praying. Call me when you can.”
“I will.”
The garage door opened, and we backed out into the unknown.
Chapter 41
Stone picked up his cell the second it started to ring. The ID was from Fresno.
“Yeah, Mack.”
“I’ve spotted ’em. They’re driving away from the house in a blue car.”
Stone smacked a fist against his thigh. “Why weren’t you there sooner? Two minutes, and you’d have had them in the house.”
“Got here fast as I could.”
Stone seethed.
“At least we found ’em. I’ll follow the car. When they stop I’ll get ’em.”
“Don’t let them out of your sight.”
“Won’t happen.”
Stone checked his watch. Twelve thirty. As long as the women remained in a car the police weren’t looking for, law enforcement had less chance of finding them. Which gave his man some time.
“Check in with me every half hour, let me know where they are. If we’re lucky, they’ll lead us someplace important.”
“Will do.”
Stone ended the call and punched in Tex’s number to leave a message. “We’ve found the women in Fresno. Call me as soon as you land.”
Chapter 42
Mom was fumbling with the side of her seat. I glanced at her. “What are you trying to do?”
“See if the seat will go back. Oh. There.” Her arm moved—and the seat reclined. “Hah!” Mom eased herself back and settled in.
In five minutes she was asleep.
I drove out of Fresno and turned north on Highway 99. My back was ramrod straight, arms tense. Every thirty seconds my eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, looking for police cars. I saw none.
A half-hour later I turned west onto Highway 152.
Once again I warred with myself. To call my daughter or not? If I didn’t, she’d worry. Plus I had no doubt she’d end up at the Eddington’s house anyway. As long as we were both headed there, we should coordinate our efforts.
Talking on a cell phone while driving was illegal in California. I checked for police once more, then picked up Aunt Margie’s phone and keyed in the number. Emily answered immediately. “Mom! You okay?”
“We’re fine. In the car.”
“I was worried. It took you a long time to call back.”
“I had to get Mom up. And I wanted to get off 99. Not as many cars now.”
“How far away from San Carlos are you?”
“Maybe two and a half hours. How about you?”
“About three. You get the address?”
I told her the address already branded into my mind. “You know where the street is?”
“Yeah. Don’t do anything until I get there.”
“Okay.”
“What are you planning?” Emily asked.
“I have no idea.”
“Well, do you think you’re just going to ring the doorbell?”
“Maybe, who knows?”
“Mom, what if cops are there?”
“Emily, I don’t know. Besides, I doubt if they are. If anything, family has gathered.” Family who would be ultra protective of Ashley Eddington and just as suspicious of me. “We won’t know how to do this until we get there.”
“Kinda like flying blind.”
Yeah. Kinda like that.
My eyes flicked again to the rearview mirror. One car behind us in the distance. “Look, I better go. I’ll call you when we arrive.”
“Okay. Love you.”
“Love you too.” I ended the call and set down the phone.
For the next two and a half hours I drove. Part of the time I was numb. Then my brain would fly around in circles, no place to land. Other times I fought to keep my eyes open. And still others I begged God to help me. Help our nation. And keep Mom and Emily safe. Because of me they’d been dragged into this. Whatever it took, I had to protect them both.
And, please, Lord, help me trust in You like Mom does. Like I should.
Mom slept the entire trip. No having to stop for bathroom breaks. In the silence, questions crowded my mind. What condition would Mom be in when we reached San Carlos? Rested and willing to do what I told her—or volatile?
And what about Aunt Margie? Had the police been to her home by now? Twice I started to call, then stopped myself. What if they were there when the phone rang? What if they saw the ID with my aunt’s own name? They’d know I had her cell phone.
What about that man I shot? Could he possibly be alive in some hospital? I’d seen nothing on the news about him. If he was dead, was a wife mourning for him? Maybe children. How could I ever face them, tell them how sorry I was? It wasn’t their fault, what their loved one had done.