Page 42 of I Will Find You

Now Catherine haunted her. She was here right now, sitting across the diner booth from her, smiling in that unsure way she always did, blinking as though awaiting a blow, until Rachel heard her waitress, a blue-haired diner special if ever she’d seen one, say to the customer at the table next to Rachel, “I haven’t heard that go off in, how long, Cal?”

The man she assumed was Cal said, “Oh, years now.”

“You think—?”

“Nah,” Cal said. “Briggs is probably just running a drill. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Rachel froze.

“You say so,” the waitress said, but judging by the expression on her face, she wasn’t fully buying it.

Rachel leaned over and said, “Excuse me, I don’t mean to pry, but is that siren coming from Briggs Penitentiary?”

Cal and the waitress exchanged a glance. Then Cal nodded and gave her his most condescending smile. “I wouldn’t worry your pretty head over it. It’s probably just a drill.”

“A drill for what?” Rachel asked.

“An escape,” the waitress said. “They only blow that whistle when an inmate escapes.”

Her cell phone buzzed. Rachel stepped away and put the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

“I need your help,” David said.

Chapter

13

Three cop cars, all with flashing lights atop them, are on us now.

I feel numb. I am out of Briggs for the first time in five years. If they catch me, I will never get out again. Never. I know that. There is no second chance here. My fingers curl around the gun. The metal feels oddly warm and comforting.

The police cruisers spread out in a V formation.

I turn to Philip. “It’s over, isn’t it?”

“You willing to risk your life?”

“What life?”

He nods. “Point the damn gun at me, David. Keep it up where they can see it.”

I do so. The gun feels heavy now. My hand shakes. The adrenaline—from the fight with Sumner, from Curly’s attack, from this makeshift escape plan—seems to be ebbing away. Philip hits the accelerator. The police cruisers stay right with us.

“What now?” I ask.

“Wait.”

“For what?”

As though on cue, the car phone rings again. Philip’s face is a stern mask. Before he answers it, he says, “Remember you’re a desperate man. Act it.”

I nod.

Philip picks up the phone and says a shaky hello. A voice immediately says, “Your son is safe, Warden. He managed to untie himself and break the door down.”

“Who the hell am I talking to?” Philip asks. His voice is brusque and hostile.

There is a moment of hesitation on the other line. “I’m, uh…this is—”

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