Page 110 of Peak Cruelty

I know it the same way you know a bone’s been set wrong.It looks fine until you touch it—and then it tells the truth.

I slide down the slope and circle wide, make mental notes of soft spots: a gap in the fence, the location of the cameras, the way the man on the porch scrolls his phone.

The window will come.When it does, I’ll use it.

I return to the car.

Rachel startles like she thought I’d already died.

“Jesus.You were gone forever.”

I hand her the key.

She shoves the door open with her foot.“You gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“No.”

She groans.“Okay, mystery man.What's the plan?”

“You stay here.Keep the lights off.If I’m not back by?—”

She holds up a hand.“Nope.Don’t you dare say some cowboy shit like ‘don’t come looking.’”

“Then don’t.”

She scowls.“You planning to walk in and just...what?Wing it?”

“No.I’ve already walked in.In my head.Ten different ways.Now I pick the best one.”

She studies me.There’s something behind her eyes.Not fear.Not concern.Just inevitability.Like she already knows what kind of story this is.

“This is not a good idea,” she says.“Take it from me.”

“Well, I don’t seeyoutrying to get your sister out.”

“It’s complicated.You wouldn’t understand.”

“Right.”

I slide the passenger seat back and pull out the small duffel I packed in silence.Just the essentials.

I sling it over my shoulder.Step back out into the night.

“Vance.”

I pause.

She starts to speak then thinks better of it.In the end—like most women—she can’t help herself.“I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Me too.”

“Even if you get her out, he’ll never stop looking.”

“You say it like he’ll have the opportunity.”

“Right.”She chews at her bottom lip.“Well, in that case, I guess there’s room in the trunk.”

I nod once.Just enough.

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