Page 24 of Dark Roads
“I could have shot you, you idiot.”
“I’m sorry.” But it could have been Cash. Vaughn wouldn’t shoot without checking, would he? I felt sweaty and panicked. Was this his way of warning me to keep my mouth shut?
“Well, are you eating or not?”
I pulled open the fridge, grabbed a couple slices of cheese, then some bread, and smeared butter across the pieces. I took a bite of this hastily made cheese sandwich and mumbled through my full mouth, “Lana makes the best fresh bread. I swear I was dreaming about it.”
He was silent, but he’d relaxed his hold on the gun. He stepped to the side, making room for me to pass him, and pointed toward the rooms with the gun. “You better get to bed.”
He didn’t follow me down the hall. Moments later I heard muffled voices, sounded like a late-night news program. I didn’t understand why he hadn’t returned to his room, unless he was making sure that I couldn’t leave again. I slid my mattress closer to Cash. His breath was soft and even, but I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I’d see my naked self on Vaughn’s computer and think of him out in the living room. Was he panicking? If anyone saw those photos, he’d lose his marriage, his career. Maybe he was erasing everything on his laptop.
I must have fallen asleep. Hours later I woke abruptly, heart pounding. The house was quiet. He had to walk past this room to get to his own, and I never heard him. I rolled onto myside and noticed something on the floor beside me. I used my phone screen for light.
It was a plate, with a couple slices of cheese and bread. A glass of milk. He was mocking me. Letting me know he’d seen right through my lame excuse about being hungry.
It didn’t matter where I slept. He could still get close.
Lana walked Vaughn to his truck at dawn. I crept out and got myself a coffee while she said goodbye in the driveway. They were trying to be quiet, but their voices drifted in through the open kitchen window. Lana said, “Be safe!” and he answered, “Always am!” I wanted to scream. He was probably driving away with the laptop.
I stayed on the couch all morning, complaining again of cramps when Lana asked if I wanted to come to the beach with her and Cash. “I’m just going to watch movies, maybe take a walk later if I feel better.” I grimaced and clutched a hot water bottle against my stomach. She worried that I wasn’t eating enough. I promised that I’d have some yogurt and fruit.
Vaughn had taught me something the night before. I left the TV playing to an empty house while I met Jonny a few streets down. I figured I was covered two ways—if any of the neighbors saw me outside, I’d already told Lana I might go for a walk, and if Vaughnwasmonitoring me through audio from the bedroom camera, he wouldn’t know I’d left.
Jonny’s truck slowed near the mailboxes where I was hiding, and I jumped into the cab, then lay down on the floorboards. We drove to the truck stop. It was one of the last places in town that still had a phone booth. In case there were security cameras, I wore my hair tucked up into Jonny’s baseball cap, pulled on his work coat, and walked with a boy’s swagger.
The Cold Creek police force numbered a grand total ofeleven cops, and most of them had worked with Vaughn for years. They weren’t going to believe he was a dirty cop, but Thompson was new, and younger. Maybe he’d have an open mind. Maybe he’d at least look into it.
The police station operator put me straight through to Thompson. I’d expected his voice mail, a recording where I could leave an anonymous message. When he answered, “Thompson here,” I thought about hanging up. Speaking to a real human was a big risk, but Vaughn could get rid of the evidence—or me. I thought of that gun pointing straight at my head.
I slipped my hand over the receiver and dropped my voice an octave, a husky sort of whisper. “I want to report a bad cop.”
A long silence. Too long. I’d made a mistake calling him. He was probably signaling for Vaughn to listen in. He could be picking up another line.
“That right?” More silence. I peeked around the side of the phone booth, checking the parking lot. “What seems to be the problem?”
Was he actually listening or buying time? The police wouldn’t put a trace on a call like this, would they? I didn’t know how it all worked. Maybe everything got recorded.
“He’s a creep. He’s been taking pictures of girls with hidden cameras.”
Another long pause. “How do you know?”
“I just do, okay? He has cameras in bathrooms. Like in public places.” I didn’t know how much to tell him. If I said the wrong thing, I could reveal my identity.
“This is a pretty serious allegation.”
“Iknow,” I hissed, impatient. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Well, first I need to take a statement. I could meet you somewhere—”
“No. No way. I’m not reporting him.”
“I don’t understand. Why did you call?”
“Soyoucan find the cameras. Then you can arrest him.”
“Who is the officer?”
I glanced over my shoulder and made sure no one was waiting to use the phone. “Vaughn.”
