Page 63 of At Midnight Comes the Cry
It took them five minutes to reach the outskirts of the scenic village, and it wasn’t until she slammed on the brakes entering the thirty-five-mile-an-hour zone that she caught a glimpse of Cal’s truck in the distance behind them. She was still going forty-five when she crossed the Hudson River, but had to actually slow, thirty-five to thirty to twenty-five, once she turned right onto Main Street, where SUVs and cars with ski racks lined the thoroughfare and shoppers in sleek parkas jaywalked from galleries to restaurants to inns.
“There’s a parking spot!” Tiny pointed.
“I don’t want to be on the side of the road if I can help it. I want a lot. With a bunch of cars.” A cafe, an antique store—the Alpine Lodge? Then she saw it, up ahead. A humble Tops sign. “That’s it.”
“A grocery store?”
The parking lot, which served a small strip mall as well as the Tops, was as crowded as Clare had hoped. She drove toward the rear and slipped her Subaru in between two hulking SUVs. “Get Rose.” She unbuckled and opened the door. “We’re going in.”
“Shouldn’t we—”
“Inside.” Clare reached into the back and grabbed the diaper bag. “We’ll be safest surrounded by people.” She prayed she was right, and that her decision wasn’t about to lead to a shoot-out in a public place. Tiny pulled Rose into her arms, and Clare leaned in and unbuckled the car seat, shoving it into the space between the front and back seats. She tossed Oscar’s dog blanket over it. There were probably a dozen vehicles here that were—or looked like—Outbacks. If Cal searched car to car, there wouldn’t be anything to alert him to this one. Clare strode toward the store entrance after Tiny.
Inside, Clare took Tiny’s arm. “Let’s find the restrooms.” They were in the back of the store, behind the day-old bread rack and the bottle return. She ushered Tiny into the men’s room, which, thanks to modern mores, had a fold-down table for diaper changes. She hung the baby’s bag on a wall hook.
“I can’t be in the men’s room,” Tiny hissed.
“Ifhe figures out that’s my car outside andifhe comes into the store, he might look for you in the ladies’. He’s less likely to check here. Lock the door, I’ll see if I can find an out-of-order sign. I’ll come back when I’m sure it’s safe.”
“How will I know it’s you?”
“Um.” She looked at the baby, blinking sleepily. Suddenly, she was overwhelmed with wanting to be home with her own little boy, not hiding from an asshole with a gun. “Ethan. I’ll say Ethan.”
There was no readily available sign, but tucked against the bottle redemption machine were two “Wet Floor” pylons linked with a yellow chain. Totally symbolic, but if anyone knew the power ofsymbols, she did. She set them in front of the men’s room and walked out. Cal had viewed her three times now, twice in person and once through the car window, but she didn’t think a man that dismissive of women would haveseenher enough to have her face down pat. In the “Seasonal Aisle,” she found a selection of Santa hats and knit scarves sporting logos likeHO HO HOandNAUGHTY OR NICE?She grabbed one of each, ran them through the self-checkout, ripped off the tags, and put them on, hiding her hair under the cap and covering part of her face with the muffler. She stripped off her coat and tied it around her waist, altering her silhouette slightly. She stepped outside again, just in time to see the back of Cal’s truck passing the entrance. She sucked in a breath and jostled a cart out of the corral and walked calmly—or at least faking calm—back into the store.
There were several displays a few steps inside the entrance; from there she had a good view of most of the parking lot. She slid the cart against one and started idly picking up cans of cranberry sauce and boxes of stuffing mix. Hopefully, she looked like she was waiting for someone, and not like a low-rent shoplifter.
The truck cruised along one row of vehicles, turned right, and drove up the last row. Slowly. If he had noted her license plate number, or theWELCOME TO THE EPISCOPAL CHURCHdecal in her quarter glass window, things were going to get ugly. And dangerous. She was betting on what she’d seen of his personality: angry, impulsive, arrogant. She had met more than one man like that in her life, and they didn’t tend to be very observant.
The truck seemed to stop for a moment, along with her heart. Then it moved on. Past her car and the two SUVs flanking it. The truck circled the lot, still at a walking pace, making sure to pass every vehicle near the strip mall stores. Then, as if still suspicious, it crept past the grocery’s huge front windows and out onto Main Street. Clare blinked, and discovered she had tossed four cans of pumpkin puree into her cart without noticing.
She pulled out her phone and checked the reception. Nothing, of course. She waited one minute, then five, then five more, just to be sure Cal hadn’t parked elsewhere and walked to the store. Sheweighed eleven minutes against his lack of impulse control and decided it was good. Or at least, okay.
She removed the wet-floor pylons, rapped on the men’s room door, and said, “Ethan.” There was a click, and Tiny peered out at her. “What happened? Is it safe?”
“He drove around the parking lot and left. We’re going to give him enough time to check out the rest of the town before we get back on the road ourselves.”
Tiny emerged, with Rose on her hip and the baby bag slung over her shoulder. “All right.” She looked up at Clare’s Santa hat, but didn’t say anything.
“I planned on taking us back to the rectory—my house—so I need to know, Tiny—can Cal find that address? Did you tell him my name?”
“Um. Your first name, yeah. But honestly, I forgot your last name so—” Tiny shook her head. “He knows you’re friends with Meghan Smith, ’cause he saw you there.”
And he never met Russ, because he was still out target shooting that day. His beefy buddy Dillon had followed her car as far as the gas station in Millers Kill, but he wouldn’t have known her final destination.
“Okay, I think coming home with me is still the best choice.” She drew mother and daughter into a hug. “We’re going to keep you safe, Tiny. Both of you. We’re going to keep you safe.”
5.
They were almost at the on-ramp to the Northway when Hadley’s phone finally showed some bars. Paul pulled the chief’s truck into the lone gas station in sight and hopped out. “I’ll pick up the coffee. You talk to your deputy chief.”
She went straight to MacAuley’s cell phone, hoping he was at the station. He wasn’t. “Mmph. What? Whosis?”
“It’s Knox, Deputy Chief.”
“Aren’t you off? Whyin the hell’re you calling me at the frigging crack of dawn?”
“It’s after nine o’clock.”
