Page 27 of You'll Never Know
“Yes,” I say. It feels like someone else is saying it, like I’m no longer the one speaking.
Liz’s forehead bunches and a crease forms between her eyes. “What’s this?”
I edge closer to see what she’s looking at. It’s a note printed on a piece of white paper in generic Times New Roman font. I snatch it from her and devour the words at light speed.
HELLO, GRANT.
YOUR WIFE IS STILL ALIVE.
TO SAVE HER YOU MUST PLAY A GAME.
THE RULES ARE THE SAME:
IF YOU CONTACT THE POLICE, SHE DIES.
IF YOU TELL ANYONE, SHE DIES.
IF YOU DISOBEY US, SHE DIES.
RETURN HOME. YOU HAVE NINETY MINUTES, STARTING NOW.
WE’RE WATCHING YOU.
I look up with my jaw hanging. Both Liz and the courier are watching me closely, waiting for me to say something. To dosomething. ButI don’t. I can’t. I’m too busy calculating the distance between Ouray and Durango. It’s seventy miles of twisting roads and hairpin turns. Seventy miles of white-knuckle driving that doesn’t lend itself to speed. It takes two hours on the best of days to make the trip, and that’s without starting at a rock quarry several miles off the highway.
“What time is it?” I ask the guy.
He scans his watch. “Almost three.”
Fuck. I need to be home by four-thirty. I’ll be lucky to make it by five.
“I have to go,” I say.
“Where?” Liz asks. Her voice sounds distant, like she’s shouting at me from the bottom of a well.
“Home.”
“Wait,” she says. “What about me?”
I nod at the courier. “Go with him. He can get you help.”
The man opens his mouth to tell me no, hell no, but I cut him off before he can say a word. “Look, I’m sorry for what I did earlier, but there are extenuating circumstances here. This woman was just assaulted.”
He raises a single eyebrow. “You mean like you assaulted me?”
“Please.” Liz turns toward him with more than a hint of desperation in her voice. I can already hear the tears forming.
He releases an exaggerated breath and rubs his forehead. “I mean, sure, yeah, why not. I’ll probably get fired for this, but if it helps you two …”
I step closer. “Can I borrow your phone? I need to make a call. It’s an emergency.”
He massages his brow and shakes his head. “Dude, you’re killing me.” But he reaches into his pocket and hands me his phone anyway.
I grab it and start for the Yukon.
“Hey, wait!” he says. “You said borrow, nottake.”
Which is true—but I’m already gone.
