The Burning Man (15 page)

“Drive!”
she hollered.

Before he could react, the rear windshield of the car shattered, safety glass flying everywhere like cubist snow. The bright yellow graphic novel flew from his hands, bounced off the dash and landed in the space where the passenger’s feet go.

“DRIVE!”

He grabbed the wheel and threw the car into gear. He stomped on the gas, one hand on Olivia’s back as her legs kicked wildly out through his still-open window.

That’s when he noticed that she was handcuffed.

He hung a screaming, slippery left at the end of the block, icy wind whipping his hair around and stinging his cheeks.

“Holy crap!” he said, glancing up into the rearview mirror. “Was somebody shooting at us? Why are you in handcuffs?”

He took another sharp turn and had to concentrate to keep control as Olivia pulled her legs into the car and squirmed over into the passenger seat, sliding and slamming against the passenger door.

“We have to go get Rachel,” Olivia said, ignoring his questions.

* * *

When they got back to the campus, Kieran pulled over, got out, and went around to the passenger side to open the door. He took off his coat and draped it around Olivia’s shoulders to hide the cuffs, helping her to her feet. That’s when he noticed that the graphic novel lying on the on the floor had a hole in it—a bullet hole through the eye of the smiley face on the cover.

He shuddered, realizing how close he’d come to dying. This wasn’t some kind of cool action movie. This was real.

Too real.

Olivia stubbornly refused to explain anything, and it was really starting to bug Kieran. He felt like he deserved to know what was going on. But he gave her space— didn’t press the issue. The most important thing was that she needed him.

They walked as quickly as they could without running, and hightailed it to the metal shop. It was housed inside a large, low brick building that used to be a garage for old man Deerborn’s fancy automobiles. It also housed the wood shop, auto shop, and the pottery shop.

There wasn’t a class on at the moment, but a girl Kieran didn’t know was there working on some kind of decorative ironwork project. She was a tiny little thing, with stoplight-red hair scraped up into two stubby pigtails, and she had her back to them, headphones on and totally engrossed in her work.

She didn’t even notice Kieran when he reached up to steal a small hacksaw off its peg on the wall.

“Come on,” he said, pulling Olivia into the single, unisex bathroom in the building and locking the door.

He took off the jacket to expose the cuffs. She twisted her head to look over her shoulder at her hands.

“Hurry,” she whispered.

He went to work sawing through the cuffs. At first he was too tentative—he was afraid the saw blade would slip and cut her pale wrists. So it took much longer than he expected just to get through one cuff.

But he kept at it, sawing furiously with sweating hands. When the second cuff finally dropped off, Olivia spun around and threw her arms around him. Holding her, he could almost forget everything crazy that was happening.

Almost.

“Thank you,” she said, pressing his face between her cold hands for a brief moment. He hoped that she might kiss him, but she didn’t. “Let’s go!”

Kieran left the hacksaw in the bathroom, but stashed the broken cuffs in his backpack with the vague, unformed thought that maybe he shouldn’t let anyone find them. By the time he was done Olivia was way ahead of him, and he practically had to sprint to keep up with her.

“Should we...” Kieran began breathlessly. “I mean... If people are going to be shooting at us... Well... Maybe you should get your rifle?”

Olivia shook her head, a terse dismissal.

“I can’t check it out of the gun locker without Coach Lowenbruck’s signature,” she said. “I don’t want him to get in any trouble over this.”

Somehow that seemed like the least of their worries, but Kieran didn’t say anything.

They ran across the quad and down to the junior girls’ dorm.

Rachel.

She was in her room, reading a book with her headphones on. When she saw Olivia and Kieran, disheveled and breathing heavily, she pulled the headphones off. At first she looked pleased, but then a quizzical look crossed her face.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Rach,” Olivia said. “Pack a bag, right now. We’re leaving.”

Rachel looked up at Olivia, and then hugged her hard. She didn’t even pause to ask questions. She just did what she was told.

* * *

The trust and love that Olivia saw in her little sister’s face made her feel painfully inadequate. What if she failed? What if that crazy cop found them? Was Olivia actually putting Rachel in harm’s way by keeping them together? Would she—and Kieran—be better off away from Olivia?

“Come on,” she said to Rachel, still terribly uncertain but unwilling to let it show. “Let’s go.”

In Kieran’s car, Rachel sat in the back seat, but leaned forward so her head was between Kieran and Olivia. She’d cleared a space on the seat so she wouldn’t have to sit on the broken glass—safety or not.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?” she asked, voiced raised to be heard over the cold wind howling through the broken window.

“Seriously, Liv,” Kieran echoed. “What happened to you?”

“Okay,” Olivia said. “Look, I’m sorry for freaking everyone out, but here’s what’s going on. There’s this weird guy following me around. He claims to be a cop, but I don’t believe him. He’s got a missing arm. I’m pretty sure he’s the guy who’s been peeping around the school and...”

She stopped in mid-sentence, hand flying involuntarily to her mouth, her eyes wide.

She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it sooner.

“Chelsea!” she said from between her fingers. “My god, he got Chelsea!”

“What are you talking about,” Kieran asked. “I thought you said she was with some boyfriend?”

“I thought...” Olivia began, but she couldn’t find the words to finish.

Poor silly, shallow, hypercaffeinated Chelsea.

Chelsea, who had believed the one-armed stalker story, while Olivia had dismissed it as a goofy rumor.

Chelsea, who hadn’t been anywhere to be seen that morning...

“Pull up at that gas station,” she said.

“Sure, but...” Kieran slowed and turned into the station. “Jesus. This is serious. What are we going to do?”

“Shouldn’t we call the cops?” Rachel asked.

“Look what happened last time I tried to talk to the cops,” Olivia said. She pointed through the window. “Pull up by that phone.”

Kieran did as she asked and she got out, going through her pockets for change as she walked over to the pay phone.

She did the only thing that made sense. She called Mrs. Gilbert.

“Mrs. G,” she said as soon as the woman answered. “It’s Olivia. Listen, Chelsea never came home last night, and she wasn’t in class this morning. Remember that weird guy from last night? I think he might have done something, hurt her or... worse. You need to call the police.”

“Olivia, where are you calling from?” she asked. “What the hell is going on? You’re not allowed to be off-campus without a chaperone.”

“Never mind that,” Olivia said. “Please just call the police and tell them that Chelsea is missing. I gotta go now.”

She hung up, pre-empting Mrs. Gilbert’s torrent of questions, feeling sick to her stomach with adrenalin and fear. She looked back over her shoulder at the car, at Kieran and Rachel, and was struck again with the idea that she should run as far as she could away from them.

That she’d already gotten her roommate hurt—or maybe even killed.

And she didn’t even know why.

* * *

Mrs. Gilbert slammed the phone back into the cradle, and then immediately dialed another call.

“It’s worse than we thought,” she said, wedging the phone between her shoulder and ear, pulling her gun from a locked drawer in her desk and putting it into her purse. “The subject has gone AWOL, and I have reason to suspect that the man calling himself Obejas may be after her.

“Set up intercept teams at the bus and railway stations, and I’ll fax you the license plate number of a car registered to a boy who may be aiding her. I’ll have the cellular phone, and will check-in on the road.”

She checked the charge on the brand-new cell phone, and put it in her purse with the gun.

“I understand,” she said. “She won’t get far.”

* * *

Olivia got back into the car, feeling numb and cold.

What was she doing? Where were they going? She didn’t have a plan, just this terrible urge to run fast and far.

“I think we need to ditch this car,” Kieran was saying. “If this guy after you is a cop, he’ll probably have other cops looking for you, too. They’ll know I’m with you, and be on alert. Plus we’ll freeze to death with this missing rear windshield.”

“Maybe we can get bus tickets or something,” Rachel suggested.

“What about the train?” Kieran said.

Olivia couldn’t seem to concentrate. She kept thinking about Chelsea. But she forced herself to focus.

“Maybe we should split up,” she said. “Maybe you should take Rachel to your mom’s place in the Hamptons. I’ll go to New York City or something, to draw him away from you guys.”

“Hell, no,” Kieran said. “No way. You can’t fight this guy alone.”

“I’m not going with him,” Rachel said. “I’m staying with you!”

“We should definitely stay together,” Kieran said. “But the beach house in the Hamptons is a great idea. That whole neighborhood will be pretty much deserted this time of year. No one will think to look for us there.”

Olivia wished she could think of a better plan, but couldn’t.

* * *

When they arrived at the train station, Olivia eyed every single person with suspicion. Was that guy with the briefcase staring at them? Was that woman on the payphone just pretending to talk to a dead receiver, while she clocked Olivia getting out of Kieran’s car?

She put her arm around Rachel’s shoulders and led her across the lot to the station entrance, feeling as if she had a bullseye on her forehead. She swiveled her neck around, trying to watch the whole lot at once. They were almost to the entrance when a police car pulled in.

Olivia ducked into the doorway and pulled Rachel in with her. Kieran was right behind them.

“Cops,” he said.

“I know,” Olivia said. “I saw them.”

Kieran peered out through the glass doors.

“Is that Mrs. G?” he asked, frowning.

Olivia risked a glance out through the doors and saw that Kieran was right. It
was
Mrs. G. The woman was leaning over the driver’s side of the cop car, talking to the two policemen inside.

A thin twist of anxiety took hold of Olivia. Why was Mrs. G talking to the cops? This was starting to feel like some sort of conspiracy. Was she in it? But how could she be? She had always been so friendly and caring toward Olivia.

Maybe too friendly.

Olivia felt like an idiot for being so trusting.

Suddenly
nothing
seemed trustworthy, as if her whole life was being revealed as an elaborate stage play. Could she even trust Kieran?

No, she was letting paranoia get the better of her. She had to keep a level head and not get carried away. She had to concentrate on keeping Rachel safe, and staying one step ahead of everyone who was after her.

She looked up at the monitor screen.

“There’s a southbound train due in three minutes,” Olivia said. “We should go up onto the pedestrian bridge and wait for it. When it pulls in, we run down and get on at the last possible minute. We can pay for tickets on the train.”

“Okay,” Kieran said, squeezing her hand. “Let’s go.”

When they reached the top of the stairs and entered the glassed-in pedestrian bridge that led over the train tracks, Olivia could see both platforms. It was precisely why she’d chosen it as a place to wait.

On the northbound side, standing near the stairs, she could see Mrs. Gilbert, two uniformed cops, and three neckless guys in suits who looked like private security goons. Two were older, white, and similar as brothers with matching gray politician haircuts and bland, forgettable faces. But the third was younger than his buddies, black and movie-star handsome despite a thick scar running up his left cheek and into his close-cropped hairline.

As far as she was concerned, all three looked like trouble. She watched them for a few seconds, and they didn’t seem to see her. But when she turned to scan the southbound side, she spotted the one-armed cop standing at the far end of the platform.

None of their various pursuers had spotted them yet, but there was nowhere for them to go from there. It was a devil’s choice.

The frying pan or the fire.

“Okay, listen,” Olivia said to Kieran. “Here’s what I want you to do. Take Rachel down the northbound stairs. If you’re careful, you can make it to the northern side exit without being spotted by those goons. Take her back to the car and drive down to the next station. I’ll meet you there.”

“But that cop will see us,” Kieran said, nodding toward the one-armed man.

“No he won’t,” Olivia said, heading toward the right hand stairway. “Because he’ll be following me.”

“No!” Rachel cried. She glanced around, and spoke again quietly. “That’s crazy, Liv. We should stay together!”

“Hurry!” Olivia said without looking back.

She took the stairs two at a time, and when she got down to the platform, she leaned out over the edge as if looking for the train. She kept her back to the one-armed cop, but she could feel his gaze on her. It chilled her and made her nauseous with adrenalin.

She was desperate to look over and see if Kieran and Rachel had made it to the exit yet, but she didn’t want to give their position away.

Fists clenched at her side and breath caught in her aching chest, she made herself wait, counting slowly to ten before turning and ducking out through the doorway that led to the ticket booth.

She shot an anxious glance back over her shoulder toward the platform doorway. The one-armed cop wasn’t there. Was he not following her?