Pretty Girls

And look where that had gotten her.

“What’s really going on here?” Rick’s posture had changed. He was looking at her differently now. His arms were crossed. His distrust was evident. “Lydia warned me that you were a really good liar.”

“Yeah, well . . .” Claire gave a half shrug of her shoulder. “I usually am.”

“Is she safe?”

“I don’t know.” Claire tightened her grip on the gun. She had to get out of here. If she stood in front of this man for too long, she would ask him for help. She would let him take over. She would get him killed. “Take Dee away from here. Tonight. Don’t tell me where you’re going.”

“What?”

She could read shock in every line on his face. “Just take her somewhere safe.”

“You need to call the police.” His voice had gone up again, this time with fear. “If there’s something—­”

“The police are involved. The FBI. I don’t know who else.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.

“I’m sorry.”

“Fuck your sorry, lady. What the hell did you get her caught up in?”

Claire knew she had to tell him something close to the truth. “Something really bad. Lydia is in danger.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“You should be scared.” She grabbed Rick’s arm. “Don’t call the police. They won’t help. Take Dee and get her out of here.”

“Dee?” He was almost yelling. “What the hell does Dee have to do with this?”

“You need to take her away.”

“You said that. Now tell me why.”

“If you want to help Lydia, then you’ll keep Dee safe. That’s all she cares about.”

He put his hand over hers so she couldn’t leave. “I know what happened between you two. You haven’t talked to each other in twenty years and now you’re suddenly worried about her daughter?”

“Lydia is my sister. Even when I hated her, I still loved her.” Claire looked down at his hand. “I have to go.”

Rick didn’t let go of her hand. “Why don’t I just hold on to you and call the police?”

“Because if you call the police, then Lydia will be dead and the person who has her will come after Dee.”

His grip loosened, but more out of shock than acquiescence. “What can I do? Just tell me what—­”

“You can keep Dee safe. I know you love Lydia, and I know you want to help, but she loves her daughter. You know that’s all that matters to her.”

Claire pulled away from him. Rick didn’t make it easy. Obviously, he was torn between letting her go and shaking the truth out of her, but he loved Lydia’s daughter. Claire knew from Paul’s reports that Rick had practically raised her. He was her father, and no father would let harm come to his child.

She picked up the pace as she jogged through the backyard. She jumped over the low fence. Every step she took forward was hounded by the ones she wanted to take back to Rick. She prayed that he would listen to her and take Dee somewhere safe. But what was safe? Paul had countless resources. Congressman Johnny Jackson had even more.

Should she turn around and go back? Rick loved Lydia. He was her family—­probably more so than Claire. He would help her.

And Paul would probably kill him.

Claire pulled Lydia’s phone out of her back pocket as she ran toward the car. The latest photo showed Lydia lying on her side. The picture was darker, which she hoped meant that Paul had taken it recently rather than an hour and a half ago.

The streetlights came on as Claire got behind the wheel of the Tesla. She put the gun in her purse. She didn’t need Rick Butler. The gun was the plan. She would use it to get information from Adam. She would use it to kill Paul. Claire had felt so certain when she first held the weapon under the deck steps. She couldn’t falter, now that there were other, easier options. She had to go through with this. She had to confront Paul on her own. If she knew one thing about her husband, it was that he would be furious if she involved someone else.

There could be no one else inside the circle.

She started the car. She did a U-­turn back onto the main road. She passed Lydia’s home. The lights had been turned on in the front rooms. She prayed to God that Rick was packing Dee’s things, that he was doing as she asked and taking Lydia’s daughter somewhere safe.

Again, she asked herself what was safe. Fred Nolan could run Rick’s credit cards. He could track the man’s phone. He could probably find him with drones or CCTV or whatever else the federal government employed to spy on persons of interest.

Claire shook her head. She couldn’t keep running off on tangents. She had to take this in steps. She had Lydia’s gun now. That was the first step. The second step was to get the USB drive from Adam. She would pull over to a pay phone and call him. Sunday night. He would be at home with Sheila. Was there such a thing as a pay phone anymore? Claire couldn’t risk calling Adam on Lydia’s phone. She had watched too many episodes of Homeland to know better than that. Agent Nolan or Captain Mayhew—­or both—­could be monitoring Adam’s phone for Claire’s call.

Blue lights flashed in her rearview mirror. Claire instinctively slowed to get out of the cop’s way, but the cop car slowed, too, and when she signaled to get over, he signaled, too.

“Shit,” Claire hissed, because she’d been speeding. The limit was thirty-­five and she was doing fifty.

And she had a gun in her purse.

Claire was on parole. She had a weapon. She probably still had traces of drugs in her system. She had violated every single line item in her terms of parole, including ignoring a law enforcement officer’s request for a meeting.

The cop behind her made his siren whoop.

Claire pulled over to the side of the road. What was she going to do? What the fuck was she going to do?

The cop didn’t park behind her. Instead, he pulled in front and angled his car so that the Tesla was blocked in.

Claire put her hand on the gear. She could go into reverse. She could back up the car and she could hit the gas and she could probably go about ten miles before every police officer in the vicinity was chasing her down the expressway.

The cop got out of the squad car. He put on his hat. He adjusted his belt.

Claire grabbed Lydia’s phone. Paul. He would know what to do. Except she didn’t have his number. The caller ID always showed it as blocked.

“Shit,” Claire repeated.

Maybe Paul already knew what was happening. He’d made it clear that he had friends in law enforcement. He could easily make a phone call and have Claire pulled over and handcuffed and stuffed into the back of a police car that would take her to wherever Paul was hiding.

The cop hadn’t come over. He was standing beside his car. He was talking on his cell phone. They were on the outskirts of Lydia’s neighborhood. All of the surrounding houses were dark. The cop checked the empty road over his shoulder before walking toward the Tesla.

Claire’s fingers took over. She was dialing a number into Lydia’s phone as the cop tapped on her window with the back of his wedding ring.

“Hello?” The phone was answered with the usual breathless panic that always accompanied calls from unknown numbers. Was it Julia? Was it Lydia? Was it more bad news?

“Mom.” Claire gulped back a sob. “Please, Mom, I really need you.”

CHAPTER 16

Lydia hadn’t stood a chance against Paul. She had waited and waited for him to get her out of the trunk, but he just kept stopping to take her picture and then driving some more, then stopping again, then driving. He did this a total of five times before she lost control of her senses.