“Then let’s go.” He was outside before I could say anything. Like I’m sorry.
In five minutes, we were on the road. Ben drove, his attention focused. Not looking at me, not saying a word. I wanted to cry. But I had those calls to make.
“Shaun, it’s Kitty.”
“What’s happening?” he said, his voice urgent. We’d all been waiting by our phones.
“Rick’s moving, but I need some eyes. Any word where Carl and Meg are?”
“Someone’s watching the house. I’ll find out.”
“And if anybody spots Arturo, I want to know about it.”
“Got it. I’ll call back in a minute.”
He was straightforward. Reliable. A good lieutenant. I’d been lucky, finding him when I did. Or maybe my instincts were better than I thought they were. Some of my instincts, anyway.
I was torn between wanting to make more calls, and wanting to leave the line open for Shaun and Rick. I risked one. Cheryl answered the phone.
“Hi, Cheryl?”
“Kitty, oh my God, are you okay? Is everything okay?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing.” I couldn’t tell anything by her voice. She still had the hysterical edge going.
“Everything’s fine here. Dad left the hospital after dinner. Mom was asleep. They’ve still got her doped up pretty good. But everyone’s fine. We haven’t seen anything.”
Good. “That’s what I wanted to hear. I have to get off the line, but I’ll call again. Maybe I’ll wait until morning if everything’s okay.”
“Be careful.”
“Thanks.”
I clicked the line off and waited for Shaun to call back.
Ben kept looking in the rearview mirror, repeatedly, more than the average driving maneuver warranted.
“What is it?”
“I think we’re being followed.”
Oh, that was almost funny. I twisted around to look out the back window. “Are you serious?”
“Could you be a little less obvious?” Ben said.
“But this is hilarious. We’re being followed? Really? Do I get to shoot out the window next?”
“Kitty, sit down.”
I faced front and sat. By then, we’d pulled off the freeway at Colfax and turned east.
That was when the red and blue flashing lights started.
“Great,” Ben muttered, shifting the wheel to pull us over to the curb. “Unmarked police car.” Sure enough, a dark sedan, unmarked and unremarkable, pulled up behind us. The lights flashed from a panel on the back of the sun visor, behind the windshield.
“I, uh, don’t suppose we could outrun ’em?”
Ben gave me another look. The annoyed look that had become so common. He said, “No situation has ever been improved by trying to outrun the cops.”