*
Dryden found a screwdriver in the truck’s glove box. He used it to crack open the ignition housing; it took only a few seconds more to hot-wire the vehicle.
“Not stealing,” Dryden said. “Borrowing.”
“It’s pretty old,” Rachel said. “How upset can they be?”
Dryden pulled out of the lot and turned left. Just ahead lay the southbound on-ramp to the 101. Rachel looked back at the town’s lights, diffused in the mist, and exhaled deeply.
“Let’s hear the rest of your story,” Dryden said.
*
Gaul stared at the completed batch of satellite snaps like a man staring at a slot machine on which he’d lost his last dollar. Fourteen human beings were outdoors in the target area. None of them were children.
She was gone.
Lowry was already retargeting a wider search frame, but Gaul had no hope for it. The first frame had covered as much area as anyone on foot could have gone in the time allowed. Their absence meant they’d found transportation.
Gaul sat in a chair and rested his forehead on his hands.
Rachel, out of his reach.
Out there in the world.
She couldn’t remember anything important, but that was only temporary. With the drug out of her system, her memory would begin stitching itself back together within a week. Soon enough after that, she’d remember everything.
The taste in his mouth thickened. For a few seconds he was back in Boston, in that shitty little flat on West Ninth Street, waiting for the day the police would knock on his door.
“Sir?” Lowry said.
“What is it?”
“One of the Hail Mary processes might give us something.”
Gaul raised his head. On the first computer, Lowry had run an option—actually, he’d simply agreed to an option the program had recommended. The software suite had drawn the same conclusion as Gaul: Failure to locate someone on foot probably meant they’d found a vehicle.
“Part of the latest software bundle,” Lowry said. “Sometimes there are heat trails on pavement if a vehicle has just left the search area. It’d be pretty faint, but the Mirandas can turn up their sensitivity and detect the heat for up to sixty seconds, depending on how fast the vehicle was going. If anyone drove out of the area recently, we might get lucky.”
The wide image of El Sedero remained motionless while the satellites carried out the new task. Suddenly the image reframed to tighten on the right side, a close-up of the shopping center. Faint, and fading even as Gaul watched, a twin set of dark blue lines snaked from the parking lot to the road, then to the freeway’s on-ramp.
“Show me that parking lot sixty seconds ago,” Gaul said.
CHAPTER FIVE
Dryden changed lanes to pass a semi, keeping the pickup just above the speed limit to avoid drawing attention. Visibility on the 101 was better than it had been in town. As the freeway followed the coast, it also climbed above the fog.
For now, his goal was simply to put distance between themselves and El Sedero. He would decide on a destination after hearing the rest of Rachel’s story. She’d been quiet for the past minute, contemplating how to tell it. Finally she turned to him.
“Before I say anything, I need to do something so you’ll believe me,” she said.
“There are men with machine guns after you. Whatever’s going on, you don’t need to convince me it’s real.”
“You might feel different after you’ve heard more of it.”
She looked down at her hands. They were drumming a pattern on her knees. Whatever she was about to do, it was making her nervous.
“This is going to weird you out,” she said. “Just so you know.”
“More than what’s already happened tonight?”
“Way more.”
She exhaled hard, and before Dryden could respond, she said, “Think of a four-digit number. A random one, not part of your phone number or anything else someone might know. Don’t say it out loud, just think of it. Clamp your lips together, too, so you don’t accidentally mouth it.”
Dryden glanced at her, wondering if it was a joke. It wasn’t. She was staring at him, anxiety running through her like an electric current.
Dryden focused on the road again and went with it. He closed his mouth. He ignored numbers that meant anything to him. He let his mind spin up one that was purely random: 6,724. The idea of it had hardly formed when Rachel spoke again.
“Six thousand seven hundred twenty-four.”
Dryden turned and stared at her. She stared back. The truck strayed onto the rumble strip, and he jerked the wheel back to the left and watched the road again. For a few seconds he couldn’t think of what to say. Never before had he encountered something unbelievable and undeniable at the same time.
He glanced at her again. She was still watching him for his reaction.
He faced forward and thought, Say antelope if you’re hearing this.
“Antelope,” Rachel said.
*