He felt her tears soaking through his shirt. She was shaking harder. Losing control.
“It’s over,” he said.
Holly gripped the shotgun tighter—then faltered.
Rachel took her arms from around her knees, turned, and hugged Dryden. She held on with what must’ve been all her strength.
A second later Holly exhaled deeply and lowered the gun. Her body sagged as if she’d just been cut from restraints. She went to the rail and pitched the weapon into the grass, then turned and stared at Rachel. For a moment she hesitated, unsure what to do—maybe unsure what to feel. Then she crossed to the top of the steps and sat down against the two of them. Sensing her, Rachel turned in place and put her arms around her. Holly pulled the girl close and held her as she cried.
*
For the next minute none of them spoke or moved. Dryden heard Rachel’s breathing become rhythmic, regular, as if she’d fallen asleep. He guessed it was something more than that, though. He thought of the surveillance video from outside Building 16: Rachel being carried out to the car, in the first moments after the nightmare part of her life had begun. Brain-locked, Gaul had said. Maybe this moment was the other end of the tunnel she’d entered that night. Maybe she would sleep for a day and a half. She had every right to.
Somewhere inside the house, a ringtone sounded. Dryden’s phone, in the dining room where Rachel had left it.
It rang a second time, the sound filtering out through the screen door and into the night.
“I’ve got her,” Holly whispered.
Dryden nodded, separated from the two of them, and got to his feet. He crossed the porch and entered the house and got the phone on its fifth ring.
“This is Dryden.”
Cole Harris’s voice came over the line. “Sam.”
“Cole. Where are you—”
“Please just listen,” Harris said. “I’ve heard from Dennis Marsh, and I need to tell you something. No matter what happens, you have to sit tight there at the farmhouse. Don’t leave. Okay?”
Dryden had made his way back across the house to the front door. He pushed it open and stepped out onto the porch planking. Holly was staring at him. Rachel was still unconscious in her arms.
“Sam?” Harris said. “Did you hear me?”
“Don’t leave the farmhouse,” Dryden said. “That’s the whole message?”
“That’s the whole message.”
“I understand,” Dryden said.
He ended the call, pocketed the phone, and went to the porch rail. He looked at the road to the south. He turned left and right to study where it led to the horizon in each direction.
The glow of headlights appeared beyond a low rise, a mile west. To the east was a more diffuse light, farther out, but definitely there—another vehicle or more coming in.
“We need to get out of here,” Dryden said. “Right now.”
He was already moving, crossing to where Holly sat with Rachel.
“What is it?” Holly asked.
Dryden crouched and got Rachel in his arms, lifting her and cradling her as Holly stood. The girl remained unresponsive.
“Get the shotgun,” Dryden said. “And get in the car.”
He descended the steps to the dooryard, jogging for the Malibu. Holly, coming down right behind him, picked up the 12-gauge as she followed.
“Passenger side,” Dryden said.
Holly went past him, rounding the front of the car. She opened the door and got in and rested the shotgun across the console and the backseat. Dryden hunched down and eased Rachel into her arms.
“Tell me what’s going on,” Holly said.
“That was Harris on the phone.”
“And?”
“And he didn’t say goldenrod.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
They were halfway down the long gravel drive when the twin pinprick of headlights finally crested the rise to the west. It was clear at a glance the vehicle was approaching fast, from a distance of maybe a quarter mile. A second later another set appeared just behind them.
Dryden looked east in time to see the lights in that direction break into view. Half a mile away, give or take.
In both directions, the incoming vehicles were closer than any available cross street.
Dryden pictured the road as he’d seen it when he and Holly had first arrived here. It was like a million others out in farm country: two-lane blacktop with waist-deep runoff ditches on either side. If he pulled out onto that road, they would be trapped on it as if it were a suspension bridge.
“Hold on to her,” Dryden said.