I test the seat belt, but the straps are tight against me. I yank against the fabric binding my wrists, hoping to leave bruises or chafing so that, if I die tonight, the police will know it wasn’t by my own hand. It’s a desperate, terrifying thought.
Armitage turns onto a gravel road. Tree branches scrape both sides of the vehicle. Dust whirls in the glow of the headlights. He drives too fast, as if he’s in a hurry to get this over with and an overwhelming sense of despair grips me. I think of Tomasetti, how we left things, and I realize how desperately I want to live. I’m not going to let this son of a bitch end my life. Hunkering down in the seat, I lift my leg and ram my boot against the shifter.
Gears grind. The Explorer lurches to a stop. Armitage screams, “You bitch!”
I ram the heel of my boot against the ignition key. The engine dies. Armitage tries to backhand me, but I shrink away and he misses. I twist around and try to get my hands on the seat belt buckle. Simultaneously, I ram my knee against the door handle, hoping to open it. Once. Twice. If I can get out and run, I might be able to lose him in the woods.…
Armitage punches the back of my head. My forehead strikes the passenger window hard enough to crack the glass, but I barely feel the pain.
His nails scrape my scalp as he slaps his hand down on the top of my head and grabs a handful of hair. Fire streaks across my scalp when he yanks me toward him. All I can think is that he’s leaving evidence. Even if he takes my life, he won’t get away with it.
I lean against the seat, breathing hard, my head spinning.
“Don’t do that again.” Glaring at me, he starts the engine and puts the Explorer in gear. There’s sweat on his temple. A tuft of hair hanging low on his forehead. A crazy light in his eyes.
“The cops are going to appreciate all the evidence you’re leaving behind, you son of a bitch,” I tell him.
He sneers. “I think all the little fishes and turtles down there in that quarry will take care of any so-called evidence.”
Armitage turns onto another dirt road that will take us to the quarry. Tall grass whispers against the floorboards. Tree branches scrape the doors as we bump over ruts and rocks. Then the headlights play over the black surface of the water.
He stops the Explorer scant feet from the bank and engages the emergency brake. I look out over the water, black and glimmering, and fear sweeps through me. Panic threatens, but I fend it off. I know that if I want to live, I’ve got to keep my head and think my way out of this.
Beside me, Armitage grips the wheel and gazes out over the water. “I don’t know if you can believe this, but before … this mess with Paul, I’d never hurt anyone in my life. I’d never broken the law.” He says the words without looking at me. “I love her, you know.”
He doesn’t have to say her name; I know he’s talking about Mattie. “She’ll never forgive you for this. She’ll never forgive you for what you did to her husband and children.”
He shoots me a look I don’t understand. “Loyal to the end. That’s admirable. Really. Unfortunately, it’s not going to save your life.”
I look into his eyes, seeking some shred of humanity, but there’s nothing there. “Don’t do this, Mike. I’m a cop. If you kill me, you’ll get the death penalty. They’ll fucking fry you. Let me go and you’ll be out of prison in twenty years.”
Without speaking, he gets out and comes around to the passenger side. I hit the lock with my elbow, but he uses the remote key and gains entry. Leaning close, he reaches in and unfastens my seat belt.
“Let’s get this over with,” he says.
I stare at him, fear and adrenaline pounding through me even through the effects of the alcohol. “If the police find my body in the passenger seat, they’ll know this wasn’t an accident.”
“Nice try. But if you read up on the Chappaquiddick incident, you’d know Mary Jo Kopechne’s body was found in the back seat. You see, when cars become submerged, the people inside sort of scramble around, trying to find their way out. It’ll be fine.”
Horrific images fly in my mind’s eye, but I shove them back, refusing to believe my life will end this way. That’s when I realize the effects of the alcohol are starting to wane. I’m still impaired, but my head is clearer. I’m able to think. My coordination is beginning to return.