I struggled to filter out all other sounds so I could hear his side of the conversation.
“Yeah, we’re on the way back…no problems…Yeah, he’s got a brother, he’s the one found the thing online…he’s kind of weird, a mental case or something…I don’t know, I’m leaving that for you to ask…And the place was freaky, the walls plastered with maps…No, no, like everywhere…Yeah, okay, and I’m bringing back a computer, the tower, they were using to surf that Web site…Yeah, and one other thing, kinda strange, but probably nothing. Phone rang, I answered it, pretended to be the brother with a cold. Anyway, caller said he was, and I’m not making this up, the caller said he was Bill Clinton…No, no real accent, but I only talked to him a second…I mean, yeah, s’what I figured, too, a crank call or something…Okay, see ya at the toy store.”
The next few miles went along in silence. Finally, Lewis said, “You haven’t got much to say.”
“You want to play I Spy?” Nicole said.
“Fine.” More silence. After another couple of miles, Nicole said, “Shit.”
“What?”
“I got a cop in my side mirror.” So Nicole was driving. “Coming up in the passing lane.
“He got his lights on?” Lewis asked. With all the blind spots a panel van offered, Lewis probably couldn’t see the car.
“No, he doesn’t, but—shit.”
“What?”
“He’s got them on now.”
And then we all heard a couple of whoops of the siren. I could sense Thomas stirring close to me. He’d no doubt been listening to everything just as closely as I had, and this most recent development probably had him wondering whether this was cause for hope.
The van slowed.
“Just be cool,” Lewis said.
“You still carry a shield?” Nicole asked. “He thinks you’re NYPD, he might cut us some slack.”
“No.” Lewis called back to us, “Either of you make a sound, cop gets shot.”
The van went off the edge of the shoulder, smooth pavement changing to crushed stone. It came to a stop and Nicole put it into park, left the motor running.
“Pulling in right behind us,” she said. “The door’s opening. Here he—it’s a woman.”
“Shit,” Lewis said. “They’re always worse.”
I heard a window power down. Nicole said, “Officer.”
“License and registration,” she said.
“Sure. Hon, you want to check the glove box?” Nicole asked Lewis, who sounded like he was shuffling through some papers, looking.
“This your van?” the woman asked.
“No, it’s a rental,” Nicole said. “We’re just going to his sister’s in White Plains, helping her move to Albany. Was I speeding?”
“You have a taillight out,” the police officer said.
“Oh, nuts. Is that my fault?” Nicole asked. “Isn’t it the rental agency’s?”
“When the vehicle is in your control, ma’am, you’re responsible for any problems.”
“Okay, well, if that’s the way it is. If I get fined for this, can I go after the rental people?”
Nicole was good. She wasn’t trying to blow her off, get rid of her in a hurry, which would set off alarms.
“That’d be up to you. I’m not going to ticket you. But if you’re going to have this truck for any length of time, you’re going to have to get it fixed. And you can send that bill to your rental company.”
“Appreciate that, Officer. Okay, here’s the registration, and here’s my license.”
“I’m going to take these back to my vehicle, ma’am. Please wait here until I return.”
“Of course.”
I heard the officer’s footsteps as she went back to her cruiser. Nicole said, softly, “Everyone’s being very good.”
A few seconds later, the cop was back at the window, saying, “Okay, here you go. Your license, registration. And like I said, you get that taillight fixed first opportunity.”
“Of course,” Nicole said.
“Thanks, Officer,” Lewis chimed in.
And then the cop, asking, “What you got in there?”
I didn’t know about Thomas, but my heart stopped. The world, at that moment, seemed to freeze, as though we’d drifted into some kind of suspended animation.
I was thinking, Please get out your gun, lady. Get out your gun.
But Nicole didn’t miss a beat. It was like she’d been waiting for the question. She said, “We have a stack of moving blankets so the furniture doesn’t get scratched.”
“You mind opening up the back for me?” the woman said.
“Hmm?” said Nicole.
“Just open it up and then you folks can be on your way.”
“Sure,” Nicole said. I heard a seat belt unbuckle and retract. I wondered whether she was reaching for her ice pick, or if Lewis was getting out his gun.
A door opened and it sounded as though Nicole had gotten out. Two sets of footsteps came down the side of the van, came to a stop around the back.
She’s going to die. The cop is going to die.
“Could you open it, ma’am?” she said.
“Sure thing.”