Hostage

Blinking his eyes back into focus, confident that the man was incapacitated now, Sozinho got up and staggered toward the table on the other side of the room, planning to finish the man off with a shot to the head. He grabbed the pistol, but before he could turn and pull the trigger, a veil of utter blackness fell over his visual field, as if he’d suddenly been thrown into a cave. He felt a burning sensation on the side of his neck, building gradually over a second or two, rising up into his brain like mercury through a glass tube, a dozen and then a hundred and then a thousand sulfur match heads flaring all at once, the pain more intense than anything he’d ever experienced in his life.

Sozinho went to his knees, and then he fell facedown on the floor, and then he felt a tingling sensation wash over his body like a wave, and then he felt nothing.

18

The door was still partially open, allowing a hazy wedge of light to shine into the room. Vaughan had watched Sozinho go down, but her mind didn’t fully process what had actually happened to him until she saw the smoke rising from his neck.

The electronic circuit must have fired. The surgical implant. Sozinho had said that any attempt to remove the device would result in it being activated automatically. The sensors must have mistakenly interpreted something during the fight.

She was thinking about that when a raspy male voice from the other side of the room said, “Are you okay?”

It was a voice she recognized.

“Retro?” she said.

“Yeah. It’s me.”

“What happened?”

“Something zapped me, like a lamp cord or something. There’s a blister on the palm of my hand.”

He crawled over to where she was lying on the floor, unlocked the handcuffs and started removing the duct tape from her ankles. She told him about the device in Sozinho’s neck, the source of the electrical shock.

“How did you find me here?” she said.

“A witness at the meat processing plant saw what happened. Part of it, anyway. He said your cruiser was pointed east, toward the station, and that it kept going that way when it drove off. Which didn’t mean anything, really. It was the direction you were headed with the suspect when you pulled to the side of the road. But then, later on, the waitress at the diner told me she saw your car heading west at about eight this morning. That was substantial. It was indicative of purpose. It meant that whoever was driving the car had chosen that direction for a reason. It was a deliberate act. There would have been no point in turning around and heading west unless the eventual destination was that way.”

“But we could have been in Utah by now,” Vaughan said.

“True. He could have transferred you to another vehicle. But I knew that the police car couldn’t have gone far. It would have been spotted if it had stayed on the highway for very long. So I figured it was still somewhere in the area, and I figured there might be some fingerprints and some other forensic evidence we could use. To tell you the truth, I really didn’t expect to find you alive here in Despair. It’s a pretty crazy place for a hideout.”

A crazy place indeed, Vaughan thought.

“How did you know we were at the motel?” she said.

“I didn’t. It was the second place I stopped. I got out and looked around and saw the hole cut in the swimming pool cover.”

“How did you know which room we were in?”

“I just followed the blood.”

Vaughan took a deep breath.

“Unfortunately, most of it is mine,” she said.

“I was afraid that might be the case. I’m going to get you to the hospital right away.”

“You came here alone?”

“Yeah. But the state police should be here any minute. They were still waiting for some special gear to be delivered when I left.”

“At least you wore your body armor,” Vaughan said, noticing the deep gash on the side of Retro’s bulletproof vest.

“If I’d been a little smarter, I would have brought a backup pistol, too. Mine got a little dirty earlier. I guess that’s why it jammed up on me.”

“I was wondering about that.”

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it on the way back to Hope.”

“I’m starving,” Vaughan said. “Can we get something to eat?”

“Sure. As long as you’re buying. I paid for the breakfast you didn’t finish this morning. You owe me ten bucks.”

Vaughan laughed. Retro was a good cop, and a good friend, and she was going to miss him when he moved to Florida.

19

It was a cool crisp October day, the sun shining brightly and just enough breeze to need a light jacket.

A perfect day for Retro’s retirement party.

Vaughan was sitting on a lounge chair in the picnic area behind the stationhouse, sipping on a glass of lemonade and enjoying the smells coming off the barbecue grill. Burgers, hot dogs, roasted peppers, corn on the cob.

And the tuna steaks Retro had requested.

Vaughan watched him pile some raw veggies and onion dip on a paper plate, and then he walked over and sat down beside her.

“Looks good,” she said.

“Want some?”

“Sure.”

She reached over and picked up a carrot stick and dragged it through the dip.