Heartbreak Bay (Stillhouse Lake #5) - Rachel Caine Page 0,118
long, long minute, and then he says, “I will get people to you, Gwen. If I need to lie, I will. But I will get them there. Damn the consequences.” It’s killing him not to be in this with me, I can feel that. It would kill me in just the same way.
“I love you,” I whisper. It sounds shaky. I don’t want to let go, but I know I need to. We’re out of time. Jonathan/MalusNavis was very clear about that.
I open my eyes once I’ve ended the call. I look at the little, anonymous town, the nonexistent traffic, the lack of human faces on the street. It feels . . . empty. This whole town is a spiderweb, and we’re caught already. It’s a long, long road back to anything like civilization.
“Gwen,” Kez says. “Why would he let us find out who he really is? What his real name is?”
I think about that. About the way MalusNavis has closed in on me. Shown his face. Given me everything, even if in indirect and slippery methods. And I think about what Sam just told me: that he talked this young man off a bridge. That might have been false, just another ploy.
But what if it wasn’t? What if, finally, he’s had enough?
This may be his endgame. Either way, it has to be mine.
“Kez,” I say. “Look at the map.”
“What am I looking for?”
“That shows the bay, the lighthouse, and a house, right?” She nods. I reach into the car and pull out the map I drew from the research I did on Jonathan’s cell phone, before I dropped it. “What’s missing?”
“The cannery,” she says. “Maybe it was torn down.”
“Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he left it off because he wants us coming straight for the lighthouse.”
She blows out a frustrated breath. “Jesus. Your mind, Gwen. You scare me sometimes.”
“We need to go to the cannery,” I say. “Let’s not keep him waiting.”
Kez grabs me by the arm as I pass her, heading for the driver’s seat. “Or—and hear me out—we wait for Sam to get real boots on the ground here to back us up.”
“He said ten minutes.” I gently pull free. “Ten minutes until there are consequences. Whose pictures did he send you?”
She doesn’t answer. She just stands there, fists clenched, and then nods.
We get in the Honda and drive.
23
GWEN
We see not a soul on the way out of town. Not a single person behind a window, not a car, nothing. The town feels artificial now, like a movie set.
The whole day feels wrong. Sweatily humid, but cool. The reek of rot gets worse as we drive with windows open, and the Honda’s nonexistent suspension bounces on every bump and crack. The sound of seagulls crying rings in the air like bells.
The smell is worse the closer we get to the beach. I wonder if a whale has beached in the area. It’s that bad, a rancid, fishy smell that makes me want to gag. I breathe it deep instead in the hopes I’ll get used to it. Humans are adaptable, that’s our real strength. We can adapt to anything, given enough time and resources. Jonathan—clever, strange Jonathan—isn’t going to give us that.
I park the Honda near the back fence of the cannery. Kez looks at me, and I look at her, and neither of us speaks. We finally just get out. Kez opens the trunk and hands me a shotgun; she keeps one for herself. We’ve each got our usual sidearms, but she gives me a hunting knife, and I snap it on my belt. She’s got two police-issue body armor vests, and we put those on too. The weight feels smothering, but comforting too.
“Just so we’re clear,” she says, “this is the end of both our careers if we do this and it turns out we were wrong. And that could be exactly what he wants too.”
“We’re not wrong,” I tell her. But she’s also correct. It probably is the end of her career as a detective, regardless; she’s out of her jurisdiction, armed to the teeth, ready to kill. And so am I. I’ve skated out of a lot of close calls. I’m due for a bad fall.
“Okay. Just wanted to be clear about it. Stay together. We don’t split up.”
“Agreed. Kez?”
She slams the trunk and gives me her attention.
“You don’t have to do this. Please think about the baby.”
She shakes her head. “I love you, too, Gwen, but fact is, the next person he