merely nodded to him through the rearview mirror. The sheriff nodded back and watched as she returned her eyes to the road.
He promised himself that if they lived, he would ask that woman to marry him.
Suddenly, the sheriff felt Ambrose Olson tighten the field dressing for the scalpel wound in his side. The sheriff winced. His teeth chattered.
“Are you cold?” Ambrose said.
“No. I feel warm, actually,” the sheriff said.
“You’re going into shock.”
Ambrose quickly rummaged through Jerry’s pickup and found coveralls and an old construction jacket.
“What about you?” the sheriff said.
“I’m fine.”
The sheriff knew the old man wasn’t lying. Ambrose should have been freezing in those hospital clothes, but somehow he felt no cold. Somehow as the world went insane around them, he and Ambrose were both immune to the madness. He didn’t know if this protection was from Christopher or David.
Or maybe both.
Whatever it was, he only felt the warmth from the fresh clothes and a sense of loyalty to the little boy in the passenger seat and his mother in the driver’s. Ambrose did not speak of the brother he could not save. The sheriff said nothing of the little girl with painted nails who called him Daddy. But he knew the two men understood each other.
For all of their failures, they were going to save Christopher and his mother.
Or they were going to die trying.
“Hi, Christopher,” the voice said.
The sheriff watched as Christopher looked up at Jerry, crouched in the back of the flatbed. His chin on the small window partition. The gun in his hand.
“Cat got your tongue?” he said, laughing. “Don’t worry. I’ve already worked it out with your mom. We are going to be a family. Her, me, and you are driving to Michigan now. Right, Kate?”
The sheriff saw Christopher choke down a swallow.
“Right, Jerry, we’re going to Michigan,” she said, her body tensing.
Jerry smiled. He looked back at the descending mob trailing in their cars. He turned to the sheriff shivering under the blanket and Ambrose in the hospital gown.
“Hey, Kate, who’s that?” Jerry asked.
“Mr. Olson,” she said absently.
“No. Not the old man. Who’s that?” he said, gesturing to the sheriff with his gun.
“The sheriff.”
“Huh. How do you know him?” Jerry asked.
“He helped us.”
“Why?”
“That’s his job.”
“Hmmm,” Jerry said with a coiled smile. “Does he come over a lot?”
The sheriff could feel the silence. Eerie and black.
“No, Jerry,” she said.
“Christopher, does the sheriff come over to your house a lot?” he asked.
“Leave him out of this,” she said.
Jerry nodded. Smiling. Silently. Then, he turned to the sheriff and Ambrose.
“Great family, right?” he said.
The sheriff and Ambrose nodded to the man in the flatbed with them. The sheriff instantly recognized the face. He remembered researching this man as a suspect when Christopher first went missing back in September. He remembered the domestic abuse. The violence. This was the animal who hit the woman he loved. The sheriff looked at the gun in Jerry’s right hand. The sheriff’s gun was still empty.
“The best,” the sheriff said. “Who are you?”
“Jerry. I’m Kate’s fiancé.”
The sheriff offered his hand. Jerry moved the gun from his right hand to his left. The two men never taking their eyes off each other. Never blinking.
“And who are you?” Jerry replied suspiciously.
“Ambrose Olson,” Ambrose said, shoving his hand into the mix like a salesman’s foot in the door.
“I wasn’t talking to you, old man,” Jerry said. “I was talking to him.”
“I’m Sheriff Thompson,” the sheriff said.
Then, he took Jerry’s hand. The two men shook.
“Are you fucking her, Sheriff?” Jerry said.
Before Jerry knew what hit him, the sheriff did. He planted the butt of his palm in his throat. Jerry landed in the flatbed. Writhing in pain. Furious, he grabbed his gun and rose up.
“I knew you were fucking him!” Jerry screamed.
Then, the sheriff saw the reflection of Kate’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
“Goodbye, Jerry,” she said.
She slammed the brakes. The truck stopped, but Jerry kept going. His body slammed into the cab. He doubled over.
“Fucking bitch!” he said.
In another split second, Kate Reese hit the gas, and the sheriff watched Jerry tumble out of the back of the flatbed. He hit the pavement and rolled down the side of the road.
The hospital convoy passed him as dozens of cars chased after them. The quiet was over.
Here came the storm.
Chapter 115
Christopher’s mother looked up as a gust of angry wind spread the clouds over the town. The wind blew the trees over. The branches fell like severed arms, blocking the road ahead. She took a