out of the compartment, shoving away the stiff carpet flap and breathing the warm air of the cabin. It looked like the cops had indeed searched the sleeping cabin. The tiny closet door was open, and the camp-bed cover had been tossed over.
“Thank you.” I crawled into my seat. “Thank you so much, Stan. I can’t—”
“Cut the thank-yous,” Stan snapped. “I’m not in the business of hiding runaways from the cops. I don’t care who your husband is or what he’s done—I need this job.”
“I understand.” I nodded.
“I’ll drop you at the next exit. From there, you’re on your own, lady.”
“I got it.” I grabbed my bag. “No problem.”
I settled deep into my seat, hugging the bag to my chest. My limbs were throbbing. I tried to tell myself I had overcome the riskiest part of my journey. I’d had a run of bad luck, but the real danger would come when I found Regan. It would be smooth sailing for a while, surely, if I just kept my head down and carried on.
I was wrong.
Chapter 43
THEY STOPPED ON the slope of the highway leading down to the bridge, a long row of red lights before them in the steadily easing rain. Whitt had tried to sleep in the cramped, cigarette-scented motel room in Nowra but found the Dexies had drowned out all fatigue. He’d considered waking Vada at 3 a.m. to discuss possible theories about Regan’s whereabouts, but through the curtain he could see her sleeping form in the bed, the gentle curve of her hip, her eyes closed softly in perfect slumber. It had seemed a shame to wake her. Sitting in the car beside her now, he found himself thinking of that image, remembering the envy he’d felt at her calm.
At each end of the long bridge was a two-man team of patrol officers searching vehicles, waving the occasional car past after looking through the windows and searching in the boot. Across the region, several roadblocks shut down highways and major roads, making it almost impossible to get in or out of Nowra by car without being searched. Vada and Whitt spoke to the two officers closest to them. Young men, a couple of beat cops probably brought in for overtime to cover the roadblocks. The officers seemed to resent Whitt and Vada checking up on them, sniffing and looking Whitt over as he stood by them.
“We’re Boyraville jurisdiction,” one of them said. Whitt read his name badge: Christopher Dunner. “Boss has already been in to check on us.” Their gaze was skeptical. Whitt wondered if they could tell he was high.
“Command wants things tightened up at the roadblocks,” Whitt said. “Regan Banks somehow managed to get through every roadblock on the way into Nowra and back out again. That includes blocks on side roads.”
“The guy’s a fucking ghost.” The other officer, Constable John Swartout, spat on the asphalt. “He must have a police radio. He’s listening to the channels, hearing about the setup.”
“Or someone just wasn’t vigilant enough and he got through.” Whitt shrugged. “It’s cold out here. It’s boring. One lazy check is all it takes.”
The two officers glared at him. He walked to the edge of the bridge and looked over at the river rushing beneath, the vertigo giving him a cold rush. When he was sure that Vada wasn’t watching, he popped two Dexedrines. His partner had begun walking toward the other end of the bridge to see the officers stopping cars traveling in the opposite direction.
When Whitt’s phone rang, it was Chief Morris again. Heat flooded his face, as though the man was calling because he could somehow see what he had just done.
“Whitt,” Pops said, “we’re going to have to go a bit off-reservation here.” Chief Morris explained the confrontation with Deputy Commissioner Woods, the planned trap for Regan using Harriet’s mother as bait. “His priorities are all wrong,” Pops said. “He’s interested in making a spectacle of this case rather than actually solving it. I’ve got a small team of officers here working on the side for me. Can I count on you?”
“Of course,” Whitt said. “What’s your plan?”
“I’m trying to figure out how Regan got into the records room,” Pops said. “I’m worried he’s got eyes in here. I don’t know how he knew where the records room was or that it was a soft spot in the security. I’ve got officers going back through CCTV in the months prior to the shooting to see if Regan was ever