The Last Widow. Karin Slaughter
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two pulls to open. Could she do it fast enough to escape?
Dash seemed to realize something. “Where are Hurley and Monroe?”
“Dead,” Carter answered. “We had to leave them. Fucking guy came out of nowhere. It was like punching a sack of rocks.”
Sara looked at him in the mirror. His head was down. He was still tying the knot.
Dash asked Sara, “What’s going on with our friend in the front seat?”
“I don’t have the correct diagnostic equipment,” she said, implying it was necessary. “My best guess is his lung is collapsing.”
Dash asked, “Pardon me again, but can’t you put in something hollow, bring air back into the lungs that way?”
Sara didn’t know if he was testing her. Saran Wrap would’ve probably helped make a seal around the wound, and she had an IV needle in her medical bag that could deflate the tension.
She decided to answer the question with a question: “Would you put a hollow tube in a flat tire to re-inflate it?”
Vale sucked in a shallow breath of air. He was trying to follow along. He still had his finger uselessly sticking into the hole in his side. She wanted to tell him to stick it in farther. If the shock didn’t kill him, the infection would.
“We should get to know each other,” Dash said. “What should I call you?”
“Sara.” She watched the driver of the white van. He was doing his job, stacking boxes onto a dolly, checking the order on his tablet.
“Last name?”
Sara hesitated. He wasn’t asking to be sociable. He could look her up online. Sara was listed on the GBI’s website as a special agent attached to the medical examiner’s office. There was a big difference between kidnapping a pediatrician and kidnapping a government agent.
“Earnshaw,” she said, giving them her mother’s maiden name.
Dash nodded. She could tell he knew she was lying. “You got any children?”
“Two.”
“All right, Dr. Sara Earnshaw. I know you don’t wanna be here, but lend us your chauffeur services for a little bit longer and we’ll get you back to that husband and kids of yours.”
Sara bit her lip. She nodded. She could tell he was lying, too.
Dash opened the car door. The thumping bass of the club music shook her eardrums.
He held up his hand to block the sunlight. He called behind him, “Michelle, I’ll need you to join me.”
Michelle robotically picked her way over the back seat. She flinched away from Carter. She avoided Sara’s questioning look. Her pants were still hanging open when she jumped out of the car. The gravel must’ve been sharp on her bare feet, but she gave no reaction.
What had they done to break her so irrevocably?
“Let’s go.” Dash indicated that Michelle should walk toward the van. He’d tucked his hand into the opening between his shirt buttons, fashioning a sort of sling. The bullet had missed his humerus. There was muscle damage that would make it hurt when he moved, but he could still move.
Carter mumbled, “What’s he doing?”
Sara knew what he was doing, even as she silently prayed that it would not happen.
The delivery man came out of the building. His dolly was empty. He had his back to them as he closed the service door. Dash reached into his holster and pulled out Will’s gun. The delivery man turned around, and that was the last movement his body voluntarily made.
Dash shot him twice in the face.
Sara watched the closed door at the rear of the building. No one came out. They hadn’t heard the gunshots over the music. Or they’d heard them, but this was the type of neighborhood where gunfire was not unusual.
Carter said, “If you tell him what happened back there, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
Sara looked into the mirror. “That you abandoned Hurley? Or that your bro Hurley tried to kill you?”
Carter’s eyes slid toward the front. He silently watched Dash and Michelle load the dead delivery man’s body into the van.
Carter said, “I figure it’ll take less than ten minutes for me to fuck that bad attitude out of your mouth.”
Sara felt her throat constrict. She looked at her fingers wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. She had transferred blood from Dash’s shoulder wound onto the leather. Merle’s blood had to be mixed in there, too; Sara had touched his head wound at the crash site. Carter’s leg had probably bled in the back seat of her car. Vale had provided his own DNA in the front.
She told Carter, “Enjoy that burning sensation you’re feeling in your balls.” She locked eyes with him in the mirror. “Once that knife is out, that’s the last time you’ll feel your scrotum.”
Vale gave a sharp wheeze as he inhaled. “Sh … shut up …” He pointed his revolver at Sara. His hand was steady. “Walk a-around … the front. The front … of the c-car.”
Sara reached for the door handle. She saw the time on her watch.
2:17 p.m.
She didn’t pull the handle.
Her Apple Watch.
The back door opened. Carter slid out of the car, careful not to bump the knife. He clicked the door shut. He stood outside the car, waiting.
Sara’s mind raced through the options as she slowly pulled twice on the handle. The watch had both cellular and GPS. She could make a phone call, but the speaker would play the caller’s voice. Sending a text was too cumbersome. There was a Walkie-Talkie app, but she would have to tap the icon, scroll to the right person, and hold the yellow button long enough to send a message through.
She got out of the car. She moved slowly, trying to buy herself some time.
“Go around the front of the car and help Vale.” Carter showed her the Glock, as if she’d forgotten about it. “Don’t fuck around or I’ll put a bullet in your head.”
Sara tried to stall. “You should leave him. He’s going to die anyway.”
“We don’t leave men behind.”
“Does Hurley know that?”
He punched her in the stomach. The pain was an explosion inside of her body. Sara doubled over. Dropped to her knees. Her head started to swim. She couldn’t breathe.
“Get up, bitch.”
Sara pressed her forehead to the ground. Saliva dripped from her mouth. Her hands had automatically gone to her stomach. The muscles spasmed. She blinked open her eyes. The watch screen was glowing. She tapped the Walkie-Talkie button. Faith was the first name on her list. She held the yellow circle down and said, “Carter, do you—do you really think the cops aren’t going to spot a white potato chip van on 285?”
“Not your problem.”
Gravel crunched under tires. The van had pulled up.
Sara raised her head. The world tilted sideways. She could barely make it to her feet. The pain in her belly forced her to walk doubled over. She tried not to think about Will experiencing the same agony, but worse. She had to steady herself on the car as she made her way around to the other side.
Vale had already opened the door. His lips looked bruised. His eyelids drooped. He was decompensating faster than she had hoped.
“Gimme,” Carter said, grabbing the revolver away from Vale.
Sara had no choice but to help the injured man from the car. Vale’s arm went around her shoulder. His other arm was still looped around his chest,