The Book of Lies

69

Cal’s white rental car was moving quickly—not too quickly, no reason to stand out—as it dashed down the final empty stretches of Martin Luther King Jr. Drive and headed toward the entrance ramp for I-90 that was up ahead.

Thankfully, there still weren’t any nearby sirens or much traffic. In fact, as the car blew past the empty bus stops in the Siegels’ old neighborhood, it became abundantly clear that it was one of the only cars on the street.

It wasn’t hard to figure out why.

“This is not good.”

Already racing up the on-ramp, the white Pontiac followed the corkscrew and climbed toward the interstate . . .

. . . where a barricade of half a dozen police cars, motorcycles, and unmarked federal vehicles were blocking the way and at least a dozen state troopers and other agents were ducked down with their guns drawn.

“Freeze or we will shoot you!” one of them barked through a megaphone.

The rental car screeched to a stop just as a silver-and-blue police helicopter rose straight up, appearing from nowhere.

“Out of the vehicle! You’re under arrest!” a speaker in the helicopter blasted from the sky as the ground agents swarmed the rental car, guns still drawn. Within seconds, they tore open all four doors, searching for Cal and his father.

But the only person inside was the light-skinned black woman sitting behind the steering wheel.

“I’m sorry. I give up,” Serena said as she held up her hands in surrender.

“Out!” yelled one of the state troopers, yanking her from the car.

“Whattya mean, they’re gone?” a female voice squawked through a nearby walkie-talkie. “Christ on a crutch, don’t you see what he—? Get someone back to that parking garage! Now!”

“Is that Naomi? Is she okay?” Serena asked, meaning every word.

“Let me be honest with you,” the state trooper said as he clamped handcuffs around Serena’s wrists. “You’ve got far bigger things you need to be worrying about.”