Fear

FORTY-NINE

‘Tragic yet funny,’ Andy said from the backseat. ‘You didn’t trust me enough to tell me you were betraying my ass to the FBI, but you’ll trust a guy who shot at you and chased you off a cliff and tortured Nathan and tried to drown Celeste.’

Miles made no answer, but if he could have spoken he would have said, No, I don’t trust him, not a bit, so shut up.

Miles waited for the time to pass and for Groote to get calmer before he asked his questions. The stress of the ordeal exhausted Nathan; he’d fallen asleep, leaning against Celeste’s shoulder. Celeste stared at the car’s ceiling, lost in her own thoughts. Groote fiddled with the satellite radio, found a news channel, and they waited for the sniping spree in Yosemite to make the broadcast. The major news story was a bad tenement fire in New York that had killed a dozen people.

‘A man came to Sangriaville asking for me,’ Miles said. ‘I heard you say it when you talked to Hurley.’

‘Careful what you say,’ Andy said. ‘It got me killed.’

He watched Groote for a reaction – a tightening grip on the steering wheel, a frown that touched the mouth – but Groote’s face betrayed no secrets.

‘I’ll bet his name was DeShawn Pitts.’

‘Yeah, that was the guy,’ Groote said.

‘What did he tell you about me?’

‘He was tight lipped. Told me you might come around asking questions. Or seeking counseling. Asked me to detain you and call him if you showed up.’

‘That all?’

‘He didn’t tell me you were a federal witness. I figured that out myself.’

‘The FBI’s been very quiet in looking for me. Not putting my name, my face, on the news. That won’t last. They’ll do it…’

He stopped.

‘Do what?’

Miles repeated: ‘They’ll do it…’

‘You okay?’ Groote asked.

‘They’ll do it… as soon as… we turn off the tape,’ he said. He put his hands to his face.

‘What tape? Miles?’

Miles fell silent, took a long, shuddering breath. ‘Nothing. I’m okay. Sorry.’

‘What the hell’s wrong with you?’ Groote asked. ‘Do you need medications?’

‘I’m fine. I just remembered something.’ And he put his gaze to the window and said nothing more.

Then the news shifted to the shooting in Yosemite, two people dead, another body found a distance from the falls, shot at close range, but no suspects, no motive, no explanation yet.

Groote let the news run its cycle of stories and thought, If the FBI wants you, Miles, my man, they get you. You’re my bargaining chip once I get Amanda back and she and I need to vanish. I give you to the FBI, I blow the whistle on Dodd’s operations, I get forgiven all my sins. But he said, ‘The Bureau doesn’t want to expose you, which means they’re not giving up on getting you back as a witness.’

Miles took a long time to answer; whatever he had remembered when they talked about the FBI, Groote could see it rattled him to the bone.

Miles said in a low voice, ‘You and I get them to safety, and then we go on without them. I don’t want them in any more danger.’

‘They’ll be quiet about me – what I did?’

‘Yes. I guarantee it.’

Groote nodded. It would, he knew, make his life so much easier. One enemy in his pocket was easier to manage than three. He hoped nothing was said on the satellite news about a missing WITSEC inspector; life was complicated enough right now.