Page 133 of The Lie Maker

“I guess we’ll know soon enough.”

“I’m going in,” I said. “Stay here with the car, in case they do.”

I started running.

Seventy-One

Michael would tell Lana, after she’d been released, to lay on the horn once she got to the car. Once he’d heard it, he’d know she was safe and on her way. Oh, and he’d give her a heads-up about who was in the trunk.

Michael didn’t know whether this would work, but he didn’t have a better idea. It was the right thing to do, and doing the right thing was long overdue.

Nothing left to lose, really. The clock had nearly run out.

He figured Galen Frohm’s daughter was a nutcase, but you could be a nutcase and still have a legitimate grievance. Michael had done what he’d had to do back in the day, but he also knew he’d ruined her life. Just as he had the lives of those who loved Abel Gartner and Len Klay and that Milwaukee dollar store manager who was stealing from Frohm. And even that kiddie porn guy in Nebraska. There was a chance someone loved even him. Michael knew the list of people who never got justice was not a short one.

Did anyone ever really get justice?

He stood there under the stars and waited for Lana to appear.

When Gwen had shouted “Cayden, send her out!” he had expected to see her momentarily. Gwen must have, too, because a few seconds later, she called out again.

“Hey, Cayden! Let’s go!”

Something was wrong.

Gwen yelled to Michael, “Stay there!” Then she turned and pushed open the door.

And screamed.

Michael ran toward the cabin. Gwen staggered inside, dropping the gun and screaming as she put her hands to her face. That was when Michael saw Lana standing there, her right arm out straight, holding something in her hand so small that he could not make out what it was. But he could guess.

Pepper spray.

Gwen tripped over a frilled carpet edge and landed on the floor. Lana sidestepped her and ran out of the cabin, at which point she saw Michael heading her way.

Although the two of them had never met one another, there were glints of recognition.

You’re Jack’s dad.

You’re Jack’s girlfriend.

And they ran, briefly, into one another’s arms.

Lana, breathless, said, “I don’t know how long she’s blinded for.”

Michael immediately noticed the blood on Lana’s hand and arm. In the starry glow, it had an almost purplish hue.

“You’re hurt,” he said.

“No, no, it’s not me!” she cried. Michael saw borderline hysteria in her eyes. If the woman wasn’t already traumatized, she would be soon. “The other one! I got him! I fucking got him!”

Of all the things Michael might have thought at that moment, he wouldn’t have expected it to be this: She’s a keeper, this one.

He reached into his pocket and brought out a set of keys. “Your car’s at the road. Jack’s in the trunk. He’s okay. Get him out and get the fuck out of here as fast as you can.” He pushed the keys into her hand.

She started to go, then stopped and grabbed Michael by the arm. “Come on!” she said.

“No,” Michael said. “Not yet.”

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