Page 54 of Dolly

“Me too. The bad stuff anyway. It wasn’t horrible all the time.” I pull away when the light changes. “When it wasn’t bad, it was actually pretty normal. I got to go to school so long as I didn’t cause trouble.” I lean my head back against the headrest.

“I bet you got the best grades,” he says with a knowing grin.

“I did.” I nod. “I had to stay under the radar. No trouble. No calls home. No reason for the school to deal with my parents.”

His smile slips a little.

“It’s okay.” I pull my feet up to the seat and tuck them beneath me. The streetlights dim as we drive down the main road. “I never knew anything different. And I never thought anyone would ever care.” I touch his leg, letting my fingertips trail along the seam of his jeans. “Or that I would care about someone else.”

He glances at me, his eyes sparkling.

“We’ll make new memories. Better ones to cover up all the bad shit.” He’s not just saying words to fill the space between us. He means them. This is his vow to me.

“Are we almost there?” The streetlamps have become scarce, and we’ve entered another industrial area.

“Just a few more minutes.” He flips off the headlights and slows as he turns down a narrow road. I shouldn’t have let him take on all the responsibility of planning this all out. He needs me to be stronger. I have to start helping him more. I’m capable of more.

Unbuckling my belt, I twist around to grab the small duffle bag on the floor behind his seat, bringing it up to the front with me.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Checking supplies.” I unzip the bag and look through the tools we’ve brought with us.

“We have everything,” he assures me.

“I know. I just want to see.” I pick up my knife, a hunting knife with a thick wooden handle. The weight of the handle and blade balance perfectly, my grip steady.

“It should be just around the corner.”

How does he keep all these maps in his head? He knows exactly where he’s going. Maybe it’s from years of being a street cop before moving up to detective. I wouldn’t be able to remember all these things.

As we turn at the next intersection, a small building comes into view. Most of the other buildings are dark, but this little one has their lights on. An office building among the factories. I grip the knife harder, my heart pounds as I focus on the single car parked on the side of the building.

The truck slams to a stop, jerking me forward.

“Shit.”

My hand hits the dashboard, saving my face from the same fate. “What’s wrong?” I ask, searching his features. His hands drop into his lap and his face softens. When he looks at me, there’s despair filling his gaze.

“What is it?” I ask, leaning across the console and touching his face.

“I know that car.” His voice is a raw whisper, like he’s witnessing a ghost crawl across the hood of the truck.

I look past him, at the sedan parked just outside the side entrance of the building.

“That cop?” I ask. “From the motel?”

He swallows. “No.”

“Then who?”

“Cathy. My partner.”

Twenty-Four

KENDOLL

“Are you sure?” Dolly asks, scrambling across the cabin to see out my window. “Ken, she’s dead. You said they killed her.” She pulls back and settles back in her seat. “Maybe it’s just a car that looks like hers.”

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