Set the Night on Fire (27 page)

“I’m not convinced he’s evil. Just weak.” He draped his arm over the back of Cece’s seat.

“You’re being naïve,” Lila said.

“Maybe.” Dar absently caressed the back of Cece’s neck. She stretched, giving him more of it to stroke. It was a subtle gesture, but Lila was struck by how willingly Cece yielded to his touch. Despite everything he’d done, this woman trusted Dar. Lila felt a stab of envy. She wondered if she would ever trust Dar that much. Would ever trust
anyone
that much.

Dar cracked the window. Cold air whistled in. He rolled it back up. “It’s funny. For the longest time, I thought Sebastian Kerr was behind it all.”

“Because he threatened my father?”

“Exactly.”

“He’s been dead for over ten years.”

“I know.” Dar twisted around. “Since Payton died seven years ago, and Rain and your father a few months ago, it couldn’t have been him.”

“So . . . ” Lila said slowly. “The fire that killed my father and brother wasn’t an accident.”

Dar nodded. “Markham is taking out everyone who could connect him to the bomb. Your brother was probably collateral damage. You would have been too, if you’d been there.”

Cece glanced into the rearview mirror, frowned, and switched lanes.

“I don’t get it,” Lila said. “I had nothing to do with any of this. I wasn’t even born. Why is he still after me?”

Dar sighed. “I made a mistake. When I got out of jail, I called Teddy. I shouldn’t have. I think that call triggered the new spate of killing.”

“Why did you call him?”

“I wanted to give him a chance to tell me why he’d left me holding the bag. In retrospect I see how naïve that was. Even arrogant. As if I could exert any influence on him forty years later.” He looked down. “His people wasted no time coming after me. Remember . . . I’m the only one left alive who knows what really happened back then. Once I realized it, I knew I had to disappear.”

Lila thought about it. “So he’s coming after me just to flush you out?”

“Either that or he suspects Casey or I might have told you the truth, which, of course, would be unacceptable.”

“Either way, when he finds us, he’ll kill us.”

“Which is why we need to protect you.”

Lila frowned. “Except that by running you’re doing exactly what he wants.”

“I don’t see any other options.”

Lila leaned back against the seat. Something deep within her was loosening, like a rusty lock that had been oiled. Tumblers were falling into place. “Well, maybe we should find some.”

Cece glanced in the rearview mirror again. “Um, guys . . . I hate to break up your fun, but we’re being followed.”

“
I
don’t see a motorcycle.” Dar squinted through the back windshield. Cece shook her head. “It’s a rental truck. Budget. It’s been on us for the past mile or so.”

“How do you know it’s following us?” Lila asked.

“Because one just like it was staked outside my house a couple of weeks ago,” Cece said.

Dar straightened up.

“What do you want me to do?” Cece asked.

Lila cut in. “How close is the next exit?”

“I don’t know,” Cece said worriedly. “And we have less than a quarter tank of gas.”

Lila leaned over the armrest between the front seats. The red line on the fuel gauge hovered near the bottom. “This car gets about thirty miles to the gallon, right?”

“Sometimes more.”

“And the tank holds about thirteen gallons?”

Cece nodded. “About.”

“We’re good for at least another hundred miles. Go for it.”

“How do you know?” Cece asked.

“I know numbers,” Lila said.

Cece stomped on the accelerator. The Honda hesitated, then surged ahead. Lila tightened her seatbelt and bunched the pillows on her stomach. Dar dug his fingers into his seat. Cece whipped around traffic, passing cars in both lanes. Highway markers passed in a blur. Telephone and utility poles raced by in staccato succession. Cece glanced at the rearview. “Damn. He’s still there.”

“Bastard,” Dar said. “How far to the next exit?”

Cece pointed to the glove compartment. “There’s a map in there. You tell me.”

Dar tried to lean forward, but the Honda hit a bump and he was thrown against the seat. Lila checked the speedometer. They were doing over eighty. A moment later Dar fished out the map. “Anyone have an idea where we are?”

“I saw an exit for Route 25 a while back,” Lila said.

“That’s near Elgin,” Cece said.

Dar fumbled the map open. “That’s still a ways to Loves Park.”

“Is that where we’re going?” Lila asked.

“Not any more,” Cece deadpanned.

“Route 31 should be coming up,” Dar said. “Just on the other side of the Fox River.”

“Good.” Cece looked into the rearview. “He’s closing.”

Both Dar and Lila twisted around.

“Can you see who’s driving?” Cece asked.

Lila craned her neck, but the reflection of the sky on the truck’s windshield made it impossible to see. All she could make out was a form behind the wheel. “No.”

“What about a license plate?”

Dar shook his head. “Nothing. At least in front.”

“Figures.” Cece’s face was flushed, and her eyes were bright. She was enjoying this. “Well, I’m not going to make it easy for the asshole. Hang on, kids.”

Cece started to swerve between lanes, passing one vehicle, then veering sharply back to pass another. The truck tried to follow, but the Honda’s tiny size was an advantage. The truck swayed, careening off balance, while the Honda nimbly darted in and out.

“Look!” Lila pointed to a sign. The exit for Route 31 was two miles ahead.

“We’re there,” Cece said.

Cece floored the accelerator. The speedometer rocketed past ninety. Lila turned around. They’d pulled away from the truck.

“Exit coming up,” Dar said. “One mile and closing.”

Cece nosed the Honda into the left lane. A massive eighteen-wheeler was barreling down on their right. Lila’s chest went tight. How in hell was Cece going to get past the truck and over to the exit ramp? She could see it about a quarter mile away. A sign and arrow pointed towards McHenry.

Dar clutched the edge of his seat.

The ramp loomed closer. Cece was still abreast of the giant semi. If she didn’t move, Lila thought, they’d never make it.

 Suddenly, Cece pumped the accelerator and swung the wheel. The Honda swerved into the semi’s lane, barely a few feet in front of it. The driver let loose with an angry blast of his horn, but Cece kept going. The ramp was right beside them. Lila’s stomach twisted. They weren’t going to make it. Cece gripped the wheel. Lila squeezed her eyes shut. She heard the scream of metal scraping concrete. Felt the Honda bang and lurch. When she opened her eyes, they were speeding up the ramp. They’d made it! Lila looked back. The eighteen-wheeler was still blaring his horn, but the Budget truck had overshot the exit and was heading past them down the interstate.

“Oh my god!” Lila was breathless. “How did you do that?”

Cece slowed the car, allowing herself a small smile. “Damned if I know.”

Dar ruffled her hair.

Watching their easy intimacy, Lila felt another jab of envy. They were driving down Route 31 toward McHenry. On one side of the road was a cemetery, its sign proclaiming “River Valley Memorial Gardens.” In the flat gray light the gardens looked desiccated and brown with patches of dirty snow on the earth.

“It’s probably not over,” Lila said. “If I were Budget, I’d double back at the next exit and hunt us down. We need to disappear.”

“And get the damn car fixed. The engine sounds like a sick duck.”

“I can help,” Dar said. “The place where we’re headed . . . that’s what the guy does.”

“Excellent.” Cece relaxed her grip. She turned left on Boncosky Road.

“No!” Lila cried out. “Not this way. He might pass us if he backtracks from the next exit. Turn around and head east. To the Fox River.”

“Good point.” Cece made a left into a driveway and turned around. “Aren’t there new housing developments over there? Maybe we can get lost in one of them for a while.”

Lila fell back against the seat and took a breath. The adrenaline that had been pumping through her subsided, leaving her exhausted, but oddly contented.

Dar smiled at her.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s just . . . you look so much like your mother right now.”

She looked away, annoyed. It was too much, this intimacy.  Too much and too soon. This man had killed her mother. She changed the subject. “Cece, where’d you learn to drive like that?”

“My brother always wanted to drive NASCAR. I guess he taught me a thing or two.”

B
enny Spivak’s home in Loves Park was four miles from his shop. A small ranch on a street of indistinguishable houses, its best feature was a path from the back yard into the surrounding forest preserve.

Three days later, on a crisp February morning that hinted of spring, Lila, Cece, and Reba ventured down the path. For Lila it was a test: most of her wounds were scabbed over, her bruises yellowing. She pushed up the sleeves of her borrowed sweatshirt, enjoying how the air kissed her skin. She breathed in the tangy scent from the evergreens. “I’ll never take my health for granted again.”

Reba laughed. “Amen to that, girl. When you got here, you looked like you were in a fight with a porcupine, and the porkie won.”

Lila had taken an immediate liking to Reba, a small, plain-spoken, unpretentious blonde. The woman didn’t seem surprised when they’d arrived at the shop after dark, tired, anxious, and hungry. She promptly locked up, led them to the house, and hustled them inside. Then she covered the Honda with a tarp so it couldn’t be seen from the street, went out, and returned with a bag of tacos.

“So what is your next move?” Reba asked now. “I mean, we love having you here, but we know it’s not for long.”

“I’m not sure,” Cece said.

“I am,” Lila said.

Reba and Cece looked at her.

“I’ve been thinking. We’ve been lucky the guy in the rental truck hasn’t found us. But that doesn’t mean he won’t. It’s not safe for us here. Or for you.” She bent down and picked up a stone. “The man on the motorcycle is still out there, too.”

Reba nodded. “Your dad told us about him.”

The word “dad” rolled over Reba’s tongue so easily, Lila noticed.

“I reckon you should consider that a back-handed compliment.”

“What?” Lila palmed the stone.

“That you’re so hard to pin down they have to send two teams.” The path they were on made a sharp turn left. Reba followed it, then stopped. “One thing don’t make sense, though.”

“What?”

“We know why they’re gunning for Dar. The question is why they’re trying to kill you.”

“Does it really matter? The end result is still the same. We have to stay one step in front of them. Until we stop Markham.”

“How?” Cece asked.

“I don’t know.” Lila made the turn on the path. “But I’m not going to let some politician control whether I live or die.” She rolled the stone in her hand. “I do want to know why they’re suddenly using a rental truck. Compared to a motorcycle, it’s slow and awkward.”

“I guess it depends what’s inside,” Reba said.

“You think they stashed something in back? Like weapons or explosives?”

“Or a motorcycle.”

Lila raised her eyebrows. “A Trojan horse.”

“Or someplace to squirrel you away once they get you,” Reba said.

“If it’s a rental,” Cece asked, “couldn’t we track down who signed for it?”

“Unless it’s really not a rental, and they just painted it to look like one,” Lila said.

“If that’s the case,” Reba said, “it would be a huge time suck to try.”

“Plus give them more time to find Lila,” Cece added.

“Markham would have the resources to pull off something like that, don’t you think?” Lila pocketed the stone.

“I think.” Reba stopped at a low-hanging branch. She bent back a dead branch, but it was too thick to snap off. She dug her hand into her jeans pocket, pulled out her HideAway knife, and started sawing through it instead.

When Lila saw the knife, she froze. “Where’d you get that?”

“Why?”

“Someone sent one just like that to me.”

“Now, is that a fact?” Reba turned around slowly. She and Cece exchanged glances.

Lila caught it. “It was you! You sent it. How . . . ”

“It was Dar.” Cece corrected her.

Reba nodded. “He wanted to know all about ‘em when he was here. I told him no woman should be without one.”

Lila spread her hands. “I left mine at Danny’s apartment. With everything else.” 

Reba kept hacking at the branch. Finally it snapped off. She stripped off the smaller twigs, turned it upside-down, and started using it as walking stick. “Well, then, I’d better teach you how to use mine.”

* *

After dinner that night, Benny and Reba went into the kitchen to wash up. Cece started a load of laundry, while Dar and Lila stayed in the living room, watching the local news. The search for the “missing Evanston woman” was no longer the top story, but a reporter, citing the recent deaths of Casey and Daniel Hilliard, followed so quickly by Lila’s disappearance, couldn’t help speculate about the “star-crossed Hilliard family.”

Lila squirmed. “Maybe it’s time to go to the press.”

“With what?” Dar asked.

“The fact that we’ve been stalked. And shot at. There is the police report from the Gold Coast.”

“Which they can explain away as a drive-by.”

“What about the house burning down?”

“A tragic accident.”

“And the grenade?”

“Dar Gantner, himself convicted forty years ago of using explosives . . . ” Dar shrugged. “It’s too risky. And circumstantial. We need more solid evidence.”

Lila frowned.

Dar muted the TV. Commercials whizzed by in a dizzying series of cuts and colors. He was about to turn it off when Lila said, “Wait.”

He looked over.

“I just remembered something. From the day of the fire, when Danny and my father . . . ” She cut herself off.

“What?”

“There was a rental truck outside the house before it happened. It was on the street when I went to the store to get Christmas lights. I’m sure of it.”

“I should never have called Teddy. That’s what set this chain of events in motion. I was unbearably stupid.” He lapsed into a stony silence.

“It wasn’t a mistake,” Lila said finally. Dar looked up. “Calling Teddy. He would have come after you—and my father—at some point anyway. He can’t risk having anyone alive who knows what he did.”

“You don’t have to bail me out.”

“I didn’t say it to bail you out. I said it because if we’re going to stop him, we have to know how he thinks.”

“Stop him?”

“Three people were killed in the original bombing. And over the years, he’s killed at least two others—Casey and Danny.”

“Don’t forget Rain and Payton,” Dar said.

“You see?” Lila tightened her lips. “Four people have been killed—and that’s only the ones we know about—in order to cover up the past of a man who might be the next president of the United States.”

“You don’t know the forces arrayed against us. Hell. We used to talk about Hoover having tentacles that stretched everywhere. Compared to Markham’s organization, Hoover ran a nursery school.”

“So you’d rather let them win?”

He started ticking off one finger at a time. “Like I said, we can’t go to the press without solid proof of a conspiracy. Which we don’t have. And never will. Any reports or documents—anything that mentions Teddy and the time he spent in Chicago—are probably locked up and will never be declassified. Or were destroyed years ago.”

“So we find something else.”

“Proof of a crime committed forty years ago?” Dar made snorting sound. “Sure. There’s a bunch of DNA waiting to be found. Just like on TV.” He ticked off a second finger. “Second, we can’t leak anything without revealing who and where we are, which, of course, would draw their fire. And third, who’s going to believe the word of an ex-con? We have no leads. No angles. Nothing.”

“Ah, but you’re wrong.” Lila smiled. “We do have a lead.”

“What?”

“Me.”

Dar looked startled.

“I’m Sebastian Kerr’s granddaughter. I can use that to open doors and dig around. Say I’m looking into the troubled times around when I was born and the bomb exploded. People do that all the time. Search for their roots. Maybe I can even talk to some of the officials involved in the investigation.”

“What about the fact that no one knows that you exist?”

“They will. I’ll get a copy of the birth certificate from Dad’s website.” She went on, “I’ll tell the truth . . . that I just found out who I am and that I want to know my family history.”

“Lila, you can’t march into the FBI or the Chicago police and demand to look at an investigation they did forty years ago.”

“You don’t know that.”

Dar crossed his arms. “You’d be painting a giant bulls-eye on your back. What makes you think you’ll find anything after all this time? And how long do you think it’ll be before Markham finds out you’re poking around?”

She stared at him. “Two months ago I would never have imagined doing anything like that. But two months ago I wasn’t being stalked. Or shot at. Or attacked with a grenade. Sure, I want my nice, boring life back. But to get it back, I have to fight.”

Dar shook his head. “Too dangerous.”

“First off,” she said, mimicking him, “you can’t stop me. And second, it might not be that dangerous . . . if I go in the back door.”

“Now what are you talking about?”

She explained what she had in mind. Dar listened, then said, “What if the person guarding the front door finds out you’re coming in the back?”

“Is it any more dangerous than doing nothing?”

Dar stared. She’d never reminded him more of Alix.

“We have to try,” she went on. “Not just because it’s the right thing to do.” Her voice caught, but so quietly it was easy to miss. “We have to do this . . . for everyone in the family.”

Dar’s throat thickened. The family. She’d said “the family.”