After Hannah told him the truth he’d left her apartment, gone to his own, and cal ed Robert Parekh. He’d been so pissed off and so distracted that he’d forgotten to ask for his keys back, and had driven his mother’s little car, leaving his own at Hannah’s apartment.
“Christ,” Parekh had blurted out, showing more emotion in that moment than he had at any time during the aftermath of Sean’s assault. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe I let her in. I thought I was clever, looking out for dirty tricks from the other side, but I missed everything. I’m off my game. I didn’t see the new trial coming and I sure as hel didn’t see who Hannah real y was.”
“I don’t know that anyone could have . . . although. . . .”
“What?”
“Camila was suspicious. I told her she was nuts.”
“Jesus. We should al listen to Camila more.”
“Yes.” Sean was confused about his response to Hannah’s confession. He was furious at her betrayal, but he couldn’t seem to feel it. Maybe there was so much anger already inside him that he didn’t have room for more emotion. Or maybe it was the shame and contrition that she so obviously felt. She’d seemed broken. What kind of mother would send her daughter on a quest like this? The whole thing seemed insane and completely messed up.
“Right now we only have her word about any of this. We don’t even know for sure that Fitzhugh came and spoke with her. We’l have to find another way to approach Fitzhugh and sound him out.”
“I’l go,” Sean said. “I can drive up there in the morning, before court. Get him to Yorktown before court’s in session so you can talk to him. At least that way you’l have an opportunity to adjust your strategy if you need to.”
Parekh had been silent for a moment. Long enough for Sean to know that he was tempted by the offer. “No,” said Parekh in the end.
“It’s not a good idea. We don’t know what kind of welcome you would get, but we can be pretty sure it wouldn’t be a warm one. And Sam might take careful handling. We can’t afford to blow this, Sean.
Getting him onboard is our best chance of winning this case. I’m not feeling confident right now. I think we have to change our strategy.
Let’s just get through the hearing tomorrow. Accept that Michael is likely to be indicted again and we’re not going to be able to prevent it. We can approach Sam again careful y, get him lined up for the trial.”
Sean had agreed. There was no point in arguing with Parekh when he had his mind made up, but Sean knew before he hung up the phone that he was going. Sam Fitzhugh was their best chance of freeing Michael Dandridge, and their best chance of bringing Jerome Pierce down. Delaying things for months and months until the ful trial was way too risky. It would just give Pierce more time to do whatever. Blackmail, lean on people—what sort of pressure could be brought to bear on Sam in that period of time? Not to mention, if Hannah was right, Pierce wouldn’t hold back from making people disappear.
So Sean went to bed but he set an alarm for seven A.M. When he woke he took a careful shower and studied Hannah’s map while eating a banana, very slowly, and then took more painkil ers. He spent some time trying to plot the route out on his maps app. He would be able to find the Fitzhugh cabin without too much difficulty, even if he did lose internet service. He had an hour’s drive ahead of him before he got into the hil s, so when he got into the car he put on some music, settled back, grimaced at the pain in his ribs and side, and thought about what he would say to Sam Fitzhugh.
Sean turned off the main route just after eight A.M. The road dipped into a val ey before it started its climb upward. Initial y the road was in good shape—it was wide enough for comfortable twoway traffic, it was wel marked, and every so often he passed a home, set wel back off the road—but he lost his signal after the first half an hour. Sean was more relieved than concerned. He had already missed three cal s from his mother. He had no intention of speaking with her until he was back at home, or at least in Yorktown, with Parekh and the others, and this little adventure behind him. He took a turn marked on the map and the road narrowed abruptly to a single lane that twisted its way through thick forest. The engine of his mother’s little Hyundai whined as he leaned on the accelerator to push up the steep hil s. At one point he came over a hil to find that the road curved sharply to the left without warning, and in front of him was a sheer drop. Sean was going too fast to take the turn. He hit the brakes and the car slid forward before stopping a breathing distance from the cliff’s edge. The drop must have been a hundred feet. More.
After that Sean drove more slowly, leaning forward and with hands clammy on the steering wheel. A scribbled note on the side of the map told him to watch out for a red mailbox at the turnoff for the cabin. He nearly missed it—it was half hidden in the bushes—but he spotted it in time and took the turn. At every turn he took, the road deteriorated—the drive that led to the cabin was just dirt. At some point someone must have laid down gravel; he could see the remnants, but most of it was buried under dried mud and leaves and other debris. He gave a silent thank you that it hadn’t rained recently —the car could never have handled the track if it was wet.
Sean came upon the cabin through a sudden break in the trees.
It was a smal log structure with a wraparound porch. There was a generous clearing in front and to the left of the cabin, and there was a stream too, a little way down and farther to the left. It should have been a pretty place, but it wasn’t. Maybe it was the early morning sun, only weakly filtering through the trees, but the cabin looked brooding. Not the kind of image you’d see on a vacation home listing, that was for sure. Sean stopped the car wel back from the cabin and turned off the engine. There were signs of life—smoke rose from the cabin’s chimney—but . . . and it only just occurred to him—how was he supposed to contact Sam without attracting the attention of Sam’s grandparents? Shit. What could he do? Lurk out here and hope that Sam wandered out for some early morning fishing? That seemed both pointless and stupid. There was just as much chance that one of Sam’s grandparents would emerge, and maybe run him off before he had a chance to even let Sam know he was there.
Sean got out of the car and walked toward the cabin. He mounted the steps of the porch and knocked firmly on the screen door. There were two rocking chairs on the porch, hand carved by the looks of them, and an untidy bundle of fishing rods, waders, tackle boxes, and jackets piled off to the right. Footsteps approached from inside and Sean gathered himself. The door opened. The man standing just inside the cabin was Jerome Pierce, in ful uniform, gun in holster, a cup of coffee in his hand.
Sean took an instinctive step backward. Jerome Pierce’s first response was a jaw drop; his second was to look past Sean, out into the clearing, as if to check to see whether Sean was alone. Seeing that the clearing was empty he turned his attention back to Sean, shook his head in mock regret.