The Breathtaker Read online

  Never mind about me. Go save our little girl.

  5

  THE SNAP of feet over asphalt. Heart pounding, legs pumping, Charlie sprinted across the parking lot and tugged on the pickup truck door. This is not how it’s going to end, he thought furiously as he crawled back inside the cold cab. He stabbed his key in the ignition, put the truck into gear and tore out of the lot, all the while groping for a sense of calm. Take it on the chin. Breathe deep. Be a man. His father, talking to him at the hospital, holding his hand. Talking him through the pain.

  The air was speckled with blowing rain. He activated his cell phone and dialed the station house. “Mike?”

  “What’s going on, Chief?”

  “It isn’t good.” He could feel his lips quivering around each word. “My father’s dead.”

  “What?” came the incredulous reply.

  “Rick Kripner rigged an air cannon with a trip wire. He used Sophie’s locket as bait. She’d never go anywhere without it.” He could feel his throat closing around this unspeakable thought. “I don’t know what he did with her, but I can’t believe he’d hurt her. He knows her. How could he hurt her?”

  “Chief, calm down.”

  “I’m following the storm track to Aberdeen…”

  “Wait a second, boss. What happened? What went down?”

  “Rick was at the wind facility. We just missed him. He ditched the Sierra and took the Doppler van. He sabotaged the facility. Willa Bellman almost died. My father’s dead. I couldn’t find Sophie. I think he took her with him. My hunch is… Jesus Christ, I knew his M.O. was changing, but this.” Fear clung like a net. “She can’t be dead.”

  “Calm down, Chief.”

  “My hunch is he’s wants to find a tornado before he… does anything to any more victims.”

  “The department’s behind you. All our resources.”

  “There’s a tornado warning down around Aberdeen. He’s probably halfway there by now. I’ve got maybe forty minutes to catch up… I’ve really gotta book it, Mike… make up for lost time. Notify local law, tell them I’m on my way.” The exhaustion hit him. There was no weight to him, no weight at all. “My guess is he’s on his way to Aberdeen… looking for a tornado. Put out a BOLO for a brown Doppler van with ‘Environmental Sciences Lab’ on the side. And get some choppers in the air. Apprise everybody as to the level of danger. Tell them he’s got a hostage with him. She’s sixteen years old, five-foot-seven, brown hair, blue eyes… Jesus, Mike. Are you getting all this?”

  “Yeah, I got it, boss.”

  “You’ll be where I can reach you?”

  “I’m right here, buddy. We’re working the phones like crazy. We’ll find this nut job, never fear.”

  “Tell them to be careful, this is my daughter we’re talking about.”

  “Not to worry.”

  He hung up and stared at the sky. Supercell. Find a supercell. He had to get to Aberdeen as soon as possible. Once he got to East Texas, he’d look for one of those rotating clouds that resembled a nuclear explosion. A bead of sweat slid down his forehead as he squinted at the sky through the rain-spattered windshield, his gaze drifting toward a distant curl of cumulus, its underbelly like mauve-colored wool. He had maybe an hour of daylight left. He picked up the road map. Twitchy. Nervous.

  Forget it. Forget the map.

  He dropped the map on the seat, while the seconds boomed inside his head. Tick, tick, tick. He couldn’t keep his teeth from chattering. The world was vast and blurry and all out of reach. In the distance, beyond the hills’ crooked fence line, he could see a truck inching along a country road. Sophie couldn’t be dead. He was convinced she was still alive, out there somewhere beyond the alfalfa fields and cattle ranches. When darkness came, when somebody you loved was out there all by herself… it shut you down. It beat you up. No more losses. No more grief. The smell of his own cowardly fear was making him gag.

  Snagging his cell phone, he tried Rick’s number again, fingers fumbling. Not expecting an answer.

  “Yello?” came the toneless response.

  Charlie stared at his own sweaty face with its questioning smile in the rearview mirror. His eyes looked back at him, reflecting a watery horror. “Rick?”

  After a suspicious beat, he said, “Yes?”

  “This is Charlie Grover.”

  A strangled laugh. “Oh… hello.”

  His heart pounded crazily. “Could I speak to Sophie, please?”

  Short pause. “Well,” Rick finally answered, “I took one look at those clouds last night and couldn’t pass it up.”

  Charlie stiffened. Rick’s evasiveness meant that Sophie was still alive—and that she was listening. Otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered to evade the question. “Let me talk to her.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “Right as rain.”

  Rick was clever. He hadn’t mentioned Charlie’s name yet, which meant that if Sophie was listening, she wouldn’t know it was her father on the other end of the line. Charlie could deduce two things from this: one, that his daughter wasn’t aware of the danger she was in, and two, that she wasn’t bound and gagged. If Rick had tied her up, he wouldn’t bother hiding Charlie’s identity from her.

  Charlie had been trained—ever so briefly and long ago—in hostage negotiations. The person he was dealing with was a sociopath who would be loyal to no one but himself. His relationship to others was manipulative and self-serving. He wanted what he wanted, when he wanted it. He blamed others for his behavior and didn’t feel guilt or remorse the way most human beings did. He could be extremely cool. Be careful. He may end up interviewing you. Threats of punishment would not alter his unacceptable behavior. The solution must be face-saving, otherwise you were looking at a shoot-out. Tactical solutions were best. Be calm. Be patient.

  “What’re you doing?” Charlie asked in a level voice. “I thought we were friends.”

  “Yeah, sure. Good buddies.”

  Allow him to vent his feelings.

  “What’s this all about? Did I piss you off somehow?”

  “Oh, hey. Don’t get all philosophical on me now.”

  “I want to know what’s bothering you. Tell me how I can help you, Rick.”

  “There’s really nothing you can do.”

  Convince him that the safe release of the hostage is to his advantage. Do not try to bullshit this guy. He responds to authority figures; therefore, introducing a non-police negotiator might make the situation worse. Keep him busy. Offer something in return for a concession.

  “If you let her go,” Charlie said, “I’ll back off the case. I won’t pursue it.”

  That strangled laugh again.

  “I won’t follow you. You can go wherever you want to, just let her go. Please. I’m begging you.”

  “Well, now… that’s believable.”

  Charlie’s hands went stiff on the wheel as he drove past a filling station, while the rain poured down from the sky and dimpled the hood of the truck. He caught sight of his own pathetic face in the rearview mirror again and couldn’t meet his desperate gaze. “Please… look. Let’s negotiate.”

  “Nothin’ doing.”

  He gripped the steering wheel, held on and felt himself dissolving, unraveling. Don’t get irritated. Don’t interrupt. “I know where you’re headed,” he said. “I’m coming after you.”

  “Oh, I doubt that very much.”

  “I’m right behind you.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Don’t use trigger words…

  “You sick bastard, I’m right on your ass. You’ll be seeing my face in your rearview mirror very shortly, you crack-headed piece of shit. It’s the gray Loadmaster pickup truck, just so you know.”

  “What, those antiquated wheels? That heap leaks like a waterfall. I’m talking Third World antiquated. No, wait. The Third World would laugh at you.”

  Don’t get mad… don’t be argumentative…

  “I’ll t
rack you down and rip out your heart with my teeth, you sorry-ass son of a bitch.”

  “Hm. You think?”

  Don’t be tough, don’t be defensive…

  “I’m coming after you, you demented freak… you sick fuck… I’ll kill you, make no mistake about it.”

  “Listen,” Rick said coolly. “Because you’re such a nice guy, here’s what I’ll do. I’ll let you in on a trade secret. Don’t let the models do the forecasting for you. Use them selectively. They’ve burned many. I mean, yeah… you can look at them and get a basic idea. Like today, for instance. Everybody’s got a hard-on for Aberdeen. Check it out yourself. See if the previous twelve-hour forecasts match your current analysis, but I’d advise you to listen to your gut. This is where fate steps in.”

  Charlie pressed his fingers to his eyelids and blinked away the tears. “. . . wait a second.”

  “Good luck.”

  A scream of static disconnected them.

  “Hello? Motherfucker!!!” Charlie tossed the cell phone and reached for the old analog controls of the CB radio, multiple voices sputtering out of the speaker. He scooped up the mike and, working to keep his voice under control, said, “Can I get a break? Break one-oh? How’s it looking in Texas? How’s it looking in Aberdeen? Anybody out there with an update?”

  He listened to sporadic reports through the crackling static: “. . . we’re on the boulevard, driver, let’s do it to it… watch your back, it’s spitting hail balls… slow down, you got a bunch of Boy Scouts past the next rest area…”

  Charlie searched the darkening sky, then pounded his fist on the steering wheel, pounded until it was sore. He slumped over the wheel in a daze. This was hopeless, like looking for a needle in a haystack. His mind went stubbornly blank. His body felt brutalized. Time rivered away like raindrops on a windshield. Exhausted and shaken, he thought about the brown Doppler van and had a flash of Rick Kripner behind the wheel. In this vision, he pulled up alongside the van, aimed his loaded gun at Rick’s head and pulled the trigger… blew his fucking brains out. Just find her. Shut up and find her.

  His father’s voice.

  A renewed fury tore at his limbs. He jabbed the horn and raced toward the yellow light, exhaust echoing. A blue Pontiac slammed on its brakes behind him as he shot through the red light and went tearing off down the interstate.

  6

  SOPHIE TOUCHED the naked-feeling spot at the base of her throat where her locket used to be. Rick had told her to wait in the Doppler van, that he’d fix it real quick; but when he came back out of the wind facility, he didn’t have the necklace with him. “We’ll pick it up on the way back,” he’d promised her. That was twenty minutes ago.

  Now they were heading west on the I-40, and Rick was going on and on about tornadoes—blah, blah, blah—and the only thing she could think about was her missing necklace. She never should’ve given it to him in the first place. “What?” she said distractedly.

  “Catastrophic.” He wiped a spot on the windshield with his thumb. “Cataclysmic.”

  “You really like those cata words.”

  He laughed.

  “You’ve gotta admit,” she said while an echoey thunder rolled across the plains, “storm-chasing’s a pretty weird hobby.”

  He shot her a glance. “They’re all heroes in my book.”

  “You’ve got a book?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got a book. And a motto. Cogito, ergo zoom.”

  “‘I think, therefore I chase.’ See? I’m no slouch myself, you know. I almost got killed chasing an F-2 the other day.”

  “I know. You told me. And the reason you almost got killed is because your friend Boone Pritchett doesn’t know his ass from helicity. You hungry?”

  “No thanks.”

  “Because there’s a candy bar in the glove compartment. Go on,” he said. “Help yourself.”

  “No thanks.”

  “Really. Don’t be shy.”

  She clicked open the glove compartment and fished around for the candy bar, mostly out of politeness. She wasn’t that hungry, but she peeled off the wrapper and took a bite, anyway. “It’s getting kind of late,” she said. “Don’t you think?”

  “Nah. Best part of the day. Besides, these are dream conditions. You don’t want to pass up an opportunity like this, do you?”

  She shrugged. “Guess not.”

  “Go on. Eat up. You’ll need your strength.”

  She took another bite and was beginning to have serious doubts about the whole thing. Regrets. Rick had been so persuasive back at the house. He’d promised to call her father; he’d even written the note himself. “I dunno,” she said, thinking about her father and how upset he would be. “Maybe we should just blow it off.”

  “Are you kidding? We’ve got another forty minutes left before sunset, and even then—uh-oh. Don’t look now, but an eighteen-wheeler’s trying to run us over.”

  In the side-view mirror, she could see a cobalt-colored Mack truck bearing down on them.

  “Lucky for him I’m a nice guy,” Rick said, easing his foot off the gas. “If I see a big rig gaining on me, I’ll reduce my speed by five or ten miles and let him pass. You don’t want him just sitting there on your ass.”

  The Mack truck roared by on the left, honking its horn.

  “Like I don’t see you, you mesomorph!” He flipped a switch and the flat fifteen-inch LCD screen mounted above Sophie’s head lit up. Across the display screen, a repeating radar loop flashed mostly red. “Wow. Look at all those East Texas beasts,” he said. “Time to head north.”

  “North?” She looked at him, confused. “But I thought we were going to Aberdeen.”

  “Nah, Texas is bush-league. We’re taking a different route to paradise.”

  She rested the candy bar in her lap, no longer hungry.

  “See these two storms?” He pointed at the LCD screen. “See the one further north? That’s what you’d call a mother-ship storm. Once the cap breaks, it’s gonna grow explosively. I predict we’ll be playing with this baby very shortly.”

  “But aren’t you supposed to quit when the sun goes down?”

  “What’re you, chicken?”

  She shook her head, feeling light-headed all of a sudden. She looked down at the candy bar. Her brain was numb.

  “I thought you wanted to see a tornado up close and personal, kiddo?” he said.

  “I did. I mean, I do.” Her facial muscles knotted. “I guess.”

  “You guess?” His eyes dwindled in their frowning sockets. “Didn’t you just say to me, ‘You ain’t no slouch’?”

  “I’m not, but…”

  “But what?” He looked at her sideways. “You’re not going soft on me, are you, Sophie?”

  “No…”

  “Because you’re the one who begged me to take you storm-chasing in the first place, remember?”

  “I know.” She shot him a sidelong glance. “But…”

  “But what? What’s all this ‘but’ crap?” His look was a challenge. “Don’t put me in a black mood, kiddo. You don’t wanna see me in one of my black moods.”

  She curled her arms around her chest, feeling dizzy. Something was wrong. The interior of the van was freezing because he had the a/c cranked so high. They passed a deserted gas station, its metal sign swinging to and fro in the wind. She didn’t have a clue where they were anymore. The rain was clicking and tapping against the roof like little claws.

  He glanced at her, his knuckles going white on the wheel. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “No,” she said softly. “That’s okay.”

  There were dots of pink on his cheeks as if, deep down, he were holding himself very tenderly. “Can I trust you?” he whispered. “With a secret?”

  She closed her eyes for a second, not wanting to hear any secrets.

  “Remember how my father died?”

  “Yeah,” she said. The tornado, the wheat, the barn.

  He grinned, coaxing a smile out of
her.

  “What?”

  “I lied.”

  “What d’you mean?”

  “He died in a tornado, but under different circumstances.”

  She was getting drowsy. The droning engine was making her sleepy, and the rain had turned the air purple. “I don’t get it,” she heard herself say.

  His face showed both discomfort and excitement. “Lemme put it this way.” He glanced at her through parted lashes. “My father was a thief.”

  “What?” That got her attention.

  “A house burglar.”

  “Really?”

  “He’d rob houses during a tornado watch or warning. Now, before you go judging me… wouldn’t you lie, too? If your father was a thief instead of a cop?”

  She took a confused breath. She really didn’t understand where this conversation was headed. She tucked her hands between her knees, the air inside the van so cold you could see your own breath.

  “Doesn’t matter how he died,” he said. “The fact remains, he got what he deserved.”

  She eyed him through a haze of drowsiness. “How can you say that?”

  “Don’t you believe that some people are so evil, Sophie, they deserve to die?”

  The silence that followed made her scalp prickle. It was hard to stop watching the horizon. She couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the swirling, dangling clouds. All she could hear was the drumbeat of the rain and the steady clip-clip-clip of the windshield wipers. Something had turned in him, she didn’t know what. She had a vague sense that she might be in danger, but all she wanted to do was close her eyes and fall asleep, worry about it later.

  Rick spoke with a slight hesitation. “You should’ve seen me back then. I was the nicest kid on the block. The Boy Scout next door. But then over time, I built up a real hatred for the world, you know?”

  She drew very quietly into herself and tried to become invisible. Her eyes swept to the street. They were off the I-40 now, sailing past wild prairie and abandoned houses like the bones of ruin, fallen-down corrals and rusting crew-cab pickups. She had no idea where they were on the map. The rain made a steady hammering sound, while all around them, thunder crashed like the boom of the surf.