The Bone House - Brian Freeman [111]
'OK, Troy,' Delia told him in a quiet voice, if you think you can do this, then you go do it. Go get that son of a bitch.'
Tresa backed down the hallway in silent horror. Her blue eyes grew huge. She was careful not to make a sound so her mother and Troy didn't realize she was there. She let herself out through the screen door and closed it quietly behind her. She pulled up the hood on her sweatshirt and hurried down the steps. Her mother's car was next to Troy's Grand Am, where she'd parked it moments earlier. She got inside, threw the plastic grocery bags on the passenger seat, and veered backward on to the road.
Her heart was clear; she had to get to Mark right now. She had to warn him.
She sped down Highway E where the bridge crossed over Kangaroo
Lake, and then she swung on to Highway 57, heading northwest toward the top of the county. The last ferry for the island departed in less than half an hour. She didn't know if she had time to make it through the upper towns of the NorDoor.
Her fingers clawed the steering wheel. She thought the tires would fly.
'Stupid, stupid, stupid,' she murmured to herself. She couldn't believe what Troy and her mother were trying to do. They want to kill him. She wouldn't let them get away with it. She'd be there to stop them.
Desolate farmlands whipped past her in the late afternoon gloom. There was almost no traffic, but she studied the dashboard clock with nervous impatience as the minutes ticked closer to five o'clock. In Sister Bay, she passed the wavy harbor on her left, where a handful of early sailboats bobbed in the slips, and then she accelerated on to the empty road heading north. The sky felt low over her head. She passed ruined barns in overgrown fields, where flocks of birds screeched into flight at the noise of her car. On her left, she saw the soldier-like rows of trees guarding the bluffs over the bay.
She still had fifteen minutes ahead of her and only ten minutes before the ferry left the dock.
Tresa continued deeper into the countryside on the huge zigzag that marked the last miles leading to the port. Headlights beamed ahead of her. She hugged the right shoulder as a car passed her heading south. Almost immediately, another car followed, and then another, and then another. She knew what it meant to see so many vehicles in quick succession. The ferry had landed, belching out cars on to the mainland. They'd be loading up for the last journey of the day. She was running out of time.
She saw the last car in the parade. Her eyes caught a glimpse of the driver behind the headlights, and she realized it was Hilary. She braked and leaned on her horn to attract her attention, but when she looked in her rear-view mirror, the car had disappeared into the shadows. Hilary was gone. She slowed, debating whether to turn around, but if she took the time to chase her, she lost her chance of getting to the island. Mark would be alone.
A mile later, Tresa reached the band of S-curves leading to the ferry pier. Her tires squealed as she spun the wheel back and forth, but finally she saw the open water and the boat dock dead ahead. The ferry was still in port, but she saw the gate closing on the boat behind the last vehicle. She hit the horn, blaring it over and over, and flicking the high beams on her headlights on and off. Her car skidded to a stop twenty feet from the ferry deck, and the rear of the car swung wide on the concrete. She shoved the car into gear and climbed out, waving her hands.
Tresa saw Bobby Larch near the boat. She'd gone to school with his daughter Karen. The large man jogged over to her car, his face pink with anger. He wasn't happy with her.
'Tresa, what the hell do you think you're doing?' Bobby shouted. 'Are you crazy? You could kill somebody driving like that.'
'Mr Larch, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, I really need to be on that ferry.' She fumbled in her purse for cash and held out several crumpled bills. 'I've got the fare right here, but this can't wait, it's an emergency.'
'We're closed up, Tresa, that's it. Catch