Читать книгу Every Second - Rick Mofina - Страница 11

5

Roseoak Park, New York

The house is too quiet.

As they walked Dan through the back and into the garage, his fear mounted.

“Are Billy and Lori in the basement?”

“Shut up!” Vic said. “Focus on what you need to do.”

Dan’s eyes went around the garage, taking quick inventory. Suddenly the everyday items took on a new and desperate significance, a reflection of their lives before the attack. Billy’s bicycle, his goal net, his bats and hockey sticks, and up in one corner, his old tricycle.

Stacked on the bench were cardboard boxes of clothes Lori was preparing to donate to the church. Nearby were her clay planters, her gardening tools and her flower-printed gardening gloves. Looped neatly on a hook was the hose and, near it, Dan’s John Deere mower. He did his best thinking and problem-solving when he mowed the lawn.

I’ve got to do something.

Vic nudged him. Dan opened the door to his Ford Taurus and got in alone. As he sat behind the wheel, he glanced at Lori’s Dodge Dart, parked next to him.

“Step it up!” Vic said.

Dan inserted the key and started his car. Vic tapped the window with his gun. Dan lowered it and Vic leaned into the driver’s door, resting his gun on the frame. For an instant Dan contemplated grabbing it, but he was distracted when he saw that Percy had vanished.

They must’ve parked their vehicle nearby.

“Remember,” Vic said, “all you have to do is follow our instructions. You’re doing good so far. It’ll be over before you know it, so don’t mess this up. We’re watching you every step of the way. Now get going.”

As Vic stepped away from the car, Dan backed out of the driveway and wheeled down the street. The vest was hot and cumbersome. His skin tingled with each bump and pothole for fear the thing might go off.

On the console he saw the receipts from the recent weekend he and Lori had spent in Boston. His chief worries then had been finding good parking and the price of gas. Dan adjusted his grip on the wheel.

What the hell’s happening?

He rolled through their corner of Roseoak, a middle-class community of tree-lined streets with Tudor, ranch and Colonial houses. Flanked by Douglaston, Little Neck and Oakland Gardens and bordered by the Long Island Expressway and Grand Central Parkway, Roseoak Park was a desirable enclave of Queens. With good schools and no crime, it was considered a safe place to live.

A clear radio voice sounded in his ear.

“Looking good, Dan.”

He checked his mirrors in an effort to spot their vehicle. But there was nothing to see. It was futile.

“Stick to the plan and no one gets hurt, Dan.”

Dan prayed that Lori and Billy were still safe—or as safe as they could be wrapped with a bomb—and racked his brain for a way out.

Glancing in vain in his rearview mirror, he wondered again who they were—and why they’d chosen him. He crawled through traffic, knowing he had little time to act.

I could drive to the police—go right to the 111th Precinct in Bayside. Tell them everything!

He thought of Lori and Bill, and how Vic had vowed to kill them.

If I go to the police I could save them.

Sweat trickled from his temple, nearing his eye.

Or...I could kill us all.