The Masked Truth Part 32

It doesn't matter how many times I've thought those words in the last few minutes, each time they're like a punch in the stomach.

He wants to kill himself, and I had no idea. No idea. I thought I understood, and I was so d.a.m.ned proud of myself for that, for doing the research, for trying to understand what he's going through, because I wanted to be the one who got it.

I wanted to be the one who helped him.

No, I wanted to be the one who saved him.

The thought is like grinding a fist on my punched stomach, and it's all I can do not to double over and retch. Save him? Really? How pathetic is that? How arrogant is that? I couldn't save the Porters. I couldn't save Sandy or Gideon or Maria or Aaron or Lorenzo. I didn't do a d.a.m.ned thing for any of them. But by G.o.d, I was going to save Max. I'd be the one person who believed in him, and I'd do more than believe in himI'd storm out of that hospital and I'd clear his name, and I'd set him free.

Free.

To kill himself.

Because that's what he wants, and I never saw it. Never had any idea. Oh, but I understand his situation. Really I do.

No, I don't. I had no idea what he was going through. I saw the despair and the hopelessness. I saw the frustration and the rage. I saw the absolute agony in his face when he talked about strangling his friend, about what it felt like to do that, to live with doing that, to live with knowing he could do that again.

I saw the fear when he kept warning me to be careful around him, and I knew he was thinking he could do the same to me, but I didn't really understand what that means to him. To say "I like this girl" and "I want to be with this girl, but I can't, because I don't know if I'll wake up in the night and wrap my hands around her throat and maybe I never will but I can't live with the possibility."

I can't live with the possibility.

I still want to save him.

I think that's the worst of it. I still want to take his hand and tell him he can get through this. That I'll help him. We'll come up with a strategy, and he'll see things aren't as bad as he thinks, and it'll all be fine. Right as rain.

Complete and utter bulls.h.i.+t.

It will not be fine, and whatever he decides to do about that is his choice. Not mine. Not his mother's or his father's. Because this isn't about us. Those notes aren't a cry for help. He isn't angry and looking to hurt someone. This is about him. Entirely about him. And I don't want it to be. Because I care about him, and I don't know how to care about someone who's thinking of ending his life, how to take that risk when everything already hurts so much, when I'm barely walking through life myself.

I'm huddled in my corner of the backseat now. He's retreated to his, and that's as clear an answer as any. He doesn't want my help. Doesn't need it. And I feel so alone. I feel like I finally found somethingfound someone, found what I needed to get through all this, someone to lean on and laugh with and talk toand ... no. That's not what I found at all. I'm sinking, and I didn't grab a life preserver, I grabbed an anchor, and either I let go or I sink with it, and I don't want to let go. I don't want to let go.

I feel something touch my fingers, and I see Max's hand, his pinkie hooking mine. I lift my gaze, and he works on something like a smile, he works so d.a.m.n hard at it, and I ... I burst into tears.

It's not what I want to do. It's the last thing I want to do. But I see his expression and the tears come, and he moves fast, stretching in the seat belt, his cuffed hands taking mine, and I fall against him and he whispers, "I'm sorry, Riley. I'm so, so sorry. I don't want to hurt you. I never want to"

"That's enough," Buchanan says. "Get away from her, Max."

"Just a moment," Max says. "Please. I'm still handcuffed. Just give me a moment."

"I said get the h.e.l.l away from her, you psycho"

"Stop that," I snarl, pulling away from Max. "Act like a d.a.m.ned professional."

"Excuse me?" Buchanan twists in his seat. "Don't you tell me"

"Enough," Wheeler says. "You get back from him, Riley. You too, Max."

His voice is oddly rough, like he's lowering it, and that doesn't matter, because as soon as he speaks, I don't hear Riley and Max. I hear Miss Riley and Maximus. And I stare at his profile. I stare as hard as I can, my heart thumping.

When Wheeler first got into the car, Max made a smart-a.s.s comment and Wheeler had given him a look, and that look ... something about that look ... I'd flinched, because in that flash of a second I'd seen eyes behind a gray mask. It had pa.s.sed in a blink. Memory playing tricks on an exhausted mind.

"So you can talk," I say, and somehow I manage to make it sound casual, though my heart thuds like it's ready to burst from my chest.

Wheeler grunts and turns his attention to the road.

"How long have you two been on the force?" I ask.

"What? Are you questioning our credentials now?" Buchanan says, and I struggle to hear another voice in his, to hear Predator, but it's not there.

"I'm just making conversation," I say.

"Twelve years," Buchanan says.

"And you, Detective Wheeler? Now that we've established you're not mute."

"Fifteen," Wheeler says.

d.a.m.n it, I need to hear him talk ... in more than one-word answers.

"And before you were on the major crimes squad? Any other units?"

I don't hear the reply, because as soon as I think of other units, I think of the SWAT team, which makes me think of hostage negotiations, and a memory flashes. An audio one. A voice on the phone, a little distorted.

The hostage negotiator.

I look at Buchanan. Even as the theory was forming in my headthe unbelievable theory that Wheeler is GrayI thought Buchanan played no role in it. He clearly wasn't Predator. But there was another person involved that night. One I was certain survived. The man on the phone. The fake hostage negotiator.

CHAPTER 35.

I look over sharply at Max. I'm trying to figure out how to tell him, but his gaze is fixed on Buchanan with such intensity that I know he's caught something too. He looks over at Wheeler and he's searching, a little hesitant now, and when he notices me watching, he pulls back fast, and I can tell he's second-guessing.

I tap the gray vinyl on my door handle. I point to the gray lettering on my s.h.i.+rt. Then I direct my finger to Wheeler. And Max's eyes close with such relief that he swallows and nods. He's not imagining the connection. And as soon as that first flicker of relief pa.s.ses, his eyes fly open with such an "Oh, s.h.i.+t!" look that it ignites my own panic.

We're in the car with Gray.

Gray and his accomplice.

They aren't really police detectives. They fooled everyone at the hospital. The real police got Max's story, and they knew it wasn't him, and they lost interest and ...

The manifesto.

It was in the papers. The papers blamed Max. The papers mentioned the manifesto. There's no way in h.e.l.l the police wouldn't be questioning me and preparing to arrest Max and ...

And if the police are investigating, and these are the only detectives we've seen ...

They're not pretending to be cops.

They are cops.

My brain screams no. No, no, no. There is no way officers of the law would ever pervert justice in this way, to become hired killers.

You really are a sheltered rich girl.

I hear River's words, and I know they're true, because whatever pedestal I might put police on, a profession doesn't cleanse you. There are cops who have committed murder, just like there are schoolteachers and truck drivers and stay-at-home moms who have done the same. I might not want it to be true. But that doesn't mean it isn't.

I still try to tell myself I'm wrong. It fits, though. Who else would be able to frame Max so well? They knew they could catch the caseit must have happened on their turf, and it happened on their turf because they chose the location.

River said the hit men helped him get out of those drug charges. Who better to do that than cops? What better reason for River to keep quiet than knowing that the lawwhich a guy like him wouldn't trust anywayis behind the crimes he helped with? He said they had access to the Porters' case file. Of course they did. And what had River done when they arrested us? Freaked out. Absolutely panicked, and I thought it was because they were police and he has committed crimes. No. It was because these were the very men he'd just ratted out.

They hadn't called a backup car for River.

They hadn't called the hospital to protect Brienne.

We weren't going to the police station to be questioned.

I grab the door handle. It's a stupid thing to do, because there's no way that door will open. But I act on instinctthe instinct to throw it open and grab Max and roll out like some kind of action hero.

The door doesn't budge.

"Hey!" Buchanan says. "What the h.e.l.l are you doing?"

Max's cuffed hands land on my knee, and they squeeze hard enough to hurt, and when I look at him, I see my own panic reflected back, but he's struggling to keep it under control as he madly shakes his head.

Don't give it away, Riley. Please don't give it away. Play dumb. That's our only chance.

Which seems like no chance at all. Certainly not a plan. But he's right. The moment we let them know that we've figured it out, they won't take their eyes off us.

I'm straightening in my seat when Max's gaze goes to my stomach. His lips form a curse, and I look down to see blood seeping through my s.h.i.+rt.

"Riley's hurt," Max says. "Her injuries have opened up again, and she's bleeding."

It takes two long seconds for Buchanan to look. Two seconds to remind himself that this should be a cause for concern. He glances over the seat and grunts, "It's a little blood."

"She needs to go back to the hospital," Max says. "You aren't charging her with anything, are you? It was my fault. I tricked her into leaving with me."

Any other time I'd have jumped to his defense. But that wasn't the point here, and instead I mumble, "It wasn't really tricked, but I had no idea he was about to be arrested. And he said we'd only be gone"I inhale sharply, wincing as if in sudden pain"an hour at most."

"Can we drop her off at the hospital?" Max says. "Or call a backup car to take her?"

Of course, we don't really expect them to agree. Max is confirming our theory while distracting them from my escape attempt.

"Can she at least call her mother?" Max says. "You confiscated River's mobile. Can she use that and let her mom know she's all right?"

"The hospital knows she's with us."

"Can you give her painkillers?" Max asks. "Tylenol, aspirin ..."

"Can you shut the h.e.l.l up?" Wheeler growls. "I know it's a strain for you, Maxi" He stops before saying "Maximus" and retreats into silence as Buchanan shoots him a look.

As Max has been trying distraction techniques, I've been frantically looking for a way out of this car. All I can think about is River and what happened to him, because I have no idea where he is, but I'm sure he's not alive and I'm equally sure we won't be either if we finish this ride.

I might be able to smash out the window with my elbow, but that's on a good day, and even if I managed it, they'd have guns on us before I could squeeze through, and if by some chance I did get out, I'd leave Max behind, and that isn't happening. Is not happening.

I could try to catch the attention of a pa.s.serby. They'd probably think I was just goofing off, but I would still try ... if there were anyone around. We're in an industrial area, and I see cars in parking lots, but very few of those, and I swear half the buildings have For Lease or For Sale signs on them and boarded-up windows and ...

I see rubble. Up the road. The remains of a demolished building. And I remember me and Max huddled in it as I lost consciousness.

Don't leave. Please, please, please. I don't want to be alone.

I know where we are. Oh G.o.d, I know where we are.

Max takes my hand and squeezes it and forces a smile for me, and I know he didn't see the rubble, doesn't know where they've taken us, and I don't know whether I should tell him or The car turns. Darkness yawns ahead. An open warehouse door. The car drives inside.

"Where are we?" Max asks, trying to sound calm.

The men don't answer. I won't call them detectives now or police or even cops. They are men. No, they are killers. Hired killers. That negates anything else they are, anything else they might have been.

Wheeler gets out. We turn to see him head for the big garage door, presumably to shut it behind us, and I think, We're dead. This is it. Any chance we had, we've lost. Dad always said that if anyone ever grabs me on the street, I need to get out of that car before they take me to their destination, because once I'm there, they can do whatever they want and ... Dad, oh G.o.d, Dad, why didn't I listen to you? Why didn't I kick out that d.a.m.ned window and who cares what happened then, because it's going to happen now. We're dead and Max squeezes my hand until he gets my attention, and when I look over, he whispers, "We'll do our best."

Not We'll be okay. Not We'll get through this.

We'll do our best.

Because that's the truth, the only truth, and he isn't going to lie to me. He lied to me before, about the meds, about his condition, and he won't do it again. Not about the suicide notes. Not about this. I look at his face, fear waging war with conviction. Conviction that we will do our best, because that's all he can be sure of, and that's enough. It has to be enough. It is.

He says, "We'll do our best," and I love him for it. I don't care if that's foolish or naive, or if I can hear Sloane saying, "You've known him only a few days." I love him. I lean over to kiss his cheek and whisper, "We will. We absolutely will."

If anyone can get out of this, we can. Not you. Not me. Us. Together.

Wheeler closes the garage door and the garage is pitched into darkness, lit only by the car's headlights. Then he walks to the trunk. He opens it. And he pulls out River's body.

He pulls out River's body, bound hand and foot and gagged, and he throws it to the floor. Then River moves. He starts squirming and struggling, and I realize they brought him alive. Thank G.o.d he's still alive.

Wheeler cuts the zipties with a knife. He pulls off the gag. River stumbles to his feet, saying, "I didn't tell them anything. Whatever they say, it's a lie. They figured some stuff out, and they tried to get me to say it was true, but"

"Run," Wheeler says.

"What?"

Wheeler waves at a side door. "Go. Run. Before I change my mind."