The Dead Run by Adam Mansbach Page B

cabrones,” called the lead guard from the top step. “Buena suerte.”
    He retreated into the tunnel’s cool and slammed the bulkhead doors. In the vast emptiness of the desert, the click of the lock was as loud as a gunshot.

 
    CHAPTER 7
    T he ribbon of light was thin and pale, a tear in the vinyl they’d used to cover the high-set basement windows.
    It was Sherry’s only comfort. Her only friend.
    Not her only hope—you learned about yourself quickly in a situation like this, learned what you were made of, faced the truth. And the truth was, Sherry Richards was no fighter. Those people you saw on TV, basking in their fifteen minutes of celebrity after surviving an avalanche or a shipwreck, those resourceful souls claiming they’d never lost faith ? She wasn’t one of them. When she woke up in this black room, trussed to this chair, gagged with this rag, no hitherto-unknown reserve of courage had revealed itself.
    She hadn’t tried to wriggle her way free of the ropes binding her wrists and ankles. Hadn’t plotted her escape. She’d accepted it.
    I’m helpless.
    No one is going to save me.
    I don’t believe in anything.
    I’m going to die.
    Alone.
    Please, God, don’t let it hurt.
    O N ONE HAND, thought Nichols, they were certainly making better time in Cantwell’s Audi than they would’ve in his cruiser.
    On the other, they’d probably be dead before they got wherever the hell they were going.
    â€œYou always drive like this?”
    â€œYou asking as a cop?”
    â€œI’m asking as a passenger.”
    She glanced at him over her right arm, rigid against the wheel. “I drive this way when somebody I care about’s in trouble.”
    â€œYou didn’t tell me you knew Sherry. She a patient, too?”
    â€œNot officially, no. But I’ve tried to help her readjust. Fit in.”
    â€œBut I thought you and her mother—”
    â€œHad a falling-out, yes. Melinda doesn’t know.”
    They drove in silence for a while, suburban strip malls giving way to scrub brush, open road. The billboards that weren’t for Salvation Through Christ and Christ Alone advertised adult megastores or eat-the-whole-thing-and-it’s-free steak houses.
    Nichols took the opportunity to reflect on the various fallacies of this impromptu adventure. His radio was back in the cruiser, so nobody on his staff had any idea where he was or why he’d disappeared off the face of the earth, midshift. He’d effectively deputized a woman he knew nothing about, except her propensity for flouting traffic laws. And they were on their way to confront a man who, if Cantwell was correct, was far too dangerous to waltz up to willy-nilly and start asking half-baked questions.
    On the bright side, if she was wrong, all they were doing was illegally harassing a private citizen who’d probably sue the Del Verde County Sheriff’s Department for the thirty-seven dollars and eighty-three cents left in its annual operating budget.
    Good times.
    â€œAnything else you haven’t told me, doc?”
    Cantwell’s answer snapped at the heels of his words, as if she’d been waiting for the chance.
    â€œPlenty. Seeing as how you’ve rolled your eyes at half of what I’ve said so far.”
    â€œLook, if I didn’t take you seriously, I wouldn’t be in this car. But I’m the kind of cop who deals in facts, not rumors—which is to say, a good one. And I can’t help thinking that if local girls were disappearing at the rate you say, I woulda heard about it. You know”—he tapped a finger to his badge—“being sheriff and all?”
    â€œThat should tell you how powerful they are.”
    â€œRight, I forgot—got the whole department paid off. What was the fella’s name again? Spiff?”
    â€œAaron Seth. I’ve been monitoring him for years. And in my professional opinion,