Page 110 of Jack

Tommy rounded in his seat, lunging for the gun.

“No!” Harper shouted.

A shot. It exploded through the car, and Harper put her hands over her ears, screaming.

“Shut up!” the man said, but Tommy was shouting too—more of a keening as he doubled over.

“Tommy?” She turned to him, and Tommy leaned back, his hands to his stomach, breathing hard.

“You shot him?” She turned to the man. “You shot him!”

He’d shot Tommy through the seat and now sat back and leveled the gun at her. A big man dressed in a black turtleneck, suit pants, a wool coat, gloves. “Drive.”

“To thehospital.”

“Nope. Just drive.” His voice emerged low, unshaken.

Her hands shook so much that she barely gripped the wheel as she pulled out, grinding the gears as she fumbled with the stick shift.

“Calm down. You follow my instructions and no one dies.”

“Tommy’s going to die!” She glanced at the man in the rearview mirror as she stopped at the exit.

He lifted his shoulder. “But you might live.”

Her eyes burned as she pulled out into traffic, her heart choking her. Next to her, Tommy groaned, his hands bloody. They stopped at the light, and she unbuckled and pulled off her puffer jacket. Shoved it at him. “Use this.”

He had closed his eyes, and now took the jacket, slumping back.

It wouldn’t absorb anything, but it might add pressure to the wound.Please, God—if you’re watching?—

“Drive!” The light had turned green, and she took a left on Mounds Boulevard.

“Get on 94 going west.”

So, back toward Duck Lake.

The man sat in the middle, the gun on her as she pulled out onto the highway and merged into traffic.

Think.Her phone was in her parka, so that hadn’t been a bright move. If she could pull up beside a cop?—

“Just drive, Harper,” Tommy said quietly, barely breathing.

Her vision glazed as she nodded, tried to keep them between the yellow lines.

Talk about over her head. And Clarice, of course, wormed her way in.“One of these days you’re going to go too far, dig too far, and I’m not going to be able to rescue you.”

Tommy had gone quiet beside her, his eyes closed. She put her hand on his chest. Still breathing, but barely. “Please let me drop him off at a hospital.”

“Take the Highway 7 exit.”

She got off, her gut tight. The sun had settled low in the west, a simmer of fire along the horizon, red bleeding out through the birch and evergreen trees, then over the whitened landscape. She passed Excelsior, then Victoria, and finally headed toward Carver.

“Where are we going?” Her voice had lost its gusto.

“You should have left it alone.”

“Left what alone?”