Chapter Forty-One

They drove in silence, winding through the local streets. "Any luck from that phone call to Selene?" Joe finally asked.

"No." Brent sighed in frustration. "She was polite about it, but she says she spent hours on the phone and couldn't find anything under the new name and passport number. I told her to throw all that stuff away and give it a try under her real name. We should know something more by tomorrow afternoon."

Joe stopped for a light. "Well, that'll be good, in case Ursula is another dead end."

The light changed and Joe hit the gas. The truck sped forward, sending up a spray of water as he turned onto the access road. After entering the freeway and settling into his lane, Joe said, "I don't know if I can take much more of this running around and her always being one jump ahead of us."

Brent settled back in his seat and adjusted the lapels of his damp coat. "I think I'm just about worn out, too."

"You know, what really gets me is that we've been gone for the better part of a week and I feel like we're no closer to finding her than we were at the beginning. I don't understand why everyone is trying to cover for her. I don't mean to brag, but isn't it pretty obvious I'm trying to help?"

"I don't know," Brent said. "It's always surprised me how loyal people are to Elise. It seems like no matter what she's done, she can always charm someone into giving her what she needs. Lord knows she didn't do anything to deserve the way I helped her over the years."

"Then why did you do it?"

"I could ask the same of you."

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you persisting in this? A lot of men would've said good riddance by this point, knowing what you know."

Joe didn't answer right away. He continued to drive, staring intently at the road ahead, tiny workings in the muscles around his eyes and mouth the only clues that he was deep in thought.

"And don't say it's because you love her," Brent added.

"But I do love her."

"Love has its limits."

"Does it?" Joe asked. "Seems a shame if it does."

Brent said nothing and stared at his hands.

They drove for the next hour in silence as the sky grew darker and the rain continued to fall. Joe turned on his headlights but they didn't help much. "It's going to be fun, trying to find this place off a farm road in the dark, in the rain."

"Well, we can't wait until morning. We've lost too much time already."

"I know. Just help me out with the directions, will you? That way I can focus on the road. I think I see our exit up ahead."

They pulled off the freeway and turned onto a farm road. Without the benefit of street lights, they had to slow almost to a crawl in order to see. Joe turned on his brights and squinted.

"You're going to want to keep to the left at that fork up there," Brent said.

"Looks like we're going pretty far out into the country."

"Just wait. I think the next turn will be onto a one-lane road, if this map is any indication."

As they turned onto the left fork of the road, the rain, which had been slackening, began coming down harder as if making up for lost time. Joe slowed again and increased the speed of the wipers, to little effect. "Are you going to be able to see where we need to turn?"

"I think it's right up here a little ways. See that stop sign by the tree?"

Joe eased onto the narrow road, his brows drawing together in concentration. "This is a dangerous street in this weather. No lines, no curbs, nothing."

Brent agreed. "They should develop out here. Get one of those rural improvement grants or something. It would improve their property values."

"Do we have to stay on this road for very long?"

Brent glanced at the map. "No, it looks like we'll be turning again soon."

"I wonder if Ursula keeps horses," Joe said, gesturing toward a stable set back from the road.

Brent shrugged. "She could do anything, for all we know."

"And we know nothing," Joe's voice took on an edge. "I hate feeling this way, like everything I thought I knew was wrong."

Suddenly Brent leaned forward, straining to see the road through the rain. "Oh, hell."

"Don't tell me we passed it."

"Yeah, I think we did."

"How can you tell?"

"Didn't we just pass a cross-street?"

"If you can call it that. It was just a little gravel path."

"Well, I think maybe we went too far. Turn around and go back. We haven't passed it by much."

"Turn around where?" Joe gestured at the road, empty of cross streets or driveways.

"Just turn around here in the road. There's no traffic."

Joe looked around doubtfully, then stopped the truck, threw it into reverse, cut the wheel and started to back up. "Reach back there and wipe off the rear window. I'm not getting a clear picture of where I'm going."

Brent twisted around in his seat. "It's okay. You're miles away from the ditch."

Joe released the brake and began inching backward, casting occasional glances behind him, but trusting Brent's reassuring words to "keep going, keep going," until suddenly the left rear wheel hit slippery gravel, and the back end of the truck lurched to one side. Before he could get his foot on the brake, the right wheel slipped backward, too, and the truck slid neatly into the ditch, with only the right front tire remaining at road level.

Cursing, Joe turned on the four-wheel drive. He hit the gas and the tires spun, but nothing happened. The rear wheels embedded themselves in the mud, the left front wheel spinning on open air, clipping a few weeds, the right front tire unable to find a hold in the slippery gravel of the shoulder. After gunning the engine a few times, Joe stomped on the brake and put the truck into park. He turned around in his seat and fixed Brent with an icy glare. "Get out and find something to put under the wheels."

Brent sucked in his breath but didn't argue. He opened the door and jumped into ankle-deep mud. He winced at the cold rain beating on his face and dribbling down the back of his neck as he walked to the edge of the ditch. The wheels were buried almost to the axle. Since there was no point trying to help from that end, he went around to the front. The left front wheel had a few inches of space between it and the side of the ditch, and after assessing the situation, Brent looked around, finding a few small rocks and branches, but nothing substantial to fill the gap between tire and ground. After a few minutes, he returned to the truck and climbed in. "I couldn't find anything."

"You must not have looked hard enough. Look again."

"Man, I'm telling you, it's hopeless. Those rear wheels are in too deep. Even if I could find something big enough to put under the front one, I don't think it would give enough leverage to pull the back end out. We're going to need a tow truck."

"If you can't find something to put under the wheels, I suggest you get out and push, since you're the one that got us into this mess in the first place."

Brent shoved his dripping hair off his forehead. "Look, you don't have to tell me, okay? I feel like an idiot, and if I thought wading in mud up to my knees to push this truck would do any good, I'd be doing it. Go look for yourself if you don't believe me."

Joe gazed steadily at Brent long enough for the drumming of the rain on the roof to grow louder, the curtains of rain nearly opaque, until it seemed the entire gray, deafening world had closed in around them and they were in the last dry place on earth. Brent picked at his soaking pants and examined the toes of his muddy shoes, then he raised his head and met Joe's eyes.

"Move over and let me out," Joe said.

Brent moved as far back in the seat as he could so Joe could climb over him and get out on the passenger side, since getting out on the driver's side was out of the question. Joe jumped down and slammed the door behind him, leaving Brent alone, dripping and shivering.

After a few minutes, Joe climbed back in, soaked to the skin. He crawled over to the driver's seat, started the engine and turned on the heater. He stretched his hands toward an air vent, flexing his fingers in the warm air. Brent leaned forward and did the same. "What do you think?" Brent finally asked.

"I think we're screwed."