Ink, however, had everything he needed, including a better plan. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before. Now that Laurel knew he was in town, she wouldn’t return home. He’d have to start looking for her all over again. But someone who was trusted in the community would be able to help him find her much faster than his former cellie. Especially now that L.J. had been shot. And who would look more harmless, more trustworthy, than a member of the Rogers family?
He’d seen their pretty daughter and the mildly attractive middle-aged mother. They were quite a family. And they were only half a mile away, in the very next cabin. There might be a father. Ink realized that but could handle him the same way he had the hunters.
The mother would work best for his purposes, he decided. Now that he had Laurel’s new name, he could send Mrs. Rogers into town to poke around. By keeping her daughter and anyone else at the cabin with him, she’d have the incentive to work fast and keep her mouth shut. Once she returned with the addresses of Vivian’s closest friends and any extended family that might live in the area, he’d kill her and the rest of the Rogers clan so they couldn’t report him. And then he’d be on his way—either to finish up his business with Virgil’s sister here in Pineview, or follow her out of town, if she’d already left. There wasn’t any point in staying if she wasn’t here.
He checked the gun he’d used earlier when he got in that shootout with the sheriff. It was good to go. He’d reloaded it at the cabin. Now all he had to do was hide the truck in the trees and wait until dark, which wouldn’t be long in coming.
The phone in the motel woke Vivian at five o’clock. She’d fallen asleep after making love with Myles, had slept for several hours, much more deeply than she had since this whole nightmare began. But reality intruded with the jangle of that phone, and the dread that’d overwhelmed her before came back.
“Do you want to get it?” She assumed it would be one of Myles’s deputies, looking for him. No one else in Pineview knew where they were.
His hand ran over her skin, but his eyes remained closed. “Mmm…no. Still groggy. Go ahead.”
She was glad to see he was getting the sleep he so desperately needed. But she was afraid neither of them would be able to rest much longer. She had to get hold of Peyton, continue to try Rex, somehow find out what was going on with her kids and her brother. And she had to field this call, which she hoped was good news and not bad.
“Hello?” She settled back into Myles’s embrace but held her breath.
“This is Sandra with EZ Security. Is Vivian there?”
Recognizing the name of the company and the voice of the caller, Vivian sat up. It was the receptionist she’d spoken to earlier at Virgil’s work. “This is Vivian.”
“I have a number for you to call.”
Vivian used the pad of paper by the phone and the motel pen to copy it down. “Where does it go?” She recognized the area code but not the rest of the digits.
“Mercy Medical Hospital in Los Angeles.”
She bit her lip. “Why do I need to call a hospital in Los Angeles?”
“Your brother’s been shot.”
Vivian must’ve made a sound or a movement to give away the pain that converged on her heart because Myles shoved himself into a sitting position, suddenly alert. “What’s wrong?”
She couldn’t explain. Not now. She had to find out whatever she could while this woman was willing to talk to her. “Is he…is he going to be okay?”
“The doctors are hopeful. He’s in surgery now.”
“Then…who am I calling if Virgil can’t talk?”
“Rex.”
“Why didn’t you just give him my number?”
“He can’t make a collect call to a motel.”
Rex was in L.A., too? Why? Where were her kids? “Do you know if Peyton’s safe?”
“She’s fine.”
Obviously this woman knew their entire background. Vivian was throwing around names Virgil, Rex and Peyton hadn’t used since they’d adopted their first false identity and moved to Washington, D.C.
“Rex said to tell you Peyton has Jake and Mia in a motel room with Brady here in Buffalo,” she went on. “Don’t worry about them.”
It was a relief to learn her children were fine and in good hands. But after what she’d just been told about Virgil, it was hard to feel much better. “Does Peyton know about Virgil?”
There was a slight hesitation. “No. That’s why she’s not making this call. Rex said not to tell her until…until we know whether or not Virgil’s going to make it.”
Laurel dropped her head in her hand. “How’d it happen?”
“I don’t have any of the details. I just know that Rex wants to speak to you. His phone was damaged when your brother was injured, so he called me from the hospital.”
She brought her knees up so she could wrap her free arm around them. “Rex wasn’t hurt?”
“No. But he would’ve been if his phone hadn’t been in his pocket.”
“Why’d he go to L.A.?”
“I think you should ask him that question. He just checked in with me to see if you’d called here. I told him I didn’t know if you were still at this number, but I’d give it a try.”
“I see. Thank you,” she said weakly, and hung up.
Myles sat with the sheet draped across his lower half. “What is it? Are the kids okay?”
“They’re fine.”
His face creased with concern as he took her hand and kissed her fingers. “Then what’s wrong?”
“It’s my brother.”
When the page came, Rex hurried to the information desk, where he identified himself and a nurse smiled politely while handing him a phone.
“Hello?” The cord kept him in one spot, but he turned so he could speak with a modicum of privacy.
“It’s me.”
Laurel. Tears threatened when he heard her voice, even though he hadn’t cried since he was a kid. She was alive; he’d made the right choice. “God, it’s great to hear from you.”
“I could say the same. You okay?”
“I’ve been better.” He was so sick, so strung out. He hadn’t been sure he could last as long as he needed to, and yet he’d made it—made it here, anyway. Each minute, each hour, proved to be a new challenge, but he felt good about all the minutes and hours he’d conquered so far. Now he clung to the hope that his presence and prayers might somehow make a difference to Virgil while the doctors operated. When he’d walked out of the emergency room in Buffalo all those hours ago, intending to buy whatever OxyContin he needed to get rid of the pain in his head and his joints and the terrible cramping in his stomach, he’d remembered the trip to Libby. Remembered driving the last part of the way holding Laurel’s hand and feeling so at peace. That was what had made him realize that if he went back on the pills he’d never escape them. He couldn’t relapse even once. Ever. For any reason. So instead of doping up, he’d paid his dealer to take him to the airport, and then he’d had to make one of the most difficult decisions of his life.