Chapter 2
The armored door slammed shut, cutting off the noise of the garage.
The privacy glass rose between us and the driver.
Through the tinted partition, I could see the back of Sabine's head in the passenger seat.
She was already typing on her phone.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked as the SUV climbed the concrete ramp into the blinding Nevada sun.
"Copperglass Wash," Adrian said.
I knew the name.
I had managed a six-week shoot there three years ago.
"You're leaving me at an abandoned movie set?"
"For eight hours."
I sat as far from him as the seat belt allowed, my left wrist still throbbing where his fingers had dug into the bone.
"And when the eight hours are over," I said, keeping my voice level, "will you finally have someone examine the audio file? Or is this just how you keep a wife?"
Adrian didn't look at me.
He watched the desert blur past his window.
"Grant's widow learned three hours ago that she'll be burying her husband, Taryn. Don't make this about our marriage."
"Sabine made it about our marriage the second she handed you that lease," I fired back.
He finally turned his head.
His eyes were cold, stripped of the patience he usually reserved for me.
"You needed cash to disappear," Adrian said, his voice low and perfectly even. "A rival crew needed that transport route. You signed a lease in Fallon the exact same day the schedule was leaked. If you weren't my wife, you wouldn't be breathing right now."
"I took my own savings. I didn't sell your route."
"You hid a life from me."
"Because you wouldn't let me leave!" My voice cracked, echoing sharply in the confined space of the cab.
I forced myself to lower it, refusing to let him hear me panic.
"I asked you for a divorce, Adrian. You doubled my security detail. You put men outside my office. You made it impossible for me to walk away cleanly, and now you're punishing me for trying."
"I am punishing you for two dead men," Adrian said.
"You're punishing me because I was going to leave without your permission."
Adrian held my gaze for a long time.
The faint hum of the air conditioning was the only sound in the car.
"To me, right now," he said, "they are the exact same thing."
I turned my head away, pressing the side of my face against the cool glass of the window.
He had finally said it aloud.
Grant's death and my attempt to leave were the same offense because both took something from him.
The buildings thinned behind us.
Then the traffic lights disappeared.
The highway narrowed to two lanes, running between pale flats and low brown ridges.
There were no houses now.
No gas stations.
Nothing tall enough to cast shade over a person.
The smooth asphalt of the highway gave way to a rough dirt road.
I recognized the jagged ridgeline in the distance.
Copperglass Wash sat on a massive, dry lake bed, miles from any paved intersection.
The SUV came to a halt.
The two SUVs behind us kept their engines running.
Adrian opened his door.
Heat came from two directions.
The sun burned the top of my head while the white lake bed threw it back through the soles of my work boots.
I kept the sleeves of my pale blue cotton shirt buttoned over my wrists.
Bare skin would burn faster.
The white ground threw the noon glare straight into my eyes, making them water instantly.
The mountains looked close enough to walk to.
From my old location maps, I knew the nearest ridge was miles away.
Out here, distance lied before people did.
Behind our SUV, a door opened.
Ruben, one of the drivers who had helped me carry folding chairs into my garage last Thanksgiving, stepped out.
He didn't look at me.
He walked to the rear of the truck, pulled two large blue water jugs from the cargo space, and set them down in the white dust.
Then he turned and got back into his vehicle.
Sabine stepped out of the front passenger seat.
She walked over to the jugs, carrying a yellow satellite phone and a small black timer.
She placed the phone carefully on top of the first jug, then set the timer beside it.
The digital screen read 08:00:00.
Sabine pressed the button on the top.
08:00:00 became 07:59:59.
Sabine turned and walked back to the SUV.
Before she pulled her door shut, she looked at the timer once.
She never looked at me.
Adrian stepped around the rear of the vehicle and stopped in front of the supplies.
He didn't pick up the phone to check it.
He trusted the woman who had set it there.
"It's charged," Adrian said. "It calls one number. Mine."
He looked up, meeting my eyes through the harsh glare of the sun.
"If you're ready to tell me the truth before the timer reaches zero, press the call button," he told me. "Otherwise, a car will come for you when the time is up."
Two jugs. A phone. A car returning in eight hours.
He meant to frighten me, not kill me.
The distinction didn't make him merciful.
I stood my ground, refusing to look down at the ticking screen.
"And when the car comes back," I asked, my voice dry. "What happens if I still say I didn't do it?"
Adrian stepped toward the SUV.
"Eight hours from now," he said, "tell me if you still want the divorce."
He climbed into the back of the SUV and pulled the heavy armored door shut.
I stood in the blinding white glare and watched the three black vehicles turn around and disappear behind the ridge.
The rumble of the heavy engines faded, swallowed by the vast, empty basin.
When the dust finally settled, there was nothing left but the sound of the wind rushing through the dry scrub.
Pale dust had already settled across the toes of my boots and the hem of my jeans.
I was completely alone.