The Highway Page 11

  He closed his eyes. He had nothing to say.

  Finally, after a moment, Justin said, “Mom? Can we please do this later?”

  Cody thought that if Justin were close enough he’d kiss him. Jenny was protective of Justin—Cody thought unnecessarily so—and on the very rare instances where their son was upset Jenny got the long knives out to protect her child. Even from Cody. And from her own justified anger.

  Justin said, “Those two girls are out there somewhere.”

  Cody sheepishly looked up at his ex-wife. Jenny seemed to be conflicted what her course of action should be.

  Cassie surprised him by saying, “Mrs. Hoyt, for what it’s worth, the second Justin showed up Cody stopped drinking. I know because I was there.”

  “How sweet of you,” Jenny said acidly.

  “It’s my fault all of this happened,” Cassie said. “I really feel responsible.”

  Jenny said, “It must have been hard pouring drinks down his throat.”

  “Mom, please,” Justin said.

  Cody took a deep breath and said to Jenny, “Let me see if I can figure out where these girls are. You could help me out by making some coffee.”

  Jenny finally nodded, and turned on her heel for the kitchen. Then she stopped short, and said to Cody, “Justin said it’s been hours since those Sullivan girls texted or called. You know how it is with these kids, Cody. They’re never not texting each other. I’m afraid something has happened to them.”

  I’m afraid something has happened to them. The words hung there. They weren’t unfamiliar to Cody. He’d heard them countless times from the other side of his desk at the sheriff’s department from husbands and wives, boyfriends and girlfriends. People always assumed the worst when a loved one was missing. Sometimes, they were right.

  Cody nodded and mounted the stairs to the living room. He was drunk but the immediacy of the situation seemed to have sobered him some. His head hurt—one of the signs that either the hangover would start to kick in or he’d need another drink to stave it off. There was no alcohol in the house. Jenny made sure of it. And he knew he’d cleaned out all of his hiding places two years before.

  He grabbed a hardwood chair from the table in the kitchen, carried it over to where Justin was on the couch, and swung it around and sat down so he could face his son. He motioned for Cassie to come and sit next to Justin.

  “Before we panic,” Cody said, “let’s review the situation and get all the facts in order so we can do the right thing and not waste anyone’s time. Justin, when was the last text from Danielle?”

  “A few hours ago.”

  “When exactly?”

  Justin looked up blankly.

  “Look at your phone,” Cody said, trying to remain patient. “Check the log.”

  His son started scrolling. Finally, he said, “The last text from her was at eight twenty-seven. She said they were in Yellowstone Park.”

  “Where exactly? It’s a big place.”

  “She didn’t say.”

  Cody squinted and sat back. “Why in the hell were they in Yellowstone?”

  “There was a roadblock or something on I-90,” Justin said. “I looked at the map and figured out how they could go around it and get back on the interstate past the roadblock.”

  “Yellowstone?” Cody asked again. “You had them go back there?”

  “Dad,” Justin said, “I didn’t make them do anything. They wanted to get here as fast as they could and it looked like the best alternative route. That’s all.”

  “I wonder if it creeped them out,” Cody speculated. “Maybe they got into the park and everything they went through before came rushing back so they freaked out and turned around and went home.”

  “No,” Justin said, shaking his head. “They were fine with it. They’re not like that. You should know them better than that.”

  “Well, I don’t,” Cody said. “I met them that one time and we didn’t exactly have a get-to-know-you chat. Gracie was all right, but her sister—”

  “Her sister what?” Justin asked, his voice cracking.

  “She just seemed kind of, well, unserious.” Cody said.

  “She’s my girlfriend, Dad,” Justin said. “But I wanted to break up with her. She seemed to know that and wanted to come up here and talk me out of it, I’m sure. There is no way she’d just turn around and go home without telling me.”

  “Let’s start over,” Cody said, shooting his sleeve and looking at his wristwatch. “Okay, so you last heard from her at 8:27. It’s 10:15 right now. That means she’s been in radio-free Montana for one hour, forty-five minutes or so. Son, I know that seems like forever to you but it’s really not very long. You know the cell service in the park is awful and it cuts in and out all the way up to Gardiner, if that’s the way she was coming.”

  “That’s the route we talked about,” Justin said. “But she should have been well past that by now. She should be back on the interstate less than an hour from here. I did the math.”

  Cody paused for a moment to do it himself. “Okay, you’re right if she didn’t get held up somehow,” he said. “And that’s a big if.

  “Think about it,” Cody said, “They could have made a wrong turn.”

  “Maybe,” Justin said. “But they said they had a GPS.”

  “Okay, but who knows—maybe there was road construction in the park. There is always road construction going on in there and they never seem to get it done. Maybe—”

  “I checked the Yellowstone Web site,” Justin said, shaking his head. “They have all the road alerts posted. There’s some construction way south of Mammoth down by Old Faithful, but that’s only in the summer.”

  “Maybe they ran out of gas.”

  “Then by now they should have found some and been back on the road,” Justin said, his jaw set.

  “There are so many possible reasons why they haven’t called,” Cody said. “Their phones may have run out of juice and they forgot to bring a charger—like you do all the time. A cell tower could have gone down, or there might be a service interruption. Maybe they hit an animal. Or, God forbid, got in an accident. That’s certainly possible.”

  Justin shook his head. “But it doesn’t make sense, Dad. I called both their numbers and they refused the calls. They didn’t go to voice mail. It was like they saw my name and refused the call.”

  “That is strange,” Cassie said. Cody had practically forgotten about her.

  He said, “But who knows? It could have been a problem with the cell service. They’re probably just broken down or something.”

  Justin closed his eyes. “In that case, someone should know about it. Wouldn’t a wreck have been reported by now?”

  “Maybe,” Cody said. “But those roads are remote and the place is under the jurisdiction of the National Park Service. The feds do things their own way. Not a lot of people travel through Yellowstone this late in the fall. It would be possible to have an accident and not get help for a couple of hours.”

  “Which means,” Jenny cut in as she returned from the kitchen, “those girls might be hurt. And if that’s the case, we need to find out where they are and let their parents know what’s going on.”

  Cody asked, “Do you know if they were in touch with their mom in Colorado?”

  And, if possible, Justin’s face turned even whiter than it had before.

  * * *

  “What the hell do you mean she doesn’t know?” Cody shouted.

  “It was Danielle’s decision not to tell her,” Justin said, staring at his shoes. “She lied and said they were driving to Nebraska to be with their dad for Thanksgiving.”

  “Ted?” Cody said, “Ted is in on this?” He recalled Ted Sullivan with distaste. But as soon as he said it he wasn’t surprised. He said to Cassie, “Ted Sullivan is a pain in the ass. He thinks the way to be a father is to be best buddies with his kids and let them do whatever the hell they want so they’ll like him, even though that almost got them killed before.”
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  “Justin,” Jenny said, “I can’t believe you went along with this. How are we supposed to call Danielle’s mother and tell her we don’t know where her daughters are?”

  “I know,” Justin whispered.

  “But we’ve got to call her,” Cody said. “And maybe, just maybe, she’s heard from them. And what about Ted? Do you think he’s been in contact with them?”

  Justin shrugged.

  “What a mess,” Cody said, sitting back in the chair. His headache was getting worse.

  “Cody,” Jenny said, “What are we going to do?”

  He rubbed his eyes. “First, I need a couple of ibuprofen. Then I’ll call the highway patrol,” Cody said. “I’ll find out from the dispatcher if anybody has reported an accident or a breakdown between Gardiner and Bozeman. If not, I’ll try to raise somebody in law enforcement in the park to see if they know anything.”

  “And if they didn’t?” Jenny asked.

  “I’ll put the word out to start looking for them. Justin, what kind of car is she driving?”

  Justin said, “It’s a little red Ford Focus. I don’t know the year but it’s used.”

  “Do you know the license plate number by any chance?”

  “P-L-N-T-D-N-L.”

  Cody wrote it down on the palm of his hand. “What does that mean?” he asked.

  Justin smiled a little when he said, “Planet Danielle.”

  “Planet Danielle,” Cody repeated, shaking his aching head.

  * * *

  While Cody downed five ibuprofen tablets in the kitchen he felt a presence behind him. Expecting Jenny, he turned so she could let him have it. He was surprised to find Cassie.

  “Let me help you with this,” she said.

  He waved her away. “What is it you propose to do?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. But it’s the least I can do.”

  “That’s true. But I’m not even sure what you could do at this point.”

  “Then let me know when you figure something out,” she said.

  “Run out and get me a bottle of Wild Turkey,” he said.

  “Except that.”

  19.

  9:35 P.M., Tuesday, November 20

  GRACIE ROLLED OVER AND FELT like throwing up but she couldn’t open her mouth because it was taped shut. She knew if she got sick she could choke to death. In a primal reaction, her eyes bulged wide as she tried to control the rising waves of nausea. Her belly heaved but she fought against it, willing herself to stay calm, willing her body to try not to expel what was inside her stomach. Although she was conscious she couldn’t see a thing. Was she blindfolded as well? If so, she couldn’t feel the blindfold.

  Although she couldn’t see, she had the impression she was in a long dark metal cylinder of some kind. It was dark and cold and the ground was pitching and she thought, I’m in a spaceship. The steel floor trembled and shook, it smelled of sawdust and varnish. She tried to reach out to push herself to her hands and knees but her limbs wouldn’t respond. Her stomach ached and splashes of color and sound swirled behind her eyes until she closed them again. She managed to roll to the side until her progress was stopped by something long, still, and stiff. It gave a little under the pressure from her body and she thought she felt the knob of a knee or an elbow in her ribs.

  She scooted back, then rolled again toward the object so she was on her side facing it. She used the crown of her head to poke at the object to try and determine what it was. The middle was stiff but elastic. Further up was a soft rise—breasts—and she could make out the jut of a chin and then a brow. But the object didn’t move or breathe and the crackling and rustling sound she heard meant it was covered in some kind of plastic. The realization overcame her: Her sister was dead and cloaked in plastic sheeting.

  Instinctively, Gracie scrambled away, inadvertently kicking the body. She was horrified and couldn’t process what she’d found.

  Her progress was stopped by another object. It took her a moment to realize that the body now pressing against her back was heavy, warm, and still.

  Danielle. She recognized her sister by her scent. But unlike the other body, Danielle was surely alive if still under. Gracie snuggled against her sister, spooning with her in reverse, feeling the warmth against her back and hearing slow, labored breathing.

  She tried not to think of the other body but she wondered who it had been and why it was there.

  * * *

  Gracie tried to remember what had happened but it came in erratic bolts of mental videotape: the blinding headlights of the big truck pulling in behind them, the flash of pure white clothing as the driver, who appeared as a silhouette framed by the high headlights, had swarmed her, locking her head in the crook of his arm, and the sharp bite of a needle in her thigh. Locking up, feeling her consciousness fade away, impulses in her brain misfiring …

  Then nothing, and even now she wasn’t sure if she was awake or dreaming or in some kind of state in between.

  Gracie tried to say, “Danielle?” to the body beside her but her voice was muffled. She realized her hands were bound behind her back and her ankles were tied or taped together as well.

  She bent her head back and thrust out her chin, still fighting the nausea, and felt an edge of the tape near her jawbone come loose. Pinpricks of sweat broke across her scalp and forehead as she tried to hold it in. Then, by dropping her chin to her chest and catching the loose adhesive of the free corner of the tape to her collar, she was able to wrench her head to the left and tear more of the tape from her mouth. Her lips felt suddenly cool from being exposed to air, and she wretched, emptying the contents of her stomach on the steel floor until there was nothing left.

  Then she wiped her mouth the best she could by rubbing it against the clothing on her shoulder, and leaned in closer to her sister and said, “Danielle?”

  Her sister didn’t respond. She breathed in the smell of Danielle’s hair, and closed her eyes and burrowed through the thick dark hair until her chin was against her sister’s throat. She could feel a slow pulse beneath Danielle’s skin and the swell of her sister’s breasts as she breathed.

  “Thank God,” she whispered. Then, to Danielle: “Wake up, Danny. Please wake up.”

  But despite her pleading, Danielle didn’t stir or open her eyes.

  That’s when she heard a squeal beneath the floor of the room—the squeal of brakes.

  They were in the trailer of the truck, and it was moving. She had no idea how long they’d been there or when the ride would be over.

  The smell of her own vomit joined with the sawdust and varnish and cold stagnant air inside the container. Whatever was in the syringe was taking hold of her again, pulling her down, and she felt herself swoon. There was some comfort when she closed her eyes again, and she knew she wouldn’t last very long before she passed out again.

  20.

  10:59 P.M. Tuesday, November 20

  CODY’S CELL PHONE LIT UP and he snatched it up from his home office desk and looked at the display: dispatch calling back.

  “Edna,” he said, “Tell me something good.”

  “Everybody always asks me that,” she said, “and I always let them down.”

  He frowned. His head was pounding. The ibuprofen had done no good. Every cell in his body screamed, More alcohol! at him—a familiar feeling. He idly wondered what proof was listed on the bottle of Listerine in the bathroom.

  Cassie was in the kitchen with Jenny. He had no doubt they were talking about him, since he was probably the only thing they had in common.

  Edna was the senior dispatcher at the L&C Sheriff’s Department and she’d only recently given up trying to marry Cody off to someone—anyone—to complete one of her life goals. She hated the idea of single cops in the department, and she claimed she’d played matchmaker to eighteen relationships over the years. Of those, half were still married. Cody was grateful Jenny had come home for many reasons, but getting Edna off his back was an unexpected bonus.

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nbsp; “I checked with state dispatch as well as the NPS emergency center in the park,” she said. “There are no reports of accidents involving a car of that description either on state highways or in Yellowstone. I asked the troopers at the I-90 roadblock to look for a car of that description and we’re waiting for a callback.”

  “Crap,” Cody said.

  Edna said, “Of course, that doesn’t mean they’re not out there somewhere, but no one has called it in.”

  Cody said, “That includes the Beartooth Highway, the road in Yellowstone from Cooke City to Mammoth, and Mammoth to Livingston?”

  “You don’t have to repeat it,” she said. “I got it the first time. No one has called anything in on a red Ford Focus with Colorado plates.”

  “Damn,” he said, leaning back in his chair. He’d been checking on his computer to monitor the roadblock on I-90—the Montana Department of Transportation site still said the road was closed. That was good because it isolated hundreds of westbound vehicles in one place and if the girls were stopped in traffic they’d be located. But the odds weren’t good, since Justin said they’d taken the alternative route.

  “We need to put out an alert on that vehicle,” Cody said. “Let everybody know to keep a lookout and call you if they find it. Let the Wyoming folks and the Idaho folks know about it, too, just in case those girls really screwed up and went out another park entrance. Can you do that, Edna?”

  “Already done,” she said. “This isn’t my first rodeo, Cody.”

  “Here are the descriptions of the occupants of the car,” Cody said, giving Edna the details from memory.

  “One of them is your son’s girlfriend?” Edna asked.

  “Yes.” Then: “Sort of. Used to be.”

  He thought of something. “Edna, have there been any reports of cell phone outages? That could explain the lack of communication.”

  She said there had been no reports. Then she asked him to hold on for a moment, and he could hear the beeping of numbers being punched on a keypad, then Edna saying, “Just checking” to someone. She came back on the line and said, “I just called my sister Sally’s cell phone in Gardiner from my cell phone. It went right through.”