You have to keep her safe.
Ned drove all night, that first night.
Hannah had brought him a bag, a large duffel bag, with some of Nancy's clothes and the documents Ned had asked for. Carson had arranged for Ned to use a station wagon instead of his own car, and swiftly he put Nancy into the passenger seat and made sure she was buckled in. He stopped at a convenience store, glancing back at the car the entire time, keeping an eye on her, and bought energy drinks, power shots, caffeine, supplies.
He crashed, anyway. He couldn't help it. The adrenaline was powerful but it only lasted so long.
Along the way he learned that if he put a straw into Nancy's mouth, she might drink, but he had to tip her chin up so it wouldn't all fall out of her mouth. He could lead her around, slowly, carefully, by the hand, but it was like leading a sleepwalker. If he took her to a bathroom, she would use it, but he had to take care of cleaning her up—he was tentative, gentle about it, but she still tensed up, even while she was staring past him. She walked along obediently enough, blankly, and the knowing looks he got from cashiers and other late-night customers told him that they thought she was drugged out of her mind and he was helping her. Or taking advantage of her, Ned wasn't sure which. The bandages and horrendous bruises, and her cast, didn't help. The dirtier looks cast his way seemed to imply that he was probably responsible.
He wished he didn't feel that in some small way, he was.
If they ran into any kind of threat, he knew he would have to put her into a fireman's carry and run as fast as he could. She wasn't going to move any faster than that stolid lazy gait, and the wheelchair was awkward to maneuver.
He just had to get her somewhere, get her to a safe location so Carson could make arrangements. That was what got him through the first eight-hour stretch of the trip.
He pulled over to a rest area when he found himself drifting off, his eyes closing when he was going ten miles over the speed limit on the interstate. He backed into a slot near the edge of the lot, near some cover, and lifted the tailgate. A few old quilts were tossed back there.
Ned kept an eye out as he opened the passenger seat, lifted Nancy out of it, and put her in the back. He made sure the car was locked and hesitated for a moment before tucking a blanket over her, making sure she was out of plain view. He settled in beside her, not touching her, and for a second it was like tracking down a lead with her again. Like nothing had changed. But everything had.
"Try to get some rest," he whispered, and she didn't respond.
He didn't expect her to.
The prepaid cell—in his paranoia he had ditched his real cell with his car back home—rang when they were ten hours down the road.
"Anything happen?"
"I think we're good," Ned replied. "I haven't seen anyone obviously following us."
"How is she doing?"
"The same," Ned admitted, hoping Nancy's father wouldn't ask how thoroughly Ned was having to take care of her. He didn't look over at her when he answered. "So what's the plan?"
"I have a friend who has a cabin, across the border."
Carson had told Ned to head northwest. The border?
"Canada?"
"They would have to be really dedicated, to cross into another country after you," Carson said. "The closer you are to Chicago, the more soldiers they can send after you. Get her up there. I'll make some arrangements to relieve you in a few days. Go into the town and I'll wire some money for you—cash, untraceable. You know how to do this, Ned?"
"Yeah," Ned sighed. "I've... yeah, I've done this kind of thing a few times." But it had been before, on Nancy's cases, and none of them had felt quite as serious as this. Avoiding leaving a backtrail was tricky, especially now, but all he had to do was throw them off for a while.
Carson was quiet for a minute. "I can't thank you enough for this."
No, no you can't, Ned thought, and immediately felt guilty for it. He had made the choice to pick Nancy up and take her when they had been ambushed. It had been his choice, and no one else's.
Maybe she would wake up, before he left. Maybe he would be able to say he was sorry before he left her.
"It's not a problem, sir."
Carson snorted derisively. "It most definitely is. I'm just glad you were able to get her out of there. If you hadn't—"
"But I did," Ned said firmly. "Here, let me record the directions."
After he and Carson went over how to get to the cabin, and information for a few people Ned could contact for help along the way if he had need, Ned hung up the phone and chuckled a little to himself, but there was no humor behind it.
He had planned on leaving her behind. Now he would be with her constantly for at least the next few days.
The thought was fucking terrifying, when he let himself think about it, and he'd had nothing to do but think since this shit had started. He was trying hard to be three steps ahead of the people behind him, but it just kept pulsing in his head, to get her somewhere safe, somewhere safe, oh God, and if he lost her now after some stupid mistake—
He couldn't lose her now. He owed her that.
He glanced over at her.
Penance.
For what?
Ned snickered again. Well, that was great. His conscience had decided to torment him in her voice. "I was tired out and so tired and—worried," he said, knowing she couldn't hear him, wondering if she ever would again—
shut up, shut up, he told himself.
"And I was with—my girlfriend. She's... she's not even my girlfriend, not really, but... if I had just realized what that message meant..."
The guilt closed his throat for him. The fear and his guilt made him clamp his mouth shut, and he could feel it, and he had thought it would be better to say it out loud, but it didn't matter. What would it matter. Even if he actually heard her say that she forgave him, he was pretty sure that he never would forgive himself.
"I owe you this," he said, more quietly. "More than this. And..."
He didn't say the other words, the terrible words.
And then I can tell you goodbye.
His stomach rumbled, and Ned glanced down. "So," he said, trying to make his voice brighter. He kept a lookout for the next populated exit. "Hamburger? Hamburger sounds good, I think."
So did a milkshake. He remembered that Nancy liked strawberry milkshakes.
Remembering that made him feel worse.
Crossing the border was kind of a nightmare. By then Ned was starting to crash again—he would be so relieved once they finally crossed the threshold into that damn cabin—and he had run through a dozen scenarios, wondering what to tell the crossing officials. Hoping that their fake papers would pass muster. Hoping that anyone following them was lost by now.
Ned turned off the radio, rolled down the windows, and gave a perfunctory smile to the officer waiting at the head of the line. He handed over their papers and, as unobtrusively as he could, scrubbed his palms on his jeans. When the officer spoke to Nancy, Ned explained that she had a terrible migraine and had taken some strong painkillers. The officer asked what had happened, and Ned explained that she had been in a horrific car accident a few days before, and was lucky to be alive. He was taking her home to her family...
God, if only that were true.
If only someone was there waiting for her, someone who would be able to care for her. Someone better than him.
Ned breathed a thankful prayer when the guard returned their documents and waved him on. "Okay," he said, glancing over at Nancy, who was staring straight ahead again. "Okay. Not too much longer, Nan, okay? My ass is going numb, and—" he chuckled, "I think I'm getting punchy, and... I have to keep an eye on you, so we'll get some cute little two-bed hotel room and get some rest. Some real rest. Sounds good, huh?"
She was like a silent, living doll beside him. A doll who looked exactly like his ex-girlfriend. And while she was like this, there was no way for her to get into any trouble, because she wasn't doing a damn thing—
But she was in trouble anyway.
It came to him, in a rush, how awful Carson Drew had to be feeling now. His daughter had been beaten within an inch of her life, and God knew what else had happened to her—and men were after her, eager for her blood. Eager to capture their pawn again.
He started scrutinizing the cars behind them a little more thoroughly.
Beside him, Nancy's head drooped again.
She's getting worse.
The panic that had been thick in his throat rose again. No. No. But the idea had lingered, ever since he had put her into the car. In the ambulance that had been waiting for her, nurses had been ready to put her IVs back in, to make sure she was nourished, to take care of her. What if everything he was feeding her was bad for her? What if all the jostling had made her head injury worse...
Ned set his jaw. Well, what the fuck could he do about it, here? Check her into a damn hospital? Might as well put a target on her back again.
He slammed his palm on the steering wheel.
He had to ditch the American plates, get them somewhere safe. Get some rest. He couldn't even think straight. Then he would be able to figure out what to do.
He pulled off the road, into a large travel center with a family-style restaurant inside and a large crowded parking lot outside. Here, they would blend in easily with the other travelers. The cabin was in the middle of nowhere, though, and there would be no civilization to blend into. If they were still being followed, by then it would be all over.
That was just something else he couldn't think about.
Nancy's cheek was in shadow, her lashes low. Every time he looked at her face, the bruises shocked him again. So many times they had done this, driving for a case, switching off when one of them was too tired to continue. Back then she would stretch a little, smile at him, ask if they could stop for a coffee before she took over.
If only this was reversed. Nancy would handle this with her usual aplomb—
No. No. She would have stayed and fought, over him, past the point of sanity.
She will always be that way. The second she wakes up, she will be that way again.
Ned shook his head and took out his cell phone. He jotted down the contact information Carson had given him.
The first name was Simon Richards, and Ned was cautious with what he said until Simon said, "Carson told me you might be calling."
Ned sighed in relief. "I need to ditch these plates. Maybe get another car. Anything you can do?"
"Yeah. Definitely. Where exactly are you?"
Ned gave Simon the best directions he possibly could. "Look, I really appreciate this."
"Oh, it's fine," Simon said, shrugging it off. "Carson's a very old friend of mine, and I'm happy to do anything I can to help him or his daughter."
Simon arrived in a silver SUV with Canadian plates, and very quickly Ned helped him transfer everything over. Nancy was the last, and when Ned lifted her in his arms, she was warm, breathing. Was she too warm? Was she getting a fever?
Ned had to sleep. He had to sleep and give himself some time when he wasn't fucking worrying about all this. He felt like he was going to just lose it and start screaming, any second now—
And maybe, just maybe, he would go to sleep and wake up in his own bed and all this, fucking all of this, would just have been some insane dream.
He would cry in gratitude if that happened, he was sure.
Simon handed Ned an envelope, and when Ned looked inside, he wanted to return it, wanted to protest, but he hadn't reached the town yet, didn't have access to the money Carson would be sending him. "Thanks," Ned finally said, shaking his head. "I—we both appreciate it."
Simon smiled. He looked roughly Carson's age, maybe a few years younger, but he was dressed in jeans and flannel and workboots. He also looked like he would be able to give a bear a fair fight with his bare hands. "Just get her somewhere safe," Simon said, clapping his hand against Ned's shoulder a few times. "In fact, come to think of it, why don't you come to my house for the night. Least that way I can keep an eye on you."
Ned had to admit that the idea was appealing. Once he passed out, he wasn't sure he would easily wake again.
Simon was grinning when Ned looked up at him. "I wouldn't let you drive too much further tonight anyway," he commented. "You look beat, son. And like you need to caffeine detox."
Ned gave him a wan smile. "Well, one more coffee for the road won't hurt," he told Simon. "Look, again—thanks."
Ned turned up the heat as high as he could, once he had cranked the SUV. Once the sun went down, the air became bitterly cold, the wind biting. Nancy was slumped against her side of the car. Ned sighed and made sure she was buckled in before he followed Simon out of the parking lot.
A bed. A bed and safety. Maybe a good breakfast in the morning that he wouldn't have to wolf down while at the wheel, the car idling, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. He had been scrutinizing cars behind him for so long that even the valley girls with their white-rimmed sunglasses had started looking suspicious.
"Wonder if you ever met this Simon guy," Ned said, glancing over at Nancy. Her lips were a little parted. "He seems pretty legit, though. And this is a sweet car. Not as great as the Mustang, but it'll do."
Ned paused and had to blink fiercely to focus on the road in front of him. If he stopped talking, he was afraid that he would fall asleep again.
"Wonder how your dad met this guy," Ned continued, merging onto the highway behind their old station wagon. "He really doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who would be in a courtroom taking down miscreants. He looks like he keeps hunting dogs and maybe makes weapons in his spare time." Ned chuckled. "Not that your dad wouldn't hang out with guys like that.
"I should probably call him," Ned said with a sigh. "Just let him know what we're doing. You think that'd be good?" He glanced over at Nancy for the hell of it. "I hope he sends Hannah up here to be with you. Hannah and maybe an entire Special Forces squad or whatever. Lots of cute guys for you to flirt with. Maybe you'd wake up for that."
Ned felt himself flush a little as soon as he said it. Simon changed lanes and Ned followed, then carefully dialed Carson's number.
"Everything okay?" Carson asked.
"Going pretty well. We're going to stay with your friend for the night."
"Which friend?"
"The one who looks like he could take down a bear with both hands."
Carson chuckled. "Good. You'll be in good hands. Let me know when you're on the way in the morning—it shouldn't take you too long from there."
"Great," Ned said. "Good night, sir."
"Good night," Carson said, and then paused. Any other time he would've asked to talk to Nancy, then. Ned wondered, nonsensically, for a moment if he should hold the phone up to her ear, let her hear her father's voice. But obviously that hadn't helped in the hospital, and he tried to be optimistic about anything working now.
"He misses you," Ned said softly, after he had hung up the phone.
We miss you. I miss you.
Ned had to blink hard again; the taillights in front of him were all becoming indistinct red halos. "Asshole," Ned muttered, when a car swerved in front of him, cutting him off.
Then another car swooped in from the side, crowding the station wagon. Simon tried to speed up, but the station wagon had terrible acceleration.
Ned watched in almost numb horror as the two cars moved in tandem to force Simon off the road, and the station wagon plunged through the ditch on the side, heading straight toward a guardrail.
Simon slammed hard on the brakes, but it wasn't enough.
The car screamed to a juddering halt as it slammed head-on into the barrier.
