The Duplicate

Chapter Twenty-six

A semi-truck stretches along beside us, gaining the lead, easing back unsure, then finally deciding to throttle forward. I watch its How's my driving? bumper sticker until it is in our lane and so far ahead I can no longer read it.

"I've been thinking." The words have been dangling on my tongue a long time as I've considered and reconsidered voicing them. Now they sound too rehearsed when I finally do speak. I look over at Dax.

He clutches the steering wheel, hands in nine and three position. Not once has he allowed the speedometer to go over fifty miles an hour, which is five miles under the speed limit. He cautiously takes his attention off the road to glance aside at me. "Oh? About what?"

"Whether or not he'll behave."

Acting on instinct, Dax quickly straightens in his heated leather seat to peek into the rearview mirror. But there's no need to worry. I've already taken a glance over my shoulder just seconds ago. And Trip is dead to the world in the backseat. Head tilted forward, dark rimmed eyes finally closed, breathing calm and deep, he would have looked peaceful enough, almost child-like—like a kid on his way home from an eventful day at the park—that is, if I hadn't seen him wedge his pistol between the door and his seat. His hand rests on leather, in snatching distance.

"Finally," Dax whispers, settling back. "If he fell into a coma I wouldn't be surprised. Then again... maybe he's used to running on fumes."

"He might be."

"Geez, what did Government do? Teach him everything he needed to know to escape them? Not exactly the brightest idea."

I know what he means. Following Trip around the parking garage felt like walking a car lot looking to buy. All it took was for Dax to slow to a stop and give an impressed whistle at the black BMW sitting lonely in a corner. A moment later, Trip was picking the lock with the paper clip I found at the bottom of my purse.

It took thirty seconds to get the door open and to shut off the alarm, and moving smoothly, systematically, as if he'd done it a million times before, Trip had found and disabled the kill-switch, disconnected the built-in GPS's tracking system, and hot-wired the car—all in under a minute. Dax, who I'm sure saw it as a grander form of hacking, watched the whole thing with newly kindled admiration in his eyes. And I admit it; no matter how many times I tried to remind myself I was witnessing as well as assisting grand theft, I too couldn't help watch Trip with a queasy sort of awe. Even after seeing him kill, it wasn't until right then, as I watched Trip rev the engine to life, that I knew just how right Dax was. Knowing everything Trip is capable of, Government must really be scared out of their minds.

Me and Dax, on the other hand, are lucky. Paradoxically.

Following a brief pause, possibly entertaining the same thoughts, Dax finally says, "I'm sure he'll behave, by the way."

Sighing, I adjust my seat belt so it isn't digging into my neck. "I don't know."

"I think he can be civil."

"I know he can. He can put on a show. I've seen him do it before."

"Well, there you go."

"But it's only to get what he wants. If he thinks it will be easier to hold a gun to your friend's head to get her to cooperate, he'll do it. And if he thinks she'll pose a threat..."

"I'm not worried about that."

"I am."

"I thought you agreed going to Aubrey's sounded like a good idea back there."

"I said it was our only option."

"Oh come on, Eve. It'll be okay." Dax sounds so sure. He even smiles. "Besides, maybe this will be, I don't know... good for him. You know, being away from the City, being some place..." For a moment he struggles to find the right word, glancing up at the sky through the sunroof. He settles with, "Homey."