Headlights(34)

She throws herself back from the chair. Stumbles away from Garcia and the shadow. The photos scatter over the floor with a whoosh, the chair clattering as she backs up against the wall.

“Whoa, are you okay?” Garcia says.

“Who gave you this?” Hannah says.

“What?” Garcia says.

“This photograph. These photos. Who printed these out?”

“Frazier, you met her—”

“No. It wasn’t.” Hey eyes dart behind Garcia to the glass. “Who’s back there?” she says.

“No one. Maybe an agent or two, but I assure you, everyone is—”

“Do you hear that music?” Hannah closes her eyes, breathes, holds herself back against the wall. “No,” she says. “I can’t hear it again.”

Garcia says, “Are you sure you’re all right, we can—”

“This song. I heard it in the motel.”

“What song?”

“John Denver. You don’t hear it? What the fuck is happening?” Her words are frantic now, looking from Garcia to the shadow to us on the other side of the mirror. She squints at the glass. I know she can’t see through, of course she can’t. But if I didn’t know better, I’d swear …

That dizziness washes over me again, and I can’t breathe.

Garcia turns to see what Hannah is looking at, seems not to see us or anything else out of the ordinary, turns back to Hannah. “He was playing music in the motel?” Garcia asks.

“It … yeah,” Hannah says, keeping herself against the wall. “After he left,” she says. “When we were alone. The dead man, and me.”

“What was the music, did you know the song?”

“That John Denver song. You fill up my senses. That one. It played over and over again. I forgot, until now. Why are you playing it?”

Garcia says, “Hannah, can we get you—”

She looks to the shadow, then back to the glass. “I want to go,” she says.

“Um, yes. Just— Could you ever take us? To where you heard the twig snap. We could drive you to the trail, or if you want a place to stay down here while you recover, we can get you one.”

Hannah seems to take a long moment to comprehend what Garcia is asking.

“I’m going back to my cabin,” she says, with finality. “But you can drive me to the trailhead. Just you two.” She looks back to the glass again. As though she can see right to me.

Garcia says, “No problem. We can—”

“You really don’t hear that music?” Hannah says, and this time she’s imploring, begging.

“No,” Garcia says quietly, “It’s a lot of stress, and we’ve got resources, things we can—”

Hannah looks to Garcia, to the shadow, to the mirror glass again.

She closes her eyes, body seized up, her brow furrowed in pain.

One tear falls.





6



Do you hear that music?

I stand behind the one-way glass. Annie’s Song. The motel. Hannah, seeing the shadow. Hannah, hearing that song. Hannah Lawrence, touching the photos I held before Frazier took them in. Hannah Lawrence staring through the glass right at me. Someone played that song, in the motel. Someone fucking with me. Her?

Why?

I blink. I’m the last one in the room. They’ve all walked out after her. I shove myself up from my chair, throw myself out the door. She’s across the floor being escorted through the desks, headed toward the elevators.

Frazier hangs back, waiting for me. She eyes me, but doesn’t say anything.

I clear my throat, try to remember where I am. Hannah with Garcia, her location my only focus. “Can you do the hike?” I say to Frazier as we walk.

“Looks like it’s pretty close to one of the trailheads. Should be fine,” Frazier says.

“Okay. You’re sure.”

“Yeah. Feels worth it, anyway. With this.”

“What do you think?” I ask her, barely.

“I think this is all pretty fucking crazy.”

Hannah and Garcia step into an elevator. We cross the floor, wait for the next one. Step in, breathe, descend. Before we pass through the doors downstairs, I say to Frazier, “Take her to eat, if she’ll let you. Get her whatever she needs. We’ll need to talk to her again.”

And then … we’re outside.

And there she is. Her back to us. Slowly getting in the car.

Frazier and I walk toward them. I feel like I’m walking into a firefight. We’ve got Everett Brown detained, but without answers, we don’t know if anyone else will try to get to Hannah. She’s the only person brought into this who wasn’t one of the killers and who walked away. We need to protect her. And yet …

Do you hear that music?

Frazier steps to the passenger side. The windows roll down. Hannah’s head pushes out the window behind Frazier for fresh air. Claustrophobic before the motel, or just since? I stand at Garcia’s side. I don’t know where Jack and Tillman went. I don’t know anything.

“Make sure she gets to the cabin,” I say to Garcia, somehow. She looks me up and down. We’ve worked together for years, know each other well. “Please,” I say.