My Sister's Keeper

Chapter 37

37

SYDNEY DROVE SLOWLY up the beach highway as she and Martha scrutinized the houses along the oceanfront looking for Richard's bike. Cars backed up behind them and gunned around them when opportunities arose.

"It's got to be somewhere along here," Martha whispered. "It's not much farther to the end of the road."

An impatient driver pulled out to pass just as a pair of headlights up the road turned onto the highway facing them. But instead of pulling back in behind her, the car sped up in an effort to get around her and abruptly veered to the right cutting them off. Jerking the wheel to the right, Sydney locked the brakes, her van skidding off the highway bouncing to a stop in deep sand as the two opposing cars continued on, as though nothing had happened.

Sydney whispered, "You okay?"

Pulling on the handle above her door, Martha winced. "I think so."

Restarting the engine, Sydney tried to move the van, but the rear tires spun freely in the loose sand.

Martha pointed out the windshield. "Hello. Could that be it?"

With her foot off the gas Sydney surveyed the three-story house sitting high above the sand just up the road. "See any sign of Richard?"

"That's got to be the place. Pull up so we can get a better look."

Sydney pressed the gas and again the rear tires spun freely in the loose sand. "Haven't you noticed? We're stuck!"

"Okay, let's not worry about that right now. You need to find Richard and whatever else you can about this house. Names, addresses, license numbers, phone numbers—"

"Me? What do you want me to do, break in?"

Martha sighed. "Sydney, I swear. One of us has to do it. It's you or me."

Sydney pressed her foot on and off the gas pedal, rocking the van back and forth. "No...no..."

Martha unbuckled her seatbelt. "Then I'm going in. I just need a little help getting into that chair."

Sydney banged her palms against the steering wheel. "Wait! Please!"

"Somebody in that house shoved me off a platform paralyzing me for life, and now, something's happened to Richie. One of us has to go in."

"Give me a second. Let me think!"

"If you get caught, you can tell them we got stuck in the sand and you're looking for somebody to help get us out."

"You think they'll fall for that?"

"Well, I'm not leaving without something. The house number. License plate numbers. Something! And Richie could be in there!"

"Okay! Okay!" Sydney turned the key and the engine stopped. She grabbed a pad and pencil from her purse, took a few slow deep breaths, then trudged across a wide stretch of deep sand, crouching on her hands and knees as she approached the brightly-lit house.

With a steady wind whipping at her hair and pelting her skin with sand, she lurked in thick sea oats searching for the house number. Failing to find it, she sprinted up under the house to the rear of the only vehicle there—a black Cadillac Escalade—and with trembling hands scribbled the South Carolina license number in her notepad.

Peering in a window, she spotted an envelope on the front seat, squeezed the door handle, and—just as the catch released—heard voices and footsteps coming down the stairs. With her heart pounding the walls of her chest, Sydney leapt into the darkness under the front stairway and flattened herself behind a row of small bushes as two men appeared on the stairs carrying open cardboard boxes. As they placed them in the vehicle's trunk, the wind peeled away several loose papers and jammed them in the shrubbery around Sydney.

"I get 'em," one said with a Latino accent.

"Aye'll get them," the other man insisted. "You get the shovels."

"Sí."

As the Latino crossed to a utility room within five feet of Sydney, the other rounded up the loose papers tangled in the bushes. Pressing back farther into the darkness, she tensed, ready to bolt if she was discovered. As the man drew closer and reached for a sheet of newspaper that had caught on Sydney's heel, she shook her foot and the page sailed away tumbling across the empty lot next door.

"I get it," the Latino said sliding two shovels into the rear of the car.

"Forget it. Let's go."

The men closed the back of the vehicle, got in, and cranked the engine. As they pulled away and headed down the highway, Sydney grabbed her notepad and ran for the van, snatching the loose section of newspaper from the dune fence next door on the way. Jumping into the driver's seat, she tossed the pad and newspaper to Martha, burst into tears, and started the van.

"What happened?"

"I wet my damned pants!"

"Did you really?"

"They came out while I was there." Sydney jammed the gearshift into drive and floored the gas pedal. The engine raced, but the vehicle only moved slightly.

Martha held up the newspaper. "What's this?"

"They were putting some boxes in the trunk and some things blew out!"

"This is it? This is all you got?"

Sydney pumped the gas pedal and rocked the van back and forth. "And the license number of the car that just left."

"Okay! That's more like it!"

With smoke rising from the spinning rear tires, the back of the van slowly drifted toward the road. "Come on-n-n!" Sydney screamed holding the pedal against the floor. "One of them walked right by me to get a pair of shovels."

"Shovels?"

"He put them in the trunk with the two cardboard boxes."

"My God! They're going to bury whatever's in those boxes."

"It was just a bunch of papers. Some of it blew out including that piece of newspaper."

"We've got to follow them!"

"Haven't you noticed? We're stuck!"

"Floor it!"

Sydney jammed the gas pedal against the floor again and held it there while the two of them rocked back and forth in their seats, nudging the van forward as smoke from the spinning tires drifted across the road. When headlights appeared up the highway coming toward them, Sydney turned on the vehicle's lights, but kept her foot on the gas. Back and forth they rocked as the car drew nearer. Suddenly, the rear tires found solid ground and the van lurched onto the highway directly into the path of the approaching vehicle.

"Shit!" Martha cried clutching the door handle as the oncoming car braked and skidded past them with its horn blaring.

"Sorry," Sydney said, correcting the van with the steering wheel as it fishtailed across the highway. "I was afraid it would do that."

Martha laid her head back against the seat and exhaled. "Forget the car. Let's just go see what we can find out about this license plate number."