Hideout by Jack Heath (iphone ebook reader txt) 📕

As it happened, Richmond didn’t have to worry, because two hours later, the Hermann Park protest happened. A local congresswoman got on Facebook and announced a plan to ban semi-automatic weapons. The announcement was shared by the NRA and some far-right groups. Someone else announced that the congresswoman would be making a speech in Hermann Park, and suddenly the park was full of masked, gun-toting protestors. The congresswoman never showed up. She later claimed the initial Facebook post was fake and that she supported the second amendment.

The point is, the FBI’s resources were stretched too thin to chase an angry ex-husband who had been misclassified as a terrorist, which was why I was meeting Lynne at the diner. I was supposed to gently lower her expectations, with Richmond’s help. Richmond didn’t turn up.

‘Misclassified?’ Lynne said, angry now. ‘I survived two years of Rick’s domestic terrorism.’

The baby, who had been asleep in a carrier next to her chair, started crying. Lynne huffed and began unbuckling the straps.

‘I know,’ I said. ‘But the trail has gone cold.’

‘After two days?’

‘Yup.’ I’m not good at gently lowering expectations.

‘Look.’ With Joey on her lap, Lynne pulled a brown folder out of her backpack and slid it across the table. ‘There’s a photo of Rick, and some of his friends. Emails that I managed to print out before he deleted them.’

I opened the folder. There was Rick—thin, hollow-cheeked, with long hair, his face partly obscured by a baseball cap, sunglasses and a huge beard. ‘Is this the only picture you have?’

‘He took the others with him when he realised I’d gone to the police.’

‘I’m sorry.’ I pushed the folder back. ‘There’s nothing we can do.’

Lynne’s eyes narrowed. ‘Was there a point to this interview?’

Partly I was there because I was told to come. Partly it was my pathological need to know stuff. ‘I hoped that hearing the full story would provide context. That’s all.’

A beat. ‘Fine. I guess you can go.’ She took the folder back, exposed one breast, and helped Joey latch on to her nipple.

I was about Joey’s age, feeding on my mother when she was shot. Her blood trickled into my mouth and pushed my whole world out of orbit. Watching Joey drink was like seeing the moment it all went wrong. I wanted to tackle Lynne, to save her from the bullet. And to save myself from what I had since become.

But I couldn’t change the past. And maybe there was already something wrong with me, even before my mother died. I could have been wrong from the moment of conception.

Joey sucked happily, staring up at his mother. His father was a monster. How much of his destiny was already written in his DNA?

‘Do you think Rick will leave me alone now?’ Lynne was asking.

‘No,’ I told her. ‘Like you said, he loves Joey.’

She gritted her teeth. ‘He tried to blow Joey up.’

‘There were four shots, then he reloaded, then he fired one extra shot, then he left. He had three more in the magazine and he hadn’t hit the bomb yet. Why do you think he stopped shooting?’

‘Maybe he thought someone was about to spot him.’

‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘Or maybe he saw the baby in the back seat. You said Joey wasn’t supposed to be with you, right? That it was a last-minute thing.’

She put her face in her hands. ‘Oh God. What am I supposed to do?’

‘I was told to give you a list of websites that have good advice for managing a violent ex-partner.’

‘Websites.’

‘Yeah.’

Lynne stared down into her coffee cup. ‘So I’m supposed to spend my time on the internet, just waiting for him to show up and ruin my life again.’

Maybe I felt sorry for her. Or maybe I just hadn’t eaten lunch yet. But Richmond wasn’t there, so I took a risk.

‘Do you have a gun?’ I asked.

‘Yes,’ she said cautiously. ‘I bought it recently.’

It sounded like we were already thinking along the same lines. ‘Are you staying in Texas or going back to Delaware?’

‘I haven’t decided yet. Delaware might be safer, but I don’t want to lose my job.’

‘Rick may be less likely to find you in Delaware,’ I said. ‘But only slightly.’

I pulled out the list of websites and wrote a phone number at the bottom.

‘What’s that?’ she said. ‘A helpline?’

‘Kind of.’ I lowered my voice. ‘If you stay in Texas, and Rick shows up, are you willing to kill him?’

She just stared at me.

‘You have to decide now,’ I said. ‘You need to be ready to pull the trigger as soon as you see his face. You can’t rely on a self-defence scenario. If you wait for it to be him or you, it might be you.’

There was a pause.

‘I’m willing,’ she said, committing conspiracy to murder in one breath.

‘Well, if he shows up, and you do kill him, you can call that number.’

‘For a lawyer?’

‘You won’t need a lawyer,’ I said. ‘No one will ever know for sure that he’s dead.’

I gently put the package back in the vent and close the grille. This mixture, known as ammonal, isn’t supposed to explode if dropped, or hit with a hammer, or even touched by a lit match. Only a high-velocity bullet will ignite it, according to the pointy-heads at the FBI. But something tells me to be cautious.

The white crystals are ammonium nitrate and the grey powder is aluminium. The two substances are fairly safe unless mixed or stockpiled, which is why it’s legal to buy them in small amounts.

This isn’t a small amount. The package under my bed would be more than enough to set me on fire as I slept.

Except that can’t be the point of it. To set it