The rain started before I reached the cold store, thin enough at first to look like dust against the windshield. Leon had told me to watch and wait. I intended to obey until I saw the loading door open. The vehicle backed there before dawn was a gray panel van, its rear doors now spread wide. Sutter stood beside it. Behind him came Ruth Bell, walking stiffly with one hand against the wall. I stopped the pickup short of my agreed waiting place.
Daniel followed her into view. Even through the rain I knew the way he held his head, chin forward as if he could argue his body into moving faster. Sutter caught his upper arm when he paused. Another man waited beside the van, looking toward the road. I lowered myself behind the steering wheel, then felt ashamed of hiding while Daniel climbed inside. Shame was no plan. I stayed down until the doors closed and the engine started. Leon had not yet arrived.
I had agreed to leave a sign if I moved, a scrap under the pickup's wiper where Leon would look. Now the pickup itself had to go with me. I had no telephone close enough to use without losing the van, and no passenger to leave behind. I could wait and lead Leon to an empty building, or follow with nobody knowing where I went. When the gray vehicle reached the gate, I turned the ignition. My injured shoulder tightened as I put the truck into gear.
For the first few miles, keeping it in sight was easy. Rain thickened, and drivers slowed. The van's dull shape moved ahead of a station wagon with a mattress tied on top. At a traffic light I glimpsed Sutter through the van's side window. He was driving. I stayed where I was when the station wagon turned away, leaving too much open road between us. I did not know whether he had seen me at the cold store, the landing, or now. I only knew he expected resistance.
A freight truck had stalled beyond the next intersection, half across the lane. The van squeezed past before opposing traffic closed the gap. I stopped behind a delivery car while rain drummed on the roof. The driver ahead leaned out and shouted at the stalled truck's cab. I could no longer see the van. My foot pressed the clutch until my leg shook. I had lost enough time seeking permission from important men. Now ordinary traffic was taking what remained, one useless minute at a time.
When the lane cleared, I drove through standing water and reached the next crossing without seeing gray ahead of me. To the left lay the highway; to the right, the freight district where Mercer still rented space. I slowed, searching both ways. Then a pale rectangle moved beyond the low roofs to my right. It might have been the van or any delivery truck in Biloxi. I turned after it. A horn sounded behind me. I kept going, feeling less like a pursuer than a man choosing which mistake to survive.
The freight road narrowed beside a drainage strip. Around a bend, a closed gate blocked the lane I had expected to use. I tried to turn in a broad patch of bare ground rather than reverse the length of the road. The pickup's rear wheels sank. I eased forward; the tires spun and the truck settled deeper. Mud slapped beneath the bed. Through the windshield I could see distant warehouse roofs and nothing moving. I stopped before I buried it farther, though stopping changed nothing.
I got out into ankle-deep muck. My bad arm would not let me push, and there was nobody to steer if it had. I took the boat money from the glove compartment, then the work bag I had brought from Mercer's door. Its weight pulled my shoulder until I dropped it back on the seat. I kept only my raincoat. The truck leaned in the soft ground with its nose pointed toward the road, almost useful. I left the keys and walked away from the last dependable possession I had.
Beyond the drainage strip stood a freight annex I knew from years of hauling rejected loads. The pale vehicle could have reached it from the other road. That was not knowledge, only a reason to keep moving. I crossed a weeded lot, slipped on broken brick, and caught myself against a wall with my sore hand. The bandage darkened again. Rain ran inside my collar. At the annex corner I heard an engine idle, then stop. I eased forward until the loading apron came into view.
The gray van stood there with its doors open. Ruth was already beyond my sight. I pressed myself against the brick, breathing through my mouth, too late to get help and too close to leave. Sutter stepped down backward, one hand reaching into the van. Daniel appeared behind him, his foot catching the edge of the floor. I started forward before stopping myself against the wall. Across the apron, Daniel stumbled through the annex door under Sutter's hand.