Andrew Gross - 15 Seconds

In the mart, I grabbed a hot dog and a coffee. I got on the cashier’s line.

There were two TV screens above the counter. One was a black-and-white security camera that showed who was coming in and out. I turned my face away. The other had on one of those courtroom reality shows. Judge Roy Brown. As I got to the front and dug in my pocket to pay, a breaking news flash interrupted the programming. A local announcer came on: “This just in… Dr. Henry Steadman, wanted in the shooting deaths of a Jacksonville Florida police officer and a local lawyer, was said to be spotted today right here in North Carolina, in the tiny town of Mount Holly, thirty miles east of Charlotte. News Four has received word that a chase did ensue with the police, and that shots were fired. There is no word of whether Steadman is in police custody. And there is said to be a female accomplice apprehended there as well. That’s all we have for you right now. More on this as it comes in…”

I saw my picture flash on the screen. The way I looked a week ago-longish hair, dark glasses, a broad smile. Carrie, apprehended? My heart sank. Though I knew they would only want her as a way to get to me.

I threw out a couple of bills for my food and nodded agreeably when the heavyset guy behind the counter shook his head. “Unbelievable, huh?” he said.

“Yeah.”

“Better hope he doesn’t come in here, if he knows what’s good for him…”

I had to get out of there, and fast. Not just out of the city, out of the state. It was only a matter of time before the police put everything together. How I’d gotten away. For all I knew, they were searching the whole area already.

I headed back outside and ate my frank around the pumps, watching the cars pull in and sipping my coffee.

Of course, standard procedure on 99 percent of people pulling into a filling station was to take their car keys if they left the car to go inside. But now and then someone left them in the ignition. I’d surely done this from time to time myself.

And that’s what I looked for. I mean, I was smack in the heart of the Deep South, right? Everyone was trusting here…

The next two or three drivers just filled up their tanks and didn’t stray far from their vehicles. A middle-aged woman in a Honda drove in, parked, and went inside the mart, but took her keys with her.

This could be futile.

But then a heavyset black guy in long denim shorts and an oversize Hornets jersey drove up in a gray Buick. I watched him start to fill up his tank, the keys still in the ignition, then, almost as if it was an afterthought, take a run into the station. Maybe to pay. Maybe to buy a Ring Ding or something. Or use the john.

I tossed my coffee in the garbage and meandered over to his car. I saw the keys still in the ignition. I felt like a creep, loitering around, but I had no choice. Hallie’s fate necessitated it. I glanced inside but couldn’t see the guy. Maybe he’d gone to the john.

I didn’t care.

I disconnected the pump and hopped inside his car. No one seemed to notice.

Heart racing, I hit the ignition and pulled out of the station. If anyone had seen me, no one ran after me. No one shouted.

I hit the light as it was just turning yellow and made a sharp right, following the sign to I-77.

I shot on the ramp for the highway, heading south, whooping with relief and exultation.

In twenty minutes I’d be in South Carolina.

Carrie was held in the chief’s office at the local police station in Mount Holly, looking at pictures of Chief McDaniels fishing and with his grandkids, until they squared her story with the Jacksonville police.

Hours.

Around six, she heard some discussion going on outside. The door opened, and her brother, Jack, stepped in.

He was the last person she wanted to see. “Before you even go there, Jack…” Carrie stood up.

He had one of those reproving-older-brother looks on him, like when she’d drunk a few too many beers back in high school (he was always the straight one) or when she left their bathroom looking like a shit storm had passed through it. Except this time it had kind of melded with one of those serious, more official looks Jack had learned at the FBI.

He sank into the chair across from her. “What the hell were you doing, Carrie?”

“He didn’t do it, Jack. No one back in Jacksonville wanted to hear me. You can check with this guy Bud at the gun store in town; where Steadman supposedly bought that gun. He never did. Vance Hofer bought it. Here…” She handed him a piece of paper she’d taken from her bag, Henry’s daily schedule for March 2, which he had e-mailed her. “If anyone had done their homework, they’d have known that Steadman was in Jacksonville operating that day…”

Jack looked it over, scratching his bushy hair and squinting his intelligent brown eyes.

“It’s all pretty clear, Jack. In fact, Hofer just called him earlier today. I have photos of his car in the vicinity of both murder sites. We traced the plate on the car to one of his work buddies. He knew Martinez from that incident you described, and he also knew when Steadman would be in town, and had Martinez stop Steadman and come up with this song and dance about him talking back, maybe just to razz him at first, and then he killed him. He also killed Steadman’s friend. He admitted as much to Steadman. And apparently there are others as well…”

“Others?” Jack put the schedule back on the table.

Carrie nodded. “You already know about his daughter. He claims he traced the OxyContin back to a clinic owned by Steadman, so no doubt there are a few gaping holes in the chain of supply that may turn up somewhere. And there’s motive. His life was in shambles. The last straw was his daughter. He twisted the blame to Henry-”

“Henry?” Her brother raised an eyebrow.

“Gimme a break, Jack. If anyone back in Jacksonville was doing their police work, they could have found the car at both scenes. They could have checked that Steadman was at his office the day the gun was supposedly bought. They could have asked where he would possibly have gotten a gun, just getting off a plane. Instead of running around pulling triggers… Check with this gun-store guy Bud in town. He’ll tell you-”

“I’ve already spoken with Bud,” her brother said. He let out a breath and loosened his tie. “Chief McDaniels said he was the one who alerted him, so I stopped on the way in. I also traced that plate back to a guy from that metalworks factory, where Hofer worked-”

“ So then you know! You know Steadman didn’t do it. So stop making it out like I’m protecting some kind of insane double murderer. I was only doing what the guys with the gold shields back home should have been doing. It was all a setup, Jack. He could be dead… Henry…” She swallowed grudgingly, correcting herself. “I mean Steadman.”

“Attaway.” He winked at her and smiled.

“But it’s gotten deeper, Jack. A lot deeper… No one will tell me anything. What’s happened? I need to speak with him.”

“ Don’t. I’ve spoken with the JSO. In light of all this, they’ve agreed to rescind the arrest warrant against Steadman. I mean, Henry ”-he smiled-“to merely a person of interest and hear out his side. Which should clear him, Carrie. We’ll put out a joint APB on this Hofer and-”

“No, Jack, you can’t!” Carrie’s blood rose with a jolt of panic. “You can’t release Hofer’s name! Like I said, everything’s changed. That’s why Henry had to run. He got this call-from Hofer. The first one was before I even spoke with him. Back in Jacksonville. Then another this afternoon. Just as I was talking to you about bringing him in.”