Andrew Gross: 15 Seconds

“What call, Carrie?”

She hesitated, not knowing what was right, pushing the hair out of her eyes. “I don’t know, Jack, I can’t-”

“ What call?” Jack shifted closer, his eyes growing more serious. “Sis, I’ve gone to bat in some pretty serious ways to get you off the hook on this and not face any local, not to mention federal charges for, say, harboring a fugitive, or transporting one across state lines. Abetting a fugitive in the commission of a crime is a-”

“Jack!” Tears rose up in Carrie’s eyes, tears of confusion and frustration. “You don’t understand…” She drew in a steadying breath, unsure of what to do. She’d given her word to Henry. But she didn’t even know where he was; if he’d been caught or not. Or hurt. No one was giving her any information. Ultimately she had to trust Jack. That he would do the right thing. Henry’s daughter’s life depended on it. She was almost shaking. “Jack, I have to have your trust on what I’m going to tell you. You need to give me your word.”

“Sis…” Her brother leaned forward and took her hands, which were now trembling ever so slightly, and he squeezed them in his own. “I know you’re involved, but if you can’t trust me on this, who the hell are you going to trust?”

Carrie closed her eyes and let out a breath she’d been holding in for hours Then she nodded. There was nothing else she could do.

She told him. About Hofer’s call when Henry had fled to his friend Mike’s house, moments after finding his body. “How you enjoying this so far?” And then today. About him having taken Henry’s daughter, and what he had threatened to do if word got out. What he had done to others…

“He’s crazy, Jack. He’ll do everything he says. Whatever you do, you can’t let his name get out, or else… He’ll kill her, Jack. He will! ”

“I understand…” Jack nodded, his brow furrowed in thought. His look seemed to say, No good choices here. “I’ll talk to the sheriff’s office. Let me see what I can do about keeping this all under wraps. We still have to find this guy, though…”

“Jack, once it leaks out to the press that Henry’s no longer a suspect, you know there’ll be no stopping them. Hofer will know! ”

Jack nodded, tight-lipped. “You may have to spend the night here. The JSO is on the way and I’m thinking they may want a word or two with you. Sorry to make you stay here and check out Chief McDaniels’ two-foot bass a little bit longer…”

Carrie forced a tight smile, not feeling much like laughing. “Thank you, Jack, but the JSO-”

“I’ve already spoken with them. I think I can assure there won’t be any charges, if it all checks out.”

“All right, but…”

“ ’Course, I can’t say how they plan on handling the matter internally. Still”-he stood up-“unless they’re as dumb as bean curds, I can’t imagine that they want their investigative teams totally looking like a bunch of asses on this… Who knows, you may even end up with a promotion.” He grinned and headed to the door. Then he winked with approval. “I know what you need, Carrie. And good work on this. Whatever it was, you did good.”

She swallowed appreciatively.

“ ’Course, I can’t make any promises about Pop’s reaction. I’ll leave you to square that one with him yourself…”

“Jack…”

Her brother turned.

“Where is he? Steadman. No one’s told me a thing. He’s okay, right?” She looked unsure. “I’d like to see him if I can.”

“Is he okay?” Her brother chuckled. “Your guess is as good as mine, sis. Right now we don’t have any idea where he is. He just disappeared.”

“Disappeared…” Carrie’s eyes grew wide, and she was unable to hold back her smile. “You mean he got away?”

Jack laughed. “Canny little bastard, huh? We’re thinking in a laundry truck. We’re checking now. But I damn well know where I’d be headed if it was Cara who’d been taken and I’d gotten that call.”

Ipulled off the highway near Columbia and spent the night in the parking lot of a Fairfield Inn, a couple of miles from the University of South Carolina.

I was glued to the car’s radio, and caught several updates on the incident in Mount Holly, but nothing about a car being heisted at a gas station in Charlotte, so hopefully no one had put that together. I desperately wanted to call Carrie, to let her know how I’d gotten away and find out what she’d told the police, but I didn’t know if she even had her phone and I didn’t want to put her, or myself, at further risk. I didn’t know if the police were still chasing me or still believed I was guilty. I only knew I had to find Hofer- and Hallie -before the police found me. Before Hofer followed through on his threat!

And as I sat there, huddled in a car in South Carolina, not knowing what my next move would be, not knowing if every cop in the state was looking for my car, I did think of someone who might know where Hofer was.

His daughter. Amanda.

I did the old McDonald’s drive-through thing again for breakfast burrito and located the nearest library, and I was at the small stone building when it opened at 10 A.M.

The woman at the information desk pointed me to two computers in a kind of reading room, a bunch of magazines and newspapers arranged neatly on a round table. The old, large-monitor Dell warmed up creakily, taking me to the state library homepage. I clicked over to Google and typed in “Amanda Hofer . ”

Dozens of items came up. The first, from the Lancaster County Crier, which I assumed was the hometown paper.

“LOCAL TEEN, 19, KILLS MOTHER AND BABY”

Then below it: “Said to be on Painkiller at Time of Accident. OxyContin and Xanax Linked to Auto Double Homicide.”

Farther down, “Local D.A. Seeks Murder Conviction in Tragic Double Homicide . ”

I scanned the details, about how elevated traces of OxyContin and Xanax had been found in Amanda’s blood as she drove to her cosmetology class that morning. How she had been seen driving erratically through traffic. How she had driven right off the road and onto the victim’s lawn, bouncing off a tree and right up to the house, where she mowed down Deborah Jean Jenkins and her two-month-old son, Brett. How the child’s father was in the army serving in Afghanistan and had never even seen his newborn son in person.

As I read the actual details, my heart filled with compassion for this man, and for a moment I had to stop and take a couple of breaths, my thoughts finding their way to Hallie, who was around the same age as Amanda Hofer.

Then I scrolled farther down and found what I was looking for in the Atlanta Constitution:

“TEEN AUTO KILLER PLEADS TO TWO COUNTS OF AGGRAVATED VEHICULAR HOMICIDE. RECEIVES 20 YEARS”

It showed Amanda, drawn and pale-looking, as she was led from the courthouse.

To begin her sentence at the medium security Pulaski Women’s Prison in Hawkinsville, Georgia.

That was exactly what I wanted!

I switched to the website for the Georgia State Prison System, clicked on “Women’s Institutions,” and immediately found Pulaski. It wasn’t far from I-75. A two- or three-hour drive from where I was.

Visiting hours were from 11 A.M. to 4 P.M. All visitors had to present a valid photo ID.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out Carrie’s husband’s license that I had taken.

And his business card. Attorney-at-Law.

I knew it was a long shot, but that’s all I had right now.

I looked again at Rick’s face. Okay, hardly a perfect match-I had blue eyes; his were green. His hair a bit lighter.