Alez Kava - One False Move

"Hurry up," Jared yelled again. He was on the other side of the car, crouched down, burying something in the dirt between the smashed cornstalks. It was only then that Melanie realized she could see nothing but cornstalks, the rows too tall to look over. Other than the path their car had sliced through the field, they were surrounded by nothing but yellow-green cornstalks and dark gray sky, the bottom ready to drop out at any moment. The rumble of thunder grew closer. The wind had picked up, whistling through the rows, setting the long leaves and tall stalks waving. They were almost ready to harvest, more yellow than green, dry enough that the wind caused them to rustle and crackle.

Beneath the darkening sky, that sound gave Melanie a chill. Maybe it was only the breeze against her damp body. Yet she couldn't help remembering that their mother claimed there were certain sounds and sights that warned of bad luck. Birds were on the top of her list. Melanie listened to the crows, a black cloud of them flew overhead, their caws sounding like scoldings. But then they were gone, quickly replaced by the low growl of the approaching thunder and the increasing whirl of the wind. Except it wasn't the wind Melanie was hearing now.

"Shit!" Jared yelled, making her jump even before she recognized the sound of the helicopter. "We need to get moving. Into the fucking field and stay low."

When Melanie didn't move, he shoved her from behind, almost knocking her to the ground. She saw Charlie disappear ahead, half crawling, half running in the ditch between the rows of stalks. She followed, trying to mimic his moves, Jared prodding her forward. The ache in her chest competed with the pounding in her head and the vibration beneath her feet. And somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered that crows were an omen of misfortune and death.

6:25 p.m.

It's Barnett." Grace only said out loud what both she and Pakula were thinking. "And he's been in my fucking backyard."

"We don't know that," he insisted.

"Vince special-ordered those pebbles from some landscape place on the West Coast."

"We don't know it's the exact pebbles. They looked like fish-tank rocks to me. Why don't we wait until you get a sample to Darcy and she checks it out?"

"I know it's him."

"There's no reason for him to do this. And there's no reason to try to hide the victim's identity by blasting her teeth to pieces." Pakula leaned against Grace's SUV, his arms crossed. He wasn't buying her theory, or else he was making her work at convincing him.

"Maybe this time it wasn't to destroy evidence or identity. Maybe this time it was simply to thumb his nose at us. You know, let us know it was him."

"He just got out less than two fuckin' weeks ago."

"You said yourself he got away with murder once. Why wouldn't he be feeling invincible?"

"Invincible, maybe, but stupid? I don't think so." He shook his head, but his eyes were still watching the bodies being brought out.

Grace looked at the sky and glanced at her watch. On the drive here she had heard they were in a severe thunderstorm watch. She wanted to pick up Emily before the lightning show. Her little tomboy had recently declared her fear of lightning. And now Grace had created yet another fear…a shadow man.

"So, why even do it?" Pakula asked, bringing her back. "It looks like they didn't even take any cash."

"Start checking out the victims, and I'll bet you'll find some connection."

He looked at her, meeting her eyes and holding them there as if he wasn't pleased with her telling him what to do. Had she nudged him too far? "Isn't that what you're always telling me?" she defended herself.

"It doesn't usually work with random shooting sprees like this."

"Have you been listening to me at all, Pakula? I'm telling you this wasn't random."

"You sure you don't want a black and white checking on you?"

"I'll be fine. Besides, if it is Barnett he's not going to have much time to be following me in the next few days, is he? I'm a little worried about Emily. Vince said something this morning about me looking for a man in the shadows and Emily overheard. Now she's worried about a shadow man watching our house."

"And now you think he might have been watching your house?"

"I don't know. Emily's imaginary friend, Bitsy, saw someone." She meant it as a joke but she could see from Pakula's frown that he didn't get it.

"Her imaginary friend?"

"Oh, yeah, didn't I tell you about that? Ever since we moved in, Emily has had this imaginary friend who seems to be all knowing. You've got four daughters, Pakula, did any of them have imaginary friends?"

"I wish their friends were imaginary. Angle's dating a kid who has so many body piercings he looks like a fucking pincushion." He rolled his shoulders, stretched his neck as if reminded of a tension in his muscles. Grace noticed his eyes, though, were still taking everything in. For a brief moment she wondered how a daughter of Pakula's thought she could get anything by him. And just when she thought his mind had wandered back to the crime scene, he said, "Why the hell would anybody wanna put a hole in his tongue? Wouldn't that kill your taste buds?"

"It's supposed to enhance your sex life."

This time he looked at Grace as if this warranted his full attention. They didn't usually talk about personal stuff, let alone sex. Whatever they knew about each other's family and personal life came in short sound bites and offhanded remarks.

"Thanks a lot," Pakula finally said, but there was no hint of gratitude in his tone, no smile. "That's just what a father wants to hear, that his daughter's new boyfriend is enhancing himself for sex."

Grace laughed. She couldn't help it. Detective Tommy Pakula was one of the toughest men she knew, yet she could easily imagine him worried sick about his daughters.

Ben Hertz was walking toward them, waiting for a police cruiser to pass. He tapped its trunk with the palm of his hand. Grace recognized the gesture. Hertz was always patting backs, punching shoulders and even tapping hoods and trunks in place of saying "good job." He waved a piece of paper at Pakula as he joined them.

"You're gonna love this. Plates are registered to a Dr. Leon Matese. But it's not a dark blue Saturn. It's a black BMW. And Dr. Matese has been in L. A. since last Tuesday."

"Let me guess," Pakula interrupted him. "His car's been parked at the airport."

"Yep, long-term parking lot. And the Saturn-"

"Stolen," Pakula finished.

"You got it. These boys did some planning. But a Sarpy County deputy sheriff's in pursuit south on 50."

6:28 p.m.

Razors sliced her skin. At least that's what Melanie thought it felt like as she tried to run. If the cornstalks weren't cutting her they were whipping her face. She held her arms up in front of her but kept losing her balance, her feet stumbling over the mounds of dirt. Jared insisted they not stick to the ditches between the rows but instead run diagonally through the field, so they would stay better hidden. But it was impossible to run, one foot plunging into the indent between the rows while the other foot climbed mounds of dirt.

The stalks were stronger than she expected and closely planted. It was more like trudging through a forest of saplings than a field. She was exhausted, her chest felt as though it would explode, and each gulp of air stabbed as it went in and out of her lungs. Her legs ached now, too, and her arms felt battered and bruised. Her ears were ringing with the sound of the wind, the growing roar of thunder and somewhere the whirl of a helicopter. She expected it to swoop down into the field at any minute. Was it possible that it hadn't discovered the car yet?