Alez Kava - One False Move

"Relax, man," Jared said, but this time he sounded as if he was comforting rather then restraining Andrew. "I'm making sure they get everything you need."

"Everything I need?"

"Yeah, you're coming with us. Consider it research."

9:41 a.m.

Omaha Police Department

What else do we have?" Grace asked Pakula over really bad cheap coffee at his desk. Maybe it only tasted bad because she kept remembering the smell of Kramer's Starbucks.

"Shoe print is a size twelve Nike Air. Darcy might have the breakdown of those pebbles tomorrow." He met her eyes and held her gaze as he said, "So, what if they match the ones from your backyard?"

"Just one more reason to believe it's Barnett."

"Why would he snoop around your house?"

"Are you kidding? He shows up in the courtroom, outside my dry cleaner's, at the same grocery store I shop? He's trying to freak me out."

"Yeah, but how can he freak you out by sneaking around your backyard if you don't know he's there?"

"Look, Pakula, I'm not making this up."

"Hold on. I'm not saying you are. All I'm saying is if he gets a rush by showing up and having you see him, then why sneak around your backyard? Why not pull in to the driveway or something like that?"

"So what are you saying, Pakula?"

"Are you sure he wasn't inside?"

Grace stared at him. It wasn't possible, was it? She didn't want to think about Jared Barnett walking through her rooms, touching her things.

"We need to catch this bastard," she said. "What about the manhunt? Last I heard on the news they had found the Saturn."

"Yup. Crashed in a field off Highway 6. A farmer had his pickup stolen about the same time. Didn't see it taken. It was gone when he came home. They must have made their way through the storm and the field and took the pickup before the roadblocks got set up. We've got an APB on the pickup. They won't get far."

"Okay. Great. So we'll probably have him by the end of the day. If it is Barnett, he won't be getting out of jail free this time." Grace shoved aside her coffee and stood up to stretch. The mess on Pakula's desk was worse then hers; she couldn't remember having ever seen its surface. "What about the receptionist?"

"Upgraded to critical. She's not conscious. Doctors aren't sure if she'll regain consciousness. Doesn't sound good."

"I need to get back." She crumpled her foam cup and tossed it into Pakula's wastebasket. For once it wasn't overflowing. "Oh, here's something that might cheer you up. Max Kramer wants to plea-bargain a client who just happened to recognize our convenience-store robber."

"Well, isn't that convenient, indeed. Who's his client?"

"Carrie Ann Comstock."

"You gotta be kidding. That crack whore couldn't remember and identify her own mother if she saw her robbing a store."

Grace shrugged. "Probably, but I'm curious to see who she's willing to finger."

Pakula's phone interrupted them, and he held up his hand, a familiar gesture Grace knew meant, "Hold that thought."

"Pakula."

"Yeah," he said and waited, nodding at first then shaking his head. "Holy crap." He tapped a pen against a notepad on his desk, so hard Grace expected it to snap. "No, I'll meet you out there."

He slammed the phone into its cradle.

"That farmer's pickup? Turns out his stepson and a friend took it without his permission. Who knows where the bastards are by now. We're back at square one." He grabbed his jacket from the chair's back and threw it over his arm. "I'll talk to you later." He headed for the door but stopped and came back, standing directly in front of Grace. "I'm gonna have a black and white checking your neighborhood. I'm just telling you so if you happen to see it, you don't go busting my balls about it, okay?"

He headed out the door, without waiting for a response, without letting her thank him.

70.00 a.m.

Melanie didn't think Andrew Kane was in any shape to drive. His eyes didn't look right, even after he put his glasses on. And the baseball cap hid very little of the wound. But Jared had insisted. And quite honestly, Mela-nie was too relieved to argue, thankful that Jared hadn't decided the writer was a liability better left buried somewhere back in the woods.

This was more like the Jared she knew, making the best of a bad situation. Or as Jared liked.to say, "Making chicken salad out of chicken shit." She didn't know the Jared who may have left four people dead at the bank. She didn't even want to think about that Jared. She wanted to put it all out of her mind. The important thing was to go someplace where they'd be safe.

"We're gonna do some zigzagging, Andrew," Jared said from his favorite seat, directly behind the driver. He had told Melanie to sit up front, claiming cops wouldn't be looking for a good-looking couple in a red luxury car. He sat in the back with Charlie's map folded open across his legs so he could follow the yellow-highlighted route he had mapped out at the cabin.

"We're gonna go southeast first. Then we'll…hey, turn the fucking radio up."

Melanie found the volume. The news report had already started.

"…learned that the two young men had taken his pickup without permission. Authorities now believe the two alleged robbers had a backup vehicle stashed somewhere. According to an anonymous tip, that vehicle, another stolen Saturn, this one white, was re-portably seen traveling south of Rock Port, Missouri, on 1-29, heading possibly toward Kansas City. The license plate of this vehicle is Nebraska NKY-403. However, we're told that these two suspects have been known to trade license plates with other vehicles, vehicles sitting in parking lots at malls or at the airport. Also, we're reminded to advise listeners that the men are considered armed and dangerous. If you see this vehicle, call authorities immediately. We'll have another update at the half hour. For news radio KKAR, this is Stanley Bell."

The radio talk-show host came on next.

"It's 10:06. Do you know what your license-plate number is? How do you like that? We can send guided missiles to hit targets hundreds of miles away. We can watch live pictures of Mars. But we can't find a white Saturn. And what is it with these two guys and Saturns-"

"Turn it down," Jared said and Melanie reacted without thinking, even though she wanted to hear more. Or maybe she didn't.

Jared pulled a cell phone out of the writer's briefcase. He punched in a number and waited.

"Hey, it's me. Never mind that." Jared sounded cool and calm even though Melanie could hear the person on the other end yelling. "You called in the tip, right? You're the fucking anonymous source? How the fuck did you know I wasn't in that fucking white Saturn? Huh? How did you know I didn't backtrack and get it? You setting me the fuck up, you son of a bitch? Is that it?"

Melanie wished she could hear the other person's response. Who else knew about this job? Who the hell would Jared trust with details about his backup vehicles? She hadn't even known about it until they were on the road. It had to be someone he had met in prison, she decided. She put her thumbnail between her teeth, a recently developed habit to avoid biting down on her lower lip.

"I left some unfinished business," Jared was telling his friend. "You're gonna need to take care of it for me." More yelling and this time Jared held the phone away from his ear. "Just do it," he yelled, then snapped the phone off and closed.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered to no one in particular. "Can't trust anybody these days."

Melanie saw him slump against the car door, and for a brief moment he reminded her of that twelve-year-old boy, staring out the window at the passing pastures and cornfields, looking betrayed and alone, searching for something better and never satisfied. They had both been cheated out of their childhoods, forced to grow up too soon. Sometimes Melanie couldn't help wondering if things would have been different if only their mother had cared more about her children than the array of colorful pills she washed down with vodka. How could she not see, how could she not stop her own husband-Melanie's asshole father- from beating her children? Shouldn't a mother protect her child above all else? Wasn't it instinctive or something? That was certainly the way Melanie felt about Charlie. And yet, Melanie couldn't bring herself to blame her mother. Neither could Jared. Maybe it was that blood thing, that thing Jared always said about family sticking by each other. And Jared had stuck by Melanie. She owed him.