Alez Kava - One False Move

"Nothing." He shrugged his one shoulder as if it didn't matter. "It just sounds like he's gotten you and Charlie into a real big mess."

"Sometimes things don't go exactly the way you think they will." Her mind flew back to another time, another mess. Why was it so much on her mind? She thought she'd removed it from her memory, gotten past it. And yet, Jared's reappearance less than two weeks ago seemed to bring it all back.

"What is Charlie? Eighteen? Nineteen?"

"He's seventeen," she blurted out as if needing to defend her baby before she could even figure out why Andrew Kane wanted to know.

"Geez! He's still a kid."

Her thoughts exactly. Charlie was too young to be involved in such a mess. What the hell was Jared even thinking? And the guns. She'd never forgive Jared for bringing along guns.

"I could help you and Charlie," she heard Andrew Kane say, but her mind was focused on the image of all that blood on their coveralls when they came running out of the bank. It had reminded her so much of that night with her father, the bloody drag marks, all the blood seeping in between the cracks of the linoleum, the splatters on the white wall. She never knew how Jared cleaned it all up. But he did. He took care of it.

"I know some detectives with the Omaha Police Department," Andrew continued.

Melanie heard only bits and pieces of what Andrew Kane was saying. Something about Charlie being a minor, about Jared having killed before and about her not even being in the bank. She wasn't really listening. Instead, she was back at that nightmarish scene, and only now did she realize Jared had never told her where he'd buried him. And she had never asked. She remembered seeing her brother hosing down his tennis shoes and the muddy shovel, scrubbing down the floor and the wall while she just watched, unable to move, unable to help. She wasn"t even sure if Jared had told their mother when she got home later that night. And yet. he must have. Why else would she have told everyone that her husband "just up and left"'1 Why else would she be so absolutely certain that Jared couldn't have killed Rebecca Moore? Because that was exactly what Corrine Starks told the police, that her son couldn't possibly kill anyone. She had to have known.

The bathroom door opened, startling her back. Jared looked awful. He hadn't showered. His short hair stood up in places like Charlie's, but the difference was Charlie wanted his that way. She was certain Jared did not. His face was unshaven even though Melanie knew he had bought disposable razors at the gas station. And his eyes were red and swollen. He scraped his hand over his face when he noticed her staring at him.

"What's your problem?"

"Where's Charlie?"

"Don't worry about your precious little boy," he said in that tone meant to sting her. "He's getting us some new wheels. He should've been back by now." He checked his wristwatch and headed for the door, stopping at the window first to peek out. "Here he comes."

Melanie found her shoes and followed Jared out, leaving Andrew Kane on the bed and closing the door just enough that no one could see inside the room. Charlie pulled up to the door in a white Ford Explorer, looking out at them with a wide grin. He rolled down the window and said, "I stopped at a gas station up the street and just traded vehicles. It was so easy. The lady left this one running with the keys in the ignition while she went inside to pay. We still need to change license plates, but can you believe how easy it was? I wish I'd thought of this a long time ago."

Melanie smiled at Charlie's enthusiasm even while Jared was holding up his hands to get him to quiet down. Then suddenly, Jared seemed to do a double take, looking into the back seat with his cupped hand and face against the window.

"What the fuck did you do?" Jared said as he reached for the back door handle. It was locked. "Open the fucking door."

Charlie punched at the buttons until he found the right one and heard the click.

"Did it ever occur to you there might be a reason she left the engine running on a warm, humid morning?" Jared asked as he yanked the door open.

Melanie's heart sank to her stomach. There, in the back seat in a child's car seat, was a baby, its sleepy eyes only bow starting to open.

"Oh my God!" Melanie's hands flew to cover her mouth.

Jared slammed the back door and pulled open the driver's door, standing aside while he told Charlie to "get the fuck out."

"Wait a minute," Melanie said. "What are you gonna do?"

"Get out of the fucking car, Charlie." Jared had to tell him again because Charlie was in such a frenzy he couldn't seem to undo the seat belt. "I can't believe you fucking screwed up again. Have you ever heard of the fucking Amber Alert? Jesus, Charlie! I'm tired of cleamng up your fucking messes."

Finally, Charlie half slid, half jumped out, and Jared got in.

Before he could close the door, Melanie grabbed at his arm. "What are you gonna do, Jared?"

He wrenched his arm away, giving her a shove back so he could slam the car door. All he said before he tore away was, "I'll take care of things."

8:20 a.m.

Omaha Police Department

Grace raced into the conference room only to find them all waiting.

"Sorry," she said, taking the chair at the end of the table next to Special Agent Sanchez.

"We're still waiting for Rob Thieson with the State Patrol," Pakula said, "but he sounded like he might be really late. Why don't we get started. I think I know most of what he's going to report, anyway."

"That they haven't found the fucking Chevy with any of their roadblocks?" Detective Ben Hertz complained.

"Actually," Pakula said, pushing aside the file folders in front of him, "it's not a Chevy anymore. The Chevy was found in the parking lot of a manufacturing plant just north of Auburn."

"Wait a minute," Grace said. "I thought you told me the gas station clerk was in Auburn and they were headed south?"

"That's what I thought when I talked to you last night. One of the workers reported her car stolen after she got off work late last night. The Chevy was parked two slots away."

"So what are they in now?" Sanchez wanted to know.

"A cream-colored Taurus. But it could already be something else."

"This is ridiculous," Hertz said. "They're starting to make us look like a bunch of fucking fools."

"Do we even know what direction they're headed?" Grace asked, but before any of them could answer, she added, "Is it possible they've backtracked?"

"I'm thinking it might be easier to find them if we know who the fuck they are." Pakula looked to Darcy Kennedy. "Please tell us you have something."

Grace could see that Pakula hadn't gotten much sleep. He was guzzling coffee and she knew the OPD's coffee was even worse than over at the Hall of Justice.

"Well, I know you're all waiting for me to say it's Jared Baraett," Darcy said, ignoring her own reports piled in front of her. "The thing is, I can't get a definitive print. Even the ones on the butcher knife were so smudged, I swear it's like he did it intentionally."

"Are you saying we've got nothing?" Sanchez almost came out of his chair.

"I do have a perfect print on the inside of the Saturn, on one of the back windows. There was a smudge of vomit next to it, so there's a very good chance it belongs to the one who threw up."

"Excellent," Sanchez said. "So who is he?"

"I don't know."

"What the fuck?"

"Calm it down," Pakula told Sanchez, and Grace realized they were all running on little sleep. She was probably the most rested one of the bunch.

"He's nobody in the system," Darcy explained. "-Chances are he's never been fingerprinted before. I did find a match, though."

"Wait a minute," Pakula said. "I thought you said the print didn't match anyone in the system."