One False Move (22 page)

Claire was watching him again, only this time she looked concerned. “You’re worried about him,” she said and Pakula did a double take, wondering how the hell she could always do that. How did she always know what was on his mind?

“He’s not prepared for something like this.”

“My God, who is?”

“I should have checked on him sooner. Especially when I knew they were headed in that direction.”

“Tommy.” This time she squeezed his knee to get his full attention. “You can’t take care of all of us all the time.” When she could see he wouldn’t let her words exonerate him, she added, “Andrew’s going to be all right. He has to be or I’ll never forgive him.”

That made Pakula smile, as if her ability to inflict motherly guilt could overreach all boundaries. But before he could go back to his sandwich, his cell phone began ringing. Not an unusual occurrence, and yet everyone turned to scowl at him as if he had broken some rule. He had it out before the third ring.

“Pakula,” he said, twisting around as much as possible and turning his back to the crowd and the field. Claire reached for his sandwich and drink to free his hands.

“Detective Thomas Pakula?”

“Yeah. Speak up. I’m at a soccer game, so we might…” He was interrupted by the chants and applause before he could get off the warning. He waited then tried again. “Okay, go ahead.”

“Sheriff Grant Dawes down here in Nemaha County. Someone downtown told me I should be talking to you.”

“Yeah, okay.” Pakula didn’t know the sheriff, but he was quickly getting impatient with his slow, polite manner. “What is it you need to tell me, Sheriff?” There were about to be more screams and applause. Out of the corner of his eye he could see his team racing down the sidelines. He turned to watch, not wanting to miss another goal.

“We found…” The rest of the sheriff’s words were drowned out.

“What’s that?”

“We found the red Saab with the license plate A WHIM.”

Pakula froze. The noise erupted again around him, so that he couldn’t even ask the one question that came instantly to mind. Claire stopped cheering when she saw his face and met his eyes. He gestured that he couldn’t hear as he rose, shoving his way back down the bleachers, everyone too excited about their team scoring to bother being upset with him. He retreated to the parking lot, hoping he hadn’t lost the sheriff.

“Are you still with me?” he finally asked when he could hear again.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“You said you found the car?”

“Yep, it’s sitting in a farmer’s garage. They took his Chevy, but not before slitting his throat.”

“Holy crap!”

“There’s more.”

Pakula leaned against his Explorer, bracing himself for the worst. Had Andrew Kane been left behind, too, with his throat slashed?

“Up the road in Auburn we’ve got a dead clerk in the Gas N’ Shop. Son of a bitch shot her right in the face, ripped her jaw wide open.”

Pakula waited. Finally he asked, “Any other victims?”

“Ain’t two enough?”

“No, it’s two too many.” Pakula ran his hand over his head, relieved and kicking himself for sounding like it. “Sheriff, how long ago were the bodies found? I’d like to get our mobile crime lab down there asap.”

“Actually, that’s what I was hoping you’d say. I’ve got my men isolating both scenes, but I don’t have the resources to tackle this kind of thing.”

“This a good number to reach you?” Pakula asked as he checked his cell phone to make sure the sheriff’s phone number got logged on his phone’s memory.

“Yeah, I’ll be here.”

“Give me a few minutes, and I’ll call you back. Hold on. I don’t suppose you have a license number for that Chevy?”

“Not yet. The wife’s not in much shape to be remembering such things, so I’m having someone look it up. I’ll have it when you call back.”

“Good.” Pakula ended the call, punching in the next number without hesitating. He needed to act and not dwell on Andrew. And he reminded himself of Claire’s words only changing them a bit and saying out loud, “Andrew will be all right. He has to be or I’ll never forgive myself.”

8:20 p.m.

It was easier this way, Grace told herself as she searched for clean linens for the guest room. Easier than arguing with the old woman. When Grace picked up Emily from Grandma Wenny’s she had insisted on coming home with them, at least until “Vince returned from the Alps.” That was exactly how her grandmother referred to Vince’s trip to Switzerland as if he was there on some ski trip.

Grandma Wenny had been concerned ever since Jared Barnett had been released from prison, though Grace hadn’t confided anything about him following her. Nor had she shared her suspicions that he was one of the bank robbers now on the run. Yet the old woman seemed to have a sixth sense about these things. Even the night Grace’s parents had been murdered, Grandma Wenny had lit a candle in the window for protection from the “bad air” of the approaching thunderstorms, not realizing it was a storm of another kind that would hit her son’s house only three blocks away.

Grace had left Emily to show Grandma Wenny the house, knowing her daughter would make the suite they’d renovated for her sound like more of an adventure than a prison sentence. It was one of the reasons Grace had given in so easily to her grandmother coming home with them. It was ridiculous to believe the old woman could somehow protect them, especially since Grace had insisted the .38 stay back at the bungalow. But maybe, just maybe she could convince her grandmother that her presence was wanted and needed in their home.

The bottom line was that Grace wanted Grandma Wenny to live with them, but only if she wanted it, too. She owed the old woman so much, it was her grandmother who had taught her she could do anything she set her mind to. The sacrifices the old woman had made for her were great, but her German heritage would explain it all away as something you just did for family. Family was the most important thing. But her grandmother’s will, her spirit, the kick in the pants and the constant nagging that reminded Grace that she could and would do important things—that was something Grace relied on every day.

She found them in the kitchen, devouring the oatmeal chocolate-chunk cookies that Grandma Wenny and Emily had baked earlier at her house. Emily and Grace had talked the old woman into having dinner out, finally settling on the Greek Isles Restaurant, where Grandma Wenny had explained that the Greeks were a people to be admired for all their contributions, unlike the French, who she insisted couldn’t be trusted, using their high prices and small portions of food as proof. Grace let her get away with this kind of talk. Sometimes trying to change old ways, old beliefs, old prejudices was a losing battle.

“So is this a bedtime snack?” Grace asked, sitting down at the table across from the two.

“I should stay up later to make sure Grandma Wenny isn’t scared,” Emily said, avoiding Grace’s eyes and concentrating on the cookie she was holding over a glass of milk, half dunked.

“I don’t think Grandma Wenny is scared of anything,” Grace said. “Nice try, Em.”

“Emily tells me about her Mr. McDuff.”

“Yeah, I still can’t find him, Mom.”

“I’m sure he’s here somewhere.”

“I don’t like sleeping without him. I thought maybe I could sleep with Grandma Wenny tonight. You know, just until she gets used to the house.”

“I think she’ll be fine in her own room,” Grace said, but she watched the two exchange a glance as Emily finished the last bite of cookie, and Grace knew the matter had already been discussed. “Emily, go on up and get your pj’s on. Grandma Wenny and I will come up and tuck you in.”

“Okay.” But there was another glance as Emily slid out of the chair. Grace could tell Grandma Wenny was listening and waiting until she heard Emily reach the top of the stairs.

“She said the bad man took her Mr. McDuff.”

“She overheard Vince and me talking about a case. She just misunderstood.”

“He was here, in the house.”

“No one’s been in the house.” But Grace knew immediately that Grandma Wenny didn’t believe her. She had never been able to lie to the old woman. Fact was Grace didn’t know if Barnett
had
been in their house. Was he the one who’d left that stupid ceramic gnome? And if he had been here, what did he want besides letting her know that he could come and go as he pleased?

“I can feel it. He was here in the house.”

“We’ve had lots of workers in and out. They’ve been working on the renovation.”

“No, no. This is a bad man. He was here. And he took Emily’s Mr. McDuff.”

8:50 p.m.
Highway 6

Melanie’s eyes begged to close. Even against the oncoming headlights she was unable to keep them open and remain alert. When was the last time she had slept? She honestly didn’t remember. The adrenaline had carried her this far, but when the sun went down it seemed her energy went down with it.

Charlie had been asleep in the back for almost an hour, according to the snores. Andrew Kane appeared wide-awake in the seat beside her, though his head leaned against the window. Melanie could see his eyes staring straight ahead. Jared looked wide-awake, too. Every time the oncoming headlights lit up the Taurus’s interior, Melanie caught him watching her in the rearview mirror.

Now she heard the rustling of the map from behind her and noticed a stream of light from the Maglite they had found in the glove compartment. There were other things they had found inside the Taurus, things that bothered Melanie for some reason. Instead of a Jesus picture tacked to the visor, there was a picture of a dark-haired woman hugging a little boy who shared her eyes.

On the floor in the front, Andrew had accidentally kicked a stuffed teddy bear. When he picked it up, Melanie was struck by how carefully he handled it, almost as if it were alive. He had laid it on the seat between them, and as much as Melanie didn’t want it there she could also not bring herself to move it. It reminded her too much of Charlie’s old stuffed Pooh bear. And the photo reminded her that this was a mother’s car they had taken. A mother who worked at that manufacturing plant, probably at a shitty job for shitty pay, just so she could take care of her little boy. And now the little boy wouldn’t have his teddy bear tonight.

“The next intersection should be Highway 34,” Jared said, startling her when he leaned up against the front seat. “Take a right.”

“I don’t think I can drive much farther, Jared.”

“I know. I’ve been watching you, Mel.” He put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve done a good job, Lil’ Sis.”

She glanced back at him in the rearview mirror, looking for sarcasm and not able to see a trace. When they were kids he used to call her Lil’ Sis whenever he took care of her, comforting her with that same reassuring tone that made her feel like everything would be okay. But sometimes even Jared wasn’t able to make things okay. Before she could determine whether or not he was still trying to take care of her, he was pointing over the seat at a billboard.

“We can get a room at that Comfort Inn. Looks like it’s just on the other side of Hastings.”

She almost asked if they could afford it, but stopped herself. She didn’t care if they could afford it. Just the thought of a hot shower and a soft bed perked her up. She pulled her shoulders back, stretching against the tightness, the knots of stress balled up in the middle of her shoulder blades. Yes, a hot shower and a good night’s sleep would make things better. And tomorrow? Who the hell cared about tomorrow? She had to take one day at a time, one hour at a time.

Melanie saw the brightly lit Comfort Inn sign and then the inn itself on the left side of the road. She smiled, a sense of relief for the first time since this nightmare began. Maybe this is what people meant by an oasis in the desert.

“Don’t pull up to the lobby. Park over there, away from the lights.” Jared was back to giving orders. She didn’t care. She just kept thinking of the hot shower and the cool sheets.

“When you go into the lobby don’t give them your real name. And say there’s only two of you.”

“But won’t they see us all come in to go to our room?”

“It looks like a motel. I think we can get in from our own door. If not, they usually have side doors. Once you have the key card we can get in through them.” More lecturing, more telling her what to do. “If you have to fill out any forms with address and stuff, put California and say you’re headed to Chicago.”

“Where in California?”

“I don’t give a fuck, Mel. Make something up. Jesus! I can’t think of everything.” He counted out eight twenty-dollar bills and handed them to her over the seat. “It shouldn’t be more than this.”

She looked at the rest of the money he still held in his hand. In the dim light of the parking lot she could tell there was more that four hundred dollars. She wanted to ask if he had taken some cash from the convenience store. She quickly decided she didn’t care about that, either.

The lobby was bright and cozy with a small sitting area to the right and a breakfast or snack area off to the side of the reception cubicle. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee accosted her as soon as she entered. She checked over her shoulder to see whether the Taurus was visible from the desk. Nothing. She’d done a good job parking it away and out of sight.

“God! That smells great,” she told the young man behind the counter. He actually looked pleased to have someone to talk to. The parking lot was pretty empty.

“Help yourself. I just made a fresh pot. Will you be staying with us this evening?” he asked as he began rounding up the necessary paperwork.

Her mind was on the coffee. It had been so long,
too
long, since she had given it up.

“Ma’am? Are you needing a room for this evening?”

“Yeah. I mean, yes. I will be.”

“Single or double?”

“Double. There are just two of us.” She checked his face. Just? Why the hell did she say just? But he hadn’t noticed.