One False Move (8 page)

“Pakula here.”

“I just ran into him again.” She tried to whisper but the anger made her sound a little like Elmer Fudd.

“Is he still hanging around the courthouse?”

“No, the produce department here at HyVee.”

The elderly woman in line behind Grace perused the tabloid magazines, but Grace knew from the woman’s frown and sideway glances that she was listening to her conversation. Grace turned her back to her and kept an eye on Emily, who was now instructing the teenage boy how to bag groceries.

“Could it be a coincidence?”

“You think he just happens to shop at the same fucking store I do?”

Grace ignored the cashier’s admonishing look. She didn’t care what some twenty-year-old college kid thought. She had more important things to worry about. Like the fact that a man she had prosecuted five years ago for murder, a man who she had argued should be sentenced to death, was now free. Free and shopping at the grocery store she just happened to frequent.

Grace scanned the store again, startled when she heard Pakula. She’d forgotten she was still on her cell phone. “Grace, you okay? You want I can send a black and white to follow you home.”

“What good would that do? I can’t have a black and white with me everywhere I go. Besides, Barnett’s not the first asshole to think he can scare me. And I’m not about to give him the pleasure of thinking he can.”

“Barnett’s not any old asshole,” Pakula reminded her.

She saw Barnett, two check-out lanes over. He looked up, and as their eyes met, instead of looking away, he smiled again. That’s when she heard Pakula say, “He’s just gotten away with murder. Don’t think for a minute that son of a bitch isn’t thinking he’s invincible right about now.”

4:00 p.m.
Interstate 80

Melanie followed every one of Jared’s directions. She wasn’t about to tell him to save his breath; she knew where she was going. She didn’t say anything. There was something about his mood, something about his eyes, that made her keep her mouth shut and just drive.

She kept the A/C on high, drowning out Charlie’s rendition of “Gilligan’s Island.” Charlie had snarfed down his sandwich before they exited Interstate 80. Now he was working on the chips and downing a second Coke.

She glanced at Jared in the rearview mirror. He had insisted on sitting in the back seat by himself. At first she thought it was so he could sit directly behind her and boss her around, issuing directions. But he had already shown them where the bank was this morning. There was no need for directions.

His eyes met hers in the mirror and she quickly looked away, trying to cover her reaction by checking the car coming up alongside her. He was too calm, she decided. The sky had continued to grow darker. In the distance she could see a hint of lightning. The pole lights along the highway had begun to come on again as they had earlier in the day when they were sitting in the Cracker Barrel. Now she wished they were back there, talking big and pretending this was just a job they’d tackle someday. Pretending. That’s all.

Jared sat in the back seat, cool and calm like it was a game of pretend, while Melanie’s palms were slick with sweat. Her T-shirt stuck to her back, even with the A/C blowing at her. She couldn’t keep her eyes from darting back and forth. Her fingers fidgeted. A couple times she caught herself biting down on her lower lip.

Even Charlie’s eating, she knew, was a nervous response, an attempt to keep his brain and stomach distracted. But Jared didn’t seem the least bit nervous. He watched out the window, not a bead of sweat on his upper lip or forehead. Whatever his secret was for staying so composed, Melanie knew he wouldn’t be sharing it anytime soon.

She pulled off Highway 50 and turned into the bank’s parking lot.

“Park up there alongside the west end of the lot, away from the building,” Jared said, now sitting so far forward she could feel his hot breath on the back of her bare neck.

There were no cars on this side of the building and the lot backed onto an empty area of overgrown grass. Across the street was a car dealership, a line of brand-new Ford pickups with shiny headlights staring at them. In the distance Melanie could see McDonald’s golden arches. She could still hear the hum of the interstate traffic. Yet, as she parked the car, she noticed she could no longer see the cars on Highway 50. Although it hardly mattered. The bank’s windows were tinted. She was only fifty yards away and she couldn’t see inside.

Jared had certainly done his homework. This morning she had been impressed when he pointed out that the bank was less than a mile inside Douglas County. They would head south and immediately cross into Sarpy County. He seemed convinced that law enforcement officials would squabble over jurisdiction, if and when they came after them. That was one of the reasons he said he chose this particular bank. And it was reason enough for Melanie to believe that Jared might actually be able to pull this off.

Jared was now fiddling with his wristwatch. Melanie wiped the palms of her hands on her jeans, trying to be casual, trying not to draw Charlie’s or Jared’s attention. She kept the car engine idling with the vents blasting cold air, and she felt a chill. She examined the other cars in the lot. The bank’s drive-through lane was empty. The access road was empty. Even across the street at the dealership there was no activity. It almost seemed too quiet. Too perfect. She glanced up and in the rearview mirror saw Jared pull two guns out of his duffel bag.

4:15 p.m.

“Jesus, Jared. Where the hell did you get those?”

“Where do you think?”

“You know how I feel about guns.”

“That was a long time ago, Mel. Get over it. Besides, what did you think we’d do? Slip them a note and they’d simply hand over a bag of cash?”

Melanie gripped the steering wheel, keeping herself from spinning around to get a better look. Out of the corner of her eye she could see that Charlie sat sideways, his arm slung over the seat back, watching Jared and smiling. He seemed excited to get his hands on one of those guns. Melanie tried to catch his eye, hoping he’d notice her disapproval. But at the moment the boy couldn’t notice anything other than the shiny metal Jared was sneaking forward to him over the middle front console.

Charlie took the gun, keeping it low and out of sight but turning it over and over as if it were a new toy.

Melanie wanted to grab it away from him. She wanted to tell Jared to forget it. She wanted to speed away and not give him a choice. Instead, she sat there frozen, continuing to grip the wheel, trying to ignore the trickle of sweat that slid down her back.

“We’ve never had to use a gun before.” She finally found her voice, though it sounded like someone else’s, small and weak. But it was something she was proud of. Charlie and she had never used any kind of weapon. Unless you counted the wire clothes hanger Charlie used to pop the locks of Saturn doors.

She checked the rearview mirror. Jared was transferring the contents of his duffel bag to the pockets of his coverall. “We’ve never had to use a gun before,” she repeated, this time a little louder.

“I heard you the first time,” her brother said without looking up. “You don’t need a gun when you’re pulling off piddly little shit jobs.”

She wanted to tell him that those piddly little shit jobs had kept her and Charlie off the streets and living quite comfortably for almost ten years. But there was no way she could stand up to Jared with her cheeks burning and her voice shaky. He didn’t seem to think they were piddly shit jobs five years ago. She met his eyes again in the rearview mirror, calm, dark eyes. How could he be so calm?

“Remember everything I told you, Charlie?” His eyes never left Melanie’s.

“Yup,” her son answered so quickly, so confidently that Melanie jerked around to look at him, shocked to find the red kerchief up over the lower part of his face and a black stocking cap pulled down over his forehead. All she could see were his eyes. She stared at him as he shoved the gun into one of the coverall’s oversize pockets, treating it as if it were something he handled every day.

“Leave the car running.” Jared lifted his kerchief over his nose and mouth.

Melanie looked from one to the other. Didn’t they realize how ridiculous they looked? Then suddenly she decided she wanted this over with, the sooner, the better. Of course, she’d leave the car running, and she reached to turn off the A/C.

“We don’t need the engine overheating at a time like this.”

“Good idea, Mel,” Jared muttered through the cloth, and his rare compliment actually seemed to soothe her a little.

Jared hesitated, checking out the parking lot, craning his neck and looking in all directions. They were out of sight from the traffic and no one had gone in or out of the bank since they had parked. But how much time had that been? Melanie tried to remember.

“Let’s go,” Jared said, and Charlie didn’t hesitate at all.

She watched them in the rearview mirror cross the short distance to the front entrance. Her fingers drummed the steering wheel. Her right foot tapped uncontrollably. Maybe Charlie had gotten that habit from her. She looked away from the bank’s entrance for five or ten seconds. Glancing into the rearview mirror, she noticed that her lower lip was red and bruised from biting down on it. She tucked a strand of hair back up into the cap. And that’s when she heard the first blast, muffled but loud enough to make her jump. She sat forward, searching the surroundings, hoping to see a car backfiring. The next shots came fast, one after another, three, maybe four. She hadn’t counted. She couldn’t breathe, how could she count? Before she could react, she saw Charlie and Jared racing out of the bank’s entrance, their figures filling the rearview mirror. She sat paralyzed, unable or unwilling to turn around and watch them out the back window. Instead, she stared at the mirror, pieces of them rushing closer.

Jared jumped in beside her. “Go. Go now. Get the fuck going.”

“What happened? I heard shots.”

“Just get the fuck out of here.”

Charlie flew into the back seat as she shifted into drive and floored it, not even noticing the back door was still open until she saw in her side mirror that Charlie was hanging out, struggling to close it. She automatically slowed the car.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jared slid across the front seat and slammed his foot on top of hers, pushing the accelerator and sending the car fishtailing around the access road. She swung wide to miss a semitrailer as she ran a stop sign, garnering a blast of his horn. The noise startled her and she jerked the car to the other side, throwing Jared up against his door. It took his foot off the accelerator.

“Up ahead.” Jared pointed. “Back behind Sapp Brothers. I left a car for us, so we can dump this one.” But before Melanie could get to the intersection, she heard a siren. And before she saw the black and white in the rearview mirror, she knew it was coming for them.

4:33 p.m.

Melanie wished she could wake herself up. This had to be a fucking nightmare. Things couldn’t possibly have gone so wrong, so fast. Even her vision seemed blurred, the buildings and landscape a swirl of concrete and green speeding past the car windows. Only the buildings and landscape weren’t moving. She was. Fast. She was overwhelmed by a sensation of slipping and sliding as if out of control on black ice.

Jared’s voice came to her in a muffled monotone. She could make out one or two words: “faster,” “turn.” It was difficult to hear over the whining sound that filled her head. Difficult, and yet she could hear Charlie retching in the back seat. He must still be on the floor. She couldn’t see him in the rearview mirror. All she could see were red and blue flashing lights and the cruiser’s grill so close that it looked like shark’s teeth ready to bite and swallow them whole.

But through all the chaos she could still hear Charlie, her poor Charlie, retching and gagging. The sour smell of vomit filled the car, and Melanie felt her own stomach lurch. It wasn’t the smell of vomit that nauseated her. It was something else…warm and rancid yet almost sweet.

“Get back on 50,” Jared yelled at her. “Get the hell out of this maze.”

She took a sharp left only to realize it was another parking-lot entrance and not an intersection.

“Fuck,” Jared screamed at her. “There. Turn there!”

Where he was pointing looked like another parking lot. She missed the turn, jumped the curb and heard the sickening crunch of metal as the bottom of the car scraped the concrete. But the sound wasn’t as awful as Jared’s continued commands. He kept yelling at her to get back on Highway 50. She had no idea which way that was. She had lost all sense of direction. All she could see were buildings and parking lots and access roads. She twisted the steering wheel until the screech of tires told her to stop. The force spun the car around, almost a U-turn. And there on the other side of the cruiser barreling down on her was the traffic of Highway 50.

“Jesus Christ,” Jared muttered, but he no longer dared to reach for the steering wheel or attempt to step on the accelerator.

Melanie held her breath. She wanted to close her eyes. She wanted to become invisible. She wanted to get the fuck out of here and go home. The black and white began to skid, avoiding hitting her by mere inches, the cars so close she could see the officer’s face under the wide-brimmed hat. He was young. That much she could tell. And she thought he looked more surprised than angry. She heard another crunch of metal and squeezed her eyes shut, expecting to feel some impact, some repercussions. When she opened them again, Jared was twisted in his seat, staring out the back window.

“You did it, Mel. You fucking did it.”

She didn’t turn around. She didn’t look in the mirror. She didn’t want to know what she had done. Instead, she stepped on the accelerator and headed for the intersection. At the stoplight she hesitated.