In Safe Hands (38 page)

They were so screwed.

Five Days Earlier

The boys looked startling enough with their buzz cuts, like junior military recruits, but Dez was the real shocker. Jules kept glancing in the rearview mirror of their new-to-them SUV, unable to keep her eyes off of the mini-stranger in the backseat. Dez had the same problem. At the garage-slash-beauty shop-slash-car exchange-slash-new-identity-pickup-place, disappearance expert Dennis had given Dez a pocket mirror, and her eyes had been fixed on her reflection ever since.

“You okay, Dez?” Jules asked, starting to get uneasy about the mesmerized silence behind her.

“Yes.” Her eyes didn't move from the mirror.

“Do you like your new look?”

“I
love
it,” Dez breathed. “I look so…different.”

She did. Her long, blond curls were now a dark brown, cut in a pixie that made her blue eyes look huge. The fake pageant glamour was gone, replaced by a normal, cute little girl. She'd changed out of her school uniform into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.

“We look like real sisters now, too.”

Jules shifted so she could see part of her own face in the rearview mirror. Her hair was the same color as Dez's, but Dennis had cut it so it went just past her shoulders. He'd also given her cute bangs. Except for the way Jules' blue eyes were narrow and tilted up at the corners rather than round, she and Dez did look a lot alike.

“We've always been real sisters, D,” Jules said teasingly as she passed a semi.

“I know,” Dez said to her mirror. “But now we really
look
like sisters.”

“J-Ju.” Sam's abrupt tone made her tense. “C-c-c…”

Glancing behind her, she knew what he was going to say even before he could force it out.

“C-cops.”

The highway patrol car was right behind her. Even though she knew the cruise control was set at two miles per hour below the speed limit, she still had to resist the urge to slam on the brakes.

“Don't be an idiot, Jules,” she muttered. “Just stay calm.” Without touching the brake pedal, she signaled and moved into the right lane in front of the semi. The patrol car moved over as well, staying behind them.

As if he'd sensed the tension in the car, Ty woke from his doze with a snort. “What's going on?”

“Cops behind us,” Tio said tightly.

“Shit.”

“Language,” Jules snapped.

“Seriously?” Ty gave a short laugh. “I think cops following us deserves a ‘shit' or two. Maybe even a ‘fuck.'”

“Swearing is a bad habit.” Realizing that she had a death grip on the wheel, Jules forced her fingers to relax. Her siblings couldn't know how close to blind panic Jules was. “Especially when your little sister is sitting right next to you.”

“Sorry, Dez,” Ty muttered.

“It's okay. Courtney swears a lot more than you do.”

Choking back a mostly hysterical laugh, Jules asked, “Why do you call her Courtney?”

“You're seriously asking that now?” Tio interjected before Dez could answer. “When there's a law enforcement officer following our getaway car? Especially since Courtney most likely knows by now that you took us out of school, so it's highly probable that there is a warrant out for your arrest on multiple kidnapping charges.” Each word was precisely enunciated, which was typical for Tio when he was scared.

“If I don't relax,” Jules said through her teeth, “then I'm going to do something stupid, like hit the brakes or jerk the wheel or, I don't know, roll down the window and flip off the nice cop behind us. I need you to cut me some slack right now.”

“Sorry.” He sounded young and subdued, and guilt rose in Jules for snapping at him. “Go ahead, Dez.”

“I've forgotten the question,” Dez said in a tiny voice.

Jules' eyes flicked to the rearview again. Instead of looking at the occupants of the backseat this time, she checked out the squad car. It was a reasonable distance behind them, and the lights weren't flashing—both positive things. All she had to do was not screw up and draw attention. “Um…I asked why you call your mom Courtney.”

“I don't know.” Dez was quiet for a few moments. “She just seems more like a Courtney than a Mom.”

Despite the situation, Jules had to block a laugh that wanted to escape. “True.”

“She seems more like a b-b-bitch than a C-Courtney,” Sam muttered.

Now it was even harder not to laugh. “Sam! Language!”

“You need to give Sam points for truthfulness, though,” Ty said.

Jules couldn't stop a snort from escaping. “Don't make me laugh, y'all, or I'm going to go full-on hysterical and won't be able to drive.” A glance in the mirror showed the highway patrol vehicle still trailing them. “Should I take the next rest stop exit?”

“What if he follows?” Ty asked. “We'll have to stop at the rest area, or it'll look like we're just trying to dodge him.”

“You're right.” Her hands had tightened again, and she peeled her fingers off the wheel before settling them loosely back in place. “Let's keep going then.”

As the Pathfinder and its escort continued down the interstate, they all went silent. Her gaze flicked to the rearview mirror, and she froze. The trooper was right behind them. Trying to keep her breathing steady—or at least not start praying out loud—Jules had to force herself to not stare at the rearview mirror. As close as he was, he'd be able to see her jerky glances, each nervous movement just screaming, “I'm guilty!” Every time her eyes disobeyed and strayed to the mirror, she caught a glimpse of her siblings' pale, frightened faces. Her breathing grew jerky despite her efforts at staying calm as she waited for the cop's overhead lights to flash, for the siren that would force her to choose—pull over or run.

As terrifying as the thought of trying to outrun the police was, the alternative was scarier. She'd go to prison, and her sister and brothers would return to that house. That wasn't an option. If the trooper's lights went on, they were running. Every muscle in her body contracted, tighter and tighter with each dragging second until she was quivering with tension.

When she saw the sign, the ramifications didn't penetrate for a few seconds. As soon as she grasped what it meant, she laughed, and the sudden sound made Sam jump.

“Wh-what?” he growled.

“Welcome to Tennessee, Jackson family!” Behind them, the patrol car had switched lanes and slowed, preparing to turn onto an access road across the median. Comprehension brought a dawning smile to Sam's face.

“I get it!” Ty almost yelled. “
State
patrol!”

Everyone laughed, more at the release of tension than because he'd said anything particularly funny. When Jules finally got her breath back, she had to brush at her watering eyes.

“Am I going to feel like that every time I see a cop?” she asked. “If so, I vote we go somewhere without a police force.”

“Where's that?” Ty asked. “Canada?”

Reaching over Dez's head, Tio punched his brother in the arm. “They have cops there, dumbass. Haven't you heard of Mounties?”

“Language!”

“We can't say ‘dumbass?'” It was Ty who protested. “I won't have a name for most of the people I know.”

“You w-won't know them anym-m-more.”

Everyone went silent at the reminder. Jules fought the urge to apologize for stealing them away from their friends, reminding herself that they'd agreed it was for the best.

“Worth it,” Ty said, echoing her thoughts.

“Totally,” Dez agreed. “Now I don't have to pretend to be friends with Taylor Biggins.”

“That obnoxious girl from the pageants?” Jules asked, vaguely remembering Dez mentioning Taylor's explosive tantrums.

“Yes.”

“Why would you have to pretend to be friends with her?” Jules noticed her arms were shaking, probably from keeping her muscles tense the entire time the cop had stayed behind them. “From what you've told me, I would've run whenever I saw her.”

“Mrs. Biggins does the best hair.” Dez's voice was matter-of-fact. “Courtney said I had to be friends with Taylor or her mom would drop me, and then I'd get stuck with Mrs. Papadopoulos, and she burns me with the curling iron when I don't sit still.”

Everyone besides Dez sucked in a horrified breath.

“Does Courtney know that this woman burns you?” Ty asked. Each word was carefully precise, making him sound like Tio. When Jules glanced at him, Ty's face was tight, and he was staring at Dez with intense focus.

“Sure.” Dez's casual tone made the answer so much worse.

“What did she say about it?” Jules asked, even though she was pretty sure she didn't want to know the answer.

“Sit still.”

When her fingers started cramping, Jules realized that she was strangling the steering wheel again. “I'm sorry y'all had to leave your friends—except for Demon Taylor—but I'm not sorry I kidnapped you.”

“Me neither.” Dez was the first to agree.

Ty was next. “Nope. Kidnap away.”

“It's not the ideal situation”—Tio never used one word when he could use a dozen—“but it was necessary under the circumstances.”

“Thanks, J-J-Juju.”

To her shock, Sam reached over and patted her forearm. It was a quick movement, his hand landing for just a second, but he'd actually touched her voluntarily. Her eyes burned, and she blinked hard to wrestle the threat of tears into submission.

“Okay,” she said, a little too loudly. “Enough talking about our real past. Let's make up a fake one. Where should we tell people we're from?”

“California,” Ty suggested, making Jules snort.

“Only if you can control that drawl of yours.”

“Drawl?” Ty protested. “I don't have a drawl!”

Even Sam laughed at that.

“We could be from Texas,” Dez suggested. “From a ranch with horses.”

Tio vetoed Texas. “The accent is wrong. Georgia would be a better match.”

That made Jules shift uncomfortably in her seat. “Georgia feels too close. What's the most Northern state with a Southern accent?”

“Arkansas?” Ty suggested doubtfully, just as Tio said, “West Virginia.”

Either one was fine with Jules. “Let's vote. Who wants to be from West Virginia?” Tio was the only yes. “Arkansas?” Ty, Sam, and Dez all gave their enthusiastic approval.

“Arkansas?” Tio repeated disdainfully. “Really? Y'all want Arkansas to be our homeland?”

“I think it's good,” Jules said. “I could be wrong, but I think fewer people would be familiar with Arkansas than West Virginia, which means less chance of someone catching a mistake if we make one.”

Tio gave a deep, long-suffering sigh. “Fine. Can you hand me the atlas?” The Pathfinder they'd gotten for the Camry came equipped with an actual paper atlas. Until this trip, Jules hadn't used a paper map in years.

Pulling it from under his seat, Sam handed over the atlas.

“What are you doing, T?” Dez asked, leaning toward him so she could see the atlas, too.

“Research. There's not much I can do without access to the Internet or books, but at least I can learn some Arkansas geography.”

“Good idea. Why don't you check out our new hometown while you're at it?”

There were a few moments of silence before Tio asked, “Where
are
we going?”

Jules snorted. “It took y'all long enough to ask.”

“It was enough that we were leaving,” Ty said, and the others made sounds of agreement. “So? Where does this bus make its last stop?”

Excitement fought with nerves as she thought about the place they were going to make their new start. “Monroe, Colorado.”

Present Day

“What in the holy fuck did you do to Don's dog?”

Uneasy silence followed Blessard's words, broken only by Schwartz's low snicker. Theo focused on the ugly green tweed couch, clenching and releasing his right fist as he tried to contain his anger. It would be bad to hit Schwartz, and probably even worse to take a swing at the lieutenant.

His gaze slid to the gap between the couch and the wall where Viggy had wedged himself as soon as Theo had released him with a command to search. No part of the dog was visible from Theo's position. Guilt and frustration coiled in his belly. Viggy had been the best explosives-detection K-9 when he'd been partnered with Don. With Theo, Viggy wouldn't even search a room.

“I didn't do anything,” he gritted, his churning emotions morphing into a rage that coated his words despite his efforts to control it. “Don did that.”

Blessard made a scoffing sound. “What are you talking about? That dog was an explosives-seeking missile when Don was his partner. There wasn't anything wrong with him before.”

“Exactly.” Staring at the couch was not helping the fury that wanted to erupt like lava, burning everything in its path. Theo met the lieutenant's critical gaze. “There wasn't anything wrong with the dog until his asshole partner ate his own gun and left Viggy alone.”

Blessard flinched, his head jerking back like Theo really had punched him. After his initial shocked look faded, a brick-red flush darkened the lieutenant's face. He opened his mouth but then closed it again after shooting a glance at a fascinated Schwartz.

“Later,” Blessard muttered, and Theo answered with a nod that was more of a shrug. After all, what could the lieutenant do to him? Write a letter of reprimand? Take away Viggy? Theo never really had him anyway. Suspend him? At this point, he didn't know if he'd care if he lost his job. There was really no way Blessard could punish him. Theo had already lost everything that mattered.

Turning his back on his glowering lieutenant, Theo walked to the world's ugliest couch. Since he knew calling Viggy wouldn't work, he crouched down next to the sofa. Viggy, who'd mashed his too-thin body into the space between the back of the couch and the wall, panted nervously.

“C'mon, Vig.” By reaching his arm as far as he could into the narrow gap, Theo was able to hook his index finger around the leash and draw it toward him. The sight of the crouched animal—the dog that, just two months ago, was brimming with confidence and eagerness to work—sent a spike of sorrow into Theo's heart. “Let's go home, Officer.”

Viggy raised his head at the word “home,” his expression alert for the first time in two months. Instantly, Theo felt like an enormous dick. To Viggy, “home” was Don. There was no way for Theo to deliver on what he'd just promised.

Sorrow coursed through him, even as he wanted to punch a hole in Schwartz's drywall. With an audible exhale, Theo stood and pulled Viggy out of his hiding spot.

A thump and the sound of running boots made him jerk around and reach for his gun. Blessard was already in the hall, shouting, “Police! Romanowski, stop and drop your weapon!”

Feet pounded up the stairs as the lieutenant ran after Romanowski, and a half dozen other officers followed. Theo was halfway to the door, determined to give chase, when a jerk on his arm brought him to an abrupt halt.

Viggy.
He stared at the crouched dog, all his instincts and training shouting at him to back up his fellow officers. Looking at Viggy, Theo knew he couldn't do it, couldn't force the dog into the line of fire. Viggy was already traumatized. It wouldn't take much more to break him beyond repair…if he wasn't already.

A movement in his peripheral made Theo snap his head around to see Gordon slinking toward the hall, a pistol in his hand.

“No.” Theo dropped the leash and moved to block Gordon's path. Grabbing the barrel of the other man's gun, Theo disarmed him with a quick, upward twist before Schwartz realized what was happening.

“You can't take my gun.” Gordon's eyes bulged with fury. “It's my constitutional right to carry that gun. You can't take it away.”

Dropping the magazine into his hand and opening the slide by feel, Theo kept his eyes on Schwartz. “I'm not taking it.” He tucked the pistol in one cargo pocket of his BDUs and the magazine in another. “I'm just holding onto it for you. You'll get it back when we leave.”
If all the paperwork checks out
, Theo thought. “Take a seat.”

Although his mutinous expression didn't lighten, Gordon sank down on an overstuffed recliner. Theo stayed by the door, in a spot where he could keep an eye on Gordon and another on the hall. More cops, including Hugh, thundered past the doorway. While the rest dashed up the stairs, Hugh paused when he spotted Theo.

“You good?” Hugh's eyes swept the room. “Where's Vig.”

“Behind the couch. I've got this. Go.”

With a short nod, Hugh ran up the stairs.

“Is there anything up there we should be worried about?” Theo asked, trying to channel Hugh's negotiator skills. He was pretty sure he failed, judging by the way Gordon jerked back in his seat. “Guns? Bombs? Knives?”

“Everything's locked up,” Gordon said. “And nothing's live.”

When Theo looked at him steadily, Gordon scowled. “Why would I blow up my own home?”

“Romanowski can't access anything, then?” Theo relaxed slightly. Maybe his and Viggy's complete failure of a search wouldn't be an issue.

“I told you,” Gordon snapped. “Everything's locked up. All but the…” His face turned a pasty green color.

“What?” Theo barked, all thoughts of diplomacy gone. “All but
what?
”

A loud
boom
shook the house. Dust and small chunks of drywall rained down on top of Theo, and he staggered to keep his balance. There was a sudden silence, a complete stillness, before all hell broke loose. Shouts and running feet came from above, and more debris fell from the ceiling. From his spot behind the couch, Viggy's whine slid into a howl.

Theo ran to the doorway, taking the stairs four at a time, terror and guilt accelerating his steps.
He'd
caused this. It was his fault. If he hadn't failed so dismally—failed the search, failed Vig, failed Don—then this wouldn't be happening. How many cops were hurt? How many were killed?

Officers started streaming past him, running down as he ran up. Theo scanned them quickly, looking for blood, but everyone looked uninjured.

“Hey!” one of them called to him. “LT wants everyone out. That blast could've damaged the structure.”

Ignoring him, Theo tore down the second-floor hall, running toward the sound of loud voices. The air was thick with smoke and dust, tightening his lungs.

“Bosco!” Except for a layer of soot and dirt covering him, the lieutenant didn't look injured. “Get out of here!”

“Anyone injured?” Theo asked, his gaze raking the officers passing them. “Where's Hugh?”

Before Blessard could answer, Hugh emerged from the doorway at the end of the hall, supporting a cuffed and dazed-looking Romanowski on one side, while another officer held his other arm.

“Out!” the lieutenant bellowed. “Everyone out!”

Now that he'd seen that no one was obviously injured, Theo remembered Viggy. He'd left him alone with Gordon Schwartz. Flying down the stairs as quickly as he'd run up them, Theo hurried into the living room to find Gordon, still white-faced, sitting where Theo had left him.

“That wasn't my fault,” Gordon said as soon as Theo rushed through the doorway. “If someone's hurt, it's not on me.”

“Get outside. The house isn't safe.” Theo scanned the room, vaguely registering that Gordon had followed his command. All his attention was fixed on finding Viggy. He spotted the end of the leash protruding from behind the couch. “It's over, Vig,” Theo said quietly, crouching next to the sofa. Viggy was shaking so hard that the couch vibrated. “Let's go.”

The dog didn't move. Dust sifted from the ceiling; they needed to get out. He pulled on the leash, sliding a resisting Viggy across the floor until Theo could reach him.

Theo knew there was no way that Viggy would walk out of the house on his own. Wrapping his arms around the dog, Theo lifted him. Viggy stiffened as his paws left the ground.

“Shh,” Theo soothed. “I've got you.”

After a moment, Viggy went limp. Theo carried him out of the house and through the gates.

“Is Vig okay?” Hugh called from where he stood by the lieutenant.

No. He's not okay.
We're
not okay.
“He's not hurt,” Theo answered, his voice rough.

Everyone else was quiet, subdued, as Theo carried Viggy through the crowd of officers toward his squad car. Theo kept his gaze locked in front of him, and let the numbness take over.