One False Move (17 page)

She stared at the highway ahead, the two winding lanes with little traffic. The rain had washed everything clean, cooled things and left the sky a freshly scrubbed blue. Melanie remembered how she and Charlie talked about going for drives out in the country. This wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind.

“Take the turn for Nebraska City.” Suddenly Jared was sitting forward, ready to be Andrew Kane’s copilot. “We need to look for an ATM.” He held up a bank card he must have taken from Kane’s briefcase. “You’re about to make a little cash withdrawal.”

10:46 a.m.
Platte River State Park

Tommy Pakula slowed his Ford Explorer. He could see the mobile crime lab’s van and a police cruiser off to the side of the Platte River State Park entrance. His breakfast turned to lead in his stomach.
Holy crap!
He had no idea the crash site was this close to the park. They’d simply said Highway 6 south of Louisville.

The investigators had pulled in as close as they could behind the skid marks and broken barbed-wire fence. The car had plowed through the fence. This morning, after a night of thunderstorms and downpours, the torn path was filled with water. It looked as if it would take some serious boots just to get to the car.

Pakula waved to Ben Hertz and rolled down his window. “Anybody check the park yet?”

“One of the boys talked to the park superintendent. He lives here on the grounds. Said the park’s pretty empty. Only one cabin occupied and everything looked nice and quiet.”

“A buddy of mine is the lone occupant. You know Andy Kane, writes suspense-thriller novels?”

“Yeah, sure. Murderman, right?”

“Yep, that’s him. He’s out here writing. I’m gonna go check on him. I’ll be back.”

“Helicopter guys said the car was empty when they found it. These two hightailed it outta here pretty fast. It wouldn’t surprise me if they did have another car stashed someplace close. Just heard that an anonymous tip was phoned in about a white Saturn. One thing for sure, they didn’t stick around here long. They’d have to be stupid to do that.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Like I said, I’ll be back.” He rolled up the window and turned into the park.

Hertz
was
probably right. So why did Pakula have such a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach? He made his way up and around the winding road, climbing to get to the Owen Cabins on the far side of the lake. Before he pulled around the last curve, he knew Andrew’s car was gone. He couldn’t see the bright red Saab through the trees and tall grass. He pulled in to the slotted space, parked, opening the car door while shoving the emergency brake on.

Walking down the pathway to the front door he wondered why he didn’t think to check on Andrew last night. Maybe Andrew had simply gotten cabin fever and gone out for a drive, or maybe headed into Louisville for breakfast. And then again, maybe Andrew had heard about the wild events of yesterday and decided to pack it up and work from home. Andrew had brought his TV with him, so he wasn’t as isolated from the world as Pakula had been making it out.

He knocked on the door but didn’t wait long to try the doorknob. It opened easily, and he could feel the hairs on his arm stand to attention.

“Andrew? Hey, you here, buddy?” Pakula called out, hoping to get an answer, but he already knew the place was empty. That bad feeling was crawling upward from his stomach toward his chest.

Clothes were scattered all over the kitchen area with open jars and empty Pepsi cans thrown onto the heap. He cautiously walked from room to room. A pile of wet bath towels and soiled hand towels lay in the middle of the bathroom floor. Toothpaste and shampoo stained the countertop. Mud and dirt lined the drain of the shower and sink. Checking out the bedroom, he realized the bed looked slept in.

Pakula backtracked, taking his time, trying to slow down and examine what evidence was left behind to determine what had happened. Who was he fooling? He knew what had happened here. Andrew had had some unexpected guests last night. Guests who’d helped themselves to his things. Pakula couldn’t see Andrew’s laptop anywhere, although the TV sat in the middle of the room still plugged in.

He checked the screened-in porch—muddy shoe prints all the way up the back steps. “Andrew, buddy, you didn’t lock the fucking back door, did you? And where the hell are you?” He didn’t expect an answer.

Maybe he got away, ran into the woods. At this point, Pakula was relieved he hadn’t yet found his body, shot execution style like those poor souls in the bank. He stared out at the lake and woods on the other side. Andrew would have the advantage, even stumbling around out there at night. He knew this park.

Pakula headed back into the cabin, whipping out his cell phone to call in a new APB. At least Andrew’s car would be easy to find, torch red with vanity plates. Who said these guys weren’t stupid. “No service,” his phone’s digital display read, and he remembered his cell phone going dead yesterday in the middle of his conversation with Grace. He shook his head. Poor Andrew. He wasn’t even able to call for help.

No, he had to stop thinking that way. Pakula told himself Andrew was fine. It was actually a good sign that he wasn’t lying inside unconscious or dead. He had to have gotten away. Maybe they’d be sipping beers and laughing about this by nightfall.

That’s when Pakula saw the blood.

10:53 a.m.
Highway 75

Andrew kept checking his rearview mirror. All the times this red car had tripped the speed traps and set off the radar, why couldn’t it now? He pushed it over the speed limit, trying to keep it steady with the flow of traffic so Jared wouldn’t notice. Where was the state patrol? Why weren’t there Black Hawks looking for these three?

They’d killed four people, maybe five, in a bank robbery and yet, they didn’t take any money. Unless they’d stashed it somewhere. Maybe they were afraid of marked bills or recorded serial numbers. But wouldn’t they keep enough cash for their getaway? Or did things go so terribly wrong they’d walked away with nothing?

One obvious fact—Jared was pissed that Andrew’s daily ATM withdrawal was limited to four hundred dollars. Maybe he thought cleaning out Andrew’s bank account would make up for his botched bank robbery. Whatever the reason, Andrew had made sure he pulled up close enough to the ATM drive-through that the small camera peeking from the face of the machine could include a shot of the back seat. Or so he hoped. He’d also thought about jamming his card into the wrong slot, rendering it useless and possibly forcing Jared to allow him to access his account by going into the bank. But Andrew didn’t want to risk Jared walking into another bank.

It didn’t matter. It was over. Jared had four hundred dollars. They were back on the road, heading south on Highway 75 after leaving Nebraska City. In the rearview mirror Andrew could see Jared listening to the radio—no new information. Charlie stuffed his face, this time with little chocolate doughnuts.

He glanced at Melanie sitting beside him. Her head leaned against the car window. At first he thought she was sleeping, then realized she was staring out at the landscape. Something about Melanie made Andrew believe that her heart wasn’t in this. All the signs added up, her nervousness, or outbursts regarding what had gone down in the bank, gave Andrew the impression that maybe she might be the weak link in this threesome.

Now if only he could attract a speeding ticket. Back in Nebraska City he had even made an illegal left turn, hoping someone other than Jared would notice, but the pickup driver he cut off simply stopped and politely waited. Just his luck to be taken hostage and need to depend on people too polite to even imagine anyone in their small picturesque town could be taken hostage.

“Turn it up,” Jared yelled, startling both Andrew and Melanie. Without hesitation she grabbed at the radio’s volume button.

“…possibly taken from Platte River State Park. Local authorities now say they are looking for a 2004 red Saab 9-3 with Nebraska plates reading A-W-H-I-M, A WHIM. The two suspects may also have taken with them the car’s owner. We are told that this is an ordinary citizen and is not connected to the two suspects. Presently this person’s name is being withheld until confirmation has been made. Again, local authorities are advising that if you do see this vehicle, a 2004 red Saab 9-3 with vanity plates that read ‘A Whim,’ please call the special hotline, 800-555-9292, or 911. Do not approach or try to stop them as we are warned the two suspects are considered armed and dangerous. Authorities have released the names of the four victims who were killed in that—”

“Fuck! Fuck! Off! Shut it the fuck off!”

“What the hell are we gonna do now?” Melanie clicked the radio off, then spun around to face Jared, as if this was the last straw for her.

“Just shut the fuck up, Mel. Shut up and let me think.”

“This is crazy, Jared. Charlie and I didn’t sign on for this crap.”

“I told you I’d handle this, Mel. Now shut the fuck up.”

She turned back around. Andrew could see her hands wringing the hem of her shirt. He thought he could see her lower lip tremble but it disappeared between her teeth.

Andrew kept an eye on Jared in the rearview mirror. The cool-and-calm attitude had quickly dissipated. He jerked around in the back seat, clearly agitated. His entire body shifted to look from one window to the next, and he bent down at one point to get a look at the sky as if expecting to see a police helicopter. Charlie followed Jared’s lead, watching out the window and focusing on the sky.

“How the fuck did they figure this out?”

Andrew thought he was just blowing off steam, not really expecting an answer to his question. Then he felt the slap on the back of his head, hard enough to make him swerve and unexpected enough to make his stomach lurch.

“How?” Jared yelled again. “What did you do to tip them off?”

“Nothing,” Andrew said, and suddenly his heart was pounding in his ears again. Was there any reasoning with a man who didn’t need a reason to do what he was doing? Would he dump the car along with Andrew? “How could I do anything? I’ve been with you the whole time.”

He needed to calm his own panic and not give in to Jared. He needed to think positive. He could use this turn of events to his advantage. He had to try. What did he have to lose? While Jared twisted around to watch out the back window, Andrew slipped his hand down to the bottom of the steering wheel. From there he could reach over and turn on his headlights. He should have thought of that sooner—anything to get someone,
anyone
to notice his car. Maybe the pickup driver back in Nebraska City had already called it in. Maybe they were tracking them or at least sending a cruiser to investigate. If he could buy some time—yes, that’s what he needed to do. He needed to think.

“This could work to your advantage,” Andrew said, trying with effort to keep his breathing steady. If only he could think. If only he could remember all his research and access it now when he needed it. He knew volumes about criminals and sociopaths. Couldn’t he use his knowledge to his advantage? One thing he knew for certain, he had to sound as if he was on Jared’s side.

“What are you talking about?” Jared was still twisting around in the back seat.

Andrew could see Melanie turn toward him, looking for the first time interested. Up until now she had barely acknowledged his presence.

“They’re looking for this car, right?” Andrew continued. “I could be your decoy. Hell, I could drive all the way down to Kansas, maybe cut across Missouri. In the meantime, you could be headed in the opposite direction.”

Silence.

Jared stopped fidgeting. Melanie shifted in her seat to look back at Jared. It took effort for Andrew to keep quiet, to not oversell his plan. He resisted the urge to glance in the rearview mirror. He couldn’t look overly anxious. Jared had to think about how the plan benefited him. A true sociopath thought only in terms of “me.” Andrew was counting on it.

Finally Jared sat forward, reached across the front seat and pointed. “See that farm up ahead. Pull off and head up there.”

11:00 a.m.

Melanie dropped her head back against the soft leather headrest and let out a sigh of relief. Finally Jared was listening to reason. For a brief second she wished she could stay in the car and drive off with Andrew Kane, never mind that it meant certain capture and arrest. She just wanted an end to all this madness.

After following the long driveway, Jared insisted Andrew pull up to the house. The gravel snapped and popped against the bottom of the car despite the Saab slowing to a crawl. Rainwater had filled the tire ruts and the smooth luxury ride turned into a bumpy carnival ride.

Charlie started whistling the theme song from “Green Acres,” and Jared actually laughed before he told him to “shut the fuck up.”

Melanie tried to ignore them. She admired the farmhouse, a big two-story home. When she was a little girl growing up in a smelly roach-infested apartment, she had dreamed about living in a house like this with a long porch, though she would never have told Jared. He would have laughed at her and told her to stop dreaming. The porch even had a swing, the kind you saw in the movies with people sitting out on summer nights, sipping lemonade. This was a house that said, “Come in, make yourself at home, stay awhile.”

“How we gonna do this?” Charlie asked and Melanie could hear him already pulling his backpack from the floor.

“Everybody keep your mouths shut. I’ll handle it. That goes for you, too, Mr. Ordinary Citizen.”

Jared used the radio guy’s term as if it were an insult. Or, Melanie wondered, did he want to remind Andrew that he wasn’t a part of Jared’s team? Not that it mattered; she couldn’t help thinking there didn’t seem to be any perks to being on Jared’s team.

A farmer appeared from the side of the barn. He must have seen them coming up the driveway. He didn’t look at all like Melanie expected. Instead of overalls and a flannel shirt he wore blue jeans and a pale yellow oxford button-down. Instead of a straw hat or feed cap, he had on a red baseball cap.