One False Move (28 page)

Grace crossed her arms and leaned against the doorway, watching Pakula search through Jared Barnett’s closet, emptying shoeboxes of baseball cards and tossing out a couple of footballs, neither of which seemed to have any hidden compartments.

She glanced at Melanie Starks, trying to determine if she was, indeed, conning them, hoping to cut a deal for both her and her son. Life with the possibility of parole for Charlie and less time for her. Grace and her boss had agreed that, if Melanie Starks could, in fact, implicate Max Kramer as the mastermind of the bank robbery as well as the murder of Tina Cervante, it would be worth the deal. What an odd twist of fate it would be if Max Kramer, the defender of death row inmates, ended up on death row himself.

“I don’t think there’s anything here,” Pakula said as he dug through the dresser drawers and looked under the bed. He shoved aside the piles of clothing and pulled back the bedcovers and suddenly there it was.

Grace knew as soon as she saw it. Underneath Jared Barnett’s bedspread was Emily’s stuffed white dog.

“It’s Mr. McDuff,” she said without realizing how ridiculous it probably sounded.

“Excuse me?” Pakula said.

Grace went over to the bed and picked up the stuffed animal. “Emily’s been missing this since Wednesday. She kept telling me that the shadow man took it.”

“The shadow man?” Pakula was looking at her now as if she were nuts. Even Melanie looked confused.

“I think your brother must have taken it from my house.”

“Why would he do that?”

Then Grace felt it. She found the slot cut into Mr. McDuff’s back and, without pulling it out and contaminating it, she could see Jared Barnett had inserted an audiocassette. She held it up to show Pakula and Melanie.

“He must have known that I might be the one looking through his things, and of course, I wouldn’t miss this. I think we have our evidence.” And she looked to Melanie. “If this is what I think it is, you might have your deal.”

Two years later
Manhattan, New York

Andrew Kane smiled up at Erin Cartlan as she handed him a bottled water.

“They’re lined up out the front door,” she said, pleased, referring to the line of people outside the door of her bookstore waiting to meet him and get an autographed copy of his new book.

“I hear it’s your best yet,” the brunette in front of him said, waiting for him to finish her inscription. “
East of Normal?
Wherever did you come up with that title?”

“You’ll figure it out when you read the book,” he answered.

“Is it true it’s based on something that really happened to you?”

“You know book publicists,” he said, keeping his eyes down and scratching his name on the page. “They’ll say anything to sell tons of books.”

He handed her the book and that’s when he saw her. She was in line, not ten feet away. He almost didn’t recognize her. She was dressed in a tailored brown suit and her hair was cut short. She was actually very pretty. If he didn’t know better he’d think she was a professional businesswoman and not an ex-convict out on parole. She waved when she saw him notice her. He waved her to the front of the line.

“Do you mind?” he asked the gentleman who was next and, of course, what could he say but no he didn’t mind.

Andrew stood to greet her, not knowing what was appropriate. She saved him by offering her hand.

“God, Melanie, you look great. How long have you been…” He stopped himself before saying “out of jail,” but he could see she knew the rest of the question.

“Only a couple of months.”

“And how’s Charlie?”

“Good. Really good. Three more years and he has his first parole hearing.” She turned back to the long line, distracted and smiling when she said, “Look at you.” Then she turned over the copy of his novel she had already picked up. “It’s good. I like how you did it.”

“Well, there are some things I used creative license with.”

“I know.” She smiled. She’d obviously already read the book and was pleased with her portrayal.

“How did you find out about…” and she leaned in, lowering her voice, “my father and, well, you know?”

“Mostly your mom and some newspaper articles. I suspected Jared had to kill him to end the abuse and that’s partly why Jared was the way he was. Did I do okay?”

“Oh, yes, I loved the book,” she said, hugging it to her. “Even if you did get a few things wrong or rather used creative…what was it?”

“Creative license. You know,” and he pulled her aside, indicating to Erin and the waiting line of people that he’d only be another minute or two, “I never would have believed you were capable of doing what you ended up having to do.”

“Really?” She leaned in close again. “What you didn’t realize was that it wasn’t the first time for me.”

“Excuse me?” He wasn’t sure what she meant.

“My father?” She looked around to make sure there was enough chatter behind her that she couldn’t be overheard. “It wasn’t Jared that night. He just cleaned up the mess.”

Andrew stared at her, only now realizing what she was saying, that she had killed her father and not Jared.

“So can you autograph my copy to me and Charlie?”

I am constantly amazed at how willing and patient people are in sharing their experiences and expertise with me. They contribute not only interesting tidbits to my novels, but a wealth of flavor and color and knowledge and credibility that could never come from any other source. Special thanks to:

Amy Moore-Benson, my editor and friend, for once again getting me through my own twists and turns and helping me make sense of it all. Your contribution, your dedication and your expertise constantly challenge me and always improve my books.

Patricia Sierra—fellow author, friend extraordinaire and Emily Dickinson scholar—for being my sounding board, my bearer of logic and my peace of mind. And for this particular novel, thank you for providing an inspiring interpretation of Emily’s “‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers.”

Leigh Ann Retelsdorf, Deputy County Attorney and friend, for sharing your stories and experiences with me. You are amazing and a true inspiration.

Detective Sergeant Bill Jadlowski of the Omaha Police Department for showing me that a homicide detective is so much more than the literary caricature we suspense writers tend to portray.

C. L. Retelsdorf, Douglas County Crime Scene Investigator, for describing piece by piece the painstaking process a crime scene investigator goes through. Also for taking me through the Norfolk bank robbery crime scene.

Tammy Partsch, now a reporter for KNCY-radio in Nebraska City, for giving me a reporter’s account of what it was like to cover the Norfolk bank robbery for KUSO-radio in Norfolk, Nebraska.

John Keenan,
Omaha World Herald
columnist, for sharing your personal trials and tribulations of dealing with a broken collarbone.

The fantastic crew at MIRA Books: Dianne Moggy, Craig Swinwood, Stacy Widdrington, Tania Charzewski, Loriana Sacilotto and Krystyna de Duleba, along with your amazing teams. Special thanks to Christine Langone, Pat Muir-Rand and Mike Smith and his incredible staff for rearranging your busy schedules to accommodate my book. And once again, a humble thank-you to Alex Osuszek and the best sales force in the publishing business.

Maureen Stead, at MIRA Books, for your amazing patience and for always taking such good care of me.

Megan Underwood and Goldberg McDuffie Communications, Inc., for your continued enthusiasm and dedication.

Patricia Kava, my mom, for being one of my biggest fans despite my use of blood and violence (and the “F-word”) in my books.

Sharon Car, fellow writer and friend, for always encouraging and listening.

Mary Means and Tammy Hall for taking care of my two most valuable possessions while I’m on the road.

Walter, Emilie and Patti Carlin for all the delicious meals and for taking such good care of me while I hid out to write a chunk of this novel in the comfortable confines of your beautiful home.

Also very special thanks to Kenny and Connie Kava, Patti El-Kachouti, Marlene Haney, Sandy Rockwood, Jeanie Shoemaker Mezger and John Mezger, Annie Belatti, Nicole and Tony Friend, Gene Egnoski and Rich Kava for your love and support, your friendship and your patience in putting up with my long absences.

Once again a humble and sincere thank-you to:

The many book buyers, booksellers and librarians for selling and recommending my books.

And to the readers—you inspire and challenge me, and I thank all of you for allowing me to continue doing what I love.

Lastly, this past year my books have managed to make the bestseller lists not only here in the United States but in Australia, the United Kingdom, Italy, Germany and Poland. I want to thank the publishing teams in each of these countries for doing such a fantastic job and for literally taking me places I never dreamed of going.

Like many other suspense writers I use bits and pieces about real-life crimes and killers in my novels. Through research and interviews I often discover fascinating details that inspire a plot twist of a killer’s M.O. or an unusual piece of evidence. And always I hope it’s these small details that add authenticity to my novels.

One False Move,
however, came about in an entirely different way. In March of 2001 I retreated to my favorite cabin at Platte River State Park, isolating myself to finish my second novel,
Split Second.
My dogs and I were the only occupants out of the thirteen cabins that surround the lake. During our second evening I heard a helicopter flying low over the park. In a matter of minutes I learned that two men had robbed a bank in nearby Lincoln, Nebraska. By the time I heard the news they had already shot a farm couple in order to steal their pickup and were on the run. The state park was in the middle of the manhunt, and so was I.

The experience sparked the idea for
One False Move,
and that summer I scratched out pages of notes even though I knew I’d have to put them aside while I wrote two more Maggie O’Dell novels. In the fall of 2002 I pulled out the notes again in order to finally start writing. That same fall three men walked into a bank in Norfolk, Nebraska, with the intention of robbing it. Forty seconds later they left without any money, leaving five innocent people dead and triggering a state-wide manhunt. It was the deadliest bank robbery in Nebraska’s history.

Although my idea for
One False Move
came a year and half before and was based on an entirely different bank robbery and manhunt, I was struck by some of the similarities. I talked to law enforcement officials and reporters who had been personally involved in the Norfolk case. Their experiences and stories gave me a greater appreciation for what I was writing about and most definitely enriched my novel.

Most of them were asking the same questions I had already been asking—why and how could anyone do something like this? What pushes some of us to do evil while others will never cross that line? If it’s human nature to fight for survival, to what extremes are we willing to go? These are the same questions I seem to ask in every one of my novels. However, this time I realized the questions were not simply rhetorical. Both crimes had hit a bit too close to home. This time I was using bits and pieces of two separate crimes that had affected either me personally or people I knew.

It was one more reminder that truth is stranger than fiction. And although I write fiction, I now realize with the help of my readers that what I write might not be only for entertainment but can sometimes touch people in ways I never imagined or intended. This has definitely been an experience that has given me a new level of sensitivity to the crimes and characters I portray in my novels.

I want to thank all of those who shared their experiences with me concerning that fatal day in Norfolk in September 2002. And to the victims’ families, I extend my deepest sympathy.

Alex Kava

Alex Kava grew up in rural Nebraska, outside the small town of Silver Creek (population 500). As a child, Alex wrote short stories on the backs of old calendars and scrap paper, sharing them only with her younger brother and hiding them in a shoebox under her bed.

Alex earned an art scholarship to attend college. To pay living expenses, she worked in a nearby hospital’s central surgery department scrubbing equipment, utensils and basins from the morgue and surgery departments. She graduated magna cum laude from College of Saint Mary, in Omaha, Nebraska, with a B.A. in Art and English. She has advanced studies and certificates in advertising and marketing.

For the last 15 years, Alex has worked in graphic design, advertising, and public relations. She has designed food packages and logos for national corporations, written brochures and newsletters, created a line of greeting cards, and directed TV and radio commercials. During the summer of 1996, Alex quit her full-time job as a director of public relations in order to dedicate more time to writing fiction and getting published. To pay the bills, she resurrected her home-based graphic design firm, Square One. She refinanced her home, maxed out her credit cards, and even took on a newspaper delivery route.