Pernell walked back to his partner. Carolyn watched as they chatted calmly, in the manner of consulting physicians: Pernell with his back to Carolyn, the partner facing her. She didn’t like the other guy. His eyes were unfriendly, and as he listened, he appeared to stare straight through her. From body language alone, Carolyn surmised that Pernell was the subordinate. The boss cop asked a couple of questions, and Pernell answered each with a subtle shake of his head.
“What’s happening?” Travis pleaded from beneath the blanket.
Jake reached out and touched the boy’s shoulder. “Shhhh. We’ll be fine.”
Finally, the meeting broke up. As Pernell strolled back to the van, the boss returned to the cruiser.
“Sorry to have bothered you, Ms. Durflinger,” Pernell said, handing her driver’s license back through the window. After Carolyn took the card back, the officer smiled and tapped the door twice, a gesture of finality. “Have a good day.”
The nerves kicked in as soon as Pernell started back to his car. Carolyn’s hands trembled out of control, making it difficult for her to crank her window shut. Then a wave of anxiety swept over her, left to right, top to bottom. Within seconds, she was trembling all over: hands, knees, legs, shoulders, jaws. A crippling wave of nausea followed, along with an overwhelming need to go to the bathroom. They’d come so close, and now she was going to wreck it all in a flood of tears and vomit.
“I’m going to be sick,” she tried to say, but the words came out as a garbled croak.
“No, you’re not!” Jake commanded. “You don’t have the luxury of getting sick. You’re going to swallow down whatever you have to and pull away just like there’s nothing wrong.” The sternness of Jake’s tone caused Travis’s head to pop out again from under the blanket. He looked more frightened than ever. Jake saw the look and softened. “You’ve got the reins now, honey,” he went on. “It’s you, me, and Travis. That’s all that matters. We can get away or we can get caught. Those are the only choices. And it’s all up to you. You did a great job a minute ago. Don’t blow it now.”
Jake’s words wounded Carolyn, and he knew it. She hated to be scolded like a child; in front of Travis, it was even worse. No words of praise for the wonderful deception; just warnings of dire consequences if she caved in to the flood of emotions which had just swallowed her up.
“… just get control, Carolyn.” Jake was still coaching her.
“I’ve got it, okay?” she snapped. Like flipping a switch, the emotions evaporated. Her hands and knees stilled, and her heart slowed to a survivable pace. The nausea was gone.
She slipped the van’s transmission into drive and pulled away from the shoulder. She glanced back in the side-view mirror at Officer Pernell, who seemed busy with paperwork on his lap. As the image grew smaller with distance, Carolyn found herself hoping he’d never find out how badly he just screwed up.
Behind her, Jake let out a war whoop that nearly made her wreck the van. “We made it, babe! You were brilliant!”
CHAPTER TEN
By four-thirty, the full authority and resources of the United States government were behind the search for the Donovans, and, much to her surprise, Irene still had full tactical command. As a practical matter, all that really meant was that she’d been named as the official scapegoat. If she truly had lost her prey, only one career would be trashed.
Actually, two. Irene had known Paul Boersky since their days together in Minneapolis-her first assignment out of the academy, and his second. Together, they’d racked up quite an impressive list of arrests over the years, putting them both on faster tracks than their respective classmates. Irene had passed her old partner on the career ladder just fourteen months ago, thanks to the political realities of the nineties. These days, when it came time for promotions, all ties went to minority candidates-in this case, to a woman-and if you asked her, it was about damn time.
If Paul harbored any ill will toward his assignment to second chair, he never showed it. In fact, Irene’s willingness to let subordinates shine on the job had served him well. No doubt his next assignment would be as supervisory agent in charge of a field office somewhere.
Well, no doubt until today, anyway. Fact was, if this Donovan thing went bad, everyone associated with it would be painted with a very ugly brush. At headquarters, they called it high incentive to perform.
Presently, Paul, Irene, and a dozen other cops and FBI agents were dismantling Farm Meadows Mobile Home Park, looking for some clue as to where the Donovans might have gone. So far, they’d found nothing; but the Phoenix P.D. was enjoying remarkable success in collaring four fugitives wanted on felony warrants. Irene overheard a cop liken the scampering felons to roaches scattering in the light. Personally, she preferred her own analogy of lifting a rock. Either way, Chief Sherwood had dodged one hell of a bullet.
There had to be a way to track them down. She refused to believe that the earth could simply open up and digest three human beings. Everything people did left a trail of some sort. Everyone, it would seem, except the Donovans.
Paul sighed loudly and leaned against the makeshift porch attached to the Donovans’ trailer. “I know you don’t want to hear this,” he said sheepishly, “but it appears they plain just got away. The closets are still full of clothes, there’s dishes in the sink and wet clothes in the washing machine. When they left, they left. Poof.”
She helped herself to an Astro Turfed step. “And we missed them at the school,” she sighed.
“Two hours ago,” he confirmed. “We’re getting a pretty good handle on how they spent their day, too. The neighbor down the street-a Mary Barnett-says she saw Carolyn in the bank this morning, looking, as she said, ‘very suspicious. ’ ”
“What does that mean?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably means that Mrs. Barnett doesn’t have enough to do. I’ve got a guy at the bank just the same, talking to folks down there.”
She nodded. “Anything else?”
“Uh-huh. Let me show you.” He led the way inside the Donovans’ trailer, past the kitchen and the living room, and into the master bedroom. Not much for the trailer park scene herself, she had to admit that the place looked better than most. “Look here,” he said, pointing to the bed. “Three duffel bags, packed with clothes and toiletries.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Three bags? As in Mama Bear, Papa Bear, and Baby Bear?”
“Exactly,” he confirmed. “Three bags packed with essentials, yet the drawers and closets are all full.”
She scowled. “Now, you tell me how you can look at a closet and tell me it’s full. You have some special power, do you, that lets you look at someone’s closet and tell what’s not there?” She chuckled and shook her head.
He scowled. He didn’t like being the target of her derision, and he wasn’t at all sure why she’d suddenly decided to take up residence on his back. “Think about it,” he urged. “Wouldn’t you think that someone throwing stuff together at the last minute would leave a mess? You’d have shit hanging out of drawers and stuff half-pulled off hangers. But look at this place.” He made a wide, sweeping motion with his arm. “I mean, it’s not House and Garden, but the place is certainly organized.”
She turned her eyes back to the duffel bags. “Maybe they were going on a trip.”
“The bags were padlocked into a closet.”
“So?”
“So I think they’ve been planning for this. Look, this bag here even has pictures and baby memorabilia. No one takes stuff like that on vacation. The Donovans were ready to go at a moment’s notice, which means they’ve got a plan. They know what they’re going to do, where they’re going to go, and how they’re going to get there.”
“But we interrupted their plan,” she offered. “So maybe they’re off balance.”
He shrugged. “Well, okay. Maybe. But remember, these are just the essentials. Nothing here to make or break a getaway.”
She considered that for a long moment. “Which means they’ve got more essentials someplace else.”
He nodded. “I would if I were them.”
