the woods searching for the person who shot Kitty. They’d also be looking for me, but they’d assume I was on foot.
Eventually, they’d stop here to tell Grandma and Star that I was missing, lost in the woods, or worse. I had plenty of time before that happened.
“Kitty’s been shot,” I said. “I don’t know if she’s going to live.”
Grandma gasped. “What happened?”
I gave her a rough outline. “There’s a very bad person who is getting desperate,” I said, after finishing. “I need to stop the killings and get my son out of jail. As much as you’d like to think that I’m a renegade criminal, I’m not. You and I are on the same side. We want the same things.”
“Okay. I can see that now.”
I didn’t know whether to trust her or not. Grandma Johnson hadn’t displayed any signs of humanity in all these years. Why would she start today?
“What can I do to help?” Grandma asked.
“You can tell Dickey Snell you haven’t seen me.”
“Never cared for that kid.”
“And don’t believe anything he tells you about me. If he says I’m lost in the woods, don’t be alarmed. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“And take care of Fred while I’m gone.”
Grandma twitched. “That’s expecting pretty much.”
“And no hitting him with the fly swatter.”
Grandma groaned and looked down at Fred with a distrustful glare before switching to her old helpless lady face to gaze at me. “Anything to help,” she said. “I want to get back in your good graces and have my family together like before. I’d like to see us all together at the supper table. Does this mean I can stay?”
“Let me think a minute.”
What could I say? She was ninety-two and trying to turn over a new leaf. After digging in my closet and pocketing the pistol, I gave Grandma her answer.
“You can stay,” I agreed, knowing I’d regret it soon enough.
____________________
All of Tamarack County’s law enforcement agents were busy over at Walter’s house, so the jail wasn’t guarded. Blaze was lying on a cot. When he saw me rummaging through desk drawers, he popped right up. “Look in the top right one,” he said, good-guessing my intentions.
I found the key and opened the cell.
“This is crazy,” I said. “You didn’t kill Bob Goodyear or steal money from the credit union. I didn’t either. So why are you in jail? And why am I on the run?”
“What’s that thing on your head?” Blaze was staring at my blond hair.
“A disguise.”
“What’s all the commotion I’m hearing?” Blaze said, sounding pretty normal.
“Someone shot Kitty.”
“Hell’s bells,” he roared. “I need to get my job back and help you hunt for whoever did this. Is she dead?”
“No. At least I don’t think so.”
“You need my help.”
I had to remind myself that Blaze wasn’t much of a criminal catcher even before the disease struck him down. But Dickie was far worse. The kid’s college education hadn’t taught him common sense or street smarts. Going by the book is a bad plan way up in the north woods.
“Here’s a badge,” I said to Blaze, handing him the one I had ordered for myself and watching him pin it on his shirt. “You’re the sheriff as far as I’m concerned. Let’s go.”
“Where are we headed?”
I looked at my son. “I have absolutely no idea,” I answered.
Chapter 24
TUESDAY STARTED OUT COLD AND rainy. Blaze and I were holed up in an old-fashioned motel on the far side of Escanaba, less than half a mile from the hospital. The motel had twelve units and each one had its own entry. The heater below the window rattled continuously and condensation formed on the pane above it. Any colder and the rain would turn to snow.
Kitty had made it through the night. Cora Mae’s last update had her whispering that Kitty had survived through surgery, but it was still wait-and-see.
The TV6 morning news anchor had a bucket load of live updates, as well as last night’s news regarding the backwoods shooting. Cameras rolled as an ambulance unloaded Kitty at the hospital’s emergency entrance. More coverage of the local sheriff’s attempt to apprehend a suspect.
“We’ve ascertained that the suspect fled through the woods,” Dickey had said on TV, puffing up for the camera. “Wanted criminals were hiding in a trailer on Walter Laakso’s property in Stonely. Mr Laakso has cooperated fully with the investigation. There’s no reason to believe he knew anything about his unwelcome guests. We believe that the shooter was known by the victim, but that has not been confirmed, since the victim remains unconscious at this time.”
The same photo of me appeared on the screen and Blaze chuckled. “What a bad picture,” he said.
“I’ll be sure to send them a better one when I find time.”
“Gertrude Johnson,” the anchor said, “is wanted for questioning in the death of Detroit native Robert Goodyear. Please contact the authorities if you see her. Do not approach her. I repeat, do not approach. She is assumed to be armed and dangerous.”
Unbelievable what the media would say and do to sensationalize a story.
Blaze quit smiling when his own mug flashed on the screen.
“Bonnie and Clyde couldn’t have captured the Upper Peninsula’s imagination with any more color,” the anchor said. “Witnesses saw a blond woman assisting Blaze Johnson in a breakout from the Stonely jail last night, fueling the flames of a rumor that the Johnson family masterminded the robbery of tens of thousands of dollars from Stonely’s credit union. The blonde Bonnie Parker hasn’t been identified yet, but authorities are questioning witnesses and hope for a break in the case soon. This is TV6 live. Stay tuned for more updates.”
After a commercial break, they interviewed Grandma Johnson. I watched through little slits between my fingers while holding my breath. “You pissants must have something better to do than scare an old lady half to death, coming around here, leaping out of trucks. I should sic my dog on you. If my favorite daughter-in-law and my grandson are in hiding, it’s cuz you people like to tell lies to sell more papers. I oughta hit you with my flyswatter.”
I wondered why she had the thing in her hand in the first place, since she wasn’t supposed to hit Fred with it. I should have taken it with me when I had the chance. I also wondered how she got away with saying pissants on TV without getting bleeped.
Blaze and I sat in the motel room all morning staring at the television set, waiting for word on Kitty, and talking about what to do next.
“I can’t sit here any longer,” I said eventually, when we still didn’t have a plan. “I need a new wig and you aren’t exactly easy to miss. We have to figure out a disguise for you, too.”
The only thing going our way right now was Blaze’s condition. I hadn’t seen any signs of abnormalities in his thinking process.
When we left the motel, I found a care package from Cora Mae on the passenger seat of Walter’s truck. A black ball cap and a stick-on mustache for Blaze and the black flip wig for me – the one Kitty had been wearing when she got shot. I combed through it with my fingers. Images of last night kept flashing through my mind. Her lying on the floor, blood everywhere, Cora Mae holding her in her arms.
