'What did you do, Jared?' she asked again.
'What did / do?' he asked through a mouthful of food. 'You should ask your buddy what he did.' This time he flung a piece of paper over the seat. 'Take a right.'
'We just came from that direction.' But she didn't argue and pulled onto the highway. She grabbed the paper before it slipped off the seat to the floor. It looked like an ordinary credit card receipt with a signature.
'What? He signed the correct name.'
'On the back, stupid.'
'Don't call me stupid,' she said before she could stop herself. Her hands were shaking so bad she couldn't read what was printed on the back. 'What's coviale?' she asked, pronouncing it as best she could.
'No, no. It's CO via 6. Don't you get it? He was trying to tip them off. Tell them which way we were headed.'
'Oh, I get it,' Charlie piped up and Melanie could see him grinning in the rearview mirror like a schoolboy who'd answered a question correctly. ' Colorado via Highway 6. That's what it is, right?' He looked to Jared for approval.
'You didn't need to kill her,' Andrew said without lifting his head, his voice a quiet muffle.
'The way I see it, buddy, pal, Mr. Ordinary Citizen Kane, you killed her.' Jared spat out the words with such exaggerated enunciation that Melanie could feel his angry spittle on her neck and could smell the pepperoni on his breath.
Silence. It was suddenly so quiet Melanie could hear Jared chewing and swallowing. There was some rustling of paper and she saw that Charlie had joined in, unwrapping a sandwich and ripping open a bag of chips. Nothing seemed to spoil either of their appetites.
She knew as far as Jared was concerned the subject was closed. This was crazy. Another person dead? When would it stop? Had Jared lost his mind? This was not the brother she knew. She tried to keep her mind on the road. Every intersection had her checking for police cars. What if someone heard the gunshot? What if someone saw them drive away?
As if he could read her mind, Jared said suddenly, 'We need a new car.'
'But I just filled this one up,' Melanie said, recognizing immediately what a stupid thing it was to say. Stupid, yes. Maybe Jared was right. She was stupid. Stupid to ever trust him, now knowing full well why she wasn't in on 'the plan' from the start. The guns, the getaway-she would never have agreed to any of this. Now Jared had them all in such a mess there was no turning back.
'Whadya think, Charlie?'
'I noticed some kind of manufacturing plant a few miles out. Parking lot with a bunch of cars. Should be up here.' Charlie sat forward, surveying the area.
Melanie hadn't noticed it, but, of course, Charlie would have. Sure enough she could now see the building back off the highway, partially hidden by trees. Some farm-implement maker or so she guessed something called Val-Farm Manufacturing would be.
She took the turn for the access road without needing Jared's instructions. She noticed Andrew had sat up. He had taken off the sunglasses and was rubbing his eyes and forehead with such force she expected the wound to start bleeding again. What was wrong with him? Did he want to hurt himself? Sure enough, drops of blood fell onto the car seat. She grabbed a napkin she hadn't used earlier and tossed it into his lap. He stared at it, then finally, after glancing at her, picked it up and put it against the wound.
Jared and Charlie looked like two kids in a candy store scoping out the cars as Melanie drove up and down the rows.
'Not another Saturn,' Jared said. 'And nothing flashy.'
'I can do Tauruses pretty good,' Charlie said. 'How 'bout that one over there? It's kinda dirty. I can't even tell what color it is. I can exchange license plates with that Ford Escort behind it.'
'It's perfect. Melanie-'
But she was already pulling in to an empty slot two cars away.
Charlie jumped out and walked up to the car as if it was his and they were dropping him off. It didn't matter. There was no one around. And the building didn't have any windows that looked out over the parking lot.
Charlie grinned as he opened the Taurus's door without jimmying the lock. The owner hadn't even bothered to lock it. Melanie watched him slide into the driver's seat, his head disappearing while he hotwired it. But suddenly his head popped up with a wide grin as he dangled the car's keys for them to see.
'Christ,' Jared said. ''People are so fucking trusting out here. They deserve to have their cars stolen.'
CHAPTER 50
4:10 p.m.
Max Kramer slammed the telephone receiver into its cradle. He couldn't believe it. Grace Wenninghoff had just passed on his offer. Was she recklessly stupid or did she know something?
Rumor was the cops didn't have jackshit as evidence in the string of convenience-store robberies. Nothing except maybe the stores' videos, which they had shown snippets of on the ten o' clock news. Not much to see there. It looked like the same routine, even the same guy in the same getup, but it also looked as if it would be impossible for anyone to ID the guy from those crappy videos.
There went his insurance policy, down the drain. Now he was stuck defending another crack whore who couldn't afford to pay him. Not even two weeks ago he was on the Larry King Show and he didn't think life could get any better. Well, he was right, because just when he thought he was on top of the world, he was sliding down shit hill again.
He leaned back in his leather chair and stared out his office window that overlooked the Gene Leahy Mall and downtown Omaha. It was this window and this view that made the small, cramped space prime commercial real estate. He couldn't afford it, but did, because he liked looking out over the city and feeling a sense of power. He had worked long and hard to win this city's respect. He wasn't about to have it taken away from him now.
He could cash in on his national media coupe for only so long. He knew that. It wouldn't take much before his colleagues started to try to knock him down- the bastards.
He sorted through the stack of voice messages. A half-dozen idiots, all wanting something from him. The one idiot he needed to hear from hadn't called. He checked his watch. He had to start thinking about an alternative insurance policy. It shouldn't be this difficult. After all, who better than a defense attorney knew exactly what the cops were looking for?
Max set aside the three messages from his wife. She'd want to know what time he'd be home. Should she keep dinner warm?
He hated that the bitch kept such tabs on him. He was sick and tired of her subtle threats. He had hoped after his national media blitz that he wouldn't need her or her money. What was he thinking? That Fox News would cancel Greta Van Susteren and be calling to offer him his own legal talk show? How likely was that?
Instead, he had a shitload of messages from death-row assholes all across the country, all wanting him to get them off. More assholes who didn't have a fucking dime to pay him. And there weren't any more favors he needed from any of them. Hell, the one bastard who did owe him couldn't get things right.
He checked his wristwatch again. He had better be getting a phone call and soon.
CHAPTER 51
5:56 p.m.
Tommy Pakula searched the bleachers, squinting against the sun and finally putting a hand up to his forehead. Claire was on the second row from the top, waving at him and at the same time yelling at their daughter to 'use your head.' It looked as if he had missed most of the first quarter, but his team was ahead by one goal.
