“Are you listening?”
“Jesus, sis, I got it the first time.”
“We’ll go on your say-so. Lead them around for another ten minutes, then pull over. Got it?”
“There better not be a body cavity search. I’ll give you up if they threaten me with a body cavity search. My ass is exit only.”
“Relax, Harry.” Phin patted him on the shoulder. “They won’t think I’m hiding up your ass.”
Harry nodded, then accelerated to catch up to a bus several car lengths ahead. Phin and I went to the kitchenette, strapping on our backpacks. He smirked at me again. I frowned.
“I’m going with you to find Alex, Phin. That’s the only reason.”
“I know.”
His grin didn’t fade. I thought about mentioning the obstruction of justice charges I’d be facing if we were caught, along with accessory after the fact, all because he robbed a goddamn bank instead of getting an honest job. But instead I said, “What’s so damn funny?”
He shook his head slightly. I realized he wasn’t amused by the situation, or anything I was doing. He was staring at me the way Latham used to, the way Alan did before our marriage imploded. Not lust. Something even more dangerous.
Love.
A quick romp in bed was one thing. An actual relationship was something I couldn’t even consider, especially at that moment. I wanted to smack him for being ten kinds of inappropriate.
“They’re on my bumper!” McGlade yelled back.
“How close?” I turned away from Phin’s stare but still could feel it.
“Close enough to give me a reach-around. Bus is on the left. You got about twenty seconds before the light turns green.”
Phin shouldered the backpack and hopped onto the sofa, fussing with the latches on the ceiling panel. It swung upward on hinges. He stuck his arms through, got his palms onto the roof, and hoisted himself up. I hung my purse around my neck and cast a longing glance at the rifles. We’d have to leave them for the time being.
“Cross traffic is flashing the Don’t Walk light,” McGlade said.
A hand reached down. I stepped onto the sofa and grabbed Phin’s wrist. His fingers locked onto my forearm and he yanked me through the opening, up onto my butt.
Vehicle exhaust soured my sinuses and cold city wind spit drizzle on my cheeks. I knelt on the roof, rainwater soaking through the seat of my sweatpants.
“The Don’t Walk light is solid.” McGlade’s voice was muffled, competing with the sounds of the street. Engines, honking, a siren in the distance. I looked behind me, couldn’t see the Feebies’ sedan. We were too high and they were too close.
Phin pointed left, to the bus. A Chicago commuter, green on white, about a foot taller than the RV and too far away to jump onto.
But Phin wasn’t reading my thoughts, and he sprinted up from a crouching position, took three big strides, then launched himself through the air.
His jump took him at least eight feet, and as his arc crested and waned I knew he didn’t have enough height to make it. Phin must have realized it as well, because he tucked in his legs midair, and hit the roof of the bus on his knees, sliding across the top in a spray of dirty water.
I knew I couldn’t follow. Too far.
“Yellow light!” McGlade warned.
Phin twisted around, beckoned me to jump. I got on my feet, but there was no way. Not without wings and a stack of mattresses. I shook my head.
“Green light!” Harry yelled. “Wait-traffic is blocked! Two cars! Feds! They’re Feds!”
I crouched down, crawled to the edge of the roof. Special Agent Dailey-or maybe it was Special Agent Coursey-walked directly under my line of sight, heading for the front of the RV.
I played out the upcoming scene in my head. Coursey/Dailey would produce a warrant, because neither of them took a leak without first going through proper channels, Harry would stonewall for a minute or two, then the Feds would search the Winnebago, find the open roof panel, discover me and Phin. Then we’d be chased and eventually arrested, Lance would die, Alex would continue her reign of terror, and Phin would go to jail for a very long time.
Now was a pretty good time to run like hell.
I glanced over at Phin, still motioning for me to jump. On my best day, on dry ground, I couldn’t make it. On a slippery roof, twelve feet above the street, I’d break bones for sure.
I heard Harry say, “How do I know this is a real warrant, and not something you printed on the Internet?” and decided that was my cue to give myself up. Phin could escape on his own, and we could contact him later. Depending on their evidence, maybe I wouldn’t have to spend all night at FBI headquarters answering questions. I pointed at the street, mouthed the word run at Phin.
“He’s on top of the bus!”
I glanced down. A Feebie had his gun out, bringing it up. Phin backpedaled out of range, shrugging off his backpack. He jerked down the zipper and reached inside.
There were Berettas in the backpack.
Bank robbery was one thing. Shooting a federal agent was another. I couldn’t let Phin do that, not even to save himself.
I fumbled for my purse, yanking out my Colt, cop mode on autopilot. Without hesitating I pointed my gun at the man I’d been making out with only a few minutes ago.
Phin tugged something small and black out of the bag, I yelled “No!”, and my finger reflexively tightened on the trigger, the hammer drawing back.
Walkie-talkie. He was holding a radio.
He cocked back his arm to toss it to me, and hesitated when he saw my gun out and trained on his chest. It was tough to see his expression in the drizzle and the darkness, but I imagined it was a combination of shock and disappointment. We both got over it quick enough, and I tucked my gun under my armpit just as he threw the radio across the gap. I caught it, and then he disappeared over the other side of the bus.
“On the RV!”
My shouting had done more than give away my position. It also confirmed that I was aiding and abetting a federal criminal. I was in deep. I shoved the radio and the gun into my purse and wondered what the hell I should do next.
“We followed you to the pool establishment, Lieutenant. You’re under arrest.”
I turned, saw Dailey or Coursey peeking over the rear of the RV, climbing the aluminum ladder attached to the back. His gun wasn’t out. He probably figured I was trapped. A quick look at the street around me confirmed this: The Feds had the Crimebago surrounded.
“Give up, Lieutenant. There’s nowhere for you to go.”
But he was wrong. The bus was still there. I didn’t think I’d make it, but I didn’t have a choice. In less than seven hours, Lance would be dead, and it didn’t matter to him whether I was in Cook County Jail or Cook County Hospital.
I set my jaw, sprinted for the edge, and jumped.
CHAPTER 20
ALEX PUSHES THE PATROL CAR up past 120, sirens screaming and lights flashing, flying over the state line. It’s a rush. She can see what drew Jack to a career in law enforcement. No wonder so many cops are dicks. How easy it is to power trip when you have a car, a badge, and a gun.
Unfortunately, she can’t keep it. The car will be reported missing, if it hasn’t been already, and it probably has a GPS locator in it somewhere. The sooner she can ditch it, the better.
Luckily, getting another vehicle is as easy as pulling one over.
Alex chooses a Hyundai, dark blue, which is having some trouble staying in a single lane. Alex parks behind it and approaches the driver. He’s older, a gray beard, looking guilty and confused and pretty plowed.
“Is there a problem, Officer?” he slurs.
Alex orders him out of his car, over to a ditch by the side of the road, and puts two in his head. Twenty bucks in his wallet. More goddamn SEE ID credit cards-why were people so damn paranoid? And a silver flask in his jacket. Alex unscrews the cap. Gin. Not her favorite, but it will serve her purpose.