His cell phone interrupted his thoughts. He pulled it from his jacket's breast pocket and sighed when he recognized the caller ID, the same number from last night.
"Max Kramer."
"You got everything ready?"
"There's no way I can have a new ID made that quickly for one of you, let alone all three of you. You need to give me a couple of days."
"I don't have a couple of fucking days."
Max noticed something different in Barnett's voice. The calm-and-collected, but angry, tone seemed a bit frantic. Could it be that the bastard was feeling a little vulnerable?
"I need at least another twenty-four hours," he said, not able to contain his smile.
"Forget the IDs. Just get me the fucking money."
Max sat up in his chair. The minute he thought he had control, Barnett took it back. It was like a fucking chess match, a chess match with a madman. "Okay," he said. "Where are you? How am I supposed to get it to you?"
"There's a truck stop off the interstate. Take this down. Are you getting this down? Because I'm not gonna fucking repeat it."
Max grabbed a pen and started jotting on his desk pad. Yes, the calm-and-collected Jared Barnett was beginning to crumble. He could hear it in the crackling sound as Barnett unfolded and folded some kind of paper, perhaps a map. "Go ahead."
"It's about fifty miles west of Grand Island. I can't remember the name of the fucking truck stop, but the exit is for Normal."
"Normal what?"
" Normal, Nebraska, you stupid bastard. Bet you didn't even know there was a town named Normal in Nebraska, did you?"
Max rolled his eyes. He wanted to tell Barnett that Normal was the last place he'd expect Barnett to be. It was too fucking ironic, and he wondered if Barnett had chosen it on purpose.
"Have the money at the truck stop by two p.m."
"By two?" Max said. "How the hell am I supposed to get the money there, let alone by two?"
"You're a smart guy, Kramer. If you could get me out of jail for murder, surely you can figure this out."
"Okay, I can probably wire it somehow. You'll need ID to pick it up."
"Have it wired in the name of Charlie Starks. And don't screw this up, Kramer. I'm getting fucking tired of screwups."
Max wanted to tell him that he was the one who had a right to be sick and tired of screwups. Barnett was the one who got himself into this mess. If he had stuck to the plan, none of this would have happened. Instead, he told him, "I'll try to have it there by two."
"Don't try. Have it there. You set me up, Kramer, and you go down with me. You get that?"
"Don't worry. It'll be there."
Max waited for the click. He swiveled his chair back around to his desk. He could probably find the name of the truck stop online, and he flipped his laptop computer on. He could probably make the wire transfer online, too. He knew his wife's money market account number by heart. While he waited for the Internet connection he punched in a number on his cell phone.
She answered on the third ring. "Grace Wenninghoff."
"Grace, it's Max Kramer. As an officer of the court I have some information that I feel obligated to tell you."
Yes, obligated, he thought. No one could fault him for turning in a client whom he had helped and sacrificed for.
Not when that client was now on a killing spree. Forget about anyone finding fault with him. He'd probably end up being a fucking hero for being the one to turn in Jared Barnett.
CHAPTER 63
9:20 a.m.
Melanie couldn't stand it. Jared had been gone too long. Where the hell was he? And what the hell was he doing? She continued to pace the room, to wipe her sweaty palms on her jeans until her hands felt raw. She didn't want to think about that baby, those sleepy eyes, those chubby cheeks. No, Jared couldn't. He wouldn't.
She heard a car door, and instead of racing to the window, she froze. Charlie heard it, too, only he was watching her, waiting to read her. So was Andrew Kane. What did they expect of her? What the hell did they want her to do? She didn't get them into this mess. This wasn't her fault.
The door swung open and now everyone stared at Jared. Melanie examined his eyes, his mouth and then his hands, looking for signs. Would she be able to tell? What was she supposed to look for? Was she expecting to see blood? More fucking blood?
"We need to get out of here," Jared said. When no one moved or responded, he picked up Charlie's backpack and tossed it at him. "Let's move. Now."
"What did you do, Jared?" Melanie asked, not able to include "baby" in her question, almost as if she didn't want to know, but still giving him a chance to make things okay again. She ran her fingers through her hair and noticed her hands were shaking. Would things ever be okay again?
"I took care of things," he said as if he had simply completed an everyday task like taking out the garbage. "I got us another fucking car. Even switched the plates already. But we've got to get the hell out of here."
When still no one moved, Jared took on his careful voice, even allowing himself a smile when he said, "I picked up some McDonald's for us. It's all in the car, so come on. Let's go. I want to get to Colorado before nightfall."
Charlie shut off the TV and slung the backpack over his shoulder. Melanie couldn't help thinking the boy's stomach would override his brain each and every time. But instead of being angry she wanted to smile at his innocence, his simplicity. She checked the bathroom before following Charlie out. She stopped again at the door when she noticed Jared wasn't helping Andrew. Her brother stood at the foot of the bed, waiting, and then she realized he wasn't waiting to help Andrew up. Jared was waiting for Charlie and Melanie to leave. He wasn't planning on taking Andrew Kane with them. That's when she noticed the white nylon cord he was pulling out of his pocket and wrapping around his fists. And suddenly her stomach fell to her knees again, just as it had when she saw that baby in the back seat.
"Keep his hands tied up," Melanie told Jared, pretending that's what he intended to use the cord for. "I'll drive."
"Go get in the car, Mel," Jared instructed, his voice now distant and cold. "I'll be right there."
She caught the author's eyes when he glanced up at her, and she realized there was something different in them. Maybe resolve. Certainly not panic. It was almost as if he knew exactly what Jared had in mind, as if he had expected it. In his desperation he had promised to help her and Charlie. She knew he probably only said it in the hopes of saving himself. He probably would have found a way to trick her, to set her up, to hurt Charlie. She'd hurt herself before she'd let Charlie get hurt.
"What's the holdup?" Charlie was suddenly in the doorway behind her, looking over her shoulder. "I thought we were in a hurry."
She didn't turn around, but already smelled the sausage and knew he had started breakfast without them.
"Jared was just getting Andrew up," she said, avoiding Jared's eyes. "Charlie, why don't you help him, so that we can keep him tied up in the back seat. I'm driving."
Charlie scooted in around her, and she could feel Jared's anger. Still, she avoided looking at him. Before he could protest, Charlie had Andrew on his feet and shuffling out the door.
CHAPTER 64
10:33 a.m.
Pakula asked for the third time, "You think Kramer's fucking with us?"
"If he's involved," Grace said as calmly as she had both times before. "And we know he has to be somehow involved because he wants us to catch Barnett."
Pakula let out another sigh. He pulled his tie loose, hoping that would help him breathe. It didn't. "I don't know. It feels too easy. Tell me exactly what he said." He expected Grace to get impatient with him, but instead she started at the beginning.