He was used to Omaha -a river valley with lots of hills and trees and buildings. Out here, where the landscape couldn't be much flatter and there were wide-open spaces where you could see for miles, there wasn't anywhere to hide. He thought for sure Barnett would be able to spot something: the reflection of a rifle scope or even a black boot on the rooftop of the deserted gas station across the road. There weren't any fucking trees. Just the parking lot, a long expanse of concrete surrounded by flat pastures of grass.
They didn't even know what kind of vehicle Barnett was driving now. Although they did know from Kramer who was with him-his sister and seventeen-year-old nephew. And hopefully-Pakula prayed-Andrew. He had reminded Sanchez several times about Andrew and asked what precautions were being taken. Did the SWAT team know they had a hostage? Had they seen pictures of Andrew as well as Jared? How would they know the difference between the two? How could they guarantee they wouldn't make a mistake?
Sanchez only shrugged and told him there were no guarantees with anything. Pakula knew he himself was sounding more like a civilian than a law enforcement officer. He knew the risks and had always been willing to take them, but in the past it had always been a matter of taking the risks for himself, not for a friend. Not for a friend he already felt responsible for.
"Almost two," Sanchez announced into his headset, and Pakula braced himself, his body stiffening just as it had earlier right before the Black Hawk had taken off. In retrospect, that part had been a cakewalk.
CHAPTER 68
1:56 p.m.
Melanie parked in the last slot in the corner, exactly where Jared instructed, away from the door of the truck stop. She cut the engine, but he made no attempt to leave the car. Instead, he sat back in the seat, looking out the rear windows, looking up as if expecting something to come out of the sky.
"Didn't you say you had to pick something up here?" she asked.
"Yeah, wait a minute. Something's not right." He slouched down in the seat. "I left the gun in the glove compartment," he said. "Charlie, get it for me."
Melanie reached for the compartment before Charlie could. She opened it, hesitated, took a deep breath and wrapped her fingers around the gun. It felt so odd and yet familiar and not quite as heavy as she remembered.
"Tell me what's going on, Jared," she said, pulling the gun out and holding it in her lap.
"Give me the gun," Jared told her, but he stayed slouched down instead of reaching over the seat for it.
"Not until you tell me, Jared. No more secrets. What are we picking up?"
"Just some money. I had Max Kramer wire some money for us."
"Max Kramer?" She remembered the phone calls he had made to his attorney. Was it possible he was simply asking Kramer for help? "What makes you think you can trust him?"
"He got me off before, didn't he?"
"I thought he got you off because you weren't guilty."
"Yeah. That's what I meant." Jared's head and eyes kept darting around but he stayed low, which only made Mela-nie more nervous. "Don't worry about Kramer, Mel. I've got some insurance back in my room."
"What do you mean, insurance?"
"Melanie, give me the fucking gun. You know that I'm just trying to take care of you and me."
"What about Charlie?"
Melanie looked over at Charlie. He was sitting perfectly still, half slouched in his seat, following his uncle's example. He was always following Jared, doing exactly what Jared asked without question, without thought.
"Of course, Charlie, too. But you know, Mel, Charlie's been screwing up a lot. He's the reason we're in this fucking mess. Isn't that right, Charlie?"
She could see the boy cower from Jared's words and she was startled by the image of another boy, cowering, bracing himself, not for words, but for blows. Charlie reminded her exactly of Jared as a boy. And when she looked back at Jared she could see how much he now reminded her of her father. Why hadn't she seen it before? Jared's quick temper, his outbursts of rage. No, it wasn't possible.
"Charlie, I'm giving you a chance to make it all up," Jared told him, smoothing his voice into a tone Melanie used to believe was genuine. "I want you to go inside the truck stop. There'll be an envelope waiting. It's in your name. Just ask for it at the counter, okay? Can you do that, buddy?"
Charlie was nodding, and he reached for the car door, but Melanie stopped him.
"Don't, Charlie. You stay put."
"Melanie, stay the fuck out of this." Jared had already forgotten about his soft voice. His eyes were even more frantic now. What did they see? What was he expecting? Were there snipers waiting? Is that what he expected? Is that what he would let happen to Charlie?
She glanced over at Andrew Kane and he must have taken it as an invitation.
"Make a choice, Melanie," Andrew told her, softly, quietly. "This is the end of the road."
"Shut the fuck up." Jared punched the author in his wounded shoulder, then he crouched back down. "Charlie, go on in. And hurry the fuck up. We need to get the hell out of here."
"Charlie, stay put," Melanie told him, and that's when she understood what she needed to do, just like all those years ago. In a brief moment everything became so clear. She raised the gun and pointed it at Jared over the seat. He looked as if he wanted to laugh at her, until his eyes met hers.
"I choose Charlie," she said, and she pulled the trigger.
Monday, September 13
CHAPTER 69
10:30 a.m.
Grace wasn't sure why they were even humoring Mela-nie Starks; maybe she wanted to get Max Kramer more than she realized. Right now they had nothing concrete to connect him to the bank robbery. He had confessed to an affair with Tina Cervante and to giving her the locket with their initials. But that was all. He insisted he had no idea why Jared Barnett would target her in such a violent way. Pakula led the way through the house. Corrine Starks had to let them in because of the search warrant, but she didn't have to be happy about it. One of the young officers Pakula brought along stayed downstairs with Ms. Starks, keeping her from interrupting their search, but the poor guy couldn't shut her up. However, her profanity seemed focused on her daughter, Melanie, calling her a murdering whore. Grace couldn't imagine being put in that position as a mother, choosing a son over a daughter, but then she couldn't imagine having a son like Jared Barnett.
The other officer stayed beside Melanie, keeping a close watch and leading her by the elbow, despite her hands being cuffed in front of her.
"Is this it?" Pakula asked Melanie when they came to the closed door at the end of the hallway.
"Yes," she said.
Pakula opened the door and went in first. He pulled a pair of latex gloves out of his pocket and started to put them on while he looked around the room.
"He said he had some kind of insurance," Melanie said. "I know it'll connect Jared and Max Kramer. I just know it."
It was a small room cluttered with piles of dirty clothes, magazines and boyhood things: a dartboard on the closet door, a baseball trophy and an autographed baseball amongst the empty take-out containers and wrappers. Grace couldn't help wondering if there was really something here or if Melanie Starks was conning them. She and her son, Charlie, were looking at a stack of felony charges that, if convicted, could mean the death penalty for both of them. They kept insisting-though Charlie Starks wasn't quite as convincing as his mother-that Jared Barnett had killed everyone in the bank, but the ballistics report showed two different guns had been used. The second gun, however, had never been found. As much as Grace believed Jared to be a cold-blooded killer, she couldn't see him going into the bank with two guns blazing like some Wild West bank robber.
"He used to hide things," Melanie was telling Pakula, "by stuffing them inside an ordinary object. You know, like a football or maybe a pillow."