"Tommy." This time she squeezed his knee to get his full attention. "You can't take care of all of us all the time." When she could see he wouldn't let her words exonerate him, she added, "Andrew's going to be all right. He has to be or I'll never forgive him."
That made Pakula smile, as if her ability to inflict motherly guilt could overreach all boundaries. But before he could go back to his sandwich, his cell phone began ringing. Not an unusual occurrence, and yet everyone turned to scowl at him as if he had broken some rule. He had it out before the third ring.
"Pakula," he said, twisting around as much as possible and turning his back to the crowd and the field. Claire reached for his sandwich and drink to free his hands.
"Detective Thomas Pakula?"
"Yeah. Speak up. I'm at a soccer game, so we might. He was interrupted by the chants and applause before he could get off the warning. He waited then tried again. "Okay, go ahead."
"Sheriff Grant Dawes down here in Nemaha County. Someone downtown told me I should be talking to you."
"Yeah, okay." Pakula didn't know the sheriff, but he was quickly getting impatient with his slow, polite manner. "What is it you need to tell me, Sheriff?" There were about to be more screams and applause. Out of the corner of his eye he could see his team racing down the sidelines. He turned to watch, not wanting to miss another goal.
"We found…" The rest of the sheriff's words were drowned out.
"What's that?"
"We found the red Saab with the license plate A WHIM."
Pakula froze. The noise erupted again around him, so that he couldn't even ask the one question that came instantly to mind. Claire stopped cheering when she saw his face and met his eyes. He gestured that he couldn't hear as he rose, shoving his way back down the bleachers, everyone too excited about their team scoring to bother being upset with him. He retreated to the parking lot, hoping he hadn't lost the sheriff.
"Are you still with me?" he finally asked when he could hear again.
"Yeah, I'm here."
"You said you found the car?"
"Yep, it's sitting in a farmer's garage. They took his Chevy, but not before slitting his throat."
"Holy crap!"
"There's more."
Pakula leaned against his Explorer, bracing himself for the worst. Had Andrew Kane been left behind, too, with his throat slashed?
"Up the road in Auburn we've got a dead clerk in the Gas N' Shop. Son of a bitch shot her right in the face, ripped her jaw wide open."
Pakula waited. Finally he asked, "Any other victims?"
"Ain't two enough?"
"No, it's two too many." Pakula ran his hand over his head, relieved and kicking himself for sounding like it. "Sheriff, how long ago were the bodies found? I'd like to get our mobile crime lab down there asap."
"Actually, that's what I was hoping you'd say. I've got my men isolating both scenes, but I don't have the resources to tackle this kind of thing."
"This a good number to reach you?" Pakula asked as he checked his cell phone to make sure the sheriff's phone number got logged on his phone's memory.
"Yeah, I'll be here."
"Give me a few minutes, and I'll call you back. Hold on. I don't suppose you have a license number for that Chevy?"
"Not yet. The wife's not in much shape to be remembering such things, so I'm having someone look it up. I'll have it when you call back."
"Good." Pakula ended the call, punching in the next number without hesitating. He needed to act and not dwell on Andrew. And he reminded himself of Claire's words only changing them a bit and saying out loud, "Andrew will be all right. He has to be or I'll never forgiye myself."
CHAPTER 52
8:20 p.m.
It was easier this way, Grace told herself as she searched for clean linens for the guest room. Easier than arguing with the old woman. When Grace picked up Emily from Grandma Wenny's she had insisted on coming home with them, at least until "Vince returned from the Alps." That was exactly how her grandmother referred to Vince's trip to Switzerland as if he was there on some ski trip.
Grandma Wenny had been concerned ever since Jared Bamett had been released from prison, though Grace hadn't confided anything about him following her. Nor had she shared her suspicions that he was one of the bank robbers now on the run. Yet the old woman seemed to have a sixth sense about these things. Even the night Grace's parents had been murdered, Grandma Wenny had lit a candle in the window for protection from the "bad air" of the approaching thunderstorms, not realizing it was a storm of another kind that would hit her son's house only three blocks away.
Grace had left Emily to show Grandma Wenny the house, knowing her daughter would make the suite they'd renovated for her sound like more of an adventure than a prison sentence. It was one of the reasons Grace had given in so easily to her grandmother coming home with them. It was ridiculous to believe the old woman could somehow protect them, especially since Grace had insisted the.38 stay back at the bungalow. But maybe, just maybe she could convince her grandmother that her presence was wanted and needed in their home.