Chapters (78)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Acknowledgments
- Discover More
- About the Author
- Also by Owen Laukkanen
The motel’s parking lot was empty. That was a plus. No cars on the roadway beyond. Hank’s cousin’s body shop was a couple hundred yards down the main road, but the road was wide open, with no place for cover in case Kirby Harwood decided to sneak up on her. So she headed in the opposite direction, down toward the bay and the docks, the Coast Guard station. Skirted through a couple of vacant lots, cut across a stand of scraggly-looking pine. She’d almost reached the body shop when she saw Kirby’s truck.
Up the block, on the main road, pulling into the ARCO across the street. Big and red, jacked up and unmissable, probably the dumbest sneaking-around vehicle you could buy. But there he was, stopping at the fuel pumps, climbing out with Dale Whitmer beside him, Dale saying something as he walked past Kirby and into the little store, Kirby popping his gas cap.
Jess tucked away behind a big, gnarly arbutus, knelt down in the shadows and damp, and watched Kirby as he worked the pump. The deputy kept his head moving, eyes scanning the gas station lot and the highway and the body shop, like he was thinking Jess and Burke were dumb enough to see that truck and come running out to meet him.
He looked tired, Jess thought, and though he tried to hide it, she thought he looked worried.
Dale Whitmer, on the other hand, still looked prickly as hell. He came out of the little store with some energy drinks and a pack of Marlboro Reds, his free hand lurking by his holster like he was itching to draw down on some unlucky bastard. Jess had no doubt he would shoot Burke on sight, probably get a little more creative with her, mean son of a bitch that he was, but Dale didn’t scare her.
Neither did Kirby, for that matter.
Kirby finished gassing up as Dale climbed back into the truck. Jess didn’t move, her knees aching, the damp soaking through. A hundred feet more and she’d be at the body shop, have her crack at some fresh wheels and a ride out of town, but she was stuck waiting for Tweedledum and Tweedledickhead to get their butts in gear.
They moved slow but they got there, and eventually Kirby was back in the truck and the truck was fired up and chug-chug-chugging its way out of the gas station lot. This time Kirby aimed the truck toward her, and Jess thought for an instant he’d made her, but he just turned down the road she’d walked up on, cruised it slow. He was past her and had disappeared before she caught her breath back.
She pulled herself up from the dirt. Brushed off her jeans. Came out from behind the arbutus and walked up the road toward the body shop.