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Back The Runaway
Chapters (80)
  1. Cover
  2. TITLES BY NICK PETRIE
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. 67
  72. 68
  73. 69
  74. 70
  75. 71
  76. 72
  77. 73
  78. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  79. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  80. What’s next onyour reading list?

As Helene climbed into the pickup, Falk’s eyes were hard. “This Roy Wiley,” she said. “Why’d you ask if I knew him?”

Peter was glad Falk was smart. It saved time. “Helene said he used to be a cop in Minneapolis, that he talks about having law enforcement connections in a dozen states. Can you get your unit commander here?”

If Roy had his hooks into anyone, it would be one or more of the small departments near his base of operations. Peter figured he was less likely to own a state police captain.

“Commander’s in Sioux Falls,” Falk said. “That’s ninety minutes away. If he’ll even get in his car this time of night, which he probably won’t. He’ll just tell me to take everyone to the sheriff’s office in Tyndall, put you in the greybar hotel, and sort it out in the morning. And he’d be right.”

“That’s a problem,” Peter said. “The sheriff will take names and run backgrounds and write reports. With Roy’s contacts in law enforcement, if we’re in the system, he’ll be able to find us. Helene won’t be safe.”

“I don’t believe that,” Falk said. “The system isn’t perfect, but it works well enough.”

“What about the sheriff? Do you trust him?”

“Sheriff Johns? I’m stationed in his county, we talk most days. He’s okay.”

“Just okay?”

Falk raised a shoulder. “He’s young and he’s trying. It’s just him and two deputies to cover almost six hundred square miles. I’ll say this for him, he’d get his butt in the car if I called. He only lives ten miles from here.”

Peter looked at Bobbie. “Do you know the sheriff?”

“He invited us to his house for dinner with his family,” she said. “Twice in the last year. He knows Lisa and I are together and it doesn’t seem to matter. And he’s got three girls. So yeah, I agree with Lisa, he’s trying.”

Falk gestured with her service weapon again. “I can’t just let you get in the truck and drive away,” she said. “You oughta be in cuffs right now. You understand that, right?”

Peter nodded. “Call the sheriff. Get him out here.”

44

Sheriff Johns climbed out of a department SUV that had seen better days. He had the narrow hips and heavy shoulders of a man who came of age throwing hay bales, and wore his official coat open over a plain white T-shirt and jeans, with a gun and cuffs on his belt. If he felt the cold wind raising dust off the driveway, he didn’t show it.