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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?

“Oh, no.” She let her voice rise. “You do not get to touch me right now. In fact, if I see your dick in the next week, I’m going to tear it right off, you hear me?” She glared at him. “When you killed all those poor cops, you just made things worse for all of us. And I am not going to jail. So I am going to be involved in the decisions going forward. Is that clear?”

She looked at Roy and had no idea what he was thinking. Had she gone too far? Then she heard a snort and turned to see Frank in the kitchen door.

“I guess you were right, Roy. She’s tougher than you think.” He held up his phone. “Have you seen the news? They’ve got my name and picture, now. And it’s gone national. Seven dead in South Dakota.”

“Seven, now?” Roy smiled. “Good. Anything else?”

Frank shook his head. “If they know about Helene, they’re not saying. They’re still not releasing the names of the dead.”

“Might be a good time to split up, Frankie.”

She saw the hurt cross Frank’s face.

Before he could respond, the doorbell rang.

Then she heard the sound of a key in the lock.

59

JUNE

It was the hem of her dress,” Peter said. “She tore it off and gave it to me when she knew her husband had caught her. When she knew I was going to make a run for it.”

Outside the front window of Bobbie’s house, the clouds in the east were crimson, bright from the rising sun.

June sat on the couch, with Peter on one side and Lewis on the other. She ran the slender strip through her fingers. It was still damp. The fabric was yellow with age, and thin from many washings. But the fine blue embroidery thread was bright and new.

Lewis picked up one end. “Look at the level of detail. This took her a long time.”

“She probably made it for herself,” June said. “When she was feeling hopeless. I mean, these sayings are reminders of her own strength and determination, right? We can do hard things. Fortune favors the bold. And these two names, whoever they are, they mean something, too.”

“Then why on earth would she give it to me?” Peter asked.

“Maybe it’s like a message in a bottle,” June said. “When you’re stuck on a desert island, you’re lost and alone. You don’t know if you’ll ever make it home. But when you put that note in that bottle and send it out to sea, you hope maybe someone, somewhere, will know you’re alive. Or at least that you once lived.”

They were all silent for a moment. Thinking of Helene, June figured, and what that poor young woman had been through. Then remembering their own desert island times.