BooksBarbecue
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?

“Listen to me,” he said. “That guy’s friends are almost certainly closer than the nearest police car. When they realize he’s lied to them, they’ll come here and kill us both. They’re after me, so I’m leaving. You should really do the same. Stay off the roads and you’ll be okay.”

Bobbie stepped away, eyes on the dirt. “Hi, my name is Roberta Davies and I’d like to report a crime in progress at the intersection of Highway 37 and 317th.”

Then Peter was out of the car. Before she could react, he twisted the pistol from her hand. Then he pushed it deep into her bibs’ oversized side pocket and shoved her toward the hot pink Yamaha. “Go, Bobbie. You want to wait for the cops, fine, but do it from someplace safe, far away and out of sight.” He was shouting now. “Go!”

She went. The two-way crackled in his pocket. Peter threw himself into the driver’s seat, found first gear, then dropped the hand brake and popped the clutch and felt all four tires bite.

Just past the county line by the river, the pregnant girl had said. Look for the crosses.

As the little VW slewed sideways toward the road, he looked over his shoulder and saw Bobbie climbing on the bike and settling the dog onto her lap.

Peter realized he was still wearing her lucky coat.

29

HELENE

THEN

When Helene woke again in Roy’s truck, they were somewhere in Kansas. It was two a.m. She told him she needed to pee and he pulled onto the verge. The narrow road was dead straight and seemed to stretch out forever, both ahead of them and behind. The wind was unrelenting and smelled of manure and smoke. The only other lights were pinpricks at the edge of the horizon.

Because of the truck’s huge gas tank, they only had to stop once more to refuel. It was a nameless place with plywood over the broken front window and just one pump working. She went inside to use the bathroom and buy food and coffee, trying to find a back door, but Roy was never more than twenty feet away. It didn’t matter, because the only other person there was the clerk, a wheezing old man who never looked away from his tiny television.

The sun came up on their right as they crossed into Nebraska. Her stomach jittered from the coffee and she kept waiting for Roy to ask her to drive. Instead, he shook a few pills from a faded aspirin bottle, washed them down with warm Coke, then drummed his fingers on the wheel and went on and on about what he called the home place, which turned out to be the house he’d grown up in.