I didn’t know how much later sharp voices startled me out of sleep. I grabbed my bra knife from outside my shirt and held onto it. At first I thought the voices were coming from the TV, but then I heard Dekker shout, “What?”
Ashley’s slurry drunken voice half cried and half whined, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying. Every word Dekker said, though, was as clear as if he were sitting next to me.
“That’s bullshit. I don’t believe you. You’re full of shit.”
I sat straight up, straining to hear more, but I suddenly knew I had to get out of there. Right then.
“Oh, shit,” Dekker said. “Oh, no. Oh, no.”
It was as if I had X--ray vision, because I saw Dekker heading toward the bedroom door. It opened and he said, “Petty, come out here.” It wasn’t a request.
“What’s going on?” I followed him out to the living room.
Ashley was lolling on the couch, her hair covering her face, but Dekker stood, staring at the TV, his bottom lip pinched between his thumb and forefinger. He saw me looking at him and pointed at the TV. I turned toward it and saw a picture of me side by side with a picture of Dekker. For a moment I thought Ashley and Dekker were playing a trick on me.
“How—-”
“Ssshhh,” Dekker hissed. “Listen.”
“ . . . Moshen is five--eight, one hundred thirty pounds, brown hair, hazel eyes,” the anchorwoman said. “Moshen and Sachs are considered armed and dangerous and were last seen in Saw Pole, eighty--five miles northwest of Salina. If you have any knowledge of their whereabouts, call Crimestoppers at 825--TIPS or text SATIPS to CRIMES (274637). You may receive a cash reward of up to one thousand dollars. Remember, you don’t need to give your name to receive the reward.”
Dekker turned toward me. “You fucking did rob Dooley. You took more than your dad’s stuff. You robbed him, and now they think I robbed him too.”
“I took what was rightfully mine,” I said.
“It doesn’t matter. You took something from his office. And now they’re looking for us, you lunatic.” He collapsed onto a chair, his head in his hands.
“I’ll go,” I said.
“It doesn’t matter if you go, Petty,” Dekker shouted. “My picture was on the TV too.”
I looked away from the TV and my eyes landed on the glowing screen of Ashley’s cell phone, held casually open in her hand, displaying the numbers 911.
“Dekker,” I whispered, pointing.
Ashley hid the phone, but not before he’d seen.
“You . . . what’s wrong with you? You want the cops to come here and find the meth you bought with the money I gave you?”
“I had to, Dekker!” She sobbed and wailed. “I can’t even buy food!”
“Maybe you could if you didn’t spend all your money on drugs.” He stood. “We’re out of here.”
“Don’t go!” she cried, trying to stand. “I’m sorry! I had to! I need that reward money!” She snatched at Dekker, who shoved her away, and she lost her balance and tumbled to the floor. “Owww! Ow! Ow! You have to wait here, Dekker! You have to wait here!”
Dekker pulled me out of the apartment and through the house’s front door. I didn’t ask any questions, just followed him.
“We need to get to the truck as fast as we can,” he said. “We’ve got to stay out of the light. You see a car coming, you get in the bushes.”
I nodded.
“We’re not going to run, though.”
We walked down the sidewalk, on full alert.
“I should have thrown you out of my truck when I had the chance,” Dekker said.
A car was coming our way driving slowly and Dekker stopped and watched for a moment before he said, “Bushes.”
We got behind a hedge that bordered a house’s yard as the car drove slowly past. Once it was out of sight, we began to rise.
“Don’t move.” An old man stood in the doorway of the house, aiming a shotgun at Dekker’s head.
We both raised our hands.
“I’ve already called the police. They’re on their way. You need to stay right where you are.” The old man’s voice was shaky and frightened.
“Sir,” Dekker said, “we stepped behind your hedge to—-”
“I know what you were going to do, you were going to break into my house. I’m sick to death of you kids breaking into my house. You stay right where you are until the cops—-lookee there! Here they come now.” The old man’s face fell as they drove right on past, red and blue lights flashing. He came down the stairs, watching them go.
Dekker stood frozen with his hands up and eyes wide, and I could see that he would be no help whatsoever. We didn’t have much time. My terror of cops, pounded into my skull by Dad, pumped up my adrenaline.
I took advantage of the old man’s divided attention and, when he got close enough, bumped the shotgun barrels upward with the heels of my hands then yanked the gun away from him and tossed it into the bushes. While he was still frozen in shock, I pressed my advantage and twisted his hand behind his back, incapacitating him.
“We’re going to be on our way now,” I whispered to him.