He grunted. I released him and he fell to the ground, clutching his shoulder.
“Run,” I said to Dekker. I couldn’t see his face in the darkness but he turned and did as I told him. I took off too, jogging next to him. We were about a half block away from the truck when another police car turned the corner and Dekker pulled me behind a large oak tree in front of a dark house. The police car was driving in the direction of Ashley’s apartment, and from where we squatted we could see it double parking on the street.
We went on running. Just as we reached the truck and Dekker opened his door, another cop car drove by, lighting us up. We both froze as it slowed near us. But then the car moved on. Dekker got in, reached over and unlocked my door. I got in and buckled my seat belt. Dekker tried to get the key in the ignition but his hands were shaking so hard he couldn’t do it. I took the key from him, stuck it in and cranked it.
“Take it easy,” I said.
I looked at my own hand and saw that it was steady. This surprised me, but it shouldn’t have. My training had kicked in. Not only that, but I was outside of my house, out in the world, living. I was exhilarated in a way I’d never felt before.
He nodded at me in the dark and pulled out onto the street. I looked right and left, behind and in front of us, over and over. We came to an intersection, and Dekker got in the left--turn lane.
A car pulled up beside us. I started to turn my head when Dekker said, “Don’t. They’re looking at you.”
“Are you sure?” I said.
“I can’t tell if they’re just checking you out or . . . oh, shit. Guy’s got a cell phone. He’s trying to take a picture—-”
I turned then and, sure enough, the guy snapped a photo.
Even though we had a red light, Dekker gunned it into the intersection, narrowly missing a white SUV. Outside a convenience store across the street, a cop jumped into his driver’s seat and flipped on his cherry lights and siren.
“Dekker! What are you doing? There was a—-”
“Shut up,” he said. “I’m not talking to you. Just keep your mouth shut.”
He steered through the sparse traffic. I faced backward, watching for the police car to make it through the intersection.
“Turn now,” I said, “before he gets out to where he can see us.”
“There’s nowhere to—-”
“Turn!”
He hooked a hard right into an alley, his tires kicking dust from the rough, hard--packed dirt.
The siren grew louder.
“Don’t stop,” I shouted as we neared the cross street.
His head hunched into his shoulders and he hit the street without slowing, bouncing up over the dip and into the next alley. Suddenly, a car backed out perpendicular to us, and Dekker jammed on the brakes.
I looked back over my shoulder and saw the blur of red and blue cherry lights whiz by.
“Back out,” I said.
“Quit telling me what to—-”
“Do it!”
With a furious look, he complied before throwing the truck into first gear and stomping on the accelerator.
“We have to get rid of this truck,” I said.
“I’m not getting rid of my truck,” he said, wiping sweat off his forehead and weaving around the few slow--moving vehicles in front of us. The traffic signal ahead turned yellow and he slowed.
“Run it! Go!”
He did.
Chapter 14
THE STEERING WHEEL was slick with sweat for the second time that day, and I could no longer tell which direction the sirens were going or how close they were. I couldn’t believe I’d run red lights and evaded police. I’d known guys in high school who were into that sort of thing, but I wasn’t one of them. And it was all because of this girl. I should have taken her money, headed straight back to Saw Pole and never given her a second thought. I cursed my softheartedness and, yes, my growing attraction to her.
Yet, at the same time, I couldn’t help but think that teaming up with a fuck--up like me would spell certain doom for her. I was a shit magnet, and she would be better off without me, in every possible way. But she was stuck with me—-for now anyway.
We had to get out of town. If we could get to US 40, which I hoped was just a ways up ahead, we might be able to get away. I hoped the cops would concentrate their search on the interstate instead of the little two--lane highway.
As soon as I thought I could trust my voice, I said, “Fucking Ashley. She was over at the bar, and this guy comes up to her and says, ‘Hey, isn’t that the girl and guy you came in with?’ Pointing at the TV. Ashley sees a news bulletin.” I shook my head. “Dooley must have filed a police report that says you robbed his office, and I’m your accomplice.”
Petty didn’t say anything.
“You like that? I’m your accomplice. Your accomplice. Who you threatened with a gun.”
Petty continued looking out the window silently.
“The report said your fiancé, Randy King, is desperate to get you back. So now there’s a statewide bulletin out for us.”
“Just drop me off on the side of the road,” she said. “Then you can—-”