Here came reality, raining down around me in cold, wet sheets. This wasn’t the way I thought things would go.
Before all this was over, I might not be able to think anything at all.
Dad must have heard us, because his boots crunched closer. Ian spun me around, holding me tight to his side, the gun jabbing into my head. Dad stepped around the corner, and his whole face melted. All my doubts that he cared about me melted with it.
“Don’t move, bounty man,” Ian said. “Or I swear to God I will shoot her dead.”
White flashes edged my vision, and I wondered if I was going to pass out. Breathe, I told myself, but my body wouldn’t respond. Dad said not to point a gun at anything you don’t want to shoot. Any moment now that gun might fire. Any moment now.
Dad stretched his arms into the air, pale street lighting illuminating only half his face. “I’m not armed,” he said. “You can leave. Just let her go.”
I stared stupidly ahead. Dad was willing to give Ian up for me. He probably had been all along.
Ian spit off to the side and pushed the barrel harder against my head. My temple gave an angry throb, and I wondered if he could kill me from pushing too hard.
“Fuck you,” Ian said. “You’ve followed me everywhere. You’re not going to let me go now.”
“I swear I will,” Dad said.
I could feel Ian shake his head, his chin bumping into my hair. I could feel his body shaking, his breath coming fast. The white flashes expanded, encompassing more of my vision. My own voice in my head wailed at me to breathe, but I couldn’t bring my body to do it.
“You don’t want to do this,” Dad said. “You don’t want to add murder to the charges. You’re not in that deep yet, son.”
“I’m not your son,” Ian said, his voice as cold as the steel against my head. “Don’t follow us. She can call you when I drop her off. Until then, you don’t move. If I see or hear you, I’ll blow her brains out.”
Chills ran over my body as he stepped back. I stumbled a bit, instinct telling me to run. Ian kept the gun on me, though, holding me to him with his arm. “Come on, sweetheart,” he said. “I’m not going to hurt you if you do what I say.”
I wanted to believe that Ian wasn’t a murderer, that this was all for show, that he’d dumped the bullets out of the gun. But I let him pull me around the trailer, out of Dad’s sight.
When we rounded a building, Ian pushed me out in front of him, making me walk before him with the gun pressing the back of my head. My vision still flashed white, but I stumbled toward the parking lot behind the park office.
I couldn’t keep track of my own feet, so I tripped over a parking divider and stumbled forward. Ian watched Dad’s direction, still holding the gun on me. I thought about tackling him, about wrestling the gun away from him, but couldn’t even put one foot in front of the other in a straight line. Tackling him would be the action-movie thing to do. Here in the real world it was more likely to get me killed.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I asked. “I tried to help you get away.”
“Yeah, but you were really bad at it.”
“What about taking charge of my life, like you said? Maybe we could run off together.”
“I’m not taking you with me. He’d never leave me alone then.”
For the first time, I was sure that was true. Whatever had changed for Dad in the last eighteen months, he wasn’t going to let me go again.
Ian ducked around another trailer, pushing me along with him. I swallowed hard. All this time I’d been flirting with him, he’d been capable of aiming a gun at my head.
“So do you do this a lot?” I whispered.
“What?”
“Armed kidnapping.”
“No, sweetie,” he said. “You’re my first.”
The way he said that made it sound dirty, and my abdomen clenched. “Please don’t hurt me.”
“Shut up and you’ll be fine.”
I kept my head down, doing as he said. A few minutes ago I’d been the one with the keys, and him the one in chains. I thought I’d been in the position of power. But maybe I never had. Maybe the gun didn’t make Ian more dangerous. It just made the danger easier to see.
As we entered the parking lot, Ian stepped up to an SUV. He kept his gun pointed at me as he lifted a rock and knocked it through the window, breaking the glass. I expected an alarm to sound, but none did.
I looked around at the building, a pine tree, the streetlight, anywhere but at the gun. My whole body shook, my breath coming in short gasps.
Motion flashed in the corner of my eye, and my neck jerked toward it out of reflex. Dad came around the corner of the building, moving quietly, headed toward Ian.
I swallowed hard. Ian had told Dad not to follow or else he’d kill me. Would he follow through on his threat?
I looked around the parking lot, trying to find something to put between me and Ian. The only thing I could think of was to duck behind the car, so I leaned in that direction, looking back at Dad.
I flinched as Ian noticed my movement, glancing at me and then following my gaze in Dad’s direction. His face hardened, and his gun hand jerked.
I lunged around the front of the car, hitting ground on my hands and knees and huddling down behind it.
Dad sprinted past me, shoving me out of the way. I fell flat in front of the car, asphalt gritting into my palms. I heard the thud of Dad slamming Ian against the car.
Ian’s gun hand appeared over the hood, flailing, and I stayed pressed against the ground. Dad’s hand wrenched the gun away from Ian and threw it to the ground. It bounced against the asphalt, landing just a few feet away from me.
I wanted to grab it, to have some way to defend myself, but I knew from practicing with Dad that I couldn’t shoot straight. I’d probably shoot Dad instead of Ian. I crawled away, trying to run but not sure if I could stand. I looked back in time to see Dad elbow Ian in the face, throw him to the ground, and reach for the gun. Ian sank to the ground as Dad stood over him, pointing the gun at his head.
“Get up,” Dad barked. “Let’s move.”
I trailed far behind as Dad walked Ian back to the truck, gun trained at the back of his neck just like Ian had done to me. When they got there, he slammed Ian against the truck door and searched him. Looking for the keys, I realized. The keys that were now in my back pocket.
Dad searched the seat, keeping the gun pointed at Ian the whole time. Ian stood with his hands behind his head, expression blank. He didn’t even glance at me. The cold horror of what I’d done ripped through me. He was looking for the keys, for the way that Ian had done all of this. But it wasn’t Ian who did it. It was me.
I edged toward the trailer as Dad fished around in his utility box—which was open and unlocked.
Tears seeped into my eyes, but I barely noticed them. I’d brought Ian the keys that let him get that gun. I deserved everything that came to me—losing Mom, losing Jamie. In a second Dad would be gone too. I’d almost lost him tonight. I’d almost lost myself. It was only a matter of time before Dad gave up on me. I’d be lucky if he didn’t dump me with the state first thing tomorrow morning.
“Get inside,” Dad shouted at me. “Stay in the trailer. I’ll come get you when I figure out what we’re going to do.”
I ducked away, glad for the opportunity to escape. When I got back inside, I dropped the keys onto the floor. I couldn’t stand to touch them. Maybe Dad would think they fell out of his pocket. Maybe he would never have to know that I had them at all. But I would know. I’d have to live with what might have happened.
I curled up on the bench next to the table, pulled my knees into my chest, and tried to stop shaking. But instead my breath came ragged, and I started to sob. The tears came fast. My whole body quaked, and I could feel the trailer trembling with it.
When I’d sat on the fence with Ian, looking at the field, I’d felt safer than I ever had with Dad. Now I understood why. It was because I knew all along he would
leave me. I could predict it, like predicting a coming storm by the approaching dark clouds.
But I couldn’t predict Dad. With Dad there was the possibility for hope, and in it the possibility for much more pain. I’d been using Ian every bit as much as Ian was using me—to keep Dad at arm’s length, to keep him from hurting me any more than he already had.
And I’d almost gotten us both killed. Dad was right. Him, Mom, and me—we did have something in common. In the end, we all screwed over the people we loved.
I stared at the keys on the floor, glinting with gold light from the streetlamp outside. I couldn’t undo what I’d done any more than Dad could take back my childhood and give me a different one. I’d betrayed Dad one too many times, and now that I’d realized that, I didn’t know how to fix it. This time, maybe there wasn’t a way.
North Platte, Nebraska.
Hours since the betrayal: .75.
Distance from Denver, Colorado: 265.98 miles.
17
When Dad came into the trailer to get me, I was still curled up, shaking. He stood in the doorway, backlit by the streetlamp. My face was puffy from crying, and my nose ran. Dad didn’t keep any tissues in the trailer. I wiped it on my sleeve.
“Ricki?” Dad said. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I said, even though I was clearly not fine, and we both knew it.
Dad looked at me, and I knew that even in the dim light from outside I must look like a wreck. I turned my face away, but it was too late. He’d seen.
He stood quietly for a long minute, like he was trying to figure out what to say.
“I’m so glad you’re safe,” he said finally.
My breath shuddered. “Me too,” I said.
Dad came closer, and for a moment I thought he was going to hug me, but he just sat down across the table from me and folded his hands in front of him.
“I got a mechanic to fix the brake pads. The RV attendant agreed this was an emergency, and he knew a guy he could drag out of bed. We’ll get the rest done in Denver.”
“This late?” I asked.
“We need this to be over with.”
“Okay,” I said. I still didn’t move.
“I’d rather you stay here,” Dad said. “But it’s going to be a long drive. I wouldn’t be able to get back for almost a full day.”
I wished Dad would turn Ian over to the cops, but I knew he needed to get paid. I shouldn’t have been here. In a hundred ways I should never have been here.
“Don’t leave me alone,” I said.
“Okay. But that means you’re going to have to ride with us in the truck.”
Dad had his spare keys in his hand. He hadn’t even seen the set on the floor. I didn’t know what Dad would do with me once he knew what I’d done, but the only way to tell something you don’t want to say is to get on with it.
“I let him go,” I said quietly.
“You what?”
“I let him go.”
Dad took in a sharp breath, and I wanted to stop talking right there, but I kept going.
“I let him out of the cuffs with the keys from your pocket. That’s how he got away. But I didn’t think you’d wake up, and I didn’t think about the gun. I didn’t know what was going to happen.”
I couldn’t see Dad’s face in the dark. “That was a damn dangerous thing to do,” he said quietly. “Skips aren’t safe people. I don’t get why you don’t understand that.”
I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I had to gasp for air. “I do now,” I said, thinking about the look on Ian’s face as he pointed the gun at me. He’d have shot me to get away. If it came down to his freedom or my life, there was no question.
“Hell of a price to pay to figure that out,” Dad said. “I could have lost you.”
“I know,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
Dad reached across the table and put his hand on my arm. “Come on, now,” Dad said. “We can talk about it later, once we’re all safe.”
We sat there for a minute, me sniffling, him resting his hand on my snotty sleeve. If he noticed, he didn’t show it.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s just get it done.”
* * *
By the time we were ready to go, Dad had Ian double chained to the floor so tight, he couldn’t even sit up straight. Ian tried to catch my eye, but I didn’t look at him.
I huddled in the front, not letting my back touch the seat. I couldn’t be that close to Ian, even though I knew Dad had chained him good.
As we took the long drive back to Denver, the drizzle of the last few days turned to snow. Even the early-morning traffic grew thick as we merged onto I-76.
Dad kept his eyes on the road and his hands on the wheel. I wished I could sleep, but I still felt too shaky, like Ian might attack me from behind.
I reached over to switch on the radio just to distract myself. Dad caught my hand and shook his head at me. “Not now,” he said. I couldn’t blame him for being careful.
* * *
When we pulled up to the jail, Dad made me get out of the truck first, probably so I’d be farther away if he had any trouble with Ian after he unchained him. I stood by the trailer as Dad pulled Ian out the door, and an officer came out to meet us, swapping Dad’s chains for his.
I expected Ian to say something as they took him in, but he didn’t even look in my direction. He walked toward the jail with his shoulders back and his chin up. And then the doors swung closed, and he was gone.
Snowflakes dusted my hair, and I tried to pass the shaking off as a shiver. Being around Ian had been a rush, but now the rush had turned frightening.
“Let’s go,” Dad said, pulling open my door. I climbed into the truck, and he got in on the other side, pulling out of the parking lot and leaving Ian behind.
When Dad pulled back onto the freeway, I stared out the window. “Aren’t we going to sleep?” I asked.
Dad shook his head. “I’ve got to go take care of the rental car first.” He pulled a pack of sunflower seeds out of the glove box and offered me some. I shook my head, and he set them in his lap, tossing a few into his mouth. “Plus, the mechanic up there will have the parts to replace the rotors. The pads were a temporary fix.”
I’d forgotten about the damage. “Okay,” I said. That meant several more hours in the car. “Don’t you need to get paid, too?”
“I’ll take care of Cal tomorrow.”
I folded myself against the passenger door, shivering. I finally had a story that was worth writing about. Too bad I’d never be able to bring myself to write it.
As I wrapped my arms around me, I felt as if there was still someone else in the car with us. This time, though, it wasn’t Ian or Stan or Alison. It was fear, hanging in the air like a ghostly presence.
“What are you going to do with me?” I asked, watching the windshield wipers flip back and forth. The predawn light cast a golden sheen across the raindrops as they slipped off the glass and onto the hood.
“What do you mean?” Dad asked.
“Aren’t you going to punish me?” I leaned back hard against the seat, as if pressing myself in would keep Dad from dropping me off with some foster family.
Dad sighed. “Let’s start with breakfast.”
He pulled into a gas station and came out with a box of doughnuts and two cups of coffee. He set the drink tray on the seat between us, and neither of us touched it until he’d pulled off at a rest stop off I-25. The sun was just rising, but all I could see of it was a golden glow through the cover of clouds and the swirl of snow.
Dad brushed the snow off the top of one of the tables, and we both sat down. The slab of cold concrete leached all the heat from my legs, and I sipped my coffee to get warm.
“I think you should know,” Dad said, “that I’ve decided I’m not taking bounty work anymore.”
“What? You can’t quit your job. What will you do?”
“Cal offered me a job a while back, working as a bondsman. He’s been saying for
years that I’m too soft to chase skips. I never go for the big money. I bring them in, sure, but I always pick the soft ones. Always until now.”
“Ian wasn’t soft.”
“I know. And Cal was right. I shouldn’t have taken the job with you along. Ian had a record of violence. That’s how they caught him—he beat up one of the guys who fenced his cars. That guy ratted him out, but they couldn’t make the assault charges stick.”
My cheeks burned. Reality sure was kicking me in the ass.
“Why did you take the job, then?” I asked.
“Money,” Dad said. “The bounty on him is enough to get us an apartment while I get set up with Cal. I’ve scouted some in Denver already, set some appointments up. Of course, now some of the money will have to go to fixing this mess, but I still think we can manage.”
It took a second for that to sink in. I’d been so pissed that Dad dragged me along on his bounty hunts that it hadn’t even occurred to me that maybe he’d try to get out of it. And all along, he was trying to get his life to be more stable. For me.
“I don’t deserve that. Not after what I did.”
“Maybe not,” Dad said. “I don’t deserve another chance after being such a failure of a father. Maybe we should both be glad that life doesn’t always give you what you deserve.”
“But you like your job. It’s not fair for you to have to quit because of me.”
“You’re almost sixteen. In two years, you’ll be off to college, and I can go back on the road if I want.”
I left the college fight for another time. “What about Mom? She’s still out there—and she might need help. I can’t give up on her.”
“There’s something else I have to tell you. Something I should have told you a while back.”
I looked at him. Somehow I knew this wasn’t good news. “What?” I asked.
“I got a message from your mom right before I came to pick you up at Grandma’s. She told me she’d taken off for California and that stuff was going so well out there, she wasn’t coming back for a while. She wanted me to go pick you up—said it was my turn to be your parent.”
Chasing the Skip Page 14
