Chasing the Skip

by Patterson, Janci

  His turn. Like I was a part-time job and she was asking to switch shifts.

  So that’s why he refused to look for her. It wasn’t about her constitutional rights at all. He already knew she didn’t want me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I’ve been trying to get hold of her since,” Dad said. “I figured if I could reach her, I could change her mind. She called me on a pay phone the first time, so I had a hard time tracking her down. I didn’t want to tell you that she wasn’t coming back. Not unless I had to.”

  “You lied. You told me you weren’t looking for her.”

  “I know. I didn’t want you to get your hopes up. So I made the phone calls when you were at the library. You didn’t make it easy, though, always going on about how she might have gotten kidnapped.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to process this.

  Little snowflakes melted on my cheeks. I probably should have cried then, but I was still running on the shock of last night. Six hours of sleep in two full days meant the dial on my emotions was stuck on low. “So did you find her?”

  Dad reached into his breast pocket and pulled out one of his business cards and handed it to me. “I made some calls,” he said. “Had a PI friend who owed me a favor. He called me last night with this number.”

  I looked down at the card, and scrawled in Dad’s handwriting was a ten-digit phone number. “She’s staying with her friend Denis. We tracked them down through that dating website she was on.”

  “I know about him,” I said. “I found a bunch of messages she sent him before she disappeared. He lives in San Diego.”

  Dad took a long swig of his coffee. “Good work.”

  “Did you call her yet?”

  “No. I’ve been trying to decide what to say. But maybe I haven’t called because it’s your call to make.”

  “You should have told me,” I said. “I deserved to know about the message.”

  “You’re probably right,” Dad said. “But I really thought she’d change her mind and you’d never have to know.”

  “So why are you telling me now?”

  Dad sighed. “Because I don’t know what else to do. I’m trying, Ricki, but I still don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

  That confession startled me even more than the news that he’d heard from Mom. I knew Dad didn’t know what he was doing, but for the first time I realized that he was aware of it.

  “I’m kind of bad at being your daughter, too,” I said. “So I guess we’re even.”

  “That’s a hell of a thing to be even at. Maybe we can work on it.”

  I turned the business card over in my hand. I wanted to believe Mom would hear my voice and realize she’d made a terrible mistake. But Dad was already planning to get an apartment in Denver, to fix things up so I could stay with him.

  I needed to call Mom now. This couldn’t wait. “Can I use your phone?”

  Dad handed me the cell phone. “You can use it right now if you want.”

  I pinched the card between my fingers, as if by holding on to the card I could make Mom answer the phone, make us be okay.

  I stood up from the table. I didn’t want him listening in. Dad looked up at me as I walked away, leaving footprints in the snow. “Ricki,” he said, “I know I haven’t been a model father, but I won’t walk out on you. You have my word on that.”

  I wasn’t sure I could bring myself to believe that. I didn’t deserve that kind of a promise, not after what I’d done. But maybe Dad was right. Life didn’t always give us the things we deserved. Sometimes that sucked, but sometimes it was a lucky thing.

  “Thanks,” I said. I walked around the far side of the restrooms and huddled under the eaves. I punched the numbers from the card into the phone, listening to the ring on the other end.

  Rest stop outside Denver, Colorado.

  Seconds into phone call: 3.

  Distance from Dad: 10 yards.

  18

  “Hello?” Mom said. Hearing her voice took me so much by surprise that I thought I’d pee my pants.

  “Mommy? Mom?”

  “Ricki baby?” Mom said. “Where’d you get this number?”

  Not Are you okay? Not How have you been? Not I am so sorry. Where’d you get this number? The relief I’d felt at hearing Mom’s voice hardened.

  “Dad found it,” I said. “What happened? Where have you been?”

  “Oh, honey, things have been so crazy. I’m sorry. I should have called, but I knew you’d be safe with Grandma and that your dad would take care of you.”

  “It’s been a month, Mom. Do you realize it’s been a month?”

  “I know, sweetie. I was going to call tomorrow. I promise I was. Just as soon as things calmed down.”

  “Right,” I said. “Well, Dad said you told him you weren’t coming back. That it was his turn to take care of me.”

  “Have you been staying at his place?” she asked. “Is he feeding you okay?”

  She’d dodged the question. “He’s driving me around in his travel trailer chasing after fugitives. It’s pretty awful, actually.”

  “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. I’d have come home if I knew.”

  “If you were going to come home, why did you tell Dad you didn’t want me anymore?” My voice was edging on hysterical, but I couldn’t help it.

  Mom’s voice sharpened a bit. “Don’t be like that.”

  “What do you mean, don’t be like that? You walked out on me.”

  “That’s not fair, honey.”

  I didn’t want to fight now. We could fight later, once we had things all sorted out. The important thing now was to get us back together.

  “Dad can drive me to where you are,” I said. “So you won’t have to come get me.”

  Mom was quiet for a moment. “Aw, honey … honey, I’d love to, but I can’t right now.”

  “What do you mean, you can’t? I said Dad would bring me. You don’t even have to do anything.”

  “You remember Denis? The man I met online? Well, I’m staying at his place, and it’s small, only one bedroom. We’d be living on top of each other, sweetie, and Denis and I are still figuring out our relationship. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to you, living in a place like this.”

  “Then come home, Mom.”

  “I’m sorry, honey. But things with Denis are going so well. And you know what a hard time I’ve had finding a decent guy. I can’t walk out on him when things are finally starting to work out for me. You understand?”

  I understood. I’d heard her. Her needs came first, my needs came second, and I hated myself for being surprised.

  “That’s fine, Mom,” I said. “Look, I’ve got to go.”

  “I’ll call you soon, okay? See if Dad will take you back to Grandma’s. It’s not fair for you to have to live in a trailer like that.”

  “Dad’s getting an apartment in Denver,” I said. “I’m going to stay there with him.” At the moment that felt worlds better than living in an apartment with her and Denis, the man she’d known a month whose needs took precedence over mine.

  “That’s good, honey. It’s only for a little while. And then we’ll get set up with a bigger place, and I’ll send for you.”

  That was the sort of thing you told a three-year-old who wanted a cookie you knew she’d forget about. In a little while. Bullshit.

  “Sure, Mom,” I said.

  She didn’t catch my sarcasm.

  “Okay. You take care of yourself.”

  “Right. Bye.” When I hung up, I realized I hadn’t even told her that I loved her.

  I sat there for a few minutes, hugging my arms to my chest. A breeze blew by, raising goose bumps on my skin.

  Mom wasn’t hurt. She just didn’t want me. And I ought to have felt awful about that, to have hated her for it. But my chest felt empty, as if my body was running on fumes—no emotion left.

  There was only Dad now. He wasn’t perfect, but at least he was trying. That’s what he’d been telling me all
along.

  When I came back, Dad was sitting in the cab of the truck, out of the snow. Who ate doughnuts in the snow, anyway? We were both a couple of crazy people.

  When I climbed into the cab beside him, he handed me a doughnut. “So,” Dad asked, “you okay?”

  The seat squeaked as I settled onto it. “I don’t know,” I said.

  “You need a ride to California?”

  “No,” I said.

  He was quiet for a moment. We both knew what that meant.

  “She all right?”

  “She doesn’t want me.”

  “Ricki—”

  “No, it’s true. It’s really stupid, but it’s true.”

  “So are you going to stay with me?”

  “Why would you want me to do that?”

  “Maybe so we can both have that second chance we were talking about.”

  I wrapped my arms around my waist, squeezing tight. We were never going to get through this if I couldn’t bring myself to ask those unaskable questions.

  “What if you find something you’d rather be doing than living with me?” I asked. “What happens the day I come home and you’ve gone off chasing some bounty and left me a note?” My insides trembled just thinking about it.

  Dad paused for a moment. “I won’t do that.”

  “What’s changed?”

  “What’s changed is you need me.”

  “Maybe I always needed you.”

  “Maybe I didn’t understand that until now. And I don’t deserve forgiveness for that, but I am sorry. You have my word, though. I won’t walk away. I’ll give you a place to stay for as long as you need. That’s a promise.”

  I leaned back, looking up at the torn cloth ceiling. I didn’t want to believe him. Believing him would set me up to be hurt again. But running away would turn me into someone I didn’t want to be—into a skip, even if I never broke the law. Taking that risk might be the only way to build a life that was real.

  “Won’t be so bad, being in Denver. When we find a place, we can get you into a real school. We can even head back to Utah now and again, so you can see your friends.”

  I stared at him. He still didn’t act much like a dad. And there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t dump me off somewhere as soon as he realized I wasn’t going to morph into some ideal daughter, even if I wanted to. But if I didn’t believe him now, I’d never know if what he said might have been true. I’d never know if he was ready to stick around. I’d have to run off, and where would that land me? I’d be like Ian—always running.

  “I’m still not sure how to trust you,” I said.

  Dad actually laughed. “I’m not sure how to trust you either, after the last few days. I imagine that comes with time. You try to stay out of trouble, and I’ll try not to get you into any for a change.”

  “Okay,” I said. “But you better let me help you look for an apartment,” I said. “Because I’m not going to live in some dump.”

  Dad laughed again, and I couldn’t help but smile myself. I’m not sure which one of us moved first, but we both leaned across the bench seat, and he wrapped his arms around my shoulders, squeezing. Our jackets squished together, and my face pressed against the melted snow on his shoulder.

  “You won’t regret this, Ricki,” he said into my hair.

  And for the first time, I really believed he was right.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thanks to Eddie, agent extraordinaire, for the sharp and diligent work on this book and, most especially, for putting up with my many neuroses. In addition, thanks are due to the whole team at JABberwocky—the best agents in the business.

  Thanks also to Christy and the team at Henry Holt for helping to shape this book into what it is now.

  In addition, thanks to the many people who read my early drafts and offered feedback: the Rats with Swords—Eric, Dan, Brandon, Emily, Isaac, Karla, Rachel, and Ben. Also the wonderful people of the BYU MA program, especially Chris and the best writing class ever—James, Erin, Ryan, Carol, Tessa, Shayne, and Lesley—who read the book earliest of all and were still encouraging. And to my beta readers, Sandra and Jillena. And thanks, most recently, to the Seizure Ninjas—Heidi, Cavan, Alex, and Lee Ann—for their support over the last few years.

  Special thanks are due to Kristy, who never lost enthusiasm for my work, despite having read more undeveloped drafts than anyone. Without her excellent feedback, all my books would be much, much worse. Also to Brandon, for telling me I could do this, and then teaching me how. His continued support has been too critical to describe in brief.

  Thanks to Big Mike, for the use of his name. And to Bob Burton, for writing the best manual on bounty hunting around.

  And last of all, thanks to my husband, Drew, without whom I would never have thought to write about bounty hunting in the first place. Thanks for the hours of brainstorming, the feedback on multiple drafts, and, most important, for believing in me even when I’d lost faith in myself. Working with you is an honor; living with you is a celebration. I love you.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Janci Patterson lives in Orem, Utah, with her husband, Drew, and daughter, Cortana. Janci received her Master of Arts degree in creative writing at Brigham Young University. When she’s not writing, she manages Drew’s painting business, and plays geek games of all kinds. Chasing the Skip is her first novel.

  Text copyright © 2012 by Janci Patterson

  Henry Holt and Company, LLC

  Publishers since 1866

  Christy Ottaviano Books

  Henry Holt® is a registered trademark of Henry Holt and Company, LLC.

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  All rights reserved

  The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:

  Patterson, Janci.

  Chasing the skip / Janci Patterson.

  p. cm.

  Summary: When fifteen-year-old Ricki’s mother finally leaves for good, Ricki’s absentee father steps in, taking Ricki with him as he chases bail “skips” across the country, but their fledgling relationship is tested as they pursue attractive, manipulative seventeen-year-old Ian Burnham.

  ISBN 978-0-8050-9391-9 (hardback)

  ISBN 978-0-8050-9637-8 (e-book)

  [1. Fathers and daughters—Fiction. 2. Fugitives from justice—Fiction. 3. Bounty hunters—Fiction. 4. Automobile travel—Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.P276535Ch 2012 [Fic] 2012006164

  eISBN 9780805096378

  First hardcover edition 2012

  eBook edition October 2012