I know, he said. But it would take a while for the sheriffs department to figure out what was going on. That bought them a little time to get rid of the cruiser and find another way out of the area.
THEY LEFT the highway after a few more miles, weaving their way south down county roads and back roads so lightly traveled they ran into no other traffic for a solid hour.
Jane buckled her seat belt and settled back against the passenger seat, turning her head so she could watch Joes profile as he drove. His brow was creased, probably with pain. She saw him drop his left hand to his side more than once.
Are you bleeding again?
A little. Not much.
Jane fell silent, trying to clear from her mind the image of the fallen deputies. She made herself picture Clint Holbrook instead, studying the lines of his face, the color of his hair and eyes, trying to place him in the dark chasm that hid her lost memories.
Hed told the deputies and Joe that she was a paranoid schizophrenic. But that couldnt be true, could it? Shed lived for five months in Trinity without anyone thinking her insane, hadnt she? And shed known Joe and his brother before that, and Joe didnt act like she was crazy, either.
Did you believe him? she blurted aloud.
Joe slanted a look at her. Holbrook?
Yeah. Did you believe what he said about me?
Joes hands tightened on the steering wheel. I dont know. You were keeping secrets when I knew you. I guess maybe youre his wife. I dont know.
No, I mean about the other thing.
He frowned, as if uncertain what she was asking. Then his brow straightened, and his lips curved in a half smile. That youre a paranoid schizophrenic? He released a huff of laughter. No. Youre as sane as I am.
Surprised by how relieved his reassurances made her feel, she cleared her throat. But what if he tells his story to Chief Trent? What if he explains away his presence at Angies apartment and turns it all back on me?
Trent knows what the evidence says. The person who killed Angela had to be a lot bigger and stronger than you. I dont think Holbrook will try to sell that to the Trinity cops, Joe assured her.
She hoped he was right.
Listen, we need to ditch this cruiser, and soon. That means risking the highway again so we can find a truck stop or something. Maybe a no-tell motel that wont ask too many questions if we show up on foot without luggage.
Any idea where we are right now?
We just passed into Boise County, heading west.
We can take Highway 21 into Boise, but thats probably a good three hours from here. I think there are truck stops along that highway, and probably a few cheap places to stay where people wont ask a lot of questions. I cant tell you exactly where, though.
Then well just drive until we find one, he said.
Chapter Nine
The Shamrock Motel sat, low-slung and shabby, just off Highway 21 about two hours outside Boise. Its Las Vegas-style marquee was missing several lights so that the sign read ham ock in neon green.
They came upon it less than a mile down the road from the Lucky 21 Truck Stop, a fact that combined with Joes growing exhaustion to overcome his dismay at the motels seedy appearance. Back up the highway about a quarter mile, hed spotted a turnoff that might provide them a good place to hide the cruiser. As soon as he could find a place to turn around, he reversed course and backtracked to the turnoff, driving down a winding gravel road for another quarter mile until he found a stand of trees that would hide the cruiser from view, at least until full daylight the next day. By then, he planned to be already at the truck stop, looking to grab a ride on a big rig into Boise.
Joe pulled the dead deputys service weapon out of the waistband of his jeans and laid it on the car seat. He saw Janes curious sidelong glance. Well get further unarmed, he explained. Less conspicuous.
She nodded.
They cut through the woods, keeping the highway in sight, until they reached the clearing where the Shamrock Motel sprawled under the blue-green combination of the waxing moon and the anemic neon of its marquee sign. Joe told Jane to wait in the parking lot while he went inside and rented a room for the night.
The desk clerk took his money without really looking at him, no doubt aware that the less he noticed, the fewer questions hed have to answer when someone with a badge or a P.I. license inevitably came calling. Joe signed the register Mr. and Mrs. John Clark and the clerk handed him the key to room 24.
Jane followed him to the room, located at the far end of the motel. There were only a couple of other cars in the parking lot, and no signs of occupation down where their room was located.
Jane went immediately to the bathroom as soon as they got inside, leaving Joe to drop wearily onto the bed, hoping the worn bedspread was relatively clean. He was surprised to see a phone on the bedside table; a lot of places like the Shamrock Motel didnt bother with that sort of amenity, knowing its typical clientele wouldnt require more than a bed and relative anonymity.
He picked up the phone and dialed the operator. Asking to place a collect call, he gave the operator the number of his deputy chiefs office in Canyon Creek and prayed that Riley Patterson was pulling one of his usual late nights.
His second in command answered on the second ring. The operator told him there was a collect call from a Sheriff John Clark and would he accept the charges? Joe held his breath, hoping his old friend would remember their games of Cowboys and Indians from their childhood days.
Ill accept, Riley said.
Joe released his pent-up breath.
Joe? Riley asked when the operator left the line.
Yeah, its me.
Are you okay? The worry in Rileys voice caught Joe by surprise.
Im okay. Listen, I dont have long-
Neither do I. I just got a call from an FBI agent out of the Idaho Falls Resident Agency. Did you know youre wanted for murdering a couple of Idaho cops?
Joe closed his eyes, his head hurting. How had Holbrook managed to set up the frame so quickly? I can explain-
Dont call me here again. Riley hung up on him.
Joe stared at the phone, dumbfounded. What the hell was going on? He knew Riley. Had known him his whole life. There was no way he would have bought any story about Joe being a cop killer.
The phone to the police station was already being monitored, Joe realized. Riley had forced him off the line before they could finish a direct trace.
It would buy them a little time, although whoever was trying to discover their whereabouts would eventually follow their tracks to the Shamrock Motel. With luck, it wouldnt happen until they were already headed west to Boise and the relative anonymity of the bigger city.
But Joe couldnt risk calling Riley or his office again. He was effectively cut off from all the people he could trust.
He and Jane were on their own.
Jane? He looked around the empty motel room. The door to the bathroom was closed.
Shed been in there a long time, he realized. Too long. Pushing to his feet, he crossed to the door. Jane? he called, his gut tightening with alarm. Had she been hurt in the ambush and hidden it from him? Had she climbed out the bathroom window and run away?
He heard soft snuffling sounds inside, which relieved him on one count but scared him on another. He tried the door handle. It was unlocked.
Jane, Im coming in. He pushed the door open.
Jane looked up at him from the floor, where she sat huddled on a towel between the tub and the toilet. Shed stripped off her clothes and thrown them in the tub, leaving her shivering in her underwear. Tears reddened her eyes and stained her face. I didnt want you to see me like this, she said, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand.
He crouched in front of her, wincing as his injured side protested. Like what? Human?
She managed a watery laugh before her expression fell. Her lips trembled and fresh tears spilled from her eyes. Im so tired of having other peoples blood all over me.
I know. He thumbed away her tears, cupping her cheek in his palm. Tell you what. Lets get you under the covers and warmed up, and Ill see what I can do about getting the blood out of your clothes before morning.
She let him pull her to her feet. As he started to turn away, she lifted her hand to his face, her palm rasping against his beard stubble. Youre feeling a little feverish.
Well have to find some ibuprofen in the morning before we head to Boise.
Her eyes glittered with pride. No, we wont. She picked up something sitting on the edge of the sink and put it in his hand. It was a small, clear, resealable plastic bag full of pills. Ibuprofen and your antibiotics. I had them in the pocket of my jeans.
Smart girl. He took out one of each and dry-swallowed them, then tucked the bag in the pocket of his own jeans. He pulled a relatively clean-looking towel from the rack by the tub and wrapped it around Jane. Lets get you into bed.
I bet you say that to all the pathetic, sniveling girls, she murmured as they left the bathroom.
He chuckled, but deep down, a ribbon of pain threaded through his heart. She sounded so much like the Sandra he remembered, the wounded, beautiful creature whod turned his life upside down at a time when he hadnt believed he could ever care about a woman again. Shed gotten under his skin so easily it was frightening, with her combination of vulnerability and steely strength. She was doing it again, chipping away at his armor piece by piece, and he didnt know what to do to stop it.
He didnt even know if he wanted to anymore.
NINETY-FOUR DOLLARS and seventy-eight cents. Jane slid the last penny into the pile in front of her and looked at Joe with a sinking heart. We need more cash.
He nodded. I think I can get us a ride to Boise with a trucker at the truck stop up the road. But when we get there, were going to have to find an ATM and get some more cash.
You cant do that! Theyll be looking for you.
I know. He scooped up the money and put it back in his wallet. But theyll be expecting us to end up in Boise anyway, right? We can use that to our advantage. He settled back against the headboard, pressing his hand against his left side as if he was in pain.