Death on Heels (12 page)

The deputy who was supposed to be standing guard at the metal detector was not at his post. He was at the courtroom down the hall, opening the doors, surrounded by staff, spectators, and media. Tucker dashed for the unguarded exit as if this were the big game and the goalposts were in sight. He pushed unwary bystanders, who seemed frozen in place, out of his way with his free hand.

“You can’t do this,” Lacey managed to sputter.

“I’m doing it,” Tucker said, not even breathing hard. “They don’t care who leaves. They only check for weapons when you enter. I don’t have a weapon. I only have you. Come to think of it, you’re my secret weapon. Now hush. Duck your head, Chantilly.”

Tucker had no trouble carrying Lacey through the metal detector gate and down the narrow stairway. She was aware of a ruckus behind them, people running and voices yelling, and among them she recognized Vic Donovan’s
commanding shout. But she had to keep her head down to avoid smacking it on the ceiling and the handrail. Tucker sailed down to the landing.

“Officer down,” she heard someone yelling above them. “Prisoner’s escaped!”

At the bottom of the stairs Lacey looked up. There was a bottleneck at the top, where the missing deputy, now back at his station, had closed the gate. He seemed to be trying to determine who was who in the clamorous mob threatening to trample him and plunge down the stairs in hot pursuit. Presumably he only wanted to keep the wrong folks from leaving the courtroom floor, unaware he was locking the barn door after the horses had bolted for freedom.

“I. Am. Going. To. Kill. You. Cole Tucker!” Lacey said, but her breath came in gasps, with her diaphragm bouncing against his shoulder.

“Get in line, sunshine.”

They emerged from the back door of the courthouse, where a delivery vehicle for a local bakery had been left idling at the curb, door unlocked, key in the ignition. The old blue and white Jeep Cherokee had a sizable rack of elk antlers bolted to the grille. Hand painted on the doors it read: P
ETRUS
B
AKERY
, W
E
B
AKE
I
T
, W
E
S
HAKE
I
T
. It was not a subtle vehicle, but one that could deliver the courthouse’s daily doughnut run in the worst weather. Tucker headed straight for it. So far, no one was following them.
Where are they?
Lacey wondered.

“I will never forgive you, Cole Tucker. Never,” Lacey yelled. She beat on his back again with her fists.

“A little down to the left, Lacey. That feels good.”

Tucker opened the driver’s side door and shoved her in, forcing her to bump her bottom on the console and catch one leg on the steering wheel. He pushed her leg over. Lacey struggled to right herself. She clutched her bag, digging for her cell phone, which was at the bottom of one of many interior pockets. She couldn’t find it.

“Good old Tasso Petrus,” Tucker was saying. “Not the best and the brightest, but he makes good doughnuts. I never could understand why people do that. Do you?
Run off and leave their car running?” He slid in behind her and slammed the Jeep into gear. “Just asking for a car thief to come along.”

“You’re not making me an accessory to your crimes. Let me out of here!” Lacey clawed her way toward the passenger side door. She had barely opened it as the car pulled out. Tucker leaned over and slammed the door before she could escape. He peeled out of the parking lot. She heard the door locks click.

A deputy she didn’t recognize came running out the back door of the courthouse, a doughnut in his hand and a look of surprise on his face. Tasso Petrus the doughnut man was close behind, shaking both fists and yelling while running after his blue and white Jeep. The deputy dropped the doughnut and fumbled for his radio and his gun. Lacey ducked as they sped out of the lot and into the back alley. No gunshots came their way. She peeked behind them again.

“Looks like Petrus is trying to stop the deputy from shooting at us.”

“Hell, yeah. Nobody wants his Jeep shot up,” Tucker said. “Besides, he knows I’ll take good care of it. It’s a nice old Jeep, got the big 401 with the four-barrel and the Quadra-Trac. Man, they don’t make ’em like this anymore—”

“Take good care of the
Jeep
? What about
us
? We could have been
killed
, Tucker! God, I’ve never seen you like this. You are out of your mind.” She was dizzy and nauseated. Her mouth was dry and her pulse raced. She closed her eyes for a minute but that made it worse. The Jeep had a stiff ride and she was afraid she’d throw up.

“Never been this desperate before,” Tucker said. “And you know what they say, desperate times require desperate measures.” He kept his eyes on the road and his foot on the accelerator.

“Nice going, Cole. Now you’re a fugitive from justice.” Lacey felt bitter, not to mention stupid, for ever trying to see Tucker, for believing in him, and for going to Sagebrush in the first place. “And a car thief.”

“That ought to break the bank, on top of three murder
charges. Doesn’t matter. I’m up the river already unless I can figure something out. Now, buckle up.” He put the Jeep into reverse and floored it, spinning backward into the street, then back into drive. “Top speed ahead, Chantilly Lace.” He pressed the accelerator to the floor and the Cherokee jumped ahead. “Man, you gotta love a big old V-8.”

“Cole, slow down or you’ll kill someone,” Lacey barked at him. She was afraid to try to jump out until he slowed the car down.

“Add it to the list, Lace. I’m a wanted man.”

“Let me get something straight for the article I will eventually write.”
If I live
.

“Go ahead. On the record.”

“You incapacitated one friend back there and stole another friend’s car.”

“Grady’s sort of a friend, but not a great friend exactly, and like I said, I’m just
borrowing
Tasso’s Jeep. But you got the gist of it.”

“So Tasso Petrus won’t mind?”

“Not as long as I don’t get it all shot up. And I pay for the gas. Tasso knows what it’s like in the Yampa County jail. He enjoys a good time, sometimes a little disorderly conduct. I was a little surprised he wasn’t in that cell with me, but a good thing he wasn’t, huh? As I said. He won’t mind. Much.”

The Jeep smelled wonderful, Lacey realized. Like a bakery. The backseat was half full of white bakery bags and flat doughnut boxes.

“It appears he was right in the middle of his deliveries this morning,” Tucker said. “Lucky us. Hand me a doughnut, wouldja, Chantilly?”

“Does this make me an accessory?”

“Not if we eat the evidence.”

Lacey fished out a doughnut for each of them. She realized she was starving. And there was chocolate on the premises.

“I thought the Petrus family were all sheep ranchers.”

“Tasso doesn’t like sheep. He’s a city boy.”

“Sagebrush is a city?”

“Passes for one hereabouts. Working at the bakery, he’s still close to his family in town. And his wife Tina is one ferocious cook.”

“So he’s a pal of yours? I thought cowboys hated sheep ranchers, and vice versa.”

“Not so much these days. You do what you gotta do to make a living up here. Hang on, Lacey.”

The Jeep careened around a corner and headed west on Sundance Way like it was shot from a cannon. Lacey couldn’t believe an old Cherokee could have that much speed. But Tucker said it was a hauler, and it hauled. She hugged her seat belt and prayed the air bag was in working condition.
Wait, does this thing even have air bags?

She still didn’t hear any sirens. She craned her neck to see if anyone was following them, but the Jeep was traveling at top speed and other cars on the road seemed to be in slow motion. Some just pulled to a stop on the side of the road and gave Tucker a wide berth.

Her tote bag was at her feet. She dug around in it again and finally pulled out her cell phone. She started to dial Vic.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Tucker reached over and grabbed it away from her. He lowered the driver’s window and pitched it out.

Her mouth fell open. For a moment, Lacey was speechless. It didn’t last.

“Damn it, Tucker. What did you just do?” She stared at her empty hand.

“I threw your cell phone out the window. Don’t worry about it. Signal’s really spotty here anyway, you know, and there’s no cell service at all where we’re going.”

“You jerk! You idiot! You—car thief!” She leaned as far away from him as possible and hugged the door. She pulled on the lever, but he had locked the doors from the driver’s side. “Who are you? Do I know you at all?”

“You know me, Chantilly. I didn’t do anything wrong. Get that through your head, Lacey. I didn’t kill anyone.”

Maybe not yet!
Lacey kept her mouth shut. She didn’t trust herself to talk, afraid a torrent of anger and indignation might spill out. It wasn’t worth making a dreadful
situation worse, and she didn’t want Tucker to crash the Jeep. She was sick with apprehension. She tried to think of something to keep her mind off how frantic she felt and how worried she was. Like Vic.

Oh, my God, poor Vic! He must be out of his mind with worry. Not to mention pissed off.

Lacey covered her face with her hands.
Why did I come here at all?
She had wanted to reassure herself that Tucker was innocent, but she’d just witnessed the man commit who knows how many crimes, including assaulting an officer, fleeing the law, and stealing a car.

“It’s not like I meant to kidnap you, Chantilly Lace,” Tucker apologized. “But I saw daylight and I had to take my chance back there.”

Oh, God. Kidnapping! Add that one to the list
. Tucker had turned into a madman. Hadn’t he? She looked over at him, spinning the Jeep’s wheel like a race car. She worried he’d crash the getaway car, or that she would be shot at by a pursuing lawman.
Why didn’t I stay in bed?

Tucker steered the Jeep due west at top speed. There were still no visible pursuers, no cruisers, no sirens, no helicopters. Lacey assumed that meant someone was planning on putting up roadblocks, if they had a smart guess as to which way Tucker was heading. As Tucker seemed to be winging it, she wondered just how smart that guess could be.

Everyone would be after them: the police, the sheriff, and the Colorado Bureau of Investigation. She just prayed the law wouldn’t shoot first and ask questions later.

“Oh, no!” Lacey sat up and clutched at her seat belt.

“What?” Tucker glanced her way.

“My mother! This is going to make her
insane
. Tucker, please, just let me out on the side of the road. I’ll catch a ride, I’ll go back, you’ll get away, and then maybe my mother and my sister won’t find out about this.” She thanked God that at that moment, her father was on a plane to Thailand.

“Your sister. That would be the famous quarterback kicker?”

“That’s the one.”

“That’s what families are for, aren’t they, Chantilly? Anyway, looks like we’re both in a heap of trouble. Can’t let you go yet. Besides, I always liked your mom. And her Thanksgiving dinner that year was something else. I’ll never forget it.”

I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to hear that.
Lacey groaned. On top of everything else, the weather was bothering her. She snuggled into her coat. A snowstorm would really put the frosting on this particular cake. “It feels like snow.”

“Yeah, there’ll be snow. Feels great, like freedom.”

“They’re going to find us, you know.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Tucker floored the Jeep to pass a semi. “They’re thinking like cops. I’m thinking like a cowboy.”

Great. All we need is a reenactment of the gunfight at the OK Corral,
she thought, glaring at him. “So while you were planning your great escape, did you ever think of me?”

He glanced over at her, then checked the rearview mirror, his brown eyes serious.

“First of all, I didn’t exactly
plan
it. The opportunity presented itself. I
carpe’d
the damn
diem
, you know?”

“You think Grady deserved what you did to him?”

“Don’t know. Been thinking about Grady. Could be someone’s using him.”

“Using him?”

“Didn’t I tell you? Grady’s the deputy who took that so-called anonymous tip about that so-called evidence on our ranch. But Karen, my lawyer, found out there’s no paper trail on that tip, no phone call, no recording, no notes on paper, no nothing. Grady says he got a call, but all they’ve really got is what he told the sheriff himself. Someone planted that tip. Maybe Grady himself. Did he plant the evidence too?”

“You don’t think Grady Rush is the mastermind behind this?” she said.

“Grady, a mastermind? No way. You see how easy he
is to fool. Maybe he didn’t create this fancy frame someone’s trying to hang on me, but he could be someone’s tool.”

“Whose tool?”

Tucker took a deep breath. “That would be the big question. I don’t know.”

She stared out the window, her thoughts in a jumble. “Did Grady know the dead women?”

“Everyone knew Ally—she bartended all over town. Lots of people knew Corazon. I couldn’t say about Rae Fowler. Who knows? I heard she wasn’t in town for long. She was just a kid. He probably saw them around, like anybody else here would. But he’s no ladies’ man.”

“I guess not.”
Even a girl duck would think twice about kissing Old Duckface
.

They were well beyond the Sagebrush city limits by now, out in the country. The sky had turned steel gray and it was full of the snow it hadn’t dropped yet.

“Boy, is Grady’s butt in trouble now.” Tucker swerved to avoid a rock in the road. Lacey noticed another county road sign riddled with bullet holes. Only the signs in town were safe from bored teenagers with nothing on their hands but time and ammunition. Out in the county they were fair game.

“You’ve gotten all of us in trouble.”

“Chantilly Lace, Grady didn’t have to take the shackles off me. He let me talk him into it. That was stupid. Welcome, but stupid.”

“Maybe he did it for a friend,” Lacey said.

“Maybe. In which case, he’s going to be very unhappy. You, my dear, were a victim of my circumstances.”