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The cruisers inched forward. Had to go over. She turned to tell Cee. She was already scaling the fence, huge fake torso and belly halfway over.
Mad skills. Terrible teamwork.
Spotting an old tire, Gracie ran, hit the rim, and hoisted herself over the fencing. Thank the powers that be she didn’t have her belly ring on right now. That would’ve hurt.
She flipped over the side and landed inside a rectangular patch of yard. Hearing the low warning growl, she had just enough time to grab Cee and yank her back hard. The bull mastiff jerked against his chain. Through her face mask, Cee’s eyes were as wide and surprised as someone woken from a nightmare by ice water to the face.
The dog barked and growled like it hadn’t eaten a person in three weeks. A light went on in the house. The sliding door screamed open, and a slender man in boxers rushed onto the deck.
Crud. Gracie pivoted and ran. A step behind Cee who was already running. The man’s eyes must’ve adjusted, because he two-finger whistled and yelled, “They’re over here!”
Gracie put on her speed, jumped up, way up, and grabbed the edge of the fencing. She swung herself over and landed on the other side a second before Cee. They sprinted across the next yard, over the next fence and the next.
When they had a little distance, she grabbed Cee before she sprinted away again.
“Is the padding dissolvable?”
Cee nodded. Good. She’d done that right at least. Gracie pointed toward a covered boat in the yard. “Take off your clothes, ball them in the padding. We’ll shove it under the tarp, let it dissolve away any evidence.”
Cee crouched by the boat, pulled off the top layer of her clothes, balled them in the padding, and used a penknife to break the seal inside the padding, releasing the liquid.
She shoved the package under the boat’s cover. It was already breaking apart in her hands.
Cee wiped her hands on the grass, looked to Gracie. “What now?”
“They’re searching for two people, one short, one heavyset. You’re neither of those.” Gracie pushed her car keys into Cee’s hand. “White Ford Fusion. Hail-damaged.” She stopped for a minute. “Can you drive?”
Cee’s sweat-drenched face looked offended. “Of course.”
Of course? Kid was fifteen. Gracie pulled her jacket sleeve over one hand and scrubbed Cee’s face, brushed out her hair with her fingers, then pushed her toward the gate. “Wait for me at my club.”
Cee pushed back, slowing herself. “I can’t leave you.”
“Yes, you can.”
“I don’t…” Cee trailed off as the flash of a cruiser’s lights bounced off the fence. They crouched face-to-face. For the first time, Cee looked like a kid. Scared. Vulnerable. Stubborn. “How will you get back?”
Now she was going to try and be a team player? Would’ve helped if she’d told Gracie what she’d be walking into. “Uber. Now go.”
Cee stood, peeked out of the gate to make sure it was clear, and walked out, looking nothing like a big, fat felon and everything like a wayward teen in jean shorts and army boots.
Gracie stood and ran in the opposite direction.
Chapter 25
The numbers on the dented and dinged Exxon gas pump ticked rapidly up. Dusty’s attention was split between that, the homeless guy wandering the gas station muttering and cursing, and the tracking app on his phone. Gracie hadn’t picked up on this one yet. Though she had found the one he’d put on her car.
Tank full, he handed the homeless guy a couple of bucks, climbed into the driver’s seat, pulled out of the lot, and headed toward where Gracie had stopped a minute ago. Only a few blocks away.
He turned up his police scanner. It had been filled with casual law enforcement chatter when he’d pulled into the gas station, but things had grown serious. An anonymous phone call. Suspicious activity at one of the duplexes rented by college kids.
Someone had called in an incident on the same block Gracie had gone to. He’d bet money Ms. Gracie Parish was heavily involved and that this had something to do with her family’s illegal activities.
For such a little thing, Gracie sure was a big pain in the ass.
He drove past the street she’d been on and spotted a police cruiser. For a split second, maybe a half second, he considered and then made the decision, the box checked.
If she needed him, he’d be there. He’d do whatever he could to help her get out of whatever situation she found herself in. And he’d make damn sure she knew who’d helped her. This could be the thing that got her to open up to him.
* * *
Coasting around the North Philly block, Dusty wasn’t sure how he’d ended up going from a comfortable, if slightly hot, bedroom two hours ago, to running interference for a woman whose family he was trying to stop.
There was that shaky edge of undercover morality again. Help the bad guys escape the good guys to stop the head bad guy. Confusing.
But here he was. He’d just seen Gracie and a heavyset guy vaulting six-foot fences like Olympians, while the cops began to give chase.
Couldn’t have the cops catch her. Not just because she didn’t deserve to be in jail, but because it would send her family into further lockdown. He’d never get anywhere near them, and months of investigating would go down the toilet, just when it was getting interesting.
He continued to weave his way through the neighborhood and spotted a cruiser backing out of an alley. It took off. Pulling the wheel left, he slid up to the curb in front of a fire hydrant—no other place to park around here—and flicked off his lights.
With a bit of hope-this-doesn’t-come-back-to-bite-me-in-the-ass, and gratitude he wasn’t technically on the job, he took his radio jammer off his bat-belt.
To get extra juice, he plugged the black box, with its four antennae, into his car’s power outlet and switched it on.
The chatter on his radio instantly died down. Okay, Ms. Parish, you do the rest.
Chapter 26
Gracie flung herself over another fence and dropped to the sidewalk. Two cops were nearby. She waited to be spotted. One of the officers looked over.
She ran. Not too fast. Behind her she could hear the creak of leather gun belts and the clink of metal and the orders to stop. She picked up her pace.
Through yards and across streets, she ran. Jumping fences and zig-zagging to change direction, she ran.
The footsteps of those behind her began to grow distant. Blood whooshed in her ears. She kept her eyes focused ahead, knowing at any moment the reinforcements would arrive and cut her off.
She rounded a corner and saw no one. Somewhere behind, she heard one of the officers curse and with heavy breath radio in her direction. She climbed over another fence. There was a shed by the edge of the yard. Jumping up, she grabbed the edge, hoisted herself onto t
he low roof.
Squatting there, sweat plastering her face mask to her skin, her disbelieving eyes searched the area.
Where was the cavalry? Sure, they couldn’t keep up, but she’d heard someone call in her direction over the radio. No reinforcements?
This was too good to be true. Patience. Hold. Forcing herself to take slow, deep breaths, she waited. A minute later and still nothing. If she waited longer, they might stumble upon her.
Crawling across the roof, she jumped and landed outside of the yard, in another access alley. She ran.
At the end, she altered course on instinct, heading toward another neighborhood. No one behind her, no one ahead. With a sense of detachment, she picked up her pace. This was almost fun.
Not almost.
She vaulted a hedge, ran across the yard. Muscles burning, she ran until she exited the neighborhood, ran down the road, and came out onto Bustleton Avenue.
She stopped beside a boarded-up corner store. Hidden in the dim area behind it, she pulled off her hat and face mask, set them on the ground. She yanked off her long-sleeve shirt and vest, balled them up, and tucked them in her hat. She shoved the whole thing into a packed Dumpster.
Now wearing a white tank top and black cargo pants, she shook out her long hair and started walking. Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Expecting to see Cee’s number, hoping the kid was okay, she unzipped the pocket and pulled out her phone.
The number on the screen wasn’t one she’d expected. Dusty? Her newest employee must’ve saved his number to her phone. Curious—make that suspicious—she picked up. “Yeah.”
“I’m in North Philly. Near Red Lion and Northeast Ave. Need a ride?”
Huh. He was no more than a half mile away. Better than Uber. “Yeah. I’m on Bustleton. Head north. You’ll spot me.”
Jaw tense, she hung up. There was only one way he could’ve known she was in Philly. He’d put a bug on her. Not just her car. She’d spotted that one. Spotted it and hadn’t bothered looking for others. Sloppy.
