Page 43 of Love in Overdrive

She ignored it and focused on the house.

“Oh please, Lord. Let someone be home.” Laney crossed her frozen fingers and picked up her pace.

Cade pointed to the chimney. “Smoke.”

He rushed up the front steps and rang the bell. When a dog barked, Cade looked back. His face lit with the most beautiful smile Laney had ever seen. She was sure her own matched it, not that she could feel her face.

She stopped a few feet back, not wanting to scare the owner. The door opened, and a woman with short, graying hair and glasses peered out. Her flannel shirt hung loose over her jeans. She looked to be about sixty. “May I help you?”

Cade put on a million-watt smile, stepped back, and grabbed Laney’s hand to pull her closer. “I sure hope so. May we use your phone?”

A small black and white dog slipped out. He ran straight to Laney and sniffed. His little tail picked up speed, which caused her pulse rate to slow. “What a cutie.” She dropped to pet him. “Hi there, buddy.”

In typical Minnesota-nice fashion, the woman opened the door wide to let them in. “Shep likes you, so you might as well come on in. The phone’s in the kitchen. It’s through here,” she said over her shoulder as she led them down the hall to the brightly lit room in the back of the house.

Laney’s gaze took in the comfortable room with exposed wooden beams. The dark wood perfectly framed the oversized windows and the gorgeous view of the lake. She didn’t know what lake it was. Heck, Minnesota had over ten thousand of them.

“There.” She pointed to a phone hanging on the wall. The kitchen was straight out of the seventies with its orange counters and brown stove. The room opened to the living area. A game show played on the television in the corner. Laney liked that show. She always picked the correct price.

“It’s not long distance, is it?” she asked.

“No, ma’am,” Cade replied.

“Well, help yourself.” She gestured to the phone.

A crashing echoed from the other room. Shep let out a bark and ran down the hall.

“Dang cat. I’ll be right back.” She left to check on her pet.

Cade picked up the receiver to call the police.

Laney watched the television, which changed from the game show to the midday news.

“Still no new leads in the search for the couple who robbed the Gray Duck Grove National Bank yesterday…” The reporter stood on the sidewalk in front of the bank.

“Cade?” One hundred percent of Laney’s attention was now locked on the television and a mugshot of Cade.

Cade froze. His finger over the nine for 911. What the fuck! The picture on the TV was his. Damn it. Why couldn’t he catch a break?

The next picture on the TV was an artist’s rendering of a woman in a hoodie and sunglasses. It looked a lot like Laney. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Entranced, he watched as an old woman wearing a tracksuit and holding a little fluff ball of a dog was interviewed. “She tripped over my poor Bitsy. I’m lucky she didn’t hurt my baby.” She nuzzled the little dog, cooing as it licked her nose.

The news reporter came on the screen again. “The police don’t have the identity of the suspect, but the getaway vehicle was a white Honda Civic. The driver was identified as Cade McBride, formerly of St. Paul.” Cade’s picture flashed on the TV again. “McBride was convicted and served time for murder and was recently released.”

Manslaughter, not murder. Fucking idiot reporters couldn’t get anything right.

All the blood drained from Laney’s face right before Cade’s eyes. He reached out to her, but she stepped back, her arms wrapped tight around her core. “You… murder?”

“Shh. I can explain, but not now.” He swiveled his head to see if the homeowner was coming back.

“Yes, now.” She planted her hands on her hips like an immovable force.

“You realize they think we robbed the bank?” He motioned between the two of them. “We need to figure this out before we call the police and have the local yokel come put us in cuffs.”

“Why would they do that?”

Cade ran a hand through his hair and did a quick check over his shoulder. “Laney, I have a record, and a witness described you from your bow lips down to your running shoes. That old lady could work for the FBI with her photographic memory. Besides that, we have the money.”