Cherry Bomb

“Honey? It’s Mommy.”

Alex caresses Val’s hair. Then she lights the fuse and tosses the PENO under the Honda.

As she walks back to the patrol car, Alex wonders what she would do with only a few seconds left to live. What would she say?

Nothing. She’d say nothing, because she doesn’t have anyone to call.

The explosion is loud, and rattles the police car, but there is no huge pyrotechnic fireball like on television. The car burns, but it’s a small fire, won’t last long.

Alex hits the siren and peels out. Mission accomplished. On to the next goal.

CHAPTER 19

THE CRIMEBAGO ACCELERATED with the speed and grace of a three-legged elephant, blowing through a red light and prompting a honking frenzy from all four corners of the intersection. Harry alternated between steering and punching buttons on the dashboard CD changer. I gave him a friendly tap on the back of the head to keep him focused.

“What the hell are you doing, McGlade? Watch the damn road!”

“I’m looking for car chase music.”

“I’ll do it. Pay attention to driving.”

“Find Steppenwolf. It’s disc five or six.”

I pressed some random buttons, and Pink Floyd came on again.

“Too mellow!” McGlade yelled, jerking the wheel left and turning onto Halsted. I fell into the passenger seat, and Phin appeared and punched off the stereo.

“Is there a door to the roof?”

“Skylight opens. Latch is above the sofa. Why’d you kill the tunes?”

“Pull up next to a bus, then slow down and let them get close.”

“You want to jump from the Crimebago to a bus?”

“Yeah.”

“Motorhead would be perfect for that. I think it’s disc eight.”

Harry fussed with buttons. Phin locked eyes with me and said, “Make sure he does what I told him.”

“I’m going with you.”

It was slight, but he still smirked. It a

Then the RV exploded, a deafening thunderclap that made my knees buckle.

“SACRIFICE! PAY THE PRICE!”

No, not an explosion. Harry had found the Motorhead CD.

I clawed my way up to the cockpit and smacked it off.

“I’m the driver, dammit! I pick the music!”

“Focus, McGlade. Get next to a bus and make sure the Feebies are right behind you, then come to a stop. They won’t be able to see up onto the roof if they’re hugging the bumper.”

Harry reached for the stereo. I smacked his fake hand.

“Are you listening?”

“Jesus, sis, I got it the first time.”

“We’ll go on your say-so. Lead them around for another ten minutes, then pull over. Got it?”

“There better not be a body cavity search. I’ll give you up if they threaten me with a body cavity search. My ass is exit only.”

“Relax, Harry.” Phin patted him on the shoulder. “They won’t think I’m hiding up your ass.”

Harry nodded, then accelerated to catch up to a bus several car lengths ahead. Phin and I went to the kitchenette, strapping on our backpacks. He smirked at me again. I frowned.

“I’m going with you to find Alex, Phin. That’s the only reason.”

“I know.”

His grin didn’t fade. I thought about mentioning the obstruction of justice charges I’d be facing if we were caught, along with accessory after the fact, all because he robbed a goddamn bank instead of getting an honest job. But instead I said, “What’s so damn fu

He shook his head slightly. I realized he wasn’t amused by the situation, or anything I was doing. He was staring at me the way Latham used to, the way Alan did before our marriage imploded. Not lust. Something even more dangerous.

Love.

A quick romp in bed was one thing. An actual relationship was something I couldn’t even consider, especially at that moment. I wanted to smack him for being ten kinds of inappropriate.

“They’re on my bumper!” McGlade yelled back.

“How close?” I turned away from Phin’s stare but still could feel it.

“Close enough to give me a reach-around. Bus is on the left. You got about twenty seconds before the light turns green.”

Phin shouldered the backpack and hopped onto the sofa, fussing with the latches on the ceiling panel. It swung upward on hinges. He stuck his arms through, got his palms onto the roof, and hoisted himself up. I hung my purse around my neck and cast a longing glance at the rifles. We’d have to leave them for the time being.

“Cross traffic is flashing the Don’t Walk light,” McGlade said.

A hand reached down. I stepped onto the sofa and grabbed Phin’s wrist. His fingers locked onto my forearm and he yanked me through the opening, up onto my butt.

Vehicle exhaust soured my sinuses and cold city wind spit drizzle on my cheeks. I knelt on the roof, rainwater soaking through the seat of my sweatpants.

“The Don’t Walk light is solid.” McGlade’s voice was muffled, competing with the sounds of the street. Engines, honking, a siren in the distance. I looked behind me, couldn’t see the Feebies’ sedan. We were too high and they were too close.

Phin pointed left, to the bus. A Chicago commuter, green on white, about a foot taller than the RV and too far away to jump onto.

But Phin wasn’t reading my thoughts, and he sprinted up from a crouching position, took three big strides, then launched himself through the air.

His jump took him at least eight feet, and as his arc crested and waned I knew he didn’t have enough height to make it. Phin must have realized it as well, because he tucked in his legs midair, and hit the roof of the bus on his knees, sliding across the top in a spray of dirty water.

I knew I couldn’t follow. Too far.

“Yellow light!” McGlade warned.

Phin twisted around, beckoned me to jump. I got on my feet, but there was no way. Not without wings and a stack of mattresses. I shook my head.

“Green light!” Harry yelled. “Wait-traffic is blocked! Two cars! Feds! They’re Feds!”

I crouched down, crawled to the edge of the roof. Special Agent Dailey-or maybe it was Special Agent Coursey-walked directly under my line of sight, heading for the front of the RV.

I played out the upcoming scene in my head. Coursey/Dailey would produce a warrant, because neither of them took a leak without first going through proper cha

Now was a pretty good time to run like hell.

I glanced over at Phin, still motioning for me to jump. On my best day, on dry ground, I couldn’t make it. On a slippery roof, twelve feet above the street, I’d break bones for sure.

I heard Harry say, “How do I know this is a real warrant, and not something you printed on the Internet?” and decided that was my cue to give myself up. Phin could escape on his own, and we could contact him later. Depending on their evidence, maybe I wouldn’t have to spend all night at FBI headquarters answering questions. I pointed at the street, mouthed the word run at Phin.

“He’s on top of the bus!”

I glanced down. A Feebie had his gun out, bringing it up. Phin backpedaled out of range, shrugging off his backpack. He jerked down the zipper and reached inside.

There were Berettas in the backpack.

Bank robbery was one thing. Shooting a federal agent was another. I couldn’t let Phin do that, not even to save himself.

I fumbled for my purse, yanking out my Colt, cop mode on autopilot. Without hesitating I pointed my gun at the man I’d been making out with only a few minutes ago.

Phin tugged something small and black out of the bag, I yelled “No!”, and my finger reflexively tightened on the trigger, the hammer drawing back.