Chasing the Skip Read online

  Her pink hair was piled on top of her head, and she had on these little round glasses that gave her owl eyes.

  I was still pissed at Dad. That’s the only way I know to explain what I did next.

  “No, thanks,” I said. Then I walked back out to the truck and climbed into the cab.

  Ian shook his head at me. “You supposed to be here? Isn’t your dad going to freak?”

  I shrugged. “Probably. Got any shitballs handy?”

  Ian laughed. I’d impressed him.

  I squinted at him over my shoulder. “Can I ask you a question?”

  He shrugged an arm-twisted shrug. “Why not?”

  “Did you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Grand theft auto.”

  Ian leaned forward. “That’s a very personal question,” he said. He dropped his chin, looking me in the eyes.

  I nodded. “Well?”

  He jerked his chin in the direction of my journal. “So I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

  “Show you what?”

  “You’re taking notes for your dad, right? I saw you writing down stuff about me. What are you, the secretary?”

  I looked down at a split in the seat where the foam poked through, then picked at the edge of it with my finger. “He keeps his own notes. I just like to list things.”

  “Huh,” Ian said. “Well, that’s cool.”

  “You really think so?”

  “Yeah,” Ian said. “If I wrote things down, I wouldn’t forget so much.”

  “Like your court dates?”

  “Nah. I missed those on purpose.”

  I looked toward the bathroom, but the door was still closed. No sign of Dad yet.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” I said.

  “You want to know if I stole those cars?”

  I blinked at him. So there’d been more than one car. Did that make him guilty? “Yeah,” I said.

  “I’m not sure I should tell you. I mean, you’re the bounty man’s daughter, right? They might call you as a witness or something.”

  “No one will have to know that I know.”

  “I pled innocent.”

  “But then you didn’t show up for your hearing.”

  “Hell no I didn’t show up. I’m a poor guy with a record. You think they were going to let me off?”

  “That depends. Did you do it?”

  Ian laughed from deep in his chest, and the skin on my arms tingled. I wondered what I could say to make him laugh like that again.

  “You think that makes a difference?” he asked. “What kind of shelter has the bounty man got around you, anyway?”

  I shrugged. “Fine, don’t tell me.” I’d learned from Anna that the fastest way to get someone to tell you something is to back off and tell them they don’t have to share. Tell them it’s up to them, and they’ll spill their guts all over your shoes.

  “Would you still talk to me if I did it?” he asked, his face growing serious.

  I thought about that for a second. “Yes,” I said.

  “But only as long as I’m cuffed in the back seat.”

  “No,” I said. For some reason I wanted him to trust me. Maybe because Dad didn’t. “If you did it, you probably had a good reason.”

  Ian laughed again, more bitterly this time. “Sorry, sweetheart. It’s not that I don’t believe you, but I wouldn’t want to make you an accessory.”

  I turned my back to him, reaching for my door handle. “Whatever,” I said.

  “Hey, don’t be like that,” he said. “Do you think I did it?”

  I turned back to him and held his gaze. Did I think he did it? He didn’t seem like a bad person, but he did seem like the kind of person who acted first and ran away from consequences later.

  “Yes,” I said. “You won’t tell me if you did it, and I think that means you did.”

  Ian nodded, neither of us blinking. My heart pounded faster, and I held my breath as shivers ran over me. “Does that matter?” he asked.

  I jumped as Dad jerked open the driver’s-side door. I hadn’t even seen him approach. Ian settled back in his seat, and I whipped around in mine. I expected Dad to chew me out for not waiting for him in the store, but he just glared, first at me, then at Ian. He climbed into the cab and pulled his sunflower seeds out of the glove box, grabbed a gas card off his clipboard, and walked around to the pump.

  Ian leaned forward in his seat.

  “Hey, bounty man,” he said. “I gotta pee.”

  Dad nodded at him but took his time running his card through the pump and putting the nozzle in the gas tank.

  A girl in a University of Wyoming sweatshirt pulled up at the next row of pumps, giving us a dirty look. Looking back, I could see that the trailer blocked all three pumps in our row.

  “Shouldn’t you pull back?” I yelled at Dad.

  Dad shrugged. “Then we’d block the driveway. We’ll only be another minute.”

  The girl left her car running and headed into the station.

  “Hey, bounty man,” Ian said again. “You don’t want me to go on your seat, do you?”

  The thought of smelling Ian’s urine all the way to Denver made me want to heave. I glared at him, but he grinned back. “Kidding,” he said, in a voice quiet enough that only I could hear.

  Dad walked around to the passenger side of the truck and opened the back door, unchaining Ian’s feet. He pulled another length of chain out from under the seat and hooked it to Ian’s cuffs, pulling it taut. “Come on out, then,” he said.

  As Ian climbed out of the truck, Dad stepped back, letting go of a length of chain so Ian could walk in front of him. Ian looked like a dog on a leash.

  Dad and Ian walked toward the building. Dad opened the bathroom door and checked inside. I climbed out of the truck to watch them, leaning against the side of the gas pump.

  Dad took the cuffs off Ian’s wrists but hooked another on his ankle, so he’d still be attached to the chain. As Ian walked into the bathroom, he bumped against Dad, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady himself. Dad’s hand went to his side, but Ian just smiled at him and slipped into the bathroom. I wondered if Dad really had a gun in his pocket.

  Dad forced the chain under the door and closed Ian in, keeping hold of the leash. A Jeep pulled up to the parking spaces by the station door, and the driver gave Dad a strange look as he walked into the store. Dad gave the guy a nod but didn’t explain himself.

  While we waited for Ian, I grabbed a squeegee and wiped the bug splatter off the windshield. The truck was so tall I had to climb up onto the fender to reach the windshield. It wasn’t that I wanted to help. I was just sick of looking at grasshopper guts.

  As I finished I heard Dad knocking on the bathroom door. “Come on,” he yelled. “Let’s get moving.”

  A moment later the door swung open, and Ian came out of the bathroom with his hands up, chain dragging on the concrete floor behind him.

  “Hands together,” Dad said, reaching toward Ian with the cuffs.

  Ian turned toward Dad and stuck his wrists together, but then whipped them up and socked Dad in the chin instead. Dad fell backward, and Ian gave him a shove, then twisted away and sprinted toward me. Dad lifted the chain, and I held my breath, expecting Ian to trip when he came to the end of it. The chain pulled taut but then slipped out of Ian’s shoe, clinking to the pavement. He must have unlocked the cuff and then tucked the chain into his shoe so Dad wouldn’t notice.

  Ian raced past me and jumped into the still-running sedan, swinging his legs in and slamming the door. Dad reached for his hip and ran forward as Ian peeled out. Ian gave one wave to Dad over his shoulder. I could see his grin in his rearview as he pulled out of the parking lot.

  I stared at the car, heart pumping. What would happen now? Dad said no high-speed chases, but Ian had stolen that girl’s car. I’d let him run by me; did that make me some kind of accessory to his crime after all? I didn’t know much about stealing things, but I knew yo
u didn’t want to be around when other people did it.

  I looked back at Dad to see if he was worried. He’d know what we could and couldn’t get in trouble for.

  Dad was already jerking the gas hose out of the pump. As he leapt for the cab, his hand went to his pocket. He patted one pocket, then the other, and then jumped out of the truck to check the back ones. He swore, reaching for the ignition and checking the crack in the seat, but came up with nothing.

  “Son of a bitch stole my keys,” Dad said.

  That must be how he got the cuff unlocked. He probably grabbed the keys from Dad’s pocket before he went in.

  “So we’re stuck here?” I asked.

  Dad shook his head, holding out his hand. “Not unless you’ve lost your set.”

  “All I’ve got is the trailer key.”

  “There’s a spare truck key in the back.”

  I handed Dad my key, and he opened the trailer door, then handed it back to me.

  Ian had seen his chance, and he’d taken it. Now he was gone, and I was still stuck here with Dad, no better off than I had been before.

  That’s when the girl in the UW sweatshirt came out of the station, her hair pulled into a ponytail. She gaped at the place where the car had been, and then looked around the parking lot at the other cars.

  “What the hell?” she asked, looking at Dad. “Where’s my car?”

  Dad looked at the empty space where the car had been, and then at the road where Ian had pulled away. He sighed.

  I hopped up into the truck and sat back on the bench seat, feeling my heart rate begin to slow. I could tell what Dad was thinking. We weren’t going to catch him, even if Dad had been up to the chase.

  Still, that would have been a good story to tell Jamie—the kind of story he wanted to hear about my exciting new life.

  Jamie. My face flushed as I thought about Ian, and the way I’d liked having his breath on my neck and his knees pressed against my back. Mom always said that cheating was bad karma, and even if I wasn’t technically cheating, I really didn’t want to risk it. I’d have to send him an extra-long e-mail next time I got to a library to make up for it.

  Cheyenne, Wyoming.

  Minutes since Ian ran: 1.

  Distance from Salt Lake City, Utah: 441.44 miles.

  7

  The girl in the sweatshirt swore, reached for her pocket, and swore again. She looked over at Dad. “Someone stole my car.”

  “Yup,” Dad said. He reached for his pocket and pulled out his ID. “I’m a bail enforcement agent, and that man who took your car escaped from my custody.”

  I looked back at Dad. Couldn’t he get in trouble for admitting that?

  “The more information you can give me about your car, the better the chances are that I can find him, and it.”

  She wrinkled her eyes at him, looking at his ID. “So, you’re a cop?”

  “No,” Dad said. “I’m a bail enforcement agent.”

  She cocked her head at him, like she didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. “He’s a bounty hunter,” I said from the cab.

  The girl’s eyes widened, and Dad shot me a shut-up look.

  “Think of me as a private investigator,” Dad said. “I’m chasing the guy who took your car, so I’ll probably find the car in the process. Any information you can give me will make you that much more likely to get your car back.”

  “I think I should call the police,” she said.

  “Yes, you should. But the cops have a million other things to do, so unless someone calls in an abandoned vehicle or the thief breaks some other laws, they aren’t likely to find it in any kind of hurry. That’s where I come in.” He held out his hand to shake hers. “I’m Robert Maxwell. What’s your name?”

  “Caroline,” she said, hesitantly accepting his hand.

  Dad reached for his clipboard and pulled a certificate and a business card out of the papers at the back. “This is my Colorado license,” he said, “and the card of the bondsman I work for. You can call him, and he’ll verify who I am. It’s my job to bring that punk in to the police, and I’m happy to help you get your car back in the process, if you’re willing to share some information with me.”

  Caroline reached for her pocket and then closed her eyes. “My wallet was in the car. I was just coming out to get it. That means he has…”

  “Your whole life in his hands,” Dad said, his tone softening. “But that gives us more ways to find him.” Dad handed her his cell phone. “You call the cops and make your report. And when you’re done with that, you can call Cal to check up on me if you’d like. After that, I’d appreciate it if you’d share your license plate number with me, and anything else I might be able to trace to find him.”

  Caroline looked Dad up and down. “You’re really a bounty hunter?” she asked. “Like Big Mike? You don’t look much like one.”

  “That’s what I keep saying,” I said.

  Dad chuckled. “Something like that. I’ll be right here when you’re done with that call.”

  When Caroline walked off a couple of feet to make her call, he shook his head at me. “Don’t use those words with people,” he said. “Gives them all kinds of misconceptions.”

  “Okay. Sorry. I didn’t know you had to have a license.”

  “Depends on the state. I’m registered in the ones that require it. Wyoming doesn’t.”

  “Isn’t Cal going to be upset when he finds out you let Ian steal that car?”

  “Things go wrong on the job,” Dad said. “Cal knows that. He trusts me to deal with it.”

  Dad went to pick up his chain and cuff and stowed them in the trailer. When he came back to the truck he picked up his clipboard and started scribbling notes on it. He looked over his shoulder at Caroline, who stood by the gas pump, talking on his cell phone. Dad swore again.

  “Still, I can’t believe I let him get my keys,” he said. “So stupid.”

  I felt a stab of guilt for not doing something to stop Ian. I’d stood there like an idiot while he took a poor girl’s car. So much for showing Dad I could be helpful.

  Sitting in the cab, I could almost smell him in the stale air. I didn’t have to let him go. I could have intercepted him. In my mind I pictured myself stepping into his way, his body crashing into mine, stumbling, and knocking us both over onto the concrete. His breath puffed against my face as I looked up into his eyes, and then he smiled.

  I turned my head in the direction of Dad’s clipboard, snapping myself out of it.

  “Do you think you can find him again?” I asked.

  “Sure,” Dad said. “It’s not like he’s been such a genius at hiding. It’s just going to take a while longer, now that he knows who’s coming for him.”

  When Caroline came back with the cell phone, she leaned against the side of the truck. “The police say I’m not obligated to share any information with you,” she said.

  “They’re right,” Dad said. “But did they give you odds on finding your car today?”

  Caroline sighed. “Look, I live in Laramie. If I give you the information on my car, could you give me a ride home?”

  “Sure,” Dad said. “Hop in.”

  “But you should know I called my roommate and gave her your license plate number.”

  Dad smiled. “That was probably smart.”

  “I already got my car stolen today,” she said. “I don’t need to get kidnapped, too.”

  Dad opened the truck door for her, and she climbed into the back seat. As she sat down, she eyed the bolt and chain on the floor but didn’t comment.

  “So,” Dad said as he started the engine. “Tell us everything you can about the car and the wallet. Make, model, year, credit card numbers, driver’s license numbers, everything.”

  Caroline was quiet for a moment. “My credit card numbers, huh? How’s that going to help?”

  “This guy’s a thief, right?”

  “Apparently.” Caroline still sounded confused. I smiled back at her, trying
to look comforting.

  “So he’s likely to use those cards,” Dad said. “I can track them if he does, and use that information to find him.”

  “You can track someone else’s card numbers?”

  “That’s my job.”

  Caroline passed Dad’s bounty-hunting license over the seat, and I took it. As I leafed through Dad’s clipboard to put it away, I came across a mug shot of Ian. His physical description was printed under it, as well as his former addresses. At the bottom of the page, someone had written, “Charges that didn’t stick,” followed by a string of abbreviations.

  “I’ll take that back now,” Dad said, grabbing the clipboard from me before I could decipher them.

  “You don’t have to give me any information you don’t want to,” Dad said to Caroline. “It’s up to you. I’ll give you the ride either way, but if you don’t tell me anything, it’ll be a while before you see that car again.”

  Dad handed his cell phone to Caroline again. “You also might want to call the credit card companies,” he said. “Tell them to put a watch on your cards.”

  Dad handed me his clipboard and pulled onto I-80 in the direction of Laramie.

  The first call Caroline made was to her roommate again, to check the license plate information on her registration and the credit card numbers from her old statements. She still hesitated with the card information, but then she read it off to me, letting me take it all down. By the time we reached Laramie, she’d reported all her cards stolen, and I’d noted a pretty extensive list of data. I sat up a little taller in my seat. It felt good to actually contribute to Dad’s business for once, instead of tagging along. Maybe, in some small way, it made up for how I’d taunted him with Ian.

  “This is good,” Dad said. “Shouldn’t take more than a day or so for us to find him.”

  “Thanks,” Caroline said. “I really appreciate that.”

  “Thank you,” Dad said. “Trust me, this helps us both.”

  We dropped Caroline off at her dorm, and Dad stopped at the university library so I could upload my nonexistent homework while he called around to get reports on Caroline’s car and credit cards.