by John Oakes
Jake was flabbergasted. He watched mile marker two whip by not knowing what to do or say.
“What if you just let this happen?” Kenny said. “What’s Steve paying you? Can’t be anywhere near what you’ll make with us.”
“Oh, like you’re gonna trust me now?”
“I have a choice?”
Jake didn’t have any leverage on Lala at that moment, so there was no stopping her on the open road. It appeared that whatever his next move was, it was going to happen in Iowa.
“Welcome to Iowa,” a small green road sign said.
“Well, I guess we all gotta change our plans today.” Jake holstered his pistol. “Now, how do you propose we stop this truck?”
TWENTY-TWO
The Slip
Tall poplars lined the highway to the west, casting long shadows across whitened fields. A pungent aroma of the plains hit Jake’s nostrils.
Pigs.
Jake had smelled some interesting farms and meat processing plants in Texas over the years, but nothing compared to the stretches of northern Iowa roads inundated with swine stink.
With every mile, the air grew fouler, seeming to inculcate Jake’s foggy, fatigued brain in brand new ways. Jake’s mounting, claustrophobic anxiety twisted his guts another quarter turn.
Jake’s phone buzzed many times in quick succession. A text from Jerry. Missed calls from Jerry. Jake stopped himself from cursing out loud, as it dawned on him that Jerry had been trying to communicate in some sort of dead zone.
Now that certain cards had been tabled, metaphorically, Jake took the liberty of reading Jerry’s texts. In sum, they were instructions for Jake to signal where and when he wanted Jerry’s help or police back up if needed.
Jake texted back, In Iowa not sure what plan is. Advise.
Ahead, an Iowa State Patrol cruiser sat in a u-turn bend, observing the southbound traffic. Kenny visibly tensed as they passed by, then eased some when the cruiser didn’t budge.
“There it is.” Jake pointed up ahead, where the CheapValue truck came into view in the right hand lane, its tires churning up a cloud of mist about itself.
“There’s Lala.” Kenny pointed to a red sedan two cars ahead. “I’ll get up closer.”
Jake screwed a knuckle into his eye, feeling a warm smile stretch across his face. “How much are we gonna make? Each.”
Kenny looked over and smiled. “If you help, that cuts it three ways. Hoping for two hundred thousand apiece. Depends on what we can sell it all for.”
Again, Jake felt momentarily detached from his body, as if powerless to steer himself. A fluttering of his heart left him breathless and pressing a fist into his chest. His pulse returned to normal after a second, and he seemed to settle back into his body, but his mind still felt groggy and fuzzy. Beads of sweat formed on his head, and a mysterious pall hung around him like a thick blanket. He rolled his window down an inch and sucked in frigid air, trying to calm whatever had come over him.
“I’m guessing you’re some former cop working as a private hire now?” Kenny said. “That how my brother found you?”
“Not exactly.”
“But you were a cop.”
In struggling to keep his cool, Jake gave the answer that took the least amount of energy. “Yes.”
“So, what did you do to get fired from the cops?”
“I… I didn’t do anything.”
“Of course you did.” Kenny laughed anxiously, looking at the truck up ahead. “What, did you steal some drugs out of evidence? Sleep with a witness? Something juicy?”
For a moment, the resting fields of harvested corn they passed were bare, free of snow. Jake blinked. It could have been Texas, with the way the horizon had grown fiercely yellow under a blanket of grey clouds threatening rain. Jake smelled the air, the way he always had in Texas to see if rain was coming, but the pig smell jolted him back, reminding him firmly, jarringly that he was no longer in Texas.
“Alright, man. Keep your secrets. But we’re gonna have a beer when this is over. You can tell me then.” Kenny looked over. “Hey man. You with me? Jake?”
Jake shook his head vigorously, cheeks smacking against his gums. He wiped a sheen of sweat off his brow. What was he supposed to do? He wasn’t police in Iowa. Even if Jerry could get there, he’d have to defer to the Iowa cops. That just left Jake alone with Kenny the rather affable thief and his heavily-pregnant but maniacally-driven girlfriend.
“Pull up in front of Lala,” Jake said. “I think we should stay in front of her, keep control of the situation.”
“Hmm. Maybe you’re right.”
Jake saw in his mind how to end the heist, saw Kenny pulling around her, and Jake jerking the wheel into Lala, sending her car into the fields. But at what cost to her innocent child?
As Kenny pulled up alongside his girlfriend, Jake looked over at her in the driver’s seat, her large belly protruding between the seatbelt loops over her lap.
“What would you do if Lala wasn’t having your baby?” Jake lifted his chin as he watched out the window.
“What?”
“What would you do, if you found out the baby wasn’t yours?” Jake glanced over.
“Don’t ask questions like that, man. That’s fucking weird.”
“It’s the kind of question that tells you about a man. What would you do, Kenny?”
He raised his fingers over the wheel. “I’d flip out. I’d break everything in sight. I’d probably want to kill her, but then who’d raise the baby?”
“You wouldn’t kill the baby?”
“No man. Maybe my ancestors would have been more bloodthirsty. But to me, it’s not the baby’s fault if its mom cheated. Hell, that’s probably more of us than we’d like to think.”
“What about the guy who knocked her up?”
“Depends. Did he know she was my girl?”
“Let’s say yes.”
“I’d fucking kill him.”
“What if he didn’t?”
“Still have to kill him.”
“And what, raise the kid yourself?”
Kenny looked over. “Where my people come from, gadjo, it’s better to gain a son than to be seen as a cuckold forever. I’d raise ten bastards before I let anyone know my woman stepped out on me.”
“Hmm.” Jake looked down at Lala’s swollen belly, saw her knuckles on the steering wheel had gone white with the intensity of her grip.
“If you’re gonna ask me about real shit like that,” Kenny said, “then you better tell me how you got fired from the cops.”
“I didn’t get fired. I said so.”
Kenny let out a grunt. “Well, that’s no fun. You better not be holding back on me.”
“How far until you take the truck?”
“After it turns west onto the highway. We’ll wait until there aren’t any cars in sight.”
Two hundred thousand dollars. The number blinked in neon figures behind Jake’s eyelids, burning into his retinas like looking too close to the sun.
As his eyes remained closed, odd, unencumbered thoughts danced before him. Did he need to become a Minnesota cop? Did he really want that? What if there was another, easier solution? What if he made more time for family, too? What if he took the money Kenny was offering?
Somewhere in his mind’s eye, a white mustache flicked to one side, and there was Jerry’s face, frowning at him. Part of Jake knew it was wrong, but another suddenly unrestrained part of him didn’t care.
But was it wrong? As long as nobody got hurt? Did Jake feel bad stealing from a huge retailer, shaving a few paltry bucks off some CEO’s income? It was hard to muster much guilt at all, in fact. Jerry could frown all he wanted. Jake could be free, he could do anything. His mind was manic with possibility.
His phone rang. It was Jerry. Jake hesitated before putting the phone to his ear.
“Jake? Jake?”
“Jerry, can you hear me?”
“I can hear you. Where are you? Can you talk?” Jerry word
s were dripping with desperation.
“I’m in Iowa now.”
“You’re with Kenny?”
“Yes.”
“We’ve informed the Iowa State Patrol; they’re on their way. Just tell Kenny to pull over.”
Jake froze and retreated inside the heavy bubble surrounding him, letting it protect him from the storm. He considered Jerry. The man could be kind and wise, but also judgmental and gullible. But Jerry possessed other qualities Jake’d been taught admire back home. He kept his back straight and was firm when needed. He could be sincere without being overly sentimental. And as Jake saw in the scuffle at the motel, Jerry could handle business when necessary. Jerry had the basic qualities of a man Jake would respect and follow orders from, but something was missing. For some reason, Jake couldn’t trust Jerry like normal. He couldn’t snap to and follow orders from anyone.
“I don’t know if I can.”
“Just tell him the police are demanding that he pull to the shoulder and stop.”
“Iowa State Patrol is onto you,” Jake said meekly. “It’s over, man. Just pull over.”
“What about Lala?” Kenny asked.
“They’ll stop her,” Jake said.
“No way, man. Who are you talking to?”
“Jake you there?” Jerry asked.
“Yeah. He isn’t stopping,” Jake said. In an instant, Jake’s wild sense of freedom morphed into a feeling of immense powerlessness. He bent his head and tears ran out of his eyes.
“Whatever you do, do not use force, or threaten force. Don’t draw your weapon.” Jerry’s warning was disconcerting.
“What?” Jake looked out the window.
“Jake, tell me again why you came to Minnesota.”
“I came for my family.” Jake sniffed. “I came to try and make my marriage work.”
“Your marriage? Are you sure?”
“Yeah….”
There was a long pause on Jerry’s end.
TWENTY-THREE
Crazy
When Jerry spoke again, his voice was hoarse. “Ask if Kenny will let you out. Make him let you out. I’m coming to get you.”
“Let me out?” Jake felt offended at the thought of being sidelined. “You serious? I got this,” he said, trying to make himself believe the words. But he knew something in him had come undone and was rattling around in his brain like a loose lug nut.
“Jake, you need to get out of that truck, and you need to keep your weapon holstered.”
“What?” Jake pinched the bridge of his nose. He sensed truth in Jerry’s words, but they angered him too.
“Just get out, Jake.” Jerry’s tone wavered in concern. “Please.”
In a surging moment of sober clarity, Jake realized something was very wrong. He didn’t know what or why, but his world had gone haywire. Everyone around him seemed as confused, and their confusion confounded him further. He felt like a boy again, getting off a carnival ride he wasn’t prepared for, dizzy and helpless. Jake so desperately wanted his world to be in harmony again, so desperately wanted the spinning to stop. This desire was the only pitch perfect note in the mess of bad Jazz filling his brain.
Jake dried his sweaty palms on his knees and pressed his hands to his face, blinding him to either side like a racehorse. He looked out in his diminished field of view to see if a little of the world around him made sense. The snowflakes danced in the air as if undecided in whether or not they should fall, but eventually they did find the ground and rest there, every one.
He’d come so far to put his life back together. Maybe two hundred grand would patch his problems over for a time. But as soon as the thought formed, it soured in his stomach. Not only was getting the money a tricky matter, stealing money wasn’t who he was, it wasn’t a real path. In the flurry of confusion, one more surety became apparent: The harmony that came from the peacemaker on his hip, the badge he swore an oath to and the laws he upheld.
Better or worse, being a lawman was his handhold on harmony and his purpose in life, and it was the only path out of the swirling mess in his mind. No matter how lost and angry he felt at that moment, no matter how little he cared for cold Minnesota or pig-stinking Iowa, he knew he couldn’t rob that truck nor let it be robbed. But he couldn’t stop it by ramming Lala off the road.
The storm around his mind lessened in this knowledge, and quiet tears flooded down his cheeks in relief. The heist had to be stopped. The question was simply how.
The sounds around him came back to full volume, and Jake realized both Kenny and Jerry had been talking to him, Kenny yapping questions from the driver’s seat and Jerry still on the phone.
“Everyone shut up!” Jake cut a hand through the air. Both Jerry and Kenny went silent. “I’m gonna get my family back,” he said in a cold sweat. He spoke into the phone. “I don’t care if it’s cold. I’ll get a better jacket and some boots. I’ll learn how to make a friggin’ snowman. That’s what I have to do if I’m ever gonna rest easy.”
Jerry was silent.
“Why are you talking like a crazy person, man?” Kenny stared at Jake out of the corner of his eye.
The CheapValue truck turned and Kenny followed it and Lala onto a smaller highway heading west.
“Jake, I’m gonna find you,” Jerry said over the phone. “But I’m… I have to hang up now. Someone else will be calling you very soon.”
Jake gave his phone a funny look after Jerry hung up. He kept the phone in his hand, half-expecting a call from an Iowa State Patrol officer or the like, seeking his help in orchestrating an arrest.
His phone rang and instead of a random Iowa number, Melinda’s name popped up. “Melinda? This is Jake.”
“Jake, buddy.” The voice wasn’t Melinda’s, but it was as soothing as it was temporarily unrecognizable. “This is your old buddy Townie.”
“Townie?”
“Tony Townsend, in the flesh, my man.” Tony Townsend was a beloved and respected sergeant in Jake’s division back home. He was so likable, many people forgot to think of him as the boss he was. “And I got Ferguson, right here. You’re on speaker.”
“Hey Jake. It’s me, Ferguson. P-Ferg in the house.”
“Why y’all calling from Melinda’s number?”
“Well, we came on up here to put in a good word. Melinda called down to confirm your records, and… uh…” Townie trailed off.
“We haven’t seen you around the station since—well, since a while now,” Ferguson said. “And we went to check on you the other day, but you were gone.”
“Sorry, fellas. I had to come up to Minnesota. I was on vacation days, though. I didn’t think I had to report in yet.”
“No, no, you’re not in trouble,” Townie said. “Let’s just say, we got word you were up here and thought we’d check in, maybe see that big ass mall everyone talks about.”
That didn’t seem to make sense. Something about how Townie was speaking felt off, much like Jerry. “Sure, boys, but I’m kinda in the middle of something right now. I’m trying to help the Bureau there close a murder case. And I think I got it all figured out.”
“Well, that’s great, Jake. Why don’t you come on in and tell your, uhh, your new superiors about it?”
“Come in? Don’t be stupid. We gotta stop this truck robbery. We gotta arrest the suspects.”
“Jake this is Melinda. Please just let the Iowa police take care of things, dear. Jerry will pick you up and bring you back here.”
“Melinda, it was the girlfriend. Sarah Paulsen. She’s half-Roma, you know, half-gypsy, goes by Lala in Mankato. Anyway, her boyfriend didn’t know she was having David Young’s baby and not his.”
“What?” Kenny yelled. The truck swerved as he sat up straighter.
“She killed David so Kenny wouldn’t. She must have figured that David might have made a big stink about it on account of him being a lonely sort. She just fast forwarded the situation to its logical conclusion, meanwhile protecting Kenny Crowe from any wrong doing. She was keeping
him around to earn for her. And boy does she expect him to earn. I think she’s been behind this truck robbery the entire time.”
“You done real good, Jake,” Townie said. “You’re a real Ranger if there ever was one. I think you’ve proven that.”
“I’d say so,” Melinda said. “More than is necessary.”
“Just let this Jerry fella bring you in,” Townie said. “I mean—”
But Jake had already heard the deception in their words, misspoken daggers in his back.
“What did you say?” Jake asked carefully.
“Just stop what you’re doing, Jake Adler,” his buddy Ferguson said. “Dammit, man, you’re off your nut. Please come in so we can keep you safe. We’re your brothers.”
Jake looked at Kenny as if expecting to see some sort of explanation on his face. But Kenny looked as appealed he did. “What do you mean about David Young?” Kenny asked.
“Just hold that thought.” Jake held up a finger.
“Take me off speaker,” he said after a ragged breath. “Townie?”
“This is Ferguson. This is your dear friend Pat Ferguson. Jake… what are you doing?”
“Shut up, Ferg.”
“Jake, they’re saying you came up here to get back together with Jenny.”
“Yeah, Ferg.”
Ferguson made an exasperated noise. “Jake, you know that can’t happen, right? Tell me you know that.”
“I know her parents don’t want it to happen, but she’s my wife!”
“Jake I—”
“Enough with this fuckin’ chit chat. I got a job to do.”
“She’s dead,” Ferguson said.
Jake went silent, all the air kicked out of his chest.
“Goddamit, Ferg,” Townie said in the background. Then a scuffling sound like he was wrestling the receiver away from Ferguson.
“Jenny’s dead,” Ferguson said again. “It’s gotta be said straight. You can’t get back with her. And that’s the truth.”
Sergeant Townsend put the phone back on speaker. “Jake, buddy. We tried to give you some time. We knew you were in a bad way after the accident, but we thought you just needed time. You’re Jake Adler, dammit. But then we get a call from Jenny’s parents, and you’re up here? Jake, brother, somewhere along the way, something slipped in your mind.”