“You’re a moron, Burkett. You’re just digging yourself in deeper.”

“Listen, I’m gonna make this quick, simple enough even for you. I did not kill Foster Speakman. Manuelo Ruiz did.”

Rodarte laughed. “Right. The minion. The slave who idolized the guy. Yank somebody else’s pod.”

“It was an accident. Manuelo was fighting with me.”

“Trying to protect Speakman from you.”

“Wrong again, but we’ll go into the details later. You and I both need Manuelo. You’re right about him worshiping Speakman. That’s why he was so horrified by what he’d done, he ran. Find him and all our problems will be over. I’ve got a lead for you.” He read off the address. “We found it in Manuelo’s belongings. He didn’t have much, so this means something or he wouldn’t have kept it.”

“What city?”

“I don’t know, but you’ve got resources.”

“And he’s got almost a week’s head start.”

“That’s why you can’t waste any time. If you find him, treat him kindly, and you’ll get the truth of what happened that night. Nobody committed a murder. Manuelo will tell you that. He can tell you-”

Griff broke off suddenly, surprising Laura, who’d been following every word. One second he’d been speaking rapidly into the telephone, the next, he was silent, staring into near space. Through the phone, she could hear Rodarte saying, “Burkett? Burkett, are you there? Burkett!”

“Griff?” she whispered. “What?”

He focused on her sharply, then slapped the phone closed, abruptly ending his call. He opened the car door and dropped the phone onto the pavement. As he turned on the car’s ignition, he said, “Rodarte’s probably put a satellite track on your phone, so we’ve got to get the hell out of here.”

“I don’t understand.” She clutched the hand grip as he backed out of the parking slot and wheeled the car sharply.

“Manuelo Ruiz can clear me.”

“That’s why you’re desperate to find him.”

“And why Rodarte is desperate not to.”

CHAPTER 34

HE SPED OUT OF THE THEATER PARKING LOT, WOVE THROUGH the commercial complex, and took the first ramp he could onto Central Expressway, heading north, driving as fast as he dared but not so fast as to invite being stopped. He drove with one eye on the rearview mirror, afraid that, at any moment, he would see a pursuing squad car.

“Why wouldn’t Rodarte want to find Manuelo Ruiz?” Laura asked.

“Think about it. He hasn’t exactly launched a full-out manhunt for him, has he?”

“He thought that you had killed him, that all they would discover was a body. He was more interested in finding you.”

“So he could indict me for murder. Best-case scenario for Rodarte would be for Manuelo to be across the border, well on his way back to the jungle, never to be seen or heard from again. Shit!” he hissed, thumping the steering wheel with his fist. “Do you think he got that address? Do you think he understood it?”

“I-”

“Because if he finds Manuelo before I do, the man will never make it into a court of law, probably not even into an interrogation room.”

“You think Rodarte would help him escape?”

“If Manuelo’s lucky, that’s what he’ll do. What scares me is that Rodarte will make sure no one hears Manuelo’s account of what happened. Ever.”

“You mean…he would kill him?”

Griff shrugged.

“Griff, he’s a police detective.”

“Who’s dedicated himself to putting me on death row. To that end, Manuelo’s easily dispensable.”

“So what do we do? Call one of Rodarte’s superiors, tell them your side?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know who his friends are. He recruited two of them to beat me up. I wouldn’t know who to trust.”

“Then what?”

“We find Manuelo before Rodarte does.”

“How are we going to do that?”

Swerving in front of a truck to take an exit, Griff muttered, “Wish the hell I knew.”

The pancake house was open all night. At any hour it was well lighted and crowded, and so was the parking lot. A car left there didn’t attract attention. Griff parked, and they got out.

“Welcome to the glamorous world of a fugitive.” He took Laura’s hand and led her around to the back of the building, where the odorous Dumpsters were open and overflowing.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a half-mile walk. Are you okay with that?”

“A half mile is a warm-up.”

He smiled down at her, but his expression was grim. “I didn’t say it was an easy half mile.”

Leaving behind the commercial area, they entered a residential neighborhood. Over the past several days, through trial and error, he’d learned the safest route, if not the easiest. It took them through yards with dense shrubbery and large trees but no exterior lighting, fences, or barking dogs.

They came upon the house from the rear. Griff was relieved to see that no lights were on inside. Each time he came back to his refuge, he was afraid the owners had returned during his absence.

The backyard was enclosed by a stockade fence, but when they reached the gate, he opened the latch without difficulty. “It’s never locked.” He ushered Laura through the gate, then closed it silently.

“Who lives here?” she asked, speaking in a whisper. The houses on either side were obviously occupied. Lights shone through windows. Somewhere close a sprinkler was swishing. They could hear a television show’s soundtrack.

“I used to.” He led the way to a back door, opened it, and pulled her in behind him. The alarm system began to bleep, but he punched in a sequence of numbers and it went silent. “They never changed the code. All these years, it’s been the same.”

“This was your house?”

“My high school coach and his wife. They took me in when I was fifteen.”

“The Millers.” At his look of surprise, she added, “I read about you.”

He didn’t risk turning on any lights, but there was enough light from the neighbors’ houses straining through the kitchen window curtain that he could make out her features as he searched her face. “You read about me?”

“When Foster recommended you to father the baby. I researched your background.”

“Oh.” He waited a beat, then said, “I guess I passed. In spite of the fact that my dad was a wife beater and my mother a whore.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“People say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“Generally speaking, people are unfair.”

“Not in this case. I turned out rotten, too.”

She shook her head and was about to say something when the refrigerator cycled on, creating a buzz that sounded as loud as a chain saw in the silent house. She jumped. He touched her arm. “It’s just the fridge. It’s okay. Come on.” He took her hand and pulled her behind him as he made his way from the kitchen into the living area, where the drapes were drawn and it was much darker.

Still speaking in a whisper, she said, “So this is where you’ve been staying all this time?”

“Since my escape from Turner’s house.”

“They’ve been sheltering you?”

“Hardly. They don’t know I’m here. I came to see Ellie not too long ago. She mentioned a trip to Hawaii. I guess that’s where they are. Anyhow, I showed up here, prepared to throw myself on their mercy. I didn’t have to.”

“You may when they return.”

“I may,” he said ruefully. “I’m sure Coach will kick me out. But at least they can’t be accused of sheltering me. I’m sorry I can’t turn on any lights. The neighbors know they’re away and will be keeping an eye on the house. It’s that kind of neighborhood. Careful. I’ve got to close this door.” He shut the door between the living room and the hallway, plunging them into total darkness.

“Didn’t Rodarte think to look for you here?”

“I’m sure he did and probably still has a car doing periodic drive-bys. But when he discovered the Millers were out of state, he figured I wouldn’t be here. Besides, he knows Coach can’t stomach the sight of me now. He’d think if I showed my face around here, he’d be the first person Coach would call. I’ve been hoping that all this would be cleared up before they return from their vacation and they’d never know that I’d used their house.” He laughed softly. “Ellie probably would figure it out, though. I’ve tried to clean up after myself, but she’s an excellent housekeeper.”