When Gus was informed that the official report had been filed, he went to his computer and used his agency password to access it. The suspect had been located. In Oklahoma City. From the calls she had been making to Houston, they had known for several weeks that she was someplace in central Oklahoma. Then one of their Oklahoma City-based agents recalled seeing a girl in a park that fit Jamie Long’s description. She and the baby were living on the third floor of a rundown apartment house in central Oklahoma City.

That evening Gus met with Felipe and handed him a handwritten list of salient points, which he would memorize then destroy the list before leaving the room.

“My first priority is the baby’s safety,” Gus said, drumming the desk with his index finger to emphasize his words. “I want him out of that apartment before you kill the girl. She is to disappear without a trace along with the mutt. I want it to look as though she bolted in the night with the baby and the dog with absolutely no indication of what actually transpired.”

Felipe nodded.

“You have someone lined up to bring the baby here?”

Felipe responded with another nod.

“I don’t want anything left in that apartment that identifies the girl as Jamie Long or would link her to me or my sister,” Gus said.

Once they had gone over the entire plan, Gus leaned back in his chair and looked past Felipe into the meditation garden. His bowels were starting to churn. He sometimes wondered if his conscience was located in his colon. In fact, he’d had loose bowels off and on ever since he realized what Jamie Long’s eventual fate would be. If he didn’t love his sister so damned much, he could hate her, but out of this whole fiasco had come Sonny’s child.

Gus rose from his seat abruptly. “Check in when you get to Oklahoma City,” he told Felipe as he hurried toward the john, tightening his sphincter with all his might, but already he could feel it starting.

Chapter Twenty-nine

ONCE AGAIN JAMIE found herself at the downtown bus station. She had planned to buy a ticket to Seminole, which was southeast of Shawnee, the town where she had made her last phone call to Mrs. Brammer, but discovered there would not be a return bus to Oklahoma City until morning.

How necessary was it for her to go someplace else to make these calls? She was trying not to pinpoint herself in Oklahoma City proper, but maybe that was already evident by the calls she had made from different points on the far edges of the metro. And maybe there was no one sitting at a huge console like some technology wizard in a James Bond movie tracking on an electronic map every call made to the Arthur Brammer residence in Houston, Texas. Her connection to the Brammer family was just too tenuous for anyone to have made the connection.

Or was it?

Any number of people in Mesquite knew about the long-standing friendship Gladys Simpson and her granddaughter had had with their back-fence neighbors, Evelyn and Paul Washburn, who were the parents of Millie Brammer and the grandparents of Joe Brammer. And it was no secret that Joe often visited his grandparents and had befriended both Jamie and Gladys. How careful Jamie needed to be about the phone calls depended on how thorough a search Gus Hartmann was conducting.

She had three choices. The wisest one would be to forget about Joe Brammer for the time being. Or she could call his mother from someplace closer to home and save herself a great deal of trouble. Or she could buy a ticket to someplace other than Seminole.

She bought a ticket. She would go a second time to the town of Shawnee. Maybe the wizard at the console would decide that she was living in Shawnee or one of the many even smaller towns scattered along the interstate highway that connected Oklahoma City to Fort Smith, Arkansas, and points beyond.

It was time to feed Billy. She sought out the back of the bus and draped a blanket over her shoulder. A weathered man in a denim shirt sitting across the aisle and one row up kept glancing in her direction, which made her very nervous. She couldn’t decide if he was just being lecherous or if his interest in her was something else altogether.

Once she had arrived in Seminole, she went to a pay phone. The phone rang eight times before the answering machine came on. A male voice announced that she had reached the Brammer residence. She hung up, waited fifteen minutes, and tried again. Then she walked around the block and tried a third time. When the bus for Oklahoma City was announced, she tried one last time but to no avail. Of course Jamie had told Mrs. Brammer that she would try again the following week if they weren’t yet home from their trip. Or perhaps she and her husband had something more entertaining to do tonight than sit around waiting for a phone call from a girl they barely knew who might be in trouble or might be off her rocker.

Perhaps, as Mrs. Brammer had strongly suggested, it was time for her to find another attorney to help her. Maybe she should go to the Oklahoma City legal aid office, where attorneys helped people of limited means.

During her ride back to Oklahoma City, Jamie tried to imagine explaining her situation to a total stranger.

My baby is the grandson of Amanda Tutt Hartmann. Yes, the famous televangelist who just had a baby. Except the baby she is holding in those pictures probably is not really hers. It’s just one that she and her brother are using while they are trying to track me down and take my baby away from me. I signed a contract agreeing to be artificially inseminated with semen supplied by Amanda Hartmann’s husband, though actually the semen came from her son, who was supposed to be dead but really was being kept alive until Amanda was sure that I was carrying a healthy baby. For the eight months and one week of my pregnancy, I was held prisoner on the Hartmann Ranch in the Texas Panhandle, where I met Amanda Hartmann’s mother, Mary Millicent Tutt Hartmann, who was also being held prisoner except she had a passkey and sometimes roamed around the ranch house at night. Mary Millicent was the one who told me that her almost dead grandson was really the father of the baby I was carrying and that Amanda planned to claim that she was the child’s biological mother, which would make him the heir to her ministry when he grew up. And Mary Millicent warned me that Amanda’s brother was going to have me killed after my baby was born so that I couldn’t tell anyone that Amanda was not the baby’s mother and that God had not performed a miracle so that her barren body could produce one more kid.

All of which was definitely too far-fetched to be believed, Jamie realized, even for a long-haired, antiestablishment legal aid attorney. Maybe if she ever had the chance to tell the story to Joe, he, too, would think she was crazy. Maybe she should start operating on the assumption that she would never be believed so there was no point in ever telling anyone the truth about her baby’s birth.

She wondered how many years it would take for Amanda and her brother to give up looking for Sonny’s child. How many years she would have to hide.

But if hiding was going to be a way of life for her, she needed to make some preparations. She would have to buy a car. Without a driver’s license she would have to drive very, very carefully-never speeding, always coming to a complete stop at stop signs, never having a burned-out taillight, never doing anything to get pulled over. But she could do that. And she would always keep the tank full of gas and have basic supplies in the trunk-diapers, blankets, clothes, dog food, some nonperishable food for herself, water bottles-in case she had to make a hasty departure. And she would never leave the apartment without money.