Page 139 of Deadline

“Until Carl is captured.”

Tucker didn’t like the sound of that. “Look, don’t pull any more fool stunts, okay? You’re not a cop.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I don’t want to have to cart you away in a body bag.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Say, listen.” Tucker backed down, glanced toward the cabin, flicked a bead of sweat off the tip of his nose. Coming back to Dawson, he said, “I’m man enough to admit when I’m wrong. I was wrong. Bygones?” He extended his right hand. Dawson shook it.

Tucker nodded, but as he was about to walk away in step with Wills, Dawson said, “You’re not done here.” His solemn tone grabbed their attention. They looked at him expectantly. “The porch was an add-on,” he said. “Jeremy built it to protect the grave.”

“Grave?” Wills said. “Whose?”

“His mother’s.”

Diary of Flora Stimel—2010

I’m not sure of the date, whether it’s still January or if Feb. is here. It’s cold, I know that much. The cabin stays damp, and that hasn’t helped my chest cold. It’s hung on for weeks. I try not to cough too much, because it irritates Carl.

He’s short-tempered because we stay cooped up in here for days at a time. He doesn’t like to venture out when it’s rainy because tracks can be left in wet ground.

What I think—who’s looking for us after all this time? I bet most cops these days have never even heard of us. But Carl is as paranoid as ever. That FBI agent Headly makes him nervous. We haven’t pulled a job in years, but Carl says that doesn’t matter. We’re still wanted. Headly’s still out there and he’ll never give up till we’re caught or dead.

Makes me tired just to think about it. And I miss Jere

my. He hasn’t been out to see us since before Christmas. He’s going to Af. again soon. Carl says that he’s too busy to come see us. He’s “setting things up,” whatever that means, but I think it means that their big plan is about to be launched.

Breaks my heart that Jeremy’s gotta leave his family again. Last time he was here, he brought me pictures of the boys and told me stories about them. He had a picture of Hunter holding his new baby brother. Their faces are so sweet! I wanted to keep the pictures, but after I’d looked at them for a while, Carl took them away and burned them. In case this place is discovered, he didn’t want anything around that would connect us to Jeremy. But when I saw the fire eating up the pictures of our grandbabies, I cried. It took me a long time to stop.

* * *

I don’t know for sure how many days have gone by since I wrote that last part. The days sorta blend together. I don’t know why, because it’s not like I sleep through them. I’m so tired, but I can’t sleep at all. I think I have fever.

Earlier today, I was lying here on the bed with my eyes closed. When I opened them, I caught Carl just sitting there at the table, staring at me. I asked him what was wrong. He said, “Nothing,” and got up to fix himself a can of soup. I think he just hates me being sick.

I told him that cough syrup and maybe aspirin for the body aches would make me feel better and get me well faster. He said he’d go buy some when the weather clears.

He’s asleep now, which is why I’m able to write in this diary. I don’t like what I’m thinking, which is this: Much as I’d like to have some medicine, I hope Carl doesn’t leave me here alone to go after it. I’m scared that if he left, he might not come back.

Like last summer, when he was away for weeks at a time, and I had to be here by myself while he was at the beach. He got to see the grandchildren every single day! Lord, how I wanted to be there, too, but he said he couldn’t risk me making a fool of myself over them and ruining everything. He’s probably right. I don’t think I could have been around them and not loved them to pieces!

He came every few weeks to bring me food, just like he said he would. But each time he left, I got afraid that I’d never see him again. I don’t mind the cabin, but I don’t like being in this wilderness alone. Who besides Jeremy and Carl know I’m here? It’s a scary thought.

* * *

Oh, happy day! Jeremy came. I didn’t let on how sick I was, but I could tell he knew, and it worried him. His eyes were wet when he kissed me good-bye. He’s a sweet boy. I hung on to him for as long as I could. I can still feel how his palm felt sliding against mine and the very last brush of his fingertips as he finally let go of my hand.

I need to get some things off my conscience. I guess God already knows my sins and doesn’t need for me to write them down in this tacky little book. But anyway, I can’t today. I’m not up to it. The coughing fits wear me out. Maybe tomorrow.

* * *

Carl left a while ago. He went after groceries and promised he’d bring back some medicine and a PayDay candy bar, my favorite.

* * *

Carl knows that my biggest fear has always been that he’d run off and leave me. When I asked if that’s what he had in mind, he told me the fever was making me loony. I guess it is. Because if he didn’t leave me in Golden Branch.