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It was a measure of Kate's resentment that she felt no remorse jolting over the potholes left by the previous night's storm. If only Jonas had come clean the night before and told her about being with the ATF, they might have avoided all of—
She sighed and rubbed her shoulder. Who was she trying to kid? They would have avoided nothing, because she wouldn't have believed him, and when she'd found that paper this morning, she still would have made that phone call. Because no matter how much his please might have resonated with her, she was still a cop.
For now.
And she still resented the hell out of this whole situation.
But half an hour later, as she sat in a line of cars waiting to go through the roadblock, remorse had not only surfaced, it had blossomed into full-fledged guilt. Tinged with panic. She glanced at her watch for what seemed the hundredth time in the last three minutes. How long could an injured man survive locked in a car trunk, anyway?
Visions of finding an expired Jonas Burke wrapped in blankets danced through her head. If she thought aiding and abetting were bad, try explaining a dead body to her boss. Her gut churned at the idea.
She drummed impatient fingers against the steering wheel. Ahead of her, the OPP roadblock had a van and two semis pulled over for a cursory search. Behind her, a line-up of another dozen cars stretched back. More precious seconds ticked by.
At last the car ahead pulled away, and the OPP constable waved Kate forward in the line. She flipped open her ID and pulled abreast of the female officer, who leaned down to smile at her.
"Good morning, ma'am. Can I ask where you're heading today?"
"Ottawa," Kate replied equably, handing over the ID. "Back to work."
The cop's eyes scanned Kate's badge and ID card. She handed them back. "I have a brother in the RCMP," she said. "He tried to talk me into joining, too, but I wanted to stay closer to home. He ended up posted out in B.C."
Movement at the side of the road ahead caught Kate's attention as a police dog jumped down from the back of one of the semis, followed by its handler. Oh, hell. If they walked back this way...
"That is one of the pitfalls," she agreed, slipping the ID back into her bag on the seat beside her and watching the dog from the corner of her eye. "So, no sign of him yet?"
The best defense, she thought. And the best way to hurry things along, she hoped. The OPP officer looked surprised, and Kate added, "Scott Dunham dropped by my parents' place to let me know what was going on."
"Ah." Implicit trust warmed the other cop's smile, and Kate quashed a wave of guilt. The cop shook her head. "No, no sign of him yet. They think he may have had an accomplice who helped him get out of the area."
And when they traced the number and paid a visit to the house, there would be no doubt as to who that accomplice was. Shit. Kate's fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Why hadn't she thought to cover her tracks better at the house? To remove the evidence of Jonas's stay there—or at least her part in it.
She scowled. Why? Probably because she wasn't used to being on the evidence-hiding side of the law, that's why. But with luck, she could still make things look different than they had when she'd left the house.
"Well," she said to the OPP officer, "good luck finding him. You have a lot of territory to cover."
"Tell me about it." The cop stepped back from the car. "Have a good day, Constable Dexter, and safe driving."
Palms slick with sweat, Kate nodded and put the sedan into gear. She drove past the vehicles on the shoulder of the road, giving a wide berth to the dog handler as he and his canine waited for the second semi trailer to be opened. And then she and her fugitive were through.
She didn't pull over right away. First, because she needed to find a place secluded enough to let a man out of her trunk without attracting attention. Second, because she wanted some distance between her and her colleagues. And last but far from least, she also had to take care of her little evidence problem at the farm. She switched on the hands-free unit clipped to her visor.
"Call Laura," she instructed when it powered up. She sent repeated glances into the rearview mirror while her sister's cell phone rang. Pick up, pick up, pick up.
"Hello?"
"Laura, it's me."
"Katie! Oh, thank God. I've been worried sick about you. I've been calling and calling the farm, and I was just about to phone the OPP and—" Laura broke off. "Wait. You're calling from your cell. You're not at the farm."
"I left an hour ago. Laura, I need—"
"Kate, there are cops crawling all over town. They have roadblocks set up on every road in or out, and—"
"I know. I just came through one." Kate switched on her left signal and pulled into the passing lane to go around a line of vehicles. Laura still hadn't responded when she moved back into the right lane. "Laura? You there?"
"You have him with you, don't you?"
"Yes. And I need you to do something for me."
"Damn it, Kate—"
"Laura," Kate cut her off. "Whatever you've heard about Jonas—"
"Beyond the fact he killed someone?"
"He didn't—" Kate stopped. She didn't actually know that, did she? She'd asked about the money, but not the murder. Why not the murder, Kate? Why didn't you ask about the murder?
She took a deep breath. That was a question for another time. After she'd thrown potential pursuers off their trail. "Laura, Jonas Burke is an agent with the ATF."
"He's...what?"
"An agent with the ATF. The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives. In the States." Kate peered again into the rearview mirror. "Scott Dunham stopped by the house this morning. Jonas is a cop."
Long seconds ticked by as she let her sister absorb the news. Another look at the mirror. This time, her gaze zeroed in on the vehicle following. Catching up. Her neck muscles clenched. Was that a light bar sitting on top of it? The car pulled out to pass, near enough for her to make out its roof racks. Kate gritted her teeth. This was going to be a long freaking drive.
"Then why are they looking for him?" Laura asked at last.
Kate massaged her shoulder. "I think he's been framed."
"You think—? Katie, listen to yourself. What if you're wrong? Think of the danger you could be in! And even if you're right, you're a cop. You don't get to make calls like this. No. No, you need to turn him over before you get in trouble, Katherine Dexter. Now."
Kate pressed her lips together. "I've just helped him get through a roadblock, Laura. Trust me, it's way too late for that."
Her sister sucked in a ragged breath. "Oh, Katie...what are you going to do?"
"Yeah. Still working on that part."
"Can't you just drop him somewhere?"
Kate snorted. How many times had she asked herself that very question in the last hour? She shook her head. "I wish, but no. Not turning him in makes me responsible for him, and..." Kate hesitated. If she shared more, she might be putting Laura at greater risk. And if she didn't, Laura would very likely refuse to help. Or worse, do what she thought was right.
"And...?"
"And if he's telling the truth, there's a chance other cops framed him."
She heard Laura’s sharp intake of breath. "Are you serious?"
"Unfortunately." Kate spotted a sign for a picnic rest area coming up in a few kilometers. If it was the one she was thinking of, she could pull behind the buildings, and no one would see her. She focused back on the conversation. "Laura, I need your help."
"Name it."
"I need you to go back to the farmhouse and remove any sign of you having been there. Bandages, saline remains, all that kind of thing. Take it with you. Make sure you wear gloves to do it. Then put Jonas's clothes in the garbage and tear open some of the bags of clothing in Mom and Dad's room. And pull out the contents of the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and scatter them over the counter. Oh, and the kitchen. Leave a mess in the kitchen, too. Can you do all that?"
"You want it to look like he doctored himself up after you left."
"Yes."
"I'll go there now,” Laura said.
"Good girl. And there's one other thing." Another sign for the picnic area slipped by on the right. Two kilometers. "When you're done, there's a paper on the kitchen floor with a phone number on it. Call the number, hang up as soon as someone answers, and go home. And Laura, if you're followed or seen, or if the cops come to your door asking questions later, I want you to tell them where I am and what I've done. No hesitation. Promise me?"
"But, Kate—"
"No hesitation, Laura. You have a family to think of, and this is my mess, not yours. Promise me."
"I promise," her sister whispered. "Be careful, Katie. Please."
Kate ended the call and signaled for the turn into the rest stop. She pulled in behind the washroom buildings, coasted to a stop, and killed the engine. Then she took a deep breath and unbuckled her seat belt.
Time to find out if Jonas Burke had survived, or if her walk on the wrong side of the law was about to come to an abrupt end with a body in her trunk.