His thoughts come to him in broken flashes, bits and pieces of ideas and plans, so Justin does the only thing that makes sense and keeps driving until the border of Mississippi appears like a beacon. Olivia’s home state. Olivia. And then the gravity of what he’s done comes back to him in wave after wave of shame and anger. It was a promise they made in the beginning, sworn with lips and skin and blood. They made it together and it was never supposed to be broken. They were never supposed to split up, no matter what. If they go down, they go down together. They were Bonnie and Clyde’s second coming, everything they did they did together. It’s been four hours since Justin sped away from that bank in Montgomery, and still, all he hears are the ping of bullets ricocheting off everything around him and the hoarse order Olivia gave him to leave. Justin almost smiles, he really never could say no to her. But he made another promise as he left, that he would get her back, and this one, he knows, is unbreakable.
It’s too risky to get a room somewhere, he decides, they clearly misjudged the feds determination to catch them, considering how many officers were at the bank. How did they know that was the next bank on their list? Did they even know at all? If the feds have figured out their list, it means there was an informer, and that would be detrimental to any escape plan he and Olivia could ever come up with. In the past, she and Justin had been careless and thought themselves invincible; it was easy to feel that way, heist after heist of flawless robberies and bags and bags of fresh new twenties. But luck always runs out, and before he does anything else, Justin has to make sure the police can’t recognize his car.
It’s a reckless move, there’s no way of knowing exactly what information the feds have gathered, and just briefly Justin imagines how easy it would be to get caught. No more fighting, no more running, this ordeal, these jobs would be over, and after everything that’s happened so far, Justin is exhausted to the bone. The idea of being captured is fleeting at best, there would be no happy ending for him and Olivia if he gave up now, and Justin is determined to give Olivia just that.
He drives until he comes across a bank large enough to be a worthwhile target and for the first time in what feels like months discovers good news. This bank, whatever its name is, in whichever town Justin finds himself is just as watched as the one they tried to hit in Montgomery. Which means two things, one, the FBI have no absolute knowledge on which banks Justin and Olivia are targeting, and two, judging by how close he is to this bank, Justin knows they aren’t 100% sure on his vehicle, either.
He presses his palms tight against his eyes, blinking away his worries. It’s almost too much to handle. He can feel weight fall from his shoulders at each new discovery, and for the first time since he left Olivia, Justin legitimately believes there’s hope for them to make it out of this alive. His palms come away from his eyes as a woman across the street laughs. Her laugh is merry, light, and a little mischievous, it’s so close to Olivia’s Justin can’t help but stare. He shakes his head, of course it’s not her, it was ridiculous to even think it. Justin rubs the palms of his hands into his eyes again, to shake the ringing laugh from his head and as he pulls his hands from his face he’s shocked to find them wet. They’re tears of relief he knows, but some how it doesn’t make him feel better. And it shouldn’t, Justin tells himself, picturing Olivia trapped in a cell with nothing to comfort her but the promise he made her on that sidewalk.
It would be impossible for Justin to get a hotel room today in this tiny little town, but the longer he stays in this truck the more exposed he feels. He pulls into a grocery store parking lot crowded enough to blend in, but empty enough that his continual presence won’t be noticed. Justin can feel every car that drives by, every person coming to and from the store burn a hole into the back of his head. Justin knows he can’t keep this truck; half of being inconspicuous, Olivia always said, was believing yourself that no one could find you anyway. She’s everywhere, Justin thinks, staring at the empty seat to his right. It’s taken almost all he has not to completely panic at their separation, and with a quick crack of his knuckles and a run of his fingers over his hair, Justin decides to take this one step at a time.
He pulls out of the parking lot and follows the road until he can't go straight anymore. It's a dead end, a small white farmhouse to his left and to the right, a large, open pasture that reminds him simultaneously of his own home and the dairy farm he and Olivia parked by after their first heist in Wisconsin. A few cows are milling about through grass, and Justin sees the sparkle of a pond on the horizon. There's a grey truck in the driveway with its windows rolled down and Justin thanks god for little mercies. The truck is almost identical to Justin’s, except for its color, and it seriously can’t be more perfect. He knows he can’t leave his truck here, it'd be too obvious to the authorities, so as easily as he pushed their original car into the murky Mississippi, Justin drives back down the road until he comes across the empty lot he passed before. It’s easier than he expects to tuck his truck, the last remaining physical tie he has with his family, away into the tall grasses of the empty lot. But Justin supposes once you’ve left your life behind once, it couldn’t possibly be any harder to do it a second time.
The walk back is long and quiet, the straps of the heavy black duffle bags cut into his palm as he walks and Justin finds it perfectly fitting. All this money has done for a while now is cause him pain.
The white farmhouse looks unchanged once he makes it back, the truck windows are still open, the front door to the house is still closed tight. The crackling of the gravel driveway seems to echo across the field and Justin feels his body tensing with each step. As quick as he can he tosses the duffle bags into the truck bed and hoists himself through the window. Jumping the car is easy, Justin rips at the plastic covering hiding the wires and in seconds he’s backing out of the driveway and back onto the open road.
Sleep comes slow and intermittent, and resting in the cab of the new truck does nothing to help quell the concerns of being discovered. How does he get Olivia back? The thought plagues him throughout the night, but not once does he come up with a possible solution. Night melts into dawn at an unnerving speed, and when the sun appears over the horizon Justin decides to head back to Montgomery. He may not have a plan yet, but sitting in this truck won’t help get Olivia back in the slightest. And besides, Justin had always been fantastic at thinking on his feet.
By the time he needs to stop for gas, Justin is surprised to feel a little bit better about the situation, he still has no concrete idea, but just being physically closer to Olivia calms his fear and he can feel in his bones that getting her back is completely possible. As he walks back to the truck from the general store where he paid, Justin watches horror struck as a cop from Montgomery, Alabama pulls into the gas station. Justin keeps his head down, walking the long way around the cop car to his truck. He debates leaving right away, but he can’t get much farther without filling up, and he’s not sure where the next gas station will be, so with a deep breath and one eye glued to the officer Justin shoves the nozzle into his truck and says a prayer under his breath.
There are too many risk factors here, too many variables. Justin can’t be sure if the truck has been reported as stolen yet, or if his old truck has been found. Justin’s eyes watch as the police officer goes about his business, wiping off the windshield, pumping gas, and as Justin’s nozzle clicks signaling to his car is fully filled, an idea worms its way into his head.
He drives with purpose towards Montgomery, never happier that he took a small, two-lane highway instead of the main thoroughfare. About seven miles past the gas station he pulls off to the side of the road, turns on his hazards and lifts his hood. So many things could happen to make this the dumbest idea in history, to destroy any and all hope he has at rescuing Olivia, but he has no choice and no other ideas. It’s a gamble, Justin knows, but he and Olivia are built on gambles, and Justin hopes with a wistful smile, it will pay off. This is it, all or nothing. And now, he waits.
----
Jesse Parker was new on the force, so new that his fellow officers were still doing a little bit of hazing. He was prone from the beginning to grand illusions of heroics, where he would save the damsel in distress, catch the bad guy and be rewarded for it. It was annoying to the rest of the force, but Jesse found ways to keep them off his back. For the third time this week he had been sent out here, to the middle of nowhere to do some kind of woman-errand that their wives should have taken care of. He was a little frustrated, but yesterday he was allowed to be a part of the group who caught one half of the bank-robbing duo from Chicago that the news had been calling the new Bonnie and Clyde. And that seething, furious look on her face when they booked her had left an impression on him, because wasn’t that law enforcement at its greatest?
“Lesson number one, Parker,” Holbrook said after he slammed the woman’s cell door shut, “A woman will always break, eventually. Especially women who get left behind by their men.”
She did break, Holbrook didn’t tell a lie. Hours after they shut the doors, late into the night when she thought no one was there anymore Jesse heard her crying. Miserable, shuddering sobs that echoed through the concrete hallways of the jailhouse. It was haunting, but just. At least that’s what he told himself.
The drive back to Montgomery was always boring, nothing on either side of the road but wheat, orchards, and the occasional cows. So it was easy for Jesse to jump at the opportunity to help a young man stranded on the side of the road, miles away from any sort of town. The young man’s clothes were dirty, he must have been stuck there for a while, Jesse thought, and as he pulled up behind the broken down truck he could already feel the claps on his back from the guys back at the station. They would be so amazed, Jesse knew, how he helped out a man on the side of the road and drove him all the way back to Montgomery. How he would have been stranded over night if Jesse Parker: Police Officer hadn’t been there to save him. As he stepped from his patrol car Jesse thought the man by the truck seemed somehow familiar, but more interested in how he was going to help, and how he was going to be rewarded, Jesse ignored the nagging feeling in the back of his mind.
“What seems to be the problem here?” Jesse asked with his hands on his belt, the way he saw Holbrook do it on one of his ride-alongs.
“I’m not really sure, officer,” the man said, his accent thick and syrupy, the kind you can’t find anywhere but the country. “I’m thinkin’ my transmission’s got somethin’ to do with it.”
“Hmm, well how about we have a look,” Jesse said confidently, not only was he a very, very helpful police officer, but he was also a skilled auto mechanic. It was a little strange, however, that Jesse found nothing wrong at all with the truck upon his first look. All the belts seemed to be in perfect condition, there was enough oil, enough antifreeze, things weren’t adding up.
“How did you say the truck broke down?” Jesse questioned, standing up again, moving to look in the bed of the truck.
The man stepped quickly from leaning against the driver’s side door to block Jesse’s path, smiling sheepishly but standing much too close for comfort. Jesse took a step back.
“You know, I’m not too sure,” the man answered, shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe you missed something?”
Was it just Jesse or had the man’s accent almost disappeared?
The man looked so familiar to him. Was he famous? No, no, he couldn’t be, not in this little town in the middle of nowhere. Again, he shook off that peculiar feeling like he was forgetting something and followed the man’s suggestion to take a second look.
In the middle of checking the coolant again Jesse felt a tingling of recognition as he remembered why this man’s face seemed so familiar. He was the second half. It was his woman they brought to that jail cell last night, and suddenly, feeling anxiety creep up his spine Jesse wondered if this was the right profession for him, after all. He took a quick glance at the man standing in front of him and found the man’s eyes already locked with his own. He had been watching Jesse, too. His gun was in his holster resting against his ribs, its weight had never been more welcomed. With a deep breath Jesse prepared himself for the attack. He was fast, at least, he told himself. In high school his friends had always called him a gunslinger. He could take this guy down, no problem, and for a moment to calm himself he imagined the look on Holbrook’s face when he brought him the second half of their bank robbers, hog tied in the back of his cruiser. It was the image of Holbrook’s surprised but proud face that settled it. Jesse had to bring this guy down. Now.
----
Justin watches the officer as he looks for a second time into the hood of the truck. He’s such a sad police officer. He can’t be older than thirty-five and already his hairline is receding, and Justin shakes his head when the officer’s belly bulges over the hood of the truck and presses against the engine. At the sound of tires on pavement draws Justin’s eyes leave the truck for just a moment and his body draws tight like a bow string as he watches a car drive past them without a second glance. He feels his muscles relax as the car disappears over the hill and Justin turns back to the officer.
Twice now, the officer has looked at Justin with an inkling of remembrance, but just as quick as it comes, it’s gone again. He must know, Justin thinks, if he’s from Montgomery, about the woman in their jail half responsible for all those terrible bank robberies.
“So, you’re from Montgomery, huh?” Justin starts, knowing he’s walking on dangerous territory. “Were you there when they caught those bank robbers?”
The officer is busy checking the car when he answers and doesn’t bother lifting his head, “We didn’t get them both, the man is still out there. The last thing we heard was his car was spotted heading wes-”
His hand is on the coolant nozzle when the slow bloom of recognition spreads across his face. His eyes flick to Justin’s and Justin’s palms start to sweat. It’s almost time, he tells himself, the tips of his fingers itching to curl around the smooth, cool handle of Olivia’s father’s pistol. For minutes, hours it seems, they both pretend as though nothing is wrong. Justin moves, taking a few steps forward at a time until he’s right next to the officer in front of the hood.
“Did you find anythin’ officer?” Justin asks.
Within seconds the police officer acts. It’s like slow motion, Justin watches as he reaches for his gun in a flash of manic determination, and without missing a beat, as Justin slams his face into the hood of the truck, he almost feels sorry for the guy.
Officer Parker, Justin learns after reading his badge, wears about the same size pants as he does, they’re a little big around the waist but it works perfectly as a place to hide Olivia’s gun. Justin straightens his tie as he checks the bed of the truck one last time where he’s left officer Parker. Justin is about to grab the second duffle bag from the bed when he notices the gagged and bound officer’s has woken up. He doesn’t struggle, surprisingly, but his eyes catch Justin’s and they’re open, frantic, and wide with terror.
“Don’t worry,” Justin says, almost meaning it, throwing a tarp over officer Parker. “Someone will find you,” he turns his back and makes his way to the police cruiser, “…eventually.”
