After all, she couldn’t even get herself to raise her own damn gun.
THIRTEEN
After retrieving his stolen truck from downtown, Jake drove to South Austin and settled in the corner of a half-full parking lot in front of a Walmart Supercenter. He didn’t think the store closed until 11:00 p.m. Before getting out, he rummaged through his newfound black backpack and pulled out a blue baseball cap with an American flag on the front and a dark-gray zip-up cotton jacket. He’d already packed away the ski cap and fake square-rimmed glasses—the FBI had just seen him in those. It was probably smart for him to keep mixing up his look from this point forward. He then pulled out a small black kit from inside the backpack and opened it. It was a costume kit with all types of fake facial hair. Mustaches, beards, goatees, the works. He had worked with fake facial hair once before in high school, when he was an extra in the play Van Helsing. This wasn’t completely foreign territory for him.
Jake selected a simple brown mustache and then grabbed a small bottle of spirit gum along with an applicator brush. Opening the bottle, he dipped in the small brush and then rubbed the clear liquid on his upper lip while staring at himself in the rearview mirror. The bottle instructed him to let it sit for a few seconds to get tacky. Then he carefully placed the fake mustache on his upper lip and held it in place for thirty seconds. Letting go, he moved his mouth all around. The mustache stayed in place. Studying himself, he shook his head. Ridiculous. But he didn’t care as long as he didn’t look like the same guy the FBI had just chased. Whatever the hell it took to get his daughter back.
He put on the gray jacket, pulled the ball cap down low on his forehead, and then got out of the vehicle. Hands in his pockets, Jake kept his head on a swivel as he quickly made his way up to the massive retail store. He walked through the automatic glass doors and then paused for a moment to look around for the electronics department. He spotted it over to his left. He also noted a portly security guard. The guard’s eyes were set directly on Jake at the moment, which was unnerving. Would a retail-store security guard know about him already? Would the police blast out an alert about him to every avenue possible? Playing it cool, he gave the guard a courteous nod and got to moving again.
Jake had to pass through an expansive TV department to get to where he was headed. All the TVs were showcasing their vivid high-resolution screens by playing various sports and movies. But several of them were tuned to local stations. It was exactly ten o’clock. Jake paused a moment to watch as different ten o’clock news teams began their nightly broadcasts. He cursed under his breath when discovering he was the lead story on every single one of the local stations. Jake Slater . . . suspect in death . . . police are searching . . . dangerous . . . still at large.
Then he suddenly saw Piper’s photo pop up on several of the TV screens. It was a school photo from a year ago. Police are also searching . . . missing child . . . thirteen-year-old Piper Slater.
It was an out-of-body experience for him to watch this all unfold on the various TV screens. Would the media publicly mentioning Piper put her in more danger? How would the people who held her captive react? He took a quick peek around him in the store. A couple of other shoppers had also stopped to watch the broadcasts. When one of them glanced over in his direction, Jake turned away and hurried off. He had to get moving even faster.
He found the section for cell phones and quickly searched the aisles until he located prepaid cell phone options. Grabbing a burner phone with internet included that he could afford with Drew’s cash, Jake hustled back to the front of the store. He found the shortest checkout line available and waited. He felt very uncomfortable at the moment—like a spotlight was shining down on him. He wanted to get out of this store as soon as possible, but the woman checking out in front of him was taking her sweet time unloading her basket.
“Coach Slater?”
Jake turned, startled. A young man of probably nineteen in jeans and a black hoodie stood behind him. Jake immediately recognized him. Ben Curtis. The boy had been on his football team a few years ago. Jake swallowed, felt his chest tighten. Ben had recognized him even with the fake mustache. That was unsettling. But the casual look on the boy’s face told him the kid had not yet seen the news and knew nothing about his current predicament. Still, had anyone else around them heard the boy use his name? Jake tried to stay calm, but his heart was racing. This was the last thing he needed right now.
“Hey, Ben, how’re you doing?”
“Good, Coach. Working for my dad part-time while I take classes at ACC.”