"Grab everything," Duncan orders. "Get to the Ford, we're making tracks!"
Holding her side, Courtney sprints with Duncan and Gwen back to the picnic area. Heather grabs the picnic basket and their leftovers, throwing everything in the car as Al helps his mother to her feet and Harold jumps into the driver's seat.
"Duncan," Gwen says, keeping an eye out for the incoming car, "forget the fact we don't all fit in the Ford—"
"We'll make do," he snaps and turns to get in the car.
Gwen blocks him. "You run with me and Ma in the car and we both know you're gonna have ta double back to drop us off at the house. If the law knows you were visiting folks, they'll ambush you the moment you step back inta Dallas."
"How would they know that?" Courtney asks.
Duncan and Gwen cast her a pitying look, and her stomach bottoms out. Her mother.
"I have an idea," Gwen says to Duncan, one eye still on the bend in the road, ears tuned to the sound of the car. "They ain't seen nothing yet. Take Ma and hide in the trees. I'll stay by the car, play up some car trouble, get them ta turn around and go."
Duncan scowls. "There could be more cars."
"Hermano, if it's an ambush, they would have sprung it at noon when we arrived," Al says, throwing Gwen's camera and the bundled up picnic blanket in the backseat. He frowns at Duncan. "I don't like it either, but la niña's idea is good."
"Anything goes south, the law can't hold me for long. No criminal record," Gwen says, looking between her brothers. "Shake a leg. Take Ma and hide. I got this."
"We can outrun them," Duncan insists.
"Sure ya can," Ma says, joining them with a sober expression. "But can me and yer sister?"
Heather opens the back seat so Scruffy can jump in and scowls at Courtney. "That all depends on what exactly Bonnie's mother told them."
"Mama wouldn't…" Courtney whispers to herself. "She promised…"
The Ford roars to life. "Clyde!" Harold shouts through the window. "What's the call?"
Duncan looks between them all. Courtney gulps and leans heavily on the car.
Tires screech. Duncan's family, Courtney, and Harold all look at the road. At the corner of forest, the car has turned the corner, still too far away to tell the driver.
Not too far to tell that it's a police car.
"Goddammit," Duncan mutters. He grabs Gwen with one arm and kisses the crown of her head. "Godfuckingdammit. Don't get yerself fucking arrested. Everyone get to the trees."
Harold shuts the car off and tosses Gwen the keys. Duncan grabs Courtney by the wrist and runs with her to the border of trees beyond where they'd had their picnic. Al and Heather help Ma.
"If I can score a date with this one, then everyone in this family will be 'involved' with the law," Gwen mutters, just loud enough to be heard.
They hide in pairs. Courtney and Duncan duck on their stomachs behind a bush. Al and Heather crouch behind a fallen tree. Harold and Ma hide not far from them.
Everyone is holding their breath. But Courtney's lungs are collapsing on themselves, her panic attack making it difficult to breath quietly.
With his gun in one hand, Duncan puts his other arm around Courtney and pulls her to his side.
"Any of us so much as hiccup, and Gwen's in trouble. Ya hear?"
Courtney nods and cups a hand across her own mouth to try and regulate her shuddering gasps.
From their roots-view of the road, Courtney watches Gwen walk around the car, propping up the hood. She looks into the engine and pulls something out, putting it in her pocket.
A dozen feet to her right, Courtney hears Al whisper, "Good girl."
Gwen rolls down the back window of the car so Scruffy can get some air. Courtney fights the drumming of blood in her ears to hear properly as the car finally arrives within spotting range and stops, engine shutting off.
After a prolonged beat, Gwen turns around as if just noticing the police. "Perfect timing, officers! How'd you know I was stuck out here all by myself with a faulty car?"
The car doors open and two officers step out. One is a tall woman with wild red hair tied messily into a bun. The other is a shorter man, green eyed with cropped dark hair.
"Well!" the lady officer says, hands on her belt, "some of us have keen trouble-detecting abilities!"
"That's a hell of an ability," Gwen jokes back, leaning against the open front of the car. "Either of you know how ta fix a Ford?"
The male officer doesn't answer. He purses his lips and glances around the area, looking at the bridge and partial road, then specifically to the bushes. Courtney cringes closer to Duncan, gripping his shoulder.
"A Ford, huh?" The lady officer pokes her head in the hood. "Never gotten my hands on one of these bad boys before."
Disregarding Gwen and his partner, the male officer meanders around the car itself, looking in at the backseat full of picnic supplies and hidden guns. Scruffy snarls at him. The officer tsks once at the dog then leisurely walks out into the field where they had been taking their picnic. He stares at the grass and starts scuffing it with his boots.
"He knows," Courtney hisses under her breath. "Duncan, he knows."
"I know," he says, holding her and his pistol tighter.
Despite keeping one officer entertained, Gwen keeps a trained eye on the male officer's movements.
"You know about cars?" Gwen asks the lady officer without taking her eyes off the man.
"Oh yeah," the redhead says, voice muffled by the engine. "My ex-husband used to own a gas station in Arkansas. Won it in a card game, if you can believe it! We got all sorts of car trouble there."
Courtney can feel Al and Harold and Heather's eyes on her. She forces herself to focus on controlling her breath, pressing her face into Duncan's shirt, no longer watching the scene unfold.
"Here's your problem! Your carburetor is missing!"
"Really?" Gwen says innocently. "Is that important?"
"If you want your car to run, yeah! How did you get all the way out here without a carburetor?"
"It's an old road. It might have jostled loose." Then, much louder, Gwen calls, "What do you think, officer?"
There's a long beat where no one answers. Courtney keeps her eyes screwed shut, listening to the crunch of boots in grass.
"Well, Miss Gwen Marie," the male officer says in a New York accent, "I guess that's as good an excuse as any."
Courtney's breath hitches. She claws Duncan's back, biting down hard on his collarbone to keep from screaming. She knows that voice, the one at the door, in all her nightmares since Joplin.
Through the engulfing panic, she hears Gwen say, "I think you've got me mixed up with someone else, mister. If you can give me a lift back inta town, you and I could get something ta drink and properly move on ta first names."
"Your brothers have taught you well," the New York officer says in reply. "But trust me when I say this'll go smoother for all of us if we can agree on a few key facts. Namely, that your brothers Duncan Clyde and Alejandro Barrow were just here."
Duncan grips Courtney tighter to him. Whether for himself or her sake, Courtney doesn't care.
"Smoother for us," Gwen repeats, wary. "Who is us?"
"Right, we've never formally met." The crunch of boots moves about the grass again. "Captain Trent Hamer, Bureau of Investigations. My partner, Izzy Hinton."
"Howdy!" Izzy chirps.
"I'm in charge of the special team tasked by Governor Ferguson to track down your brothers and bring an end to their criminal activities." He pauses. "By any means necessary."
A moment of tense silences passes, shattered by Gwen's sudden laughter.
"Really?" she says. "The good ole governor tasked a Yankee ta bring in the two most notorious criminals south of the Mason-Dixon?"
"Really," he answers, unphased. "Because I'm the most notorious lawman north of the Mason-Dixon."
Gwen sounds soberly unconvinced. "Haven't heard of you."
Amused, Trent explains, "I'm retired. Was retired."
"You're too young ta be retired," Gwen scoffs.
"I'm very good at my job. I did find your secret spot here, didn't I?"
"You had help," Gwen says.
Now it's Trent who laughs, genuinely. It makes Courtney feel even more sick. "Your brothers did teach you well. Yes, we received an anonymous tip that the Barrow Gang would be meeting with their families at the Devil's Back Porch. We got the incorrect time. Seems our caller had business to take care of before the laws busted up the party."
Courtney thinks of her mother begging her to go with her. She thinks of her mother's words that she and Duncan wouldn't live that long. She digs her nails into Duncan's clothes.
Gwen scoffs. "Well if you know so much, Mr. Hammer—"
"Captain Hamer."
"—then I'm sure you don't need my help tracking down these two criminals you seem ta be hunting."
Trent sighs, as if tired. "Five criminals, and you know exactly who they are."
"You seem awfully convinced of that without proof."
Trent's boots walk towards Gwen's voice. "So you're telling me, that if I confiscate this camera you have in your backseat, it's not going to have pictures of this family gathering I just missed?"
Duncan snarls a quiet swear that only Courtney hears.
"Ta do that, you'd have ta arrest me for something," Gwen volleys back, no longer sounding as smug.
"Officer Hinton," Trent says loudly, "what was the make and model of that car stolen just outside of Joplin, Missouri?"
"Ford Model A," Izzy supplies breezily. "Black. Custom leather seats."
"Would you say this is a visual match, officer?"
"I would, Captain."
"Meaning we'd have enough probable cause to search this vehicle and all it's contents and arrest Miss Gwen Marie for inter-state theft, yes?"
"Right you are, Captain."
If Courtney looks up, she's going to scream. She focuses on the feel of Duncan's muddy shirt, his tensing muscles underneath. Her hip digs into the dirt as she waits, listening.
"You can bring me in," Gwen says tightly, "but if you know my family so well, you know you can't hold me hostage for them."
"Hostage?" Trent laughs again. "This isn't gang warfare, miss. This is the law versus lawbreakers. It's a shoe in for who's going to come out swinging in the end."
There's a smirk in her voice when Gwen says, "You've never been up against my brothers."
"Ah yes, your brothers." Trent sounds cordial. "The most notorious criminals south of the Mason-Dixon, you say. Who wouldn't have gotten half as far without the cunning of one Heather Barrow and the blind loyalty of a Mrs. Bonnie Jones."
Courtney bites down harder on Duncan's collarbone, fighting back a strangled sound. Heather doesn't swear quite as quietly as she should.
"The Barrow Gang's uncatchable," Gwen boasts. "They sensed you coming and skeddadled off before I could blink."
"Leaving you with a car full of evidence?" Izzy says, sounding puzzled.
"Wouldn't be anything suspicious if you and I didn't know what we were looking for, Izzy," Trent explains. "Just a girl with car trouble. Doesn't even have a criminal record."
"My my." Gwen's tone is flirtatious. "What are they teaching at the police academy these days."
"Theft's a crime, miss. This here," Trent knocks a hand against the car, "can put you away for two years."
Courtney feels Duncan shift, readying his gun. She tugs down his arm and shakes her head. He glares at her.
"Or," Trent continues, "you can cooperate with us and we'll work out an arrangement."
"You can be as sweet as honey, Mr. Hammer—"
"Captain—"
"—but there isn't a power on God's green earth that's going ta make me tell you where my brothers went."
"Don't worry," Izzy announces. "We already know where they're going."
"You see," Trent says, and the confidence in his tone jolts right through Courtney's spine, "Duncan Clyde prides himself on his driving. He's got a memory for maps and cars unlike any man I've ever seen. He is very good at what he does. And like any man good at a job, he develops preferences. He likes Fords. He loves foreclosed houses. And he's built himself a very particular network of back roads to get from state to state. A network I've been studying the last twelve months."
"You know my brother so well, why haven't you caught him yet?" Gwen goads.
"I'm getting closer," the officer answers, matter-of-fact as he leans against the car. "The med kit in here proves that. Did you know his old man's a copper?"
Duncan freezes.
"He works with the Bienville Parish department in Louisiana," the captain elaborates. "I had the pleasure of talking to him while collecting evidence. He denies Clyde's his son, of course, but the resemblance is uncanny. Bet it would tickle your brother pink to know he's got the law in his genes."
Courtney looks over to Ma. With Harold's hand clamped over her mouth, she's started to cry. If Courtney wasn't in the midst of such an intense panic attack, if her hands weren't suddenly grabbing fistfuls of Duncan's jacket to reign in his flaring temper, she might be crying too.
"See?" Gwen says, unable to hide the stony hatred under her tone. "You've got all the info you need. Nothing I can offer you."
"On the contrary," Trent says, and Courtney watches as he comes closer to Gwen. "I need you to pass on a message for me."
He leans in close to her, mouth to her ear, and whispers something Courtney can't hear.
Gwen jerks back from him so sharply, Izzy's hand flinches to her gun.
"Fuck you," Gwen snarls. "You go right the fuck ta hell."
"Suit yourself," Trent says, grabbing Gwen by the arm and handcuffing her. "Miss Gwen Marie, you are under arrest for possession of stolen goods. Izzy, check her pockets."
The redhead complies, perhaps a little too gleefully. "There's your carburetor!"
"You're not going ta catch them," Gwen declares as Trent walks her to the police car. "And you're going ta regret not taking me up on my offer for coffee."
"I already do," Trent answers, putting Gwen in the backseat of the police car and shutting the door. "But we'll still have a nice long time to get to know each other on the trip to the station." He walks back over to Izzy and mutters, "Stay here with the car and the dog. I'll radio in another patrol to help categorize evidence."
"Aye aye, Captain," Izzy answers, grinning from ear to ear.
Captain Trent Hamer returns to the police car, turning over the engine.
The sound is loud enough to mask Al's whisper-shout to Duncan. "If we jump her at the same time, we can take her."
Duncan nods, pulling Courtney's hands off him. Courtney grabs him again just as quickly before he can stand.
"What?! She hasn't done anything," she hisses.
The police car drives off, leaving Izzy cooing to an angry Scruffy in the backseat.
"She's a copper," Duncan growls. "They arrested Gwen."
"So she deserves to die?" Courtney says.
"This ain't a discussion," Duncan snaps, starting to rise, pistol at the ready.
Courtney grabs his wrist in a vice. "Duncan, shoot her and I walk."
He stops and stares at her. The sound of Trent's car begins to dim.
"You're riled about Gwen. I get it. But we've got nine dead coppers on our hands," Courtney says viciously. "Maybe more. And maybe they deserved it, Duncan, but this woman doesn't. I won't have another dead copper on myhead." She holds his glare. "Kill her and I'm leaving."
The scariest part isn't the way Duncan looks at her, like he's never seen her before. The scariest part is that Courtney can't tell if she's bluffing or not.
Duncan jerks out of her grip, straightens up and fires once.
Izzy cries out and falls against the car, clutching at her leg. Scruffy lunges at her through the window, teeth snapping on air.
Duncan cuts Courtney a glance hard enough to cut stone, before stepping out from the bushes and leaving Courtney alone in the dirt. Al and Heather follow in his wake, weapons drawn.
"Nice and easy, officer," he drawls. "Let's go for a ride, shall we?"