“They’re going to cover all that stuff in basic.”
“Some of it. Some they won’t. They can’t cover everything.”
“It’s the teacher in him,” Chandler said.
“And the overprotective dad. Thanks, by the way.”
“For what?”
“Coming with me. Having my back.”
Chandler’s expression changed. He looked serious. “What if they don’t let us serve together? I thought they kept family separated.”
“They won’t know we’re foster brothers. On paper, you and I are as different as yin and yang.”
“In looks, too,” Chandler said.
“But back to back. I’ve got you covered.” Jack held up his fist to knuckle-bump Chandler’s. “Besides, I can’t let anything happen to you. I could never show my face again if something did.”
“Hey!” Chandler sat up so quickly the whole car rocked.
“What did you see?” Jack stared down the road.
“No, not that.” Chandler waved his hand dismissively. “This is a stakeout, right?”
“Kinda.”
“Is it or isn’t it?”
Jack didn’t know where the question was leading, but he figured Chandler was up to something. “Is.”
“Great!” Chandler reached for the door handle.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting some donuts. This place has Krispy Kremes!”
“Stay in the damn car,” Jack snapped. “You just ate.”
“Come on.” Chandler’s outstretched hand almost hit the driver’s side window, his reach was so long. “You said we need to do what cops do.”
Jack laughed. “They don’t sit there eating donuts.”
“I would.”
Jack laughed again.
Chandler’s smile vanished. “Incoming.” He pointed.
Jack looked down the road and saw Michael in his silver Toyota, then quickly looked away. “Just act cool.”
“Always do.” Chandler grinned.
The Toyota passed them.
Jack put the compact car into drive. As the gears tumbled into place, something inside Jack shifted too. He felt the warm glow of adrenaline rush through his veins as a determined grin spread across his face. He pulled out onto the road and accelerated. The compact’s little engine whined in protest.
“Speed up,” Chandler said.
Jack broke into his best Scottish accent. “I’m giving her all she’s got, Captain.”
“What’s this car have under the hood for power? Hamsters?” Chandler scoffed. “Stop fooling around; you’re going to lose him.”
Jack looked down at the red-lined tachometer on the dashboard. “The lawnmower engine in this thing is about to blow a rod. My foot’s flat on the floor. Unless I strap a rocket on the roof, this is it.”
It took three blocks of weaving in and out of traffic, but they finally caught up with the Toyota. They followed it west, out of Fairfield.
“I think he’s going to the highway,” Jack said.
“Are you too close?”
“I don’t know.” Jack slowed down.
“No! You’ll lose him.”
Jack sped up again.
“Don’t get right behind him,” Chandler cautioned. “You’re supposed to leave a car or two between us and him.”
“You’re driving me crazy. You’re the worst back-seat driver ever.”
The Toyota took the ramp onto the highway.
“He’s hitting the highway.” Chandler’s big hand swept up and thwacked the ceiling. “This thing will have a hard time at fifty.”
Jack stepped on the gas, and they zipped up the ramp. Traffic was light, but the other cars obscured their view of the Toyota.
“You lost him.” Chandler craned his neck and peered ahead.
“It’s a highway. He can only go straight. I’ll find him.” Jack glared at the speedometer as he kept his foot pinned to the floor.
“I should get out and push,” Chandler grumbled.
Jack moved into the far left lane of the three-lane highway in order to pass a slow-moving tractor-trailer in the center lane—apparently the only vehicle on the road that was slower than they were. “I still don’t see him,” he said. “But the next exit isn’t for, like, ten miles.”
“It’ll take us that long to catch him,” Chandler said. “Oh, man!”
They’d passed the tractor-trailer and the silver Toyota was right beside them, in the far right lane. Chandler turned his head down and away, as though he were fiddling with the radio.
Jack sped up.
“What are you doing?” Chandler hunched up his shoulders. “You’re not supposed to pass him.”