Free Bad Penny by John D. Brown Page A

she said like she was admitting a mistake, “a mother worries.”
    Frank paused. He figured he’d better give her the other part of this straight. “On an unrelated topic, I don’t want you to worry. But I have reason to believe one of my cell mates, who is now out, has your address.”
    “Why would he have my address?”
    “Because he’s a freak.”
    “I delisted my information when you went in.”
    “I know. I don’t think anything’s going to happen. I just want to remind you that you need to be living in yellow. None of that oblivious white crap.”
    “I live in L.A. I’m always in condition yellow.”
    “Okay, just stay that way.”
    “What’s going on, Frank?”
    “Just keeping you safe.”
    There was a pause, then, “Prison’s going to be with you a long time, isn’t it?”
    “It’s not something you forget.”
    “It’s not the same outside. Not everyone has got a shank in his pocket.”
    “But some do, Sis. Some do. And you don’t want to be the one in one hundred.”
    “I won’t be, Frank.”
    “One of these days you need to get out of California so you can carry.”
    He heard people in the background on her end.
    “I’m not weaponless,” she said. “And now we’re about to go in and face some awesome roast beef. I’ll make sure we clear the room of hostiles before we sit down to eat. I’ll call you later.”
    “Be safe,” he said and ended the call. Then he brought the phone tracking site back up and refreshed it. Tony’s marker had moved farther north.
    Sam walked over and looked down at the phone. “What’s next, Chief?”
    Frank looked up at him. “You go back to work, Sam. You’ve been a big help. But you don’t want to be involved in this.”
    “I’m already involved.”
    “This is not your thing, Sam.”
    “You can drive off, but I’ll just follow you. My Mazda will kick that Nova’s butt any day. And you’ve seen my mad driving skills.”
    “No,” Frank said.
    “Sorry, dude. You don’t have a choice.”
    “Sam—”
    “Frank, your nephew has been kidnapped. Nobody comes into my neighborhood and does that. Not to my friends. Not to my neighbors. Not to anybody.”
    Frank nodded. “So now you’re going to go all Tonto?”
    “Actually, I’m the one driving. You’re the one riding shotgun. So if anyone’s going to be Tonto, it’s you.”
    “Right, and what about your work?”
    Sam blinked, then looked like his intelligence had just been insulted. “Work? Hello, your nephew? Maybe we should go after him.”
    Despite his happy chubby bear demeanor, it appeared Sam was not one of those guys who would look the other way. “Okay then. Let’s park this. They won’t recognize the Mazda, and, despite the unicorns, you’re correct—it’s going to be faster than the Nova.”
    “Of course, it is. It’s like the family version of the Bat Mobile.”
    “Right,” Frank said. “And it comes with weapons too. We can pelt our foes with that nuclear Bat Diaper I saw rolling around in the back.”
    * * *
    Frank and Sam rolled north on 191. Then they turned west and rose up out of the valley over the western ridge and headed north-northwest. All about them, for miles and miles, was stubby, gray, water-starved sagebrush. The landscape was napped with it. Not a single tree to break the view. No houses, no barns, no telephone poles, nothing but a barbed wire fence running a number of yards off on each side of the road, looking much too puny to contain so much land. Every now and again an anemic dirt road would run off the highway, across a cattle guard or through a closed barbed-wire fence, and disappear in the distance.
    A dead and broken deer lay off the shoulder of the road. A mob of crows pecked at the carcass, pulling bits off as a snack.
    “Road kill,” Frank said.
    “Too old,” Sam replied.
    Frank tried to refresh the tracking page. The display showed the working circle. The last position of the pin showed Tony was stopped a few miles ahead, probably