Fugitive at 17 Page #4

Thinking that Holly would

even use drugs is absurd!

If it's so absurd,

then why did she plead guilty

to a drug charge last year?

That made me so mad!

She was protecting Blake!

It was Blake who took my drugs!

I don't understand.

Blake was stealing my painkillers

when she came over to the house.

Holly protected her and

confessed because Blake

- Was afraid of her parents.

- And why would Holly do that?

Both her parents died.

She has no brothers and sisters.

Blake is like family to her.

Holly will do anything

to protect the people

that she loves.

Even break the law?

Is there no one in your life

for whom you would break the rules?

Look, I'm sorry,

I did pretty well...

So... a teacher who goes

to college parties?

I know. I got to go through

pictures of the whole faculty.

- I thought you said you didn't see his face.

- True, but I know Blake's type.

He must've been really good

looking and not too old.

- That means hundreds of teachers.

- Gotta start somewhere.

I don't know if you remember this,

but about a year ago the court appointed

you, uh, to defend a teenager,

Holly Hamilton, on a

narcotics possession charge.

- Yeah... I remember.

- Yeah, well, I was speaking

to the girl's grandmother,

and she said that the girl

pled guilty even though she

was innocent of the charges.

Apparently, the friend,

Blake Brooks, was so afraid

of her parents that she

pled guilty to protect her.

That's true, she

said she gave Blake

the drugs, but no, she didn't.

How do you know that?

I defend guilty

people all day long,

so I'm a pretty good

judge of character.

Holly was clean. She took a rap.

I thought you said you

were looking at pictures

- of faculty members.

- Thanks.

Um, I was, but there's

just way too many pictures

to weed through. I just thought

I'd try something different.

So you've moved on to his nails?

Dan, look.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. See? Guitar

players grow their nails out.

Oh, yeah!

- God, who knew?

- Right?

So maybe that means

he's a music teacher...

- who grows nails out.

- Yeah.

She's a kid! Why the hell

can't anybody catch her?

We will! We have unis at her house,

her high school, the nursing home...

Yeah, sitting on their asses drinking

coffee, while she makes fools of us all.

That's not what this is about.

Bull! Listen, you don't have the Brooks

family kicking your ass every day.

Tony, you've known me

since the academy.

We were married for eight years.

We have a child together.

Am I or am I not a good detective?

- Just get to the point.

- The point is:
we're supposed

to be on the same side here,

but you keep dragging in all this personal

garbage while I'm trying to do my job.

Yeah, and my job is to manage all

the detectives that work under me.

All right, so then manage.

Stop picking fights with me.

Stop calling me "Softie".

Stop bringing up Marcus

Alva all the damn time.

Hmm.

I mean... maybe...

Let's go to music school.

Look, hold on. I mean,

what if you're right?

OK. What are you gonna

do if you see him?

What anyone would do:

call the cops.

Um... gimme your phone.

- But why?

- Just do it.

Psst!

Was it him?

Yeah... Actually... I don't know.

You don't sound very confident.

Dan, I just saw the

nails that night. I...

Call the cops. OK, it's their job

to follow up on leads. Use my cell.

No, I can't. It might be traceable.

- I gotta find another way.

- What? Whoa, whoa!

- No.

- Dan, you've been beyond helpful.

I'm sure you have a

hundred things to do.

I'll catch up with you later.

Hey, Brent! Finish up!

Dinners almost ready!

OK, Mom.

Sweet!

- Brent?

- Sasha?

No, Brent. It's not Sasha,

it's Holly. How's your phone?

Um, OK.

I dropped it in the toilet, and

some girl help me save it.

Yeah, that was me, Einstein. Is your

mom around? I need to talk to her.

- Why? Am I in trouble?

- No. You're not in trouble.

Mom! Come here!

- What?

- Come... here!

What's up?

That girl who saved my cell

phone wants to talk to you.

What? Come on. Get out of here.

Hamilton? Go. Go, go, go!

- Mom?!

- Now!

Hello, Detective Langford.

You contacted my son?

How did you get his information?

- Just please listen.

- No, you listen.

Don't you dare drag

my family into this.

Don't forget. You dragged my

grandmother into this, remember?

Now, I got a suspect for you,

somebody you should check out.

His name is Billy Johnson,

and he's a guitar teacher

at Central U with long nails.

No way, Holly. You turn yourself in,

and maybe we'll focus on that crime,

and we'll talk later about

the fact that you escaped.

So, hang on, I gotta, like, bargain

with you for you to do your job?

My job?

My job is to bring you in, Holly.

Someone was shot, OK?

- You have to stop running.

- I didn't run be...

I didn't run because I'm guilty.

I ran because I didn't do it.

You're just making things

worse for yourself.

You have to turn yourself in.

What's worse than Blake being dead?

I'm out here on my own,

hiding from you, trying

to solve your case.

Now, I know you don't

owe me any favors,

but I want you to listen.

Please, just... check it out.

Pfft, and don't do it for me.

Do it for the dead girl.

I'm sorry to disturb you.

Thanks a lot.

So, what did he say?

Holly?

He's not your guy.

He was teaching last Wednesday.

He's got about 16 alibis.

It's a nice try, though.

Look, I did you a favour.

Now, I need you to do me one.

Just come over here, and we can talk

this through. We can figure it out.

No way.

You can't keep running.

Hold it!

Don't move, Holly.

There you go. Nice and easy.

Nice and easy.

Hey! Step aside!

Move!

What's up with that?

- Police! Step aside!

- Hey!

Out of the way!

Look out, kids.

We lost her. She's got some legs.

Well, she can't run forever.

Damn it.

- Hey, Professor Johnson?

- Uh, can I help you?

I'm a freshman and I'm

writing a short story

about, uh, guitar players,

so I was just wondering if I can

ask you a couple of questions.

- Um, sure. Go ahead.

- Uh, great!

Would, um... serious guitar players

grow out their nails rather

than using a pick or...?

Yeah, flamenco and classical players

often grow their nails out on one hand.

Oh! Are there any

other faculty members

that, uh, that play guitar?

Uh, Loretta Miller. She's good.

- Anybody else?

- Uh, nope.

But there is an economics prof

who plays a mean flamenco.

Uh... Oliphant. He's a regular

at the Firelight Club. Plays

a couple nights a week.

- Thanks.

- Sure.

I'll be right with you.

- You really think it's him?

- He had the nails.

We have to check it out.

You need to stay out of

sight for now, so...

why don't you keep the bed,

and I'll just grab a sleeping

bag from the closet?

You know what? I should

probably get going.

I don't want to get

you into any trouble.

Well, maybe I can keep

you out of trouble.

Yeah, right.

What's that?

I got my calendar notifications on.

It's, um, reminding me that it's my

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