Clean Getaway: Chapters 16–24

“I got rid of it,” she says with a wave of her hand like it’s the most trivial thing on planet Earth.

She nods once. Resolutely. “Sure did. Didn’t need a phone the first time I took this trip, and don’t need one now. Got maps in my keepsake box, and I just snagged a current one from the campground front office.”

Gas gauge is practically on E.

“So what’d he go to jail for? Like, I know it was—”
“Grand larceny.”

“We gotta find the Runaway Mine Train, Scoob-a-doob,” she says. “The Six Flags we have in Georgia opened in sixty-seven, and one of their premier rides was the Dahlonega Mine Train. Runaway’s the Texas version.”

“Oh, don’t be such a killjoy!” she says.

Within fifteen minutes of getting back on the road, exhaustion drops onto Scoob with so much weight, the thought of even lifting his arms seems outlandish.

String makes it sound like she went on some kinda spree, which seems like a stretch (she’s seventy-six years old, for goodness’ sake), but there’s no denying she almost walked out of that store in Meridian with a ring.

He didn’t find anything suspicious back when searching high and low for G’ma’s phone, but still. So many drawers and cabinets, nooks and crannies.

“I’m gonna hit the hay,” she says, slowly rising and placing her half-empty glass of water on the kitchenette counter. Then she ambles to her sleeping corner and vanishes behind the curtain.

Scoob throws the bunk curtain aside and clambers down.

“I started stealing jewelry when I was twelve, and for the most part, I got away with it. Your grandfather had been secreting away money he was stealing from that filling station he worked at, as well as a couple other odd jobs of his, but he didn’t know I’d been doing some work of my own. When I suggested we run away to Mexico, he thought it was solely because of what he’d been taking.”

Professional jewel thief. That’s an oxymoron if Scoob’s ever heard one.

Scoob’s taken way aback by how quickly the air in his throat expands and his eyes fill with tears.

The RV, Scoob learned, was impounded, which brings to mind stray animals trapped in cages and makes him a little bit angry—but perhaps that’s because he knows he’s not going to like what Dad’s about to say.

She stays asleep in the back for most of the trip, but when she is awake, she’s “lucid,” as Scoob’s heard the nurse refer to it.

It’s almost like he can see her confession scrawled across the duvet.

There’s the old Dad. Hypercritical in the most low-key way possible.

“I knew you likely weren’t in any danger, and I also knew you left voluntarily and without coercion. What I didn’t know was where you were going and for how long. Because she wouldn’t tell me. And after she stopped answering the phone and wouldn’t return my calls, I began to wonder whether or not she planned to bring you back.”

State Motto: “Wisdom, justice, and moderation.”

He glances over his shoulder at where that urn is sitting on the backseat. Dad didn’t say a word as Scoob gingerly placed it there and strapped it in with the seat belt.

He glances over his shoulder at where that urn is sitting on the backseat. Dad didn’t say a word as Scoob gingerly placed it there and strapped it in with the seat belt.

And since there was nothing overtly suspicious about it—“Children of folks who lived through the Depression are known for keeping large amounts of cash where they can see it,” the detective said. “Our guess is this was her life savings”—the money and the RV, which G’ma had paid for in full, were both turned over to Dad.

Despite feeling like he’s desecrating a holy relic, he flips it over and runs a hand along the bottom.

Despite feeling like he’s desecrating a holy relic, he flips it over and runs a hand along the bottom.

There are necklaces, bracelets, earrings—a pair of pink diamonds included—brutches or broochets or whatever the heck those weird bedazzly things with the safety pins on the back are called. All strapped down and/or tucked into weird cushioned crevasses.

You’re a good egg, Scoob-a-doob. Don’t ever let anyone tell you different. Thank you for your impeccable wingman service to this old lady on her final adventure.

They hold this position for who knows how long—Dad sitting in his chair, Scoob standing beside it, both staring at what remains of Ruby Jean Lamar, mother, grandmother, wife, pilferer of jewels—then look back at each other.

After finding a little cove beneath a small rock formation that juts out over the water, Scoob looks around to make sure no one’s watching him, then drops to his hands and knees and gets to work.

After finding a little cove beneath a small rock formation that juts out over the water, Scoob looks around to make sure no one’s watching him, then drops to his hands and knees and gets to work.