D.B. and Me by Rob Rosen

they’re walking around with.” She reached beneath the countertop and handed me a drawing of a man, a man who certainly resembled my boyfriend, a man who was on the F.B.I.’s most wanted list. “Big reward promised, nothing definite yet. Be careful out there.” She pointed to the out there in question, out to where the man on the paper was waiting, a man on my most wanted list. I forced a smile. “Will do, ma’am,” I said as she bagged up our stuff, the food goods and gloves and socks and thermals in my new backpack. And then I snapped my fingers, “Oops, almost forgot.” And off I ran, only to return with scissors, shaving cream, and a razor. “Gotta look good for the holidays.” She rang the last of it up and dumped it all in my now-full backpack. I handed her my money, pretty much all of it, ten measly dollars and some change remaining. I didn’t know if it was scarier to be on the run or dead broke—minus the two-hundred grand we were hiking with, but still. I waved to her as I headed out, weighed down as I was with all our purchases. The snow had returned, glinting in the meager sunlight. Cold, so fucking cold. I headed behind the store. “Just in the nick of time,” Tim said as he pointed to the nasty change in the weather. I nodded, looked around to make sure we were alone. “Why are they calling you Dan Cooper?” He blinked, tilted his head, looked behind me. “They who?” “They the F.B.I. they.” His head went more to the side as he squinted into the distance. “What am I missing here,