SLUNG THE CAR into reverse. It skidded a moment. Then jerked when the wheels got a grip. The tires howled and smoked as it kicked backward. The cop tried to steer away. He wasn’t quick enough. The car shook and I was slammed hard into the seat. The cop’s tires squealed. He’d steered but he got a hard whack. I slung the car back into forward gear and I took off as soon as I felt the contact. There was a chance I’d smashed my rear end or transmission. That would be bad.
All kinds of things could go bad at that point. The cop could have been a good enough driver. He could have gotten lucky with just enough swerve. Then I’d have only bought myself a few seconds. The time it would take him to shake out of the shock. Even if I’d stopped him, he’d be calling it in right away.
Still, the big plus was that he may not have gotten my license plate down yet. It would be tough for him to read now. And at the least, I’d slowed him down.
There was no more I could do but get gone as fast as I could. Anything to avoid a shoot-out. Stuck out in the ass end of nowhere, a shoot-out with cops wouldn’t end well for me. Hurting cops is never part of a good plan. But I did need to be very gone, very badly indeed.
The car was sluggish. It lurched to one side. Red, yellow, and white sparks arced in the mirror. A bent fender was dragging. The cop car’s lamps red and blues shone distantly through the sparks. That was about all. I couldn’t tell whether he was coming after me. If he was moving, even.
Swinging the wheel to the right and left, weaving hard, I got the fender loose. It didn’t come free. It still shot sparks. That made me pretty easy to spot and to follow. It clattered and bumped. But it didn’t drag the car.
I checked the mirrors again. The cop wasn’t following me. His buddies would be soon enough, though. I had to take a chance and stop. In the middle of the carriageway, I jumped out. The fender was mangled and tough to bend free. When it did come off, my impulse was to sling it to the side of the road. I knew that would be a dumb fucking move. Leaving evidence behind.
I tried to get it in the back. It wouldn’t fit. Fuck. Reluctantly, I took the precious seconds to bend the fucking thing in two on the fucking tarmac.
Without it dragging, at least the car ran the way it should. I got away and went wide around the outside of Gainboro. I slowed and tried to drive less conspicuously. I was cautious approaching the dark lot where the guy with the nail in his ear was in the box in the back of his pickup.
This quick job had more wrinkles than a cheerleader’s wet panties.
I hauled the guy out of the box in his truck. His repose in there can’t have been more than a couple of hours. It had done nothing for his complexion, or his looks generally. I dragged him into the driving seat of my car. With some amount of difficulty I retrieved the six-inch nail from his ear.
Then I hauled my bags out of the trunk. All apart from the rocket tube. I hesitated over the phone. In the end, I took it. Even a burner phone you’ve only had for a day, you never know what tales the fucker’s going to tell, do you. I put a heavy magnetic box under the driver’s side of my Toyota. Underneath the guy.
I closed up the car apart from the driver’s door. I patted the ugly fucker. “There’s something you might be able to do for me after all.” I told him. And I promised him that it wouldn’t hurt. I had a few cans of oxygen. As fast as I could I emptied three of them into the car and slammed the door.
I drove the guy’s pickup to the edge of the lot and back onto the road. Braking there, I looked back as I sent the signal to the magnetic box. The explosion folded the car in half as it threw it up into the air. The billow of flames inside blew the windows out with a big crash. In the dark I headed away. I drove just a hair over the speed limit until I got onto the highway. Then I bolted flat out along the straight dark road.
The rental Toyota that I burned was tied to a driver’s license, credit cards, a whole identity. An expensive one at that. I should avoid Garberville. Don’t go back there. Hole up somewhere for the night and get gone in the morning. Vanish into a big city. Miami maybe.
Then I remembered the money. The money in my hotel room mini-safe as well as the money I hadn’t collected. Okay, I’d find a motel or a roadhouse, maybe take a stripper out back. Get into Garberville early, pick up the money and scram. A picture loomed, smoldering in my mind. I tried to ignore it. A pair of shining eyes. Hot thighs under a wool skirt. I may need two strippers. To shove that picture back into the dark.
With two big fires behind me, and both of them with dead scumbags in the middle, troopers would be out looking for me in force. I needed to put some miles behind me and get off that road. Either side of the road, all I saw was empty stretches of nothing. No roadhouse, not even a chain motel. This had to be the most unpopular stretch of road in the midwest. Did nobody ever want to stop and linger along here?
I was almost back in Garberville when I found a truckstop. The Burning Bush was a sleazy, brick, single story. Over the door was a picture of a girl with a red spangled bikini bottom in flame. That’s wit, I thought.
An even seedier motel lurked by the side. The ‘O’ in the motel sign flickered. I parked out of view of the road at the side of the truckstop. That seemed the preferred location for everyone.
A few trucks were lined up in the shadows. I put the pickup as far from the road and behind as many trucks as possible. I went into the office and got a room, then I headed for the bar.
Stepping inside, the air was thick and warm. It was darker inside than it was out. On a tiny stage in the far corner, a girl wore a red bikini bottom, heels, and a necklace. She wandered around a shiny pole. Mascara smudged down her face. Lipstick smeared over her mouth. She danced, just barely. She rubbed her back up and down the pole, then she leaned forward.
In the shadows I made out five men, all at separate tables. Some of them may have been awake. Not there for conversation, though, I guessed. A healthy-looking brunette behind the bar brightened for a flicker as the door closed behind me. “Find yourself a table, honey.” She told me, “I’ll bring you what you need.”
She leaned on the bar. “I’m Danni.” Her voice was smoky and low. As she leaned forward she showed me quite a lot of what I probably needed.
I picked a booth with a clear view of the door and a short route out. Danni came and perched on the side of my table. She offered a refreshing and reviving view of her thigh. As she took my order, she leaned forward to treat me to a view of her deep and accommodating cleavage.
When she returned with my beer, she stood close as she poured. Angling the frosted mug, she kept her eyes on mine. The foamy beer slipped slowly into the mug. Her leg pressed against mine. Her tongue slid around her lips. The smile she gave me was warming. Altogether an encouraging moment.
“I’ll be right back with your burger and fries.” Over her shoulder she said, “Enjoy Heidi while I’m away.” And her eyebrows pointed to the girl on the stage. She had found a feather boa. She drew it over her thighs and pulled it up then back and forth along her crotch.
All the time I was thinking of the librarian. And the fires. And the money. If I had any sense, I would probably be best to just leave the money and get gone.
‘Leave the money.’ No, I couldn’t see a way for that to work. Almost as unthinkable as leaving the librarian. I was surprised, catching myself thinking that. She’d made an impression on me and it wasn’t fading.
After the day I’d had, even the Burning Bush’s soggy burger and fries was a feast. At least there was plenty of it. I finished the beer and Danni brought another. Each time she came to the table she lingered. Turned more slowly to go. Pouted a bit more over pouring the beer.
I could see the opportunity. A couple of the truckers who were still conscious stared enviously. I had the sense that Danni was the prize here. Next beer, she sat close by me to pour.
Another weary girl took to the stage. Two more came out to keep company with the untalkative truckers. Heidi came over to join Danni and me. Sat on the other side from Danni. She blew in my ear. Tickled my neck with her tongue while her fingers danced up and down my thigh.
Danni told me that if there was anything else she could do I should ask. “Or tell me.” She said, “Sometimes as lady likes to be told.” Sparks lit in her eyes.
Heidi looked in my face. “If you had a room in the motel,” she told me, huskily, “We could go there and,” she squeezed my thigh, “we could relax.”
Danni said, “You’d need to give fifty bucks to the bar for each of us.” She put her head on one side, “But I’d be glad to make the night a free sample. As an introductory offer.”
Heidi nodded, “Yeah, me too. And you’d get two for one.”
It was tempting. “Ladies, it’s a kind and truly delicious offer,” I told them, “but I had a long day, and I am going to have to take a raincheck. If you will excuse me, I think I’m going have to just hit the sack.”
Danni’s eyes flashed and she grinned, “Well, that could work,” and Heidi nodded with enthusiasm. But I wasn’t interested. I thanked the girls and tipped them and I got out of there.
Rather than flop around in the motel room, I headed back into town. It was only a few miles more. I’d get what I had from the hotel. Either get an hour or two of sleep there or maybe just drink coffee until the bank opened.
I parked up a few blocks from the hotel. No point being careless. The card I’d used to pay for the hotel room was the same one I rented the car with. As I crossed the dark rug in the lobby, the dozing boy at the desk suddenly roused. He took a keen interest in some papers.
He smiled and said, “Good morning,” and I decided that this should as short a visit as I could possibly make it.