CHAPTER TWELVE

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“She fell for it,” Lindsay said. “I told you she would.”

Rainhorse nodded, “Yep, you’re good.”

“I don’t understand why I needed to call her landline rather than her cell,” Lindsay said.

“Barnabas could be listening in on her cell,” Rainhorse replied. “He cloned her phone, remember?”

“Why didn’t he clone my cell?” she wondered.

“You were in London, out of reach.”

“You know, my mom will think it’s unusual for me to call her on the landline,” Lindsay countered.

“We’ll have to risk it.”

“How did you even know about Steve?” she asked.

“It was all in the background information Barnabas dug up on you,” he said. “We knew you had a boyfriend named Steve, and we knew your mother didn’t know about him.”

“Jesus, what else did you people find out about me?” she asked.

“Everything. I can tell you what you had for dinner last Saturday at that Indian restaurant in London you and Steve went to. I can also tell you what color thong you bought at Harrods when you went shopping last.”

Lindsay threw up her arms in the air, “Ahhh. Gross. TMI! TMI!”

“You asked.”

“I don’t understand why we are headed back in the direction we came.”

“Two reasons. One, it’s the one direction that Barnabas won’t think to come looking for us.”

“And two?”

“I have another idea, and it involves the truck stop we passed about ten minutes before we got shot at.”

He handed her the phone, “Keep this turned off.”

“You trust me with the phone?”

He nodded, “Don’t make me sorry.”

“I won’t. What about the truck stop?”

“No time to explain. There it is. Just follow my lead.” he said. He pulled into the truck stop and found a parking spot in front of the restaurant, the Old Caboose Diner.

“Roger that, boss man,” Lindsay said with a faux salute and a hint of attitude.

“Hand me my coat from the back. I need to cover up this bloody arm.”

She reached in the back and handed him the jacket.

“You need medical attention,” she said, noting the angry appearance of the wound.

“It’s a minor wound. Don’t worry.”

“It doesn’t look minor to me.”

“I’m ok.”

“It’s your funeral.”

“Follow me, and keep your mouth shut,” he said. “If anyone asks, I’m your dad.”

“Granddad would be closer,” she said. She smiled.

He glared at her, “You can still get out and walk you know.”

“Let’s go, pop.”

They walked into the diner together. The Old Caboose was shaped and painted like an old train caboose, complete with a Southern Pacific logo and old rusty train wheels. Inside, the diner looked typical.  The dining room was long with booths containing Formica tables and red leather benches on one side of the diner and a long counter on the other. Faded gold linoleum adorned the floors. They looked as though they hadn’t been mopped since the last time John Mellencamp rolled through town. Rainhorse estimated there were about fifteen truckers inside, stuffing their faces with one of their various deep-fried dishes.

They sat in one of the booths. Lindsay pulled a menu and began looking at it. Rainhorse surveyed the restaurant.

“Do you have any cash on you?” she asked. “I’m hungry.”

“What looks good?” he asked.

“Nothing looks good,” she replied. “Look at that fat guy at the counter. He poured half a bottle of ketchup on those greasy potatoes.”

“He’s killing the taste of the food,” Rainhorse replied.

She giggled.

Rainhorse pulled a twenty from his wallet, “We don’t have time to eat here. You go to the counter and order us a couple of cheeseburgers and drinks to go.”

“I think I want chicken strips,” she said.

“Get whatever you want.”

“What do you want on your cheeseburger?”

“The works.”

“I’m not getting you onions,” she said. “You’re breath is bad enough already. If you and I are going to be in the car together…”

“Extra onions for me,” he replied, cutting her off. “Now go.”

“Do you have another twenty,” she asked. “I’m really hungry.”

He glared at her and gave her another bill. “While you’re at the counter, I want you to buy three of those souvenir refrigerator magnets. Actually, make it four.”

“What the hell? Refrigerator magnets? Are you trying to commemorate our vacation… daddy?” she snipped.

“Just do it, ok?”

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“Give me your phone back.”

“Why?”

“No questions, remember.”

She rolled her eyes and handed it to him.

“I’ll meet you back at the SUV, ok?”

“Sure,” she said. She slipped out of the booth and walked to the counter.

Rainhorse turned and called out in a loud voice, “Hey there. Is anyone here headed to Montana or South Dakota?”

Most of the truckers in the diner turned their heads toward Sam. After a moment of silence, one trucker spoke up, “I can get you as far as Rapid City,” he said. “I have to make a stop in Rochester first.”

Rainhorse smiled.

“That’ll do,” he said, walking toward the trucker.  “Actually, I don’t need a lift,” he said. “I’m just looking for directions.”

“Directions?” the trucker scoffed. “Don’t you have GPS?”

“Nope, I didn’t pay my bill,” Rainhorse said. “They shut my phone off after missing one payment. Do you believe that?”

“I sure do,” he scoffed. “Damn phone companies.”

“Say, is that your red Mack out front?” Rainhorse asked.

“Naw, I drive the dark green Peterbilt,” he said. “Mack’s ain’t nothing but trouble.”

“I heard that,” Rainhorse said.  He made eye contact with Lindsay at the counter. He smiled. She smiled back and offered a tiny wave. She had made him mad, but there was no denying it. She had managed to capture his heart.

Lindsay saw the big Cheyenne shake hands and thank the trucker. He left the restaurant. She lost track of him and panicked, wondering if he had left her. She could see the car through the window—he wasn’t in it. After two minutes or so elapsed, she caught sight of him again. She breathed a sigh of relief. She waited another five minutes for the go order to be completed, paid the bill, picked up the bags and left. Rainhorse had pulled up to the door and was waiting on her.

She got into the vehicle. Rainhorse smiled when he smelled onions. He pulled the SUV around to the back of the diner.

“Thanks for the cheeseburger,” he said.

“You paid for it,” she replied. “Oh, by the way, here, take this for later.”

She handed him a tin of breath mints.

“Thanks,” he mocked. “You’re so considerate.”

“The whole thing is for you. I encourage you to use them often and liberally. I hope you like spearmint.”

He glared at her, slipping the mints into his pocket.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Switching cars.”

“Again?”

“Barnabas knows we are in this one.  What’s your pleasure, the gray Toyota RAV4 or the blue pickup?”

“RAV4,” she said.

“Excellent choice. Why?”

“Because I see them a lot. They’re very common.”

“Right on. There are thousands of these cars on the road. We’re going to make a proper thief out of you yet,” he said.

“And in the back of the diner,” she added, “is probably where the employees park. The owner won’t notice it’s missing for a long time.”

“Damn, you’re good. Can I have your autograph?”

She giggled.

“I’ll take the food. You grab your travel bag. Count to twenty then come.”

Five minutes later, the RAV4 pulled onto the highway. Rainhorse pulled the personalized dice off the review mirror. The dice had letters engraved on them. It spelled out ‘Mavis.’

“It was nice of Mavis to give us a full tank of gas, don’t you think?” Rainhorse said.

“Ok, what the hell was all that about with the trucker?” she asked.

“Deception. Misdirection,” he replied.

“I don’t get it,” she said.

“I found a trucker who was headed to South Dakota. I turned your cell phone on and hid it on the trailer of his truck. So, anyone triangulating your cell is going to be following that truck—not us.”

“I understand, but why South Dakota?” she asked.

“It’s on the way to Montana. To anyone looking for you via GPS, it’s going to appear as though we are driving north, not west...”

“But we are driving to Montana, aren’t we?”

“Yes, we are, but that truck is going to Rapid City. He is going north, then west. We are going to take a back route. We are going west, then north. So…”

“Anyone looking for us will be hundreds of miles off course,” she finished.

Rainhorse nodded, “Now you’re catching on.”

“Why did I buy these stupid refrigerator magnets?” she asked.

“For this,” he said.

Rainhorse reached under the seat and pulled out a license plate. He handed it to Lindsay, “While you were inside the restaurant waiting on food, I planted your cell on the Peterbilt and stole a license plate off another car.  You are going to remove the magnets off the back of those souvenirs and position them to the back of this license plate.  We’ll stick that plate over ours. When this car gets reported stolen, our plate number won’t match the stolen vehicle. After all, a gray RAV4 is a pretty common car, right?”

Lindsay looked at him incredulously, “You’re scary, you know that, right?”

“It’s all part of the deluxe door-to-door service,” he said.

She chuckled.

“You work on getting the magnets attached to the back of the plates.”

“I’m on it… daddy.”

“Enough of that shit. I noticed there was a shirt in the back seat,” he said, pulling a pocket knife from his pocket. He handed it to her. “Grab the shirt and cut off the sleeve. I think my arm is still bleeding.”

Rainhorse pulled off his jacket while Lindsay retrieved the shirt and cut off the sleeve.

“Jesus,” she gasped.

“What is it?”

“This looks bad,” she said. “That’s not blood oozing. It’s a yellowish fluid—like pus.”

“It’s infected,” he said. “It hurts like a son-of-a-bitch.”

“Take off your shirt,” she said. “I’ll clean it up and use this sleeve to bandage it.”

Rainhorse pulled off his shirt, carefully, as he continued to drive. Lindsay saw his dark skin, hairless chest, rippling biceps and sculpted pectorals. She also noticed massive scar tissue, all over his torso.

“Damn, Jackson,” she exclaimed. “Do you get into a knife fight every week of your life? If so, you should get better at it.”

“Just tend to the arm, and save the commentary,” he replied.

“Ugh,” she said, dabbing at the pus on the wound. “This is J-Lo butt-sized nasty, like really gross.”

Rainhorse strained to look at it, “I need antibiotics; flush, cream and an injection.”

“What you need is a doctor,” she argued.

“Out of the question,” he fired back. “I’m going to drive through the night. I’ll deal with it after I get you home.”

“You’ll have a full-blown fever and will be sicker than a dog long before then,” she argued. “Look, we can get all that stuff at a pharmacy, except for the shot. But if we can get the flush, cream and oral antibiotics, that should hold you over.”

“I don’t have a prescription,” he said. “And I’m not stopping to see a doctor. He’ll recognize it’s a gunshot wound and call the cops.”

“Ok, then, there’s only one thing to do,” she said. “I’m going to knock off a pharmacy.”

“Rob a pharmacy?” he repeated.

“Why not? I’ve already stolen a car—two in fact.”

“You know, robbing a pharmacy is not a bad idea,” he said.

“We shouldn’t wait,” she said.  “I saw a sign back there. Sioux City, Iowa is right up the road. Let’s do this. We can Bonnie and Clyde the whole thing.”

“Ok, but it won’t be like Bonnie and Clyde. It’ll be more like Ryan and Tatum O’Neal.”

“Who are they?”

“I thought you were a fan of the old movies,” he said. “Paper Moon.”

“Oh, I love that movie,” she said. “You mean Moses and Addie. Those were the two main characters.”

“You really are an old soul, aren’t you?”

“They don’t make movies like they did in the old days,” she said. “Don’t tell my dad I said that. So, what’s the play?”

“Are you going to be ok with this?”

“I’m still your hostage, and I’m underage,” she noted. “I’m pretty much gonna get a free ride no matter what I do.”

“True that,” he noted. “In the movie, Moses used his daughter to…”

“Addie was never actually said to be his daughter,” Lindsay corrected. “In the movie, they left that possibility open.”

“I’m trying to tell you the plan,” he said. “Will you quit interrupting?”

“Hey, excuse me,” she snipped.

He glared at Lindsay.

“Like I was saying, Moses and Addie were con artists. Addie distracted the mark, while Moses pulled the scam. Get it?”

“I think so.”

“So, we need to find a small pharmacy with one employee behind the counter. It has to be a man.”

“So, I’m supposed to shake my butt and flirt with some old codger, while you slip in back and grab the meds.”

“You know how to flirt, don’t you?”

She chuckled, “You’re in my wheelhouse now, Jackson. Watch and learn.”