The state patrolman tightened the
radiator cap back in place and slammed the hood shut. “I think you’re ready to
go. You’re a mile or so from the summit and it’s pretty much downhill from
there into Bridgeport. You can get water there. There is one other thing,
though. I am going to have to cite you.”
“For what, sir?” Tony asked.
The pressure of uncertainty had
triggered that familiar churning tumult in the center of his brain. Like molten
lava, it probed every crevasse for a vent. It had been building since he first
met Natalie, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before it would flow. But this
unexpected turn almost pushed him to an expulsion he couldn’t control.
When the officer stepped back to
the passenger side of the car, Tony reached under his jacket and grasped the
handle of his Colt .357.His finger found the trigger.
The cop, meanwhile, stopped
beside Hank’s door and pointed to the ground.
“Littering.” he said. “We don’t
like littering and you’ve used the side of the road to dispose of the remains
of your habit.”
As the officer began to rotate
toward Tony, Tony weighed the urge to waste the pig right here, right now. If
he had given the Chevy’s plate number earlier when he radioed in, this would
put the Impala in Northern California, a long way from LA. Now there would be a record of their location in
the system. If anyone suspected they had abducted Natalie, they could trace
them at least this far. But before the officer turned enough to see Tony’s hand
behind his back, several cars in a group whisked passed, and he felt too exposed.
He released the gun and with a flutter of his coattail to conceal it, looked at
the pile of used butts on the ground.
“How do you know they’re my
butts? Anyone could have dropped them.”
“Yes, it could be coincidence
they’re right outside the passenger window and your friend inside is smoking
like a locomotive. I guess I could take a sample in for fingerprint and DNA
analysis but I’d have to detain all of you on suspicion while we waited for the
results. That would certainly ruin your weekend.
“Or I can write up a citation,”
he continued, “and you can be on your way in ten minutes. Who knows, maybe
you’ll get lucky in Reno and win enough to pay the fine.”
“Okay, you’ve made your point,”
Tony said. He shot an angry glance through the window to Hank.
“I’ll need your license and
registration, sir.”
Meanwhile, Natalie heard the car
approach. A new male voice spoke outside right behind her cramped prison cell.
Tony had made it clear he didn’t want her to make a sound if someone stopped,
but she had made her anger just as clear by shouting at him and pounding on the
lid. If she acquiesced to the animal’s whims, she knew her chances of survival
were minimal at best. But she also didn’t want to take another innocent down
with her—unless one of the three who had thrust this nightmare on her became
the first victim. She strained her ears as the voices faded toward the front of
the vehicle.
Minutes later, the hood slammed,
and the murmur of voices moved to the side of the car furthest from her head.
They grew louder, and emphasized words became distinguishable. The voice she
didn’t recognize said two she picked up, “littering” and “citation.”
That meant it was a police
officer outside just feet away, and he would have a gun. But, if she alerted
him to her presence, could he disarm Tony in time and rescue her, or would he
get killed before he had a chance to draw his weapon? Since Tony had warned her
to keep silent with such vehemence, she rationalized that he would think her
compliant. The officer on the other hand would be well trained in just such
situations. That gave her better than even odds. If there was a chance she
could escape, she had to take it and hope for survival. When footfalls ground
into the gravel just outside the trunk, her heart crawled into her throat and
she reached to pound on the cover.
Tony had a suspicion Natalie
plotted under the lid for just the right moment to get the pig’s attention. He
followed the officer as he headed back toward the cruiser. When he reached the
side of the trunk, he slammed his hand down on the lid.
The startled officer turned
quickly and drew his service weapon.
“Damned piece of crap,” Tony
shouted. He looked away from the officer at the trunk and pounded on the cover
again.
The patrolman, smiled, returned
his pistol to its holster, and then stepped into his patrol car.
_____
©
Jearl Rugh 2012
All
Rights Reserved
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