They hadn’t driven more than thirty minutes out of Reno, Nevada when the adrenaline-induced euphoria Tony had experienced from taking a life began to wane. Except for a few hours of sleep on the backseat of the Impala last night, he hadn’t slept since the night before and the circles under his eyes he saw reflected back from the rearview mirror grew darker as each hour passed. His mind also paid the toll both from the long drive from Southern California, concern they were leaving a distinct trail behind them, and a growing suspicion that, since the call from Maggie last night, Natalie had been missed and the police were in motion.In retrospect, it hadn’t been the smartest thing to have killed the fat drunken bastard but, to his knowledge the Python had never been linked to a felony. He had to admit he didn’t know its detailed history as he had taken the revolver off, Nick, his asshole-of-a-partner, just before punching his one-way ticket to Hell. A discretionary murder, yes, but the dog had it coming. He hoped the pistol wouldn’t be in the police’s system, but even if it was, when they did find the slug that blew the drunk’s head wide open, they would have no way to link it back to him. No one but the shark bait at the bottom of the Hudson River knew Tony had the Colt, and he wasn’t talking.
Rudy sulked in the backseat just as he had done since leaving Los Angeles early this morning with his hood draped over half his face. Tony had cast one eye on him from time to time in the mirror as he needed to keep his temperament gaged. So preoccupied with the girl they had abducted and her current predicament, he didn’t know what kind of volatility might lurk under the surface. After all, he didn’t know Rudy well. In the parking structure in Reno, he thought certain Rudy would blurt out the whole story to the soldiers, yet he had been able to divert the situation long enough to escape. He killed the drunk driver as much for vengeance for Ma’s death as it had been a message to Rudy to keep in line. With the felonies they had committed against Natalie, if Tony would kill a perfect stranger, she was certainly on the endangered list. Even though he believed he could keep Rudy under control, there was no telling what he plotted under that gray hoodie, so he couldn’t be trusted behind the wheel while he slept. Tony was sure he would drive directly to the police or at the very least do something to try to get caught.
Hank, on the other hand, when he wasn’t asleep with his head against the window, stayed drunk. The evidence, empty beer cans, treasures from fuel stops they had made, cluttered the floor at his feet. Since they left Reno, he had consumed two more. Like any other closet alcoholic, he tried to conceal them from passing motorists in a brown paper bag. Except for the citation for littering, which Hank caused, Tony had been able to fly below law-enforcement’s radar by staying alert and driving within the speed limit. He couldn’t allow Hank to take the reins. Driving under the influence would be like shooting a flare into the night sky.
They had continued to follow US 395 north out of Reno and were inside the state line of California again when Tony pulled the car into a convenience store’s parking lot.
“I need food and sleep,” Tony said. “We’ll get groceries here and then look for a room.”
Maggie Jacobs arrived at her apartment just after five o’clock. As she neared the sidewalk that lead to the entrance to her apartment building, she saw Natalie’s Toyota. Parked on the street in the same place since last night when she had been awakened by the nightmare, it seemed unusual. By this time of day on a Friday, Natalie’s shift at the grocery store had begun. She ran up the three flights to Natalie’s door and knocked. Natalie didn’t answer.
“Natalie, are you in there?” She knocked again and pressed her ear against the door. “Natalie?”
Still no answer and no sound came from within. She tried the door knob and found it locked. Like she had done several times during the day, she took her cell phone from her purse and dialed Natalie’s number. As the phone began to ring in her ear, she listened outside Natalie’s door and heard the sound of the telephone on the inside of the apartment. Eventually, the recorder picked up the call. She left another message and then dialed Natalie’s cell phone. It too went to voicemail.
From work on her morning break, she had tried to reach her friend, and when there was no answer, she called the LAPD. They, of course, were willing to take a missing person’s report but not willing to investigate based on a missed phone call and parked car, but even though it had only been about fifteen hours since anyone had heard from Natalie, Maggie had convinced the officer on the phone to pass along Natalie’s name to a detective. Maggie, though grateful for that, felt like her efforts were not enough.
It was a twenty minute drive but Maggie made it in fifteen.
“Have you seen Natalie Beaumont today?” she asked the first clerk she saw the grocery store.
“No, she didn’t come in.”
“Where’s the manager?”
“Register three.”
Maggie stepped over to the manager and asked, “Have you seen Natalie Beaumont today?”
“No,” she said, abruptly.
“Did she call in sick?”
“No, can’t you see I’m with a customer?” She faced back to the man in front of her. “That’ll be forty-three, eighty-five.”
The customer slid his plastic card through the kiosk.
“I’m sorry I’m interrupting, but I think Natalie’s missing.”
The manager continued to ignore Maggie and handed the customer his receipt, “Do you need help out to your car?”
Once the man left with the shake of his head, the manager beckoned to another clerk to take over her register. She turned her attention toward Maggie. “What do you mean missing?”
“Wasn’t she supposed to be on duty now?”
“Yes, but she didn’t show or call, that’s why I’m here on the floor. Without her, we’re shorthanded.”
“Does she do this often?”
“No, she’s very reliable, why do you think she’s missing.”
Maggie explained about Natalie’s car parked on the street for several hours. “She said she would call me when she got home, but now her phones go to voicemail. I’m getting real worried.” She turned toward the exit and, as she ran away from the manager, she called back over her shoulder, “I’m calling the police again.”
_____
©
Jearl Rugh 2012
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