“We need her to help keep Hank alive,” Rudy, who just ran up beside them, yelled between gasps for breath.
“I know, shit–for-brains! And I’m not done with her yet, either.”
After they got back to the Impala, Tony tore a strip from the burnt orange bedspread Hank was wrapped in. With one end he bound Natalie’s feet. He tied the other end around her wrists with just enough play in the constraints so she could continue to put pressure on the chest wound. He had gone soft on her for a while in the motel room and let her roam at will. Now, even with the threat of a bullet to the brain, he saw what she was capable of. Yet even though she may be worthy, he wouldn’t let her run free again until he finished what he started.
As he entered the highway and steered the Impala north away from the sirens, he said to Rudy, “When we pass the motel, look to make sure that pervert doesn’t see us. If he does, we’ll have to kill him.”
Moments later as they whisked past the motel, Rudy unable to stop a sigh of relief, said, “No one.”
One dead and one shot was enough blood on his hands for one day. He knew all of this was his fault. If he hadn’t been so in love with Natalie, none of this would have happened. Natalie indicated she would rely on him to help her escape, but so far she had done all the work. All the time he had spent in the back seat plotting had led to nothing. No plan, not even a flicker. She hadn’t come right out with it, but the implication was obvious; if she escaped without his help, he would go down with Tony and Hank.
He needed a plan. Can I earn Tony’s trust? Tony had hardly slept in thirty-six hours, and now behind the wheel again, Rudy had an idea.
“If you need me to drive,” he said with a bright tone. “I’d be glad to spell ya.”
Tony didn’t reply, he just continued a steady pressure on the accelerator. Rudy turned toward Natalie. Her head was bowed toward Hank. Through the rear window he saw the orange florescent marker for Pair-A-Dice shrink into the distance.
Deputy Karl Krusher spotted the lights of the convenience store windows. He turned his car across the highway and pulled into the parking lot in front of the glass entry. Amos Garrett pulled into the stall next to him. Only one other car sat in the lot, Karl presumed it belonged to the store’s clerk. He left his engine running and lights flashing as he stepped from the vehicle. Karl led the way into the store with hope for a quick lead,
“Good evenin’ deputies. Is there somethin’ I can help ya with?” asked the over cheerful night clerk. The slender, straggly-haired, fortyish white man wore an uncombed beard that hung below his collarbone.
Karl noted that the man looked like he had lived a rough life. He spotted the smoke from a cigarette waft up from an ashtray behind the counter, a clear violation of the no smoking sign on the glass entrance door.
“Hey Amos, how ya hanging?”
Amos nodded an acknowledgement toward the clerk.
“We’re wondering if you’ve sold any diapers tonight.” Karl asked.
“Well, come to think of it, yes sir,” the clerk said slowly, “guess I did ‘bout an hour or so ago, I suppose. Young feller came in, spent quite some time lookin’ ‘round and then bought them prefab diapers, maskin’ tape, the wide kind, and a pair of scissors. I thought it kind of an odd combination, but hey, whatever gets a guy off, know what I mean?”
“Ever see this guy before, Phil?” Deputy Garrett asked.
“Well, now that ya mention it, earlier this evenin’ three guys come in and bought a lot of beer, soft drinks, munchies, sandwich fixin’s and stuff. The guy with the diapers was one a them. But before that, I never seen him, nor the others.”
“So, you would say they’re not from around here?” Karl asked.
“Naw, I know most folks around here and they ain’t none a them.”
“Did they pay with plastic?”
“Naw, one of them pulled out a couple of twenties.”
“What about the car? Did you happen to get a look at their car?”
“Did you happen to get a look at their car?”
“Yep …, maybe better than that,” he said and pointed to a camera that hung from the ceiling almost hidden by boxes on the top shelf of the tobacco rack. “I got pictures.”
“Excellent, we need to see them,” Karl said.
“‘Okay,” Phil said, and stared at him for a moment, not moving.
“Could we see the surveillance video now, please?” Amos asked.
“Oh, ya wanta see it now. I was thinkin’ ya meant after we was done with the tape.”
“Please,” Karl said, and while Phil reached down under the counter, he stole a glance at Amos and shook his head.
Phil played with the VCR for a few moments while the two officers watched a small monitor next to the register. After a couple of minutes Karl saw the front door of the store open on the screen and a teenage boy entered. Behind him he could make out the vehicle. Since it had been night when the video was shot, he could only see the front end by the light of the store. Just as Benjamin had said, it was an old dark sedan. The license plate was almost visible.
“How long you been running that tape tonight?” Amos asked.
“Uh, it was runnin’ when I took over from ‘enry, that would be ‘bout … five hours ago?
“We need to take this tape to the station,” Amos said.
“’Course,” he said absently and continued to watch the screen while he reversed the tape.
“Now!” Karl commanded.
_____
©
Jearl Rugh 2012
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