the gun, but instead I stopped and said, “One question first. Seeing as I’m about to give you a fighting chance, it occurred to me to ask you something.”
He said, “Yeah, what?”
“You got another pair of handcuffs?”
He said, “What?”
I said, “Well, there were two of us left in the diner. That’s me and the waitress. One and one equals two.”
He said, “I know that.”
“Ah. Well, you know that. So you must have another pair of handcuffs. So where are they?”
“We don’t got no handcuffs.”
I said, “Funny. Because I used a pair on the dirty cop you brought. And there were two of us in the diner. So you must’ve brought two pairs of handcuffs, right? You were going restrain both of us, right?”
He shrugged and said, “I don’t follow.”
I said, “Well, the way I see it, I’m about to give you a fighting chance. So weren’t you going to give me one, too? I mean, you were planning to just handcuff me and leave me here, right?”
He said nothing.
I said, “So you were going to kill me? Kill that girl?”
No response.
I said, “Then why should I give you a chance?”
I shot him in the kneecap, same as Carter. Same reaction even. The big guy flung forward in a violent arc like a sack of potatoes heaved down a staircase.
He screamed as much as Carter.
I turned and walked out of the diner and through the parking lot. I looked both ways. The ER was to the east, so I headed west.
I left Carter’s gun behind. Maybe he would reach it and try to shoot it out with the cops when they arrived. That would bring a bad outcome for him, but a good one for Kara.
Chapter 16
IT WASN’T VERY LONG before I heard sirens behind me, back at the diner and Cedar Corner. They were distant but not too far away. I figured they would find the guys in the diner in maybe ten minutes. The terrain along the highway was basically flat desert with sporadic low patches of trees and greenery here and there.
If the deputies believed their story, then they would come looking for me. But the night was on my side. I walked off of the road and far enough out into the desert that I was camouflaged by the darkness but still close enough that I could see the road and any headlights that drove down it.
I wasn’t tired anymore because of all of the coffee and adrenaline.
I walked on and on until morning. After a while, I felt safe enough to walk back near the highway. I walked into a huge truck stop and made my way into the showers. I waited for the only other patron to finish showering and come out, and then I went into the showers and into one of the stalls, pulling the curtain closed. I pried the drain open—it was wide and square-shape. I took out the Glock and ejected the magazine and the spent shell. I tossed the gun into the drain and replaced the grate. Someday someone would find the gun. Maybe they would be showering and peek down and see something dark in the water. Or maybe a worker would come in and clean and check the pipes. Perhaps a plumber would find it a year from now.
Whatever. It didn’t matter to me.
I turned on the shower. Keeping my clothes out of the water spray, I leaned forward and let the water rinse through my hair and off my head. I leaned back out and took some water on my face. Then I shut the shower off and dried myself with brown paper towels.
I went out to the parking lot and stood around for a bit. It was very late at night. There were rows and rows of big rig trucks, hauling all kinds of things from huge logs to gas to whatever else. Most of the parked ones were still running, but the lights were turned down low like they were on power-down mode. Sleeping truckers, America’s backbone.
I felt dead tired myself.
I waited outside the truck stop on an old, green bench. I waited for the right trucker to pull up. The kind who looked like he recognized a fellow traveler and would take pity on a tired drifter. But before I did that, I walked over to an ancient pay phone. It was
He said, “Yeah, what?”
“You got another pair of handcuffs?”
He said, “What?”
I said, “Well, there were two of us left in the diner. That’s me and the waitress. One and one equals two.”
He said, “I know that.”
“Ah. Well, you know that. So you must have another pair of handcuffs. So where are they?”
“We don’t got no handcuffs.”
I said, “Funny. Because I used a pair on the dirty cop you brought. And there were two of us in the diner. So you must’ve brought two pairs of handcuffs, right? You were going restrain both of us, right?”
He shrugged and said, “I don’t follow.”
I said, “Well, the way I see it, I’m about to give you a fighting chance. So weren’t you going to give me one, too? I mean, you were planning to just handcuff me and leave me here, right?”
He said nothing.
I said, “So you were going to kill me? Kill that girl?”
No response.
I said, “Then why should I give you a chance?”
I shot him in the kneecap, same as Carter. Same reaction even. The big guy flung forward in a violent arc like a sack of potatoes heaved down a staircase.
He screamed as much as Carter.
I turned and walked out of the diner and through the parking lot. I looked both ways. The ER was to the east, so I headed west.
I left Carter’s gun behind. Maybe he would reach it and try to shoot it out with the cops when they arrived. That would bring a bad outcome for him, but a good one for Kara.
Chapter 16
IT WASN’T VERY LONG before I heard sirens behind me, back at the diner and Cedar Corner. They were distant but not too far away. I figured they would find the guys in the diner in maybe ten minutes. The terrain along the highway was basically flat desert with sporadic low patches of trees and greenery here and there.
If the deputies believed their story, then they would come looking for me. But the night was on my side. I walked off of the road and far enough out into the desert that I was camouflaged by the darkness but still close enough that I could see the road and any headlights that drove down it.
I wasn’t tired anymore because of all of the coffee and adrenaline.
I walked on and on until morning. After a while, I felt safe enough to walk back near the highway. I walked into a huge truck stop and made my way into the showers. I waited for the only other patron to finish showering and come out, and then I went into the showers and into one of the stalls, pulling the curtain closed. I pried the drain open—it was wide and square-shape. I took out the Glock and ejected the magazine and the spent shell. I tossed the gun into the drain and replaced the grate. Someday someone would find the gun. Maybe they would be showering and peek down and see something dark in the water. Or maybe a worker would come in and clean and check the pipes. Perhaps a plumber would find it a year from now.
Whatever. It didn’t matter to me.
I turned on the shower. Keeping my clothes out of the water spray, I leaned forward and let the water rinse through my hair and off my head. I leaned back out and took some water on my face. Then I shut the shower off and dried myself with brown paper towels.
I went out to the parking lot and stood around for a bit. It was very late at night. There were rows and rows of big rig trucks, hauling all kinds of things from huge logs to gas to whatever else. Most of the parked ones were still running, but the lights were turned down low like they were on power-down mode. Sleeping truckers, America’s backbone.
I felt dead tired myself.
I waited outside the truck stop on an old, green bench. I waited for the right trucker to pull up. The kind who looked like he recognized a fellow traveler and would take pity on a tired drifter. But before I did that, I walked over to an ancient pay phone. It was
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