Wisconsin Avenue and right again into the Sack and Save parking lot, she noticed that the fuel light was on and the gas needle was past the empty mark. She stopped at the gas pumps near the South Frontage Road and filled the tank before realizing that her purse was in Connor’s truck. Approaching the cashier’s cage she asked the hair-lipped, bald-headed man inside, “May I use your phone?”
“You need to pay for the gas first.”
“Yes sir, I know. But, you see, I don’t have any money and I need to call someone to bring me my purse.”
Looking over his horn-rimmed bifocals, he said, “I know you. You’re Rupert McKenzie’s daughter.”
“That’s right,” Willow said, relieved that the old gentleman recognized her. “I apologize that I don’t have any money on me. But, if you will let me use the phone, I’ll have someone here in a few minutes to pay . . . .”
Before Willow could finish the sentence, the old man interrupted, “You give me the car keys. Then, maybe I’ll let you use my phone.”
“Yes Sir. Okay, I’ll do that. Just a moment.”
As Willow returned with the keys she thought what a grouch? I thought everything would be all right when he recognized me.
Sliding the keys through the opening at the bottom of the plate glass window, Willow said, “Here they are, sir. Now, may I use your phone?”
“Hell, no. I want you to stand over there and cool your heels.”
With a quizzical look, she asked, “Cool my heels?”
“Yes, just move away from my cage so I can see all of you.”
Facing the old man as she cautiously stepped back, she saw a devilish smile cross his face.
Then he blurted out. “Stop. That’s far enough. Stand there and slowly turn completely around.”
It was obvious that this old man was lusting in his mind, but what was Willow to do?
With her heart pounding, Willow looked to her left and spotted the Mutual Credit Union Building. Not wanting to be subjected to any more of this old pervert’s stares, Willow bolted in full stride across the parking lot toward the front door of the Credit Union. It was exactly 5 P.M. and the lady inside had just inserted the key, locking the door for the night. Frantically, Willow pounded on the door saying, “Please let me in.”
Looking through the thick glass door at this hysterical woman standing against the glass, all of the employees and a couple of customers froze for a second. Then the lady with the key unlocked the door and Willow pushed it open.
"My goodness, what’s the problem?” asked the lady.
“May I use your phone?” Willow asked, trying to catch her breath and compose herself.
"Yes, by all means. I’m Rachel. Do you want me to call someone for you?”
“Yes. Call Connor Peppler at McKenzie Towing and tell him to come get me.”
Rachel, looking more closely, asked, “Are you Willow McKenzie?”
“Yes. How do you know me?”
“I’m Rachel Johnson. We were classmates at Warren Central. I haven’t seen you in several years, but your blonde hair, the envy of every girl in our school, still looks so pretty. But let me call Connor and get him over here.”
Rachel didn’t need to look up Connor’s number because she remembered it from past years. She and Connor were friends and occasionally met on the Vicksburg social scene. Although they had dated, they were never considered an item in town.
Rachel placed the call to Connor.
He answered on the second ring with, “This is Connor.”
“Connor, this is Rachel. Willow is with me at the Credit Union and you need to get here quickly.”
“At the Credit Union?”
“Yes. She has had a problem with her car and needs your help.”
”Okay. She’s not hurt is she?”
“No, but come as quickly as you can.”
Connor’s office was located directly across Interstate 20 about a mile as the crow flies. But, he would have to go to the Indiana Avenue overpass, then onto the South Frontage Road. As he parked in front of the Credit Union, he saw
“You need to pay for the gas first.”
“Yes sir, I know. But, you see, I don’t have any money and I need to call someone to bring me my purse.”
Looking over his horn-rimmed bifocals, he said, “I know you. You’re Rupert McKenzie’s daughter.”
“That’s right,” Willow said, relieved that the old gentleman recognized her. “I apologize that I don’t have any money on me. But, if you will let me use the phone, I’ll have someone here in a few minutes to pay . . . .”
Before Willow could finish the sentence, the old man interrupted, “You give me the car keys. Then, maybe I’ll let you use my phone.”
“Yes Sir. Okay, I’ll do that. Just a moment.”
As Willow returned with the keys she thought what a grouch? I thought everything would be all right when he recognized me.
Sliding the keys through the opening at the bottom of the plate glass window, Willow said, “Here they are, sir. Now, may I use your phone?”
“Hell, no. I want you to stand over there and cool your heels.”
With a quizzical look, she asked, “Cool my heels?”
“Yes, just move away from my cage so I can see all of you.”
Facing the old man as she cautiously stepped back, she saw a devilish smile cross his face.
Then he blurted out. “Stop. That’s far enough. Stand there and slowly turn completely around.”
It was obvious that this old man was lusting in his mind, but what was Willow to do?
With her heart pounding, Willow looked to her left and spotted the Mutual Credit Union Building. Not wanting to be subjected to any more of this old pervert’s stares, Willow bolted in full stride across the parking lot toward the front door of the Credit Union. It was exactly 5 P.M. and the lady inside had just inserted the key, locking the door for the night. Frantically, Willow pounded on the door saying, “Please let me in.”
Looking through the thick glass door at this hysterical woman standing against the glass, all of the employees and a couple of customers froze for a second. Then the lady with the key unlocked the door and Willow pushed it open.
"My goodness, what’s the problem?” asked the lady.
“May I use your phone?” Willow asked, trying to catch her breath and compose herself.
"Yes, by all means. I’m Rachel. Do you want me to call someone for you?”
“Yes. Call Connor Peppler at McKenzie Towing and tell him to come get me.”
Rachel, looking more closely, asked, “Are you Willow McKenzie?”
“Yes. How do you know me?”
“I’m Rachel Johnson. We were classmates at Warren Central. I haven’t seen you in several years, but your blonde hair, the envy of every girl in our school, still looks so pretty. But let me call Connor and get him over here.”
Rachel didn’t need to look up Connor’s number because she remembered it from past years. She and Connor were friends and occasionally met on the Vicksburg social scene. Although they had dated, they were never considered an item in town.
Rachel placed the call to Connor.
He answered on the second ring with, “This is Connor.”
“Connor, this is Rachel. Willow is with me at the Credit Union and you need to get here quickly.”
“At the Credit Union?”
“Yes. She has had a problem with her car and needs your help.”
”Okay. She’s not hurt is she?”
“No, but come as quickly as you can.”
Connor’s office was located directly across Interstate 20 about a mile as the crow flies. But, he would have to go to the Indiana Avenue overpass, then onto the South Frontage Road. As he parked in front of the Credit Union, he saw
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