house
with the rest of the estate paying Sam what was owed him. And since he had been
a “friend of Ben and Rebecca’s,” by extension he would be their friend. They
would all have to remember to talk about Ben and Sam keeping their names
separate. Especially since we were sure the killers were listening.
But we weren’t able to relax. We were
constantly looking over our shoulders. We jumped every time a black SUV
appeared anywhere. Another thing that gave us the creeps was Jim called and
said Mike had died in a traffic accident. He said it looked suspicious to him.
Well, that did it for me. I was never going
back to Fairfax. I had changed, and I wasn’t going to take any chances. Now I
was afraid to talk to Jim. I was afraid to talk about my old life or people I
knew. There were some wonderful people, but I didn’t want to die or cause them
to die at the hands of some cruel strangers.
“Please don’t let me get into trouble where
they’d fingerprint me,” I asked Deb, “and please don’t take me to the
Northeast,” I was so done with there until my name was cleared. Probably
forever.
Some of her customers were big regional or
national carriers. I started talking to the yard foremen while she was working
the truck. They told me who to contact so we could get the better loads. I
began to negotiate repair contracts. When we dropped a load at a location that
had a repair shop, then we could get repairs done there rather than going to a
stand-alone shop. Their shop rates were closer to cost, and we paid about half.
Sometimes we got really good loads to Pennsylvania or Ohio. It was farther
northeast than I really wanted to go, but as long as we stayed away from
Virginia and DC, then I wasn’t too scared about where we went. The shop in
Carlisle charged us forty-five dollars per hour, for example. It was their
internal-fleet-budgeted shop cost. I was very thankful for that.
I was becoming a trucker. Deb taught me how
to back into a parking space in a parking lot or a warehouse dock, how to parallel
park, and perform other maneuvers a truck driver had to know how to do. Now we
were together spending twenty hours a day in the same cab and getting to know
each other even better.
About the only time we were apart was when I
was taking care of repairs or trying to get better loads or Deb was doing
chores. Or she was doing our laundry now and I was washing the truck.
“I met the FBI agent working on Mike’s case,”
Jim called to say. “He had proven it wasn’t an accident, but he couldn’t
determine who had killed him yet. His name is “Stan” and he’s begun to work
Mike’s cases. Stan started asking about Rebecca and Leon. He found out Leon had
put Rebecca’s name on his banking account and had given her power of attorney.”
“She had never mentioned it to me.” I said.
"Stan told me it was because she had
pledged confidentiality, and Leon didn’t want anyone but her to know about the
deal.” Jim replied.
“OK,” I said thinking out loud. ”So what? She
helped out an old man, and he gave her power of attorney and probably made her
executor of his will. And somebody would kill her over that? It didn’t seem
probable, and even if so, why would it implicate me? This is getting stranger
rather than clearer. …Jim, why haven’t you turned me in? Does it mean you
believe I’m innocent?”
”Yes, I’m sure you didn’t do it. But more to
the point, I don’t’ have you in custody, and I can’t arrest you very well over
the phone. And since I don’t know where you are and won’t ask, then I can’t
drive up on you,” he explained further.
One night Deb wanted us to shower first and
eat later. It was OK with me. We worked very well together and had become good
friends. She paid me a fair cut of the truck profits for my driving,
maintenance work, and bookkeeping. I had almost no expenses, so I was getting
Sam Adams’s financial house in order. I had been with Deb now for almost
with the rest of the estate paying Sam what was owed him. And since he had been
a “friend of Ben and Rebecca’s,” by extension he would be their friend. They
would all have to remember to talk about Ben and Sam keeping their names
separate. Especially since we were sure the killers were listening.
But we weren’t able to relax. We were
constantly looking over our shoulders. We jumped every time a black SUV
appeared anywhere. Another thing that gave us the creeps was Jim called and
said Mike had died in a traffic accident. He said it looked suspicious to him.
Well, that did it for me. I was never going
back to Fairfax. I had changed, and I wasn’t going to take any chances. Now I
was afraid to talk to Jim. I was afraid to talk about my old life or people I
knew. There were some wonderful people, but I didn’t want to die or cause them
to die at the hands of some cruel strangers.
“Please don’t let me get into trouble where
they’d fingerprint me,” I asked Deb, “and please don’t take me to the
Northeast,” I was so done with there until my name was cleared. Probably
forever.
Some of her customers were big regional or
national carriers. I started talking to the yard foremen while she was working
the truck. They told me who to contact so we could get the better loads. I
began to negotiate repair contracts. When we dropped a load at a location that
had a repair shop, then we could get repairs done there rather than going to a
stand-alone shop. Their shop rates were closer to cost, and we paid about half.
Sometimes we got really good loads to Pennsylvania or Ohio. It was farther
northeast than I really wanted to go, but as long as we stayed away from
Virginia and DC, then I wasn’t too scared about where we went. The shop in
Carlisle charged us forty-five dollars per hour, for example. It was their
internal-fleet-budgeted shop cost. I was very thankful for that.
I was becoming a trucker. Deb taught me how
to back into a parking space in a parking lot or a warehouse dock, how to parallel
park, and perform other maneuvers a truck driver had to know how to do. Now we
were together spending twenty hours a day in the same cab and getting to know
each other even better.
About the only time we were apart was when I
was taking care of repairs or trying to get better loads or Deb was doing
chores. Or she was doing our laundry now and I was washing the truck.
“I met the FBI agent working on Mike’s case,”
Jim called to say. “He had proven it wasn’t an accident, but he couldn’t
determine who had killed him yet. His name is “Stan” and he’s begun to work
Mike’s cases. Stan started asking about Rebecca and Leon. He found out Leon had
put Rebecca’s name on his banking account and had given her power of attorney.”
“She had never mentioned it to me.” I said.
"Stan told me it was because she had
pledged confidentiality, and Leon didn’t want anyone but her to know about the
deal.” Jim replied.
“OK,” I said thinking out loud. ”So what? She
helped out an old man, and he gave her power of attorney and probably made her
executor of his will. And somebody would kill her over that? It didn’t seem
probable, and even if so, why would it implicate me? This is getting stranger
rather than clearer. …Jim, why haven’t you turned me in? Does it mean you
believe I’m innocent?”
”Yes, I’m sure you didn’t do it. But more to
the point, I don’t’ have you in custody, and I can’t arrest you very well over
the phone. And since I don’t know where you are and won’t ask, then I can’t
drive up on you,” he explained further.
One night Deb wanted us to shower first and
eat later. It was OK with me. We worked very well together and had become good
friends. She paid me a fair cut of the truck profits for my driving,
maintenance work, and bookkeeping. I had almost no expenses, so I was getting
Sam Adams’s financial house in order. I had been with Deb now for almost
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