“Thank you.”
“Did I say that out loud?” Hugh asked, as he turned crimson.
“Yes, you did.”
Hugh was surprised at the lack of embarrassment, and no awkwardness at all about them being in such an intimate position – on Jenny’s part anyway. On Hugh’s part, he was mortified when he realized he had a bit of the morning wood going on.
“Is that a sword in your pocket? Or are you happy to see me?” Jenny said, doing a fair imitation, but misquoting Mae West.
Hugh groaned.
“Don’t worry, mister. You ain’t getting any of this until you put that wedding band on my finger,” she said, wriggling herself against him for emphasis.
God help me. Hugh was careful to remember not to say it out loud this time.
Jenny jumped out of bed, made a long, leisurely stretch in her pajamas, and walked to the bathroom. Behind the closed door, she yelled out, “Hugh, you’ve got to see this!”
“Give me a minute,” he said.
Finally composed enough to get out of bed, Hugh straightened out his pajamas, and made up the bed. Jenny had come out of the bathroom. She had combed her hair, and put on shorts and a tank top. She looked happy, relaxed and gorgeous, a marked contrast from the nervous wreck she had been yesterday.
“You don’t have to make the bed, silly,” Jenny said. “I’m sure we’ve got a housekeeper.”
“I know. It’s that I can never feel my day is starting properly if I don’t make my bed.”
Jenny grabbed Hugh’s hand and started walking toward the bathroom. “Walk this way,” she said.
“If I could walk that way … ” Hugh started to say under his breath.
Jenny laughed. “I heard that.”
Jenny opened the door to the bathroom, and waved her hand with a broad sweep of her arm, like “voila.”
There before him in the over-size bathroom was large, granite-top double vanity with gold fittings. He saw a large, two-person Jacuzzi-type tub, again with gold fittings, and next to it was a large, glassed, walk-in shower with two nozzles on the wall, and two rain-shower heads in the ceiling.
Jenny looked at Hugh meaningfully. Hugh caught her drift.
The separate toilet room was as big as Hugh’s sleeper cab, and had a toilet and a bidet. These were all things neither of them had noticed last night. They we so tired and dazed, and wanting to be done with that miserable day.
She grabbed his hand again and pulled him out of the bathroom, and headed straight for the front door.
“Wait a minute. I’m not dressed yet.”
“We’re just going to take a tour, from the front entrance first.”
She led Hugh through into the main room. A huge sofa lined one wall, faced with two comfortable-looking plush easy chairs, with a coffee table between the couch and chairs. Prominent on the wall opposite was a sixty-inch, flat-screen television.
In one corner of the large room was a wet bar stocked with mini alcohol drinks. Next was a fully appointed kitchen, and next to it, off of the living room was a dining room, with a table that could easily seat six.
Hugh was glad he had thought to transfer the contents of his cooler last night into the Villa room’s apartment-size refrigerator.
Against another wall of the large living room was an executive desk with an executive reclining swivel chair behind it, and fronted by two additional chairs.
There was a door leading to a guest bathroom discreetly placed in a corner of the living room.
Straight out the other end of the long living room opposite the entrance foyer was another large glass sliding door leading to the same balcony they had seen from the bedroom. Paying attention now, they noticed the view overlooking a huge pond dotted with fountains. An island was in the middle of the pond that served as a putting green to accompany the eighteen-hole golf course they knew wrapped around the resort.
A person could live here, Hugh thought.
“I could live here,” Jenny said.
She pulled Hugh outside onto the balcony and pivoted to the master bedroom door slider, which she opened and drew Hugh through. She pointed out the forty-inch flat-screen television opposite the king-size bed, and the huge walk-in closet. Again, bigger than Hugh’s sleeper cab.
“See what you’ve been missing all your life, Hugh?”
“It’s nice. And I really love it, especially because I love seeing you happy and relaxed.”
“OK. Seriously, though. Can we afford this? It’s got to cost a small fortune. I’m guessing two or three hundred a night.”
Hugh didn’t want to spoil it by telling her how much he thought this room was costing him. He had caught a price list out of the corner of his eye when he was checking them in. He believed the Villa they were in was in the six-hundred-dollar-plus range. He was so tired, and so stressed last night when they had gotten here he hadn’t given a damn. And he still didn’t.
“Let’s talk,” Hugh said. He led her over to the dinning table.
“Something you need to know.”
“Uh-oh.”
“No. It’s good.”
“OK, go on.”
“You know I don’t own a house, have a mortgage. I don’t rent. I don’t own a car. With one exception, I have no expenses that aren’t related to driving the truck. No debt.”
“Sure, I knew that.”
“What you don’t know is I pull down a little over six figures a year. I’ve been in that range for at least the last ten years I’ve been driving. Before that, I was doing pretty well.”
“OK.”
“So, do the math. Can I afford a luxury like this once in awhile? Especially if it makes you so happy?”
“Wow. I had no idea. What are you doing with all your money? I bet you’re still wearing the first T-shirt you bought when you got out of the Marines.”
Hugh laughed. His mom hides his older clothes from him, but he knows exactly where his old T-shirt is at the ranch house.
“I’ve got some investments. A little here. A little there. A couple of big ones.”
“Like what?”
“Boring, safe stuff, mostly. So I can have a comfortable retirement. I already told you when I get done driving truck I want to buy a motor home and travel for a bit.”
“Yeah. I thought that was crazy the first time you mentioned it, and I still think it’s crazy.”
“But, when I’m ready to settle down for good, I’ve got a little patch of Idaho forest and meadow I’d like to improve on, build a house, raise animals, do a little farming.”
“How much is a patch?”
“About eighty acres. I bought it cheap before the boom started with West Coast people escaping the liberal hell-hole states and coming to Idaho.”
“I didn’t know that. I’d love to see it.”
“You’ve already seen it.”
“I did? When?”
“I’ll show you again some time. But don’t worry. It’s half yours now. Not only will you get to see it, but you’ll be living there with me some day.”
“Sounds mysterious.”
“I’m going to take a shower,” Hugh said. “Go ahead and order breakfast for us. The works. Pretend we are sitting down to breakfast at Mom’s. You know what I like. And don’t look at the prices.”
Chapter Eighteen
Early that same morning, another of the participants in last night’s horrific event had been resisting the morning sun’s attempt to get him to wake up.
Joe had gotten into bed a little earlier, after returning from taking his burner car on a one-way trip into the desert. The husband had followed Joe in his car. Joe would have preferred not involving him, but he knew he would need a ride back, and he certainly had not wanted to ask anybody else.
About twenty miles out of the city Joe had chosen a draw off of a secondary road that meandered into a wash walled with steep banks.
With the generous application of five gallons of gasoline sloshed liberally all over the car inside and out, Joe had b
een confident all identifying features would be obliterated. He even had taken the stolen license plate off of the back of the car, and had put it in the back seat, knowing the intense heat and flame would render it untraceable.
Before tossing the match that would start the inferno, Joe had remembered to chuck in his burner phone. He had the husband toss in his phone as well for good measure.
Back home, Joe had thrown himself onto his bed. His last thought before drifting off into a conscience-free sleep had been that the job had gone perfectly. Mission accomplished. There would be no doubt of the fatalities, and no question the driver of the truck would be found one hundred percent responsible for the crash.
What the sunlight streaming in through his window had failed to do, however, was accomplished easily by Joe’s cell phone’s insistent ringing. His real phone, not his burner one that was long gone.
“What the fricken hell! It’s six fricken a.m. in the morning!” Joe shouted as he reached for the phone.
It was the attorney.
“Joe, we’ve got a problem,” Fishburn said without preamble.
“What?”
“I watched the coverage of the accident on TV news last night. That definitely went off the way you had planned it.”
“You’re welcome by the way. Then what’s the problem?”
“Don’t get smart with me! The problem is it went too well. The fire destroyed so much of the car and the occupants that the authorities haven’t been able to identify the victims. As of this morning’s news they still don’t know who died.”
“Ah.”
“You get it? With no identifiable victims we have nobody to sue on behalf of.”
“I didn’t think of that.”
“Obviously.”
“What can we do?”
“You’ve got to get with the husband. Have him call the highway patrol to tell them his wife and their children left the house yesterday evening to go shopping and they never returned. He’s got to do some acting. He’s got to be distraught and fearful it might have been them in that horrible crash last night,” the attorney said. “Get it?”
“Yeah, I get it.”
“They’ll need him to go to the impound yard to identify his wife’s car. We need to get this taken care of before we can begin the rest of the process. Get on it, and don’t screw it up.”
Hugh came out of the bathroom, and saw Jenny sitting on their bed watching the morning’s coverage of the crash. Not much was happening this morning, so it was heavy on replaying footage from last night’s coverage.
An overhead of the accident scene clearly showed Hugh’s truck, and even Hugh himself standing near it talking to the trooper. TV and cable news were increasingly using aerial drones for this kind of reporting, which was considerably cheaper than using helicopters.
Prominent in the replays from last night were videos of the car still smoldering and smoking after the flames had been extinguished by firefighting personnel. It was only in the early hours of the morning that a flatbed tow truck had arrived to drag the car onto its deck for its ride to a police impound yard for forensic examination.
Authorities opened up the Interstate in stages, eager to do so, as commuter traffic usually began to build in Phoenix as early as 4 a.m., and all the westbound lanes had been shut down for most of the night. All lanes were opened by the time the morning news had begun its coverage.
Several major accidents occur in this city of around eight million people every day. But what has kept this particular accident in the news cycle for so long was that the accident’s fatal victim or victims remained unidentified.
Reporters this morning were appealing to anyone who might know who the victims could be to contact the authorities. Preliminary evidence that there might have been two children’s car seats in the back of the demolished vehicle drew an emotional response from the reporter.
Jenny was considerably more somber now, in sharp contrast to her ebullience earlier in the morning.
Hugh sat next to her on the bed, and put his arms around her.
“That was so awful, Hugh.”
“I know, sweetheart, but there was nothing we could have done.”
As they continued to watch the news, they were surprised to see Hugh’s image appear on screen. It was a photo taken by the Idaho State Police public affairs trooper during the commendation ceremony at Hugh’s parents’ ranch.
The chyron crawling from right to left underneath his photo identified the truck driver involved in the crash as Hugh Mann, the “hero trucker” who was recently involved in the hijackings, and in saving the life of the Idaho state trooper.
“That’s all we need,” Hugh said.
The reporter was stating that, according to unofficial information received from an unnamed source, but based on credible evidence, it was expected the truck driver would not be held responsible for the crash.
“Well, at least there’s that.”
Both of them were lost in thought, so they were startled by a knock on their door. It took Hugh a few seconds to respond.
“Breakfast?’
“Yeah, I completely forgot about that. Can we turn the TV off while we eat?”
“Please. Go ahead,” Hugh replied. “I’ll get the meal.”
The room service waiter wheeled in breakfast on a large rolling cart, uncovered each item from its heated cover, and set it all on the dining room table for them.
“Please leave everything here when you finish. Housekeeping will clean up,” the waiter said.
Hugh tipped him, and he wheeled the cart back through the door and out of the room.
“Everything still looks hot,” Jenny said. “And looks delicious.”
When they had started digging into the meal, Hugh said, “I’ve got to take care of business with the truck and insurance. Which means I’m going to be gone for a little while today. I think you should take advantage of some of the amenities they have here. You know they’ve got a large pool. And a spa. You should go pamper yourself.”
“Anything I want?”
“You shouldn’t even have to ask. Treat yourself to anything you want.”
“I don’t have a swim suit.”
“Don’t even ask. Anything you want. Buy one. Or two.”
“OK, I get it,” Jenny said, with a grin on her face.
“Make sure your cell phone is charged, and the ringer is on in case I need to get in touch with you.”
Joe was getting back to sleep when his phone rang again.
“Damn, what the fuck now?” he yelled into the phone. It was the attorney again.
“Watch yourself, pal. I’m not liking your insolence,” the attorney said.
“Sorry. What can I do for you?” Joe said. On second thought, he had hoped it hadn’t come out as snide as he had meant it. The attorney was a powerful man, and not someone who Joe wished to be on the wrong side of. Apparently, nerves were being stretched for both of them.
“Did you see the morning news?” the attorney asked.
“No, what’s going on?”
“It’s crazy. It’s turned out you picked the one trucker who happens to be the most famous trucker in the country right now.”
“Because of this crash?”
“No, you idiot. Because he’s the trucker who killed all those guys in the hijack ring, and who saved the life of that Idaho trooper.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“You really are stupid, aren’t you?”
“Wait. Come on now …”
“You don’t get it. His company will pay a small fortune to us to keep this from being a big blowout of a trial, especially when it becomes known a mother, her sister and two toddlers were killed by their golden boy.”
“I see.”
“Finally,” the attorney said, exasperation in his voice. “This could be a record-breaking settlement for us. And if they refuse to settle, which they won’t, it could be a trial with a record-breaking nuclear verdict.”
&nb
sp; The attorney went on, “Are you sure you had this set up so the truck driver will be found responsible for the crash? The news is hinting he will be exonerated.”
“You saw the footage from last night,” Joe replied. “It went off perfectly. That trucker was driving too fast, and wouldn’t let her into his lane, then ran right into her.”
“Good. Now get your ass out of bed and do what I told you about the husband.”
Chapter Nineteen
At the Freightliner dealership Hugh and the service writer walked out to the lot to look over Hugh’s damaged truck.
What Hugh had thought would be a minimal amount of damage was beginning to add up as the service writer walked back and forth around the front end of the truck tap-tapping on his tablet. The problem was that a modern Freightliner like Hugh’s was built with a uni-body bumper and side fender assembly that wraps as one unit from one side of the front end to the other. Damage to even one small corner of a lower front fender would necessitate replacing the whole unit.
The same situation existed for the hood unit, which was one uni-body assembly containing the hood, the quarter panels, the head lights and the front grill.
Damage to any part of the modular unit required replacement of the entire hood assembly.
The most costly, repair-heavy damage, Hugh suspected, would be to the radiator grill and what lay behind it – the engine cooling assembly.
As massive as modern big rig trucks look, they are really quite fragile, with little or no real front bumper to protect from any kind of front end collision.
“What’s it looking like?” Hugh asked Jake the service writer. Jake’s name was embroidered on his pin-striped service department shirt.
Hugh was more interested in the time than in the cost, because every mile he wasn’t rolling down the road was money. He had played up his income for Jenny’s benefit, but the fact is that Hugh was an owner-operator, and time off the road could cause his income to drop off dramatically. He had come off of a two-month hiatus, which had taken a further bite into this year’s income. He had some significant makeup driving to do.
Road Test Page 10