Road Test

by David Wickenhauser

“Can we get ready for bed? Maybe boot up the laptop and watch a movie?” Jenny asked.

  “You read my mind.”

  A couple of hours later, after Hugh and Jenny had turned lights out and were drifting off to sleep, Charlie opened the passenger side door and saw her carryon bag on the passenger seat. She picked it up quietly, closed the door gently, and walked over to where James was holding open the passenger door to his truck.

  Hugh and Jenny both breathed sighs of relief.

  “It looks like she’s down for the night at an Indian casino south of Redding in California.”

  William was on a late phone call with Frank Rico of Rico Investigations. He’d been tracking Charlie’s cell phone.

  “The attorney is starting to get worried about his investment in the reporter,” Frank said. “Wait until tomorrow morning, and if you don’t hear from her first thing send her a text. Tell her she had better give us something … or else.”

  “Got it,” William said.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Hugh was making coffees for Jenny and himself when he saw people stirring in the truck next to his. James’ truck.

  He saw James and Charlie get out and walk over to the restrooms. After they returned, Charlie climbed back in to James’ truck to make coffees, and James came over to say hi to Hugh and Jenny.

  “So, how’s life with Charlie?” Hugh asked.

  “It’s OK. For now. Definitely not going to be a long-term thing. We’re a little bit like oil and water.”

  “Believe me, I know what you mean,” Hugh said. Jenny nodded her agreement.

  “But, that’s OK. I’ll bite the bullet for you, kid. At least until we figure out how to get you guys out of this mess.”

  James had a longer drive to his delivery in Hermiston, Oregon, than Hugh did to his in Tracy. So James said he was going to get on the road fairly quickly.

  Charlie came over with the coffees she had made for James and herself. They chatted a bit, then James jumped down to do his pre-trip.

  “Hugh, I want to thank you for everything. For taking all of this so well. And especially for being such a gentleman. It’s obvious something is special about your family. It’s given me a lot to think about.”

  Hugh graciously told her it was a pleasure having her aboard under such trying circumstances, and he hoped it all worked out well.

  As Charlie climbed down to rejoin James, Hugh said to her, “Let’s keep in touch. I have a feeling things might get moving fairly quickly when they discover you’re not going to be their snitch.”

  James pulled out with Charlie on board, leaving Hugh and Jenny alone together for the first time since their stay at the Phoenix resort.

  “Well, here we are. Finally,” Hugh said.

  “Finally,” Jenny agreed.

  Hugh had been going over his schedule for the next couple of days.

  “We’ve got a short drive today to our destination at the Tracy Costco DC, only about three hours. But we don’t deliver until early tomorrow morning, so we’ll have to park somewhere tonight.”

  He looked up to see Jenny grinning at him.

  “What?”

  “I love when you say we,” she said, looking all cute.

  Hugh laughed.

  “OK. Back to business. There’s only one truck stop in the Tracy area, and it has a horrible reputation. Badly kept up. Filthy restrooms. Bare bones convenience store. I’ve been there. Believe me, the bad reputation is well-deserved.”

  He told Jenny their best choice to overnight will be the company’s terminal in Lathrop. The Costco DC in Tracy is about a thirty-minute drive beyond there.

  “That means we’ll have an early morning tomorrow, since our door time at the Costco DC is 6 a.m. There is no such thing as being early or late for the door time, so we would have to leave here about 5 a.m. to get in line on time for our check-in.”

  The good news, he told Jenny, is the Lathrop terminal is fairly new, with easy, non-crowded parking. It also has clean, private showers. Even better, it’s right next door to a Ghirardelli Chocolate outlet store.

  “You like chocolate, don’t you?” he asked.

  “What do you think?”

  “Yeah. I figured. You’ll enjoy that place.”

  Hugh exited the casino parking area, and pointed the nose of his Freightliner Cascadia south on I-5. Next stop Lathrop.

  This first leg of the drive didn’t have much to recommend it. Only miles of farmland interrupted every ten to twenty miles by small towns; towns which the freeway handily bypassed.

  It was only the signs announcing their existence that told freeway drivers they were passing by small towns with names like Orland, Willows and Williams.

  Jenny remarked about the large fields of rice cultivation they came upon north of Sacramento.

  “Interesting, huh. You wouldn’t guess California is the second-largest rice-growing state in the nation. Most of it is grown in the few counties right around here,” Hugh said.

  He told Jenny this area’s history of growing rice goes back to the Gold Rush period, when Chinese immigrants came over to work as laborers in the gold fields and on the railroads. Part of the deal was they got paid in rice.

  Employers quickly realized importing rice to feed their Chinese laborers was too expensive, so they began growing it themselves. This area, the lowland Sacramento delta, turned out to have the perfect soil type and climate for growing that crop.

  “So, now, long after the gold has played out, rice growers are still reaping profits from an enterprise that began because of the Gold Rush,” Hugh said.

  “You sure know a lot of stuff,” Jenny said.

  Hugh couldn’t decide if she was being sarcastic. “When you’ve sat behind a wheel like I have for a couple of million miles, you pick up tidbits of information about the areas you pass through.”

  Jenny unbelted herself and went back to the sleeper.

  “What are you doing, honey?”

  “You’ll see.”

  When she got back into her seat she was holding a thick folder of papers.

  “I’m studying for my learner’s permit,” she said.

  “Really? How are you doing that?”

  “I found this website that has a fantastic training program. It takes people through the whole process to prepare them to take the test for their CLP. They have an incredible pass rate record.”

  “Wow! That’s great,” Hugh said. He was impressed with Jenny’s initiative.

  “So you must be serious about getting your CDL.”

  “You bet I am. By the way, I’ll need your laptop when we get parked at the terminal. I made printouts of what I’m studying right now, but I’ll need to log in to take the section quiz and monitor my progress.”

  “No problem, sweetie. I think that’s fantastic.”

  Hugh was quiet as he covered the miles heading south, giving Jenny a couple of hours to study.

  They made it through Sacramento, then Stockton and pulled into WestAm’s company terminal in Lathrop in time for lunch.

  “You know what?” Jenny said when they had eaten sandwiches, and made coffees.

  “No. What, sweetie?” Hugh replied.

  “I’m thinking I could stand to take a shower. I left the ranch so quickly the other day I didn’t get a chance to take one. You say they have good ones here?”

  “Yup. In private rooms like the travel centers. You’re in luck, too, because mid-day like this at least one should be available. The only thing is you have to bring your own towel, soap, shampoo and such.”

  “If you can get me in, I’d like to go ahead and do that before we go to the chocolate outlet.”

  “Oh, yeah. I’d forgotten about that. I’ll come with you and take one too,”

  Jenny gave him a funny look.

  “After you come out, of course.” Hugh kept to himself the thought that, pretty soon, someday …

  Hugh swiped his company card to open the door to the main lounge. Jenny followed him in. The usual
gaggle of truckers were sitting around the half-dozen large, round tables. Guys on their ten, and possibly some taking their thirty-four-hour reset.

  They weren’t the least bit shy about showing their appreciation for the pretty blonde following Hugh through the main lounge toward the back hallway, down which were the restrooms and showers.

  Wait until you see her after she comes out, Hugh thought.

  He swiped his card again to open a shower room door for Jenny, then went in first to check out the room. Everything looked good. WestAm took good care of its truckers, and hired somebody to clean each shower room several times a day.

  When Hugh went back into the lounge he recognized a couple of drivers who he knew casually. Hugh was always amazed at how often drivers would cross paths. Any of the same guys he sees in the lounge here might turn up two weeks from now halfway across the country at the same truck stop as Hugh, or be standing in front of him at a shipping office.

  “Hey, Hugh,” one of them said, “who’s your old lady, and why aren’t you in there with her?”

  “She’s my fiancé,” Hugh said, and left it at that.

  “I heard about your accident,” another trucker said. “Bad break. Is Safety all over you?”

  “Nah, my dash cam completely exonerated me. It was a typical swoop and squat. Two cars swerved into my following gap. Only, they cut it too close and one of them caught the bad end of the deal.”

  He didn’t go into details about it being a staged crash for an insurance scam.

  Hugh continued to chat with the guys, trading “war stories” about road conditions, about the weather, about shippers and receivers.

  Jenny came out, looking all shy and adorable, and nervous before she spotted Hugh. He went to her and walked her to the door, then gave her his truck key so she could let herself in, and not have to sit around the lounge waiting for Hugh to take his shower.

  They had a whole afternoon and evening to kill while parked at the WestAm terminal in Lathrop, so Jenny was taking an after-chocolate-feast nap in the sleeper.

  Hugh was on his laptop, working on a project that had been kicking around in the back of his mind for a while. Aspects from several different angles needed to be checked out before everything could fall into place.

  It required a significant amount of research, and Hugh’s time to work on it would be limited to periods when Jenny wouldn’t be looking over his shoulder.

  Hugh also emailed his mom to ask her how the favor he had asked her was working out.

  Fishburn was beginning to get worried … and angry. He’d invested a lot of money in getting the reporter placed with the trucker. But two phone calls he’d received a short time ago were giving him cause for concern.

  The first phone call was from Joe.

  “Yeah, Joe. What’s up?”

  “Hey, boss. Just an update about the trucker. My guy, whose girl works at WestAm, says he’s parked at a WestAm terminal in Lathrop, near Stockton, California.”

  Then, shortly after that conversation, the attorney got a call from Frank Rico, of Rico Investigations.

  “Frank. How’s it going?”

  “Not good, Bill. My guy William got a text from the reporter this afternoon saying she still doesn’t have anything to report. But she’ll keep trying.”

  “Put some pressure on her. You know what to do.” Fishburn was about to hang up.

  “Just so you know,” Frank said, “I checked tracking, and they are on Highway 97 heading north past Bend, Oregon.”

  “Wait a minute,” Fishburn said. “Are you sure? That can’t be right.”

  “Yup. Pretty sure. It’s where the tracking app says her phone is.”

  “But I heard from my guy who was told the trucker is at his company terminal in Central California. Whose information do you think would be the most reliable?”

  “Well, the company knows where their drivers are at all times,” Frank replied. “I’d have to go with them.”

  “Right. So find out what’s going on. And get back to me.”

  Before the attorney hung up, he told Frank, “I’ve served deposition notices, which everyone should receive tomorrow. I’ll either need the reporter to testify with some dirt on the trucker, or we’ll need the trucker to have some incentive to claim responsibility for the crash. Take care of it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “Hugh, we’ve got a problem.” When James said Hugh, and not kid, or some other nickname, it was something serious.

  Hugh and Jenny were back at the WestAm terminal in Lathrop after delivering their 6 a.m. load at the Tracy Costco DC. He was waiting now on orders for his next load.

  “What’s going on?” Hugh asked.

  “Charlie sent a text yesterday saying basically she had nothing to report, but she’d keep trying.”

  Then James told Hugh she had gotten a reply text early this morning telling her to get away from the trucker somehow, and for her to call William, that it was urgent. They were parked at a travel center near Hermiston, and James had told Charlie to say Hugh was in the restroom.

  James, who was listening in on their phone conversation, said Charlie repeated what she had said in the text. Then William asked Charlie where she was. She said they were parked at a truck stop south of Hermiston, Oregon.

  William had said that’s what it looked like to him on the tracking app.

  “OK,” Hugh said. “What’s the problem?”

  “Apparently, the mole in the WestAm dispatch office is continuing to give out your location, and she told them you are at the WestAm terminal in Lathrop.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  “So William got angry, and demanded Charlie explain how she happened to be in Hermiston at the same time you were in Lathrop, seven hundred miles apart.”

  This was bad news. “What did Charlie say?”

  “She froze. She didn’t know what to say. And William was getting belligerent, making some serious threats.”

  “Uh, oh.” Hugh said. He had an idea what was coming next.

  “You’re probably not going to like this, Hugh, but my Navy Seal DNA took over.”

  Yup. Just what Hugh had expected.

  “I grabbed the phone from Charlie and explained to the guy what would happen to him, in great detail, if he harmed any of my friends.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then the guy said he’d be in touch, and he hung up. That was a few minutes ago.”

  Hugh realized two different issues with this latest development needed to be considered. The thugs were likely to make good on their threats to the reporter, but also, because she had failed in their mission to dig dirt on Hugh, they were also going to put into effect what Hugh had been calling their plan B.

  So, both truckers needed to be on their guard and diligent at all times. Hugh wasn’t worried about Charlie. He was confident James could protect her.

  Jenny had been listening to Hugh’s side of the conversation.

  “I take it that’s not good news.”

  “I’m not going to sugar coat it for you. We’re going to have to be careful. Charlie has failed them, and they know it now. So they might be coming after us.”

  “By us, you mean me. Right?”

  “Yeah.”

  Then two things happened simultaneously.

  Hugh’s Qualcomm chirped that he had a pre-load from his dispatcher, and his phone rang. It was Gloria, his dispatcher.

  “Hey, Gloria, what’s up?”

  “I sent you a pre-load, but that might change.”

  “Really.”

  “Yes, we got something in the mail from a law office. It was addressed to you care of this WestAm terminal.”

  “Go ahead and open it. It’s probably about the accident and lawsuit.”

  Gloria opened the envelope, skimmed the contents, and told Hugh, “Yup. You are required to make an appearance for a deposition three days from now at the attorney’s Scottsdale office.”

  “They’re not giving me much time.”
<
br />   “OK. Disregard the pre-load, it was going in the opposite direction. I’ll get you something to Phoenix.” She hung up.

  A few minutes later, the Qualcomm chirped again and Hugh had to go right back to Costco, this time to pick up a loaded trailer to be delivered to the Costco DC in Tolleson, in the outskirts of Phoenix, the day after tomorrow in the evening.

  He told Jenny about this new development. “We’ll head on out. It’s too far to make it in one day, so we’ll park in Kingman tonight.”

  He acknowledged the pre-load on his Qualcomm, and added his stop in Kingman. The load information and stop flashed immediately on the big load board in the dispatch center.

  Within minutes, Frank was on the phone to William.

  “William. Get a few of your guys up to Kingman by this evening. More than two of you. The trucker will be parking at the travel stop off of I-40 east of Kingman. He’s on his way to Phoenix, and I want him to drive the rest of the way down tomorrow without his fiancé.”

  “Got it boss.”

  “Do what you have to do to get the girl, but the trucker needs to be able to drive on down and to testify at the deposition.”

  Hugh drove into the Costco DC entrance for the second time that day. Instead of checking in at the guard shack as he had done in the morning, he drove on through to the other side of the giant complex, rounded a corner around the reefer building, drove down and then up a swale, and then cruised slowly along a line of trailers to look for the one assigned to him.

  Because it was later in the morning, the choreographed chaos from their early morning delivery had already subsided, and few other truckers were still around.

  “There it is,” he said, and backed his truck to hitch up. It was a spread axle, designed to carry weight spread more evenly across the axles. Costco loads were notoriously heavy.

  As Hugh was hooking up the glad hands for air, and the electricals, Jenny poked her head out his driver’s side window.

  “What on earth is that delicious smell?”

  “We’re parked right next to where Costco makes their kosher dogs, the ones they sell in the stores and serve in the Costco food courts. I know what you mean. It gets me every time.”