Road Test

by David Wickenhauser

  Once hooked up, Hugh drove all the way around the hot dog building, down and up the swale again, and went straight for the truck scale.

  As had happened before, he was dangerously close to the maximum weight limit of eighty-thousand pounds. There were times he had been just ten pounds under.

  Hugh was grateful that because of the spread axles and the careful loading, none of the axles were overweight. He was also grateful the weight included the fuel he had put on at the terminal before he left. There had been times when he had been close to the weight limit and couldn’t fuel up without first burning a lot of fuel to get rid of some of the weight.

  This Costco DC was off of I-5, so it was a quick hop on, and they were headed south. Parking tonight in Kingman.

  At Lost Hills, Hugh took Highway 46 to cross over to Highway 99, then connected with Highway 58 in Bakersfield to continue east into the desert.

  “Speaking of the Bakers Town Bad Asses,” Hugh said, and Jenny broke out laughing. He did it again. He had made the association between Bakersfield and their encounter with Jenny’s motorcycle gang friends the last time they had come through there.

  “Do you remember when Huey put his phone number in the contacts of your other phone? That didn’t get transferred over to the new phone did it?”

  “No. I guess it didn’t.”

  “How about seeing if you can find his number, and add it to each of our phone’s contacts.”

  Hugh would need it for one of the projects he was planning with his mom.

  Jenny tapped on her phone and got the number for the Harley dealership where she used to work. She put it on speaker.

  “Hey, is this Ben?” she asked.

  “Yeah, who’s asking?”

  “Ben, it’s me, Jenny.”

  “Sweet Jenny. It’s so good to hear your voice. What have you been up to?”

  “So much to tell,” Jenny said. “But the main thing is, can you give me Huey’s – Roc’s – phone number?”

  “Sure. No problem.” He read it out to her.

  “Thanks. I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later,” she said.

  “By the way, Hugh, can we do something while we are driving through Bakersfield?”

  “Sure, honey. What is it?”

  “Can we go to the house where Jimmy and I used to live with my uncle? I’d like to pick up a few personal things.”

  “No problem, as long as I can park this thing nearby.”

  Jenny directed Hugh to a neighborhood that might have been up-and-coming fifty or sixty years ago, but that no longer showed pride of ownership. The feature of the older neighborhood that Hugh did appreciate was its wide street connecting two major thoroughfares.

  “Here,” Jenny said, as she pointed to a run-down-looking house with weedy growth in the front yard, and overgrown bushes hiding most of the front of the house.

  Hugh was able to park against the curb in front of the home.

  “Can you get in?” Hugh asked. He assumed any key she might have had would have been long lost.

  “I think so,” Jenny replied. She walked toward the front entrance, then stepped off of the sidewalk and dug a rock out of the weed patch. Snug in a little cavity in the bottom of the rock was the house key.

  A musty smell greeted Hugh and Jenny as they crossed the threshold. A layer of dust covered every surface, and the house had the feel of a home long-abandoned.

  “How do you feel about seeing this?” Hugh asked.

  “I don’t feel much, actually. This was never a happy home for me. I only came to live here after my dad was killed, and my uncle was either gone or drunk most of the time.”

  Hugh was silent at the mention of her dad being killed.

  He followed her into her bedroom, and watched as she walked around the room. She would occasionally pause as a memento from her teenage and young adult life caught her eye.

  She found a bag and packed it with a few keepsakes – photos of her with her mom and dad, and with her little brother Jimmy, some cheap jewelry, a few items of clothing. In a drawer she found her Social Security card and her birth certificate.

  Jenny took a tour around the rest of the house.

  “Whoa, look at this,” she said when she opened a drawer to a credenza in the dining room. She lifted out a cowboy boot box stuffed so full of cash the lid wouldn’t entirely close.

  “There’s got to be thousands here,” Hugh said. “It’s probably your uncle’s share of his hijackings. I take it he didn’t trust banks.”

  Jenny held the box, staring at the contents. “I guess it’s mine now, as his next of kin.”

  “What do you want to do with it?”

  “I don’t want any of it for myself. How about if we invest it for Jimmy’s college? I think that would be fitting.”

  “That’s a good idea, Jenny. We can do that.”

  The rest of the house didn’t offer anything else she wanted to keep. Her uncle did not make housekeeping a priority, and Hugh could see a lot of evidence of the bachelor lifestyle he had led – a lot of booze bottles, beer cans, old pizza boxes. The guy was basically a mess.

  She locked up on the way out, and halfway down the entryway sidewalk she tossed the key into the weedy front yard.

  “So much for that. I’ll never see this old place again,” she said.

  She placed her Social Security card and birth certificate alongside her California driver’s license in her wallet and put the wallet in the glove compartment.

  Back on Highway 58 heading east, they took a late lunch and restroom break at the Tehachapi travel stop, and then pushed on straight through for Kingman after connecting with I-40 at Barstow.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Hugh took the exit off of I-40 for the travel stop located a little east of Kingman.

  It was almost seven, so Hugh wanted only to make a pit stop, microwave a couple of his mom’s dinners and call it a night. He had pushed his fourteen right to the limit. Because he had started his day at 5 a.m., it had been a long day.

  He performed all of his shut-down tasks, and then he and Jenny walked to the facility.

  William and two other employees of Rico Investigations, one of them Kent, and a new guy named Greg, saw Hugh’s truck pull in and park. They hadn’t been sitting there long since getting the word from Frank to drive up to Kingman. For them, it was only about a three-hour drive.

  William had told them the plan of how he intended to grab Jenny. He didn’t want to make it a big fight, either inside the facility or outside in front of other truckers. So, he had planned to take her inside the Women’s.

  “Inside, boss?”

  “Yeah. That takes care of two things. It keeps us from having to tangle with the trucker, and it can be done quietly without drawing attention to ourselves.”

  “I’m not afraid of a truck driver,” Greg said.

  “You should be,” William said. “He’s one tough son-of-a-bitch. You can ask Jason. That is, when he’s able to talk again.”

  They saw Hugh and Jenny enter the store, and they followed quickly behind. They took a different route to the restroom area in the back, and when Hugh had gone into the Men’s they quietly slipped into the Women’s.

  William hadn’t thought about what he would do if there had been other women in the restroom, but they lucked out, and Jenny was in there by herself.

  They waited while she finished and exited her stall, then walked up to her. William saw she was a little thing, so he expected to put a hand over her mouth and lead her forcefully out of the restroom, and out the back service entrance.

  But, no battle plan survives first contact with the enemy, and Jenny proved that maxim by striking like a coiled snake at the closest guy, who happened to be Greg. She shot her arm straight out, fingers curled to present a hard row of knuckles, and landed a crushing jab to Greg’s throat.

  As Greg toppled over backward, he caromed off the faucet fixture, cut a deep, bloody gash into the back of his head, and hit the sink with his
head on the way down.

  Kent tried to get a hold of Jenny by grasping her upper arm, but grabbed nothing but air because Jenny was already moving fast. She put all her weight on her left foot, arced her right leg, and lashed out with a debilitating kick to Kent’s groin. His head went down, and Jenny’s knee went up.

  That movement swung her out of reach of William … but only for a brief moment.

  William had had enough of this contest, and he rushed in to encircle Jenny from behind with his strong arms and put her in a vicious bear-hug. He pinned her arms against her sides, then he lifted her bodily off of the floor, rendering any leg action ineffective.

  Jenny tried in vain to headbutt William’s chin, but she was too short and he was too tall. She was only able to bang her head into his upper chest.

  In the end, William’s sheer weight, height and strength advantage was too much for Jenny.

  “Tape this bitch’s mouth shut,” William shouted to Kent. Greg was in no shape to do anything to help the men subdue the still struggling girl.

  Kent had difficulty just trying to keep standing upright, but he managed to put a piece of duct tape over Jenny’s mouth. He zip tied her hands and feet. They then carried her out the restroom door, down the hall and out the service entrance.

  William did most of the carrying. For his part, Greg was dazed and confused, and he left a bloody trail on the way out. Kent managed only a bent-over, hobbled kind of walk. He was bleeding from his nose broken by Jenny’s knee.

  They’d had their van parked behind the building right by the service door, and were able to throw her inside and take off. William drove.

  “Holy shit! What the fuck happened back there?” Kent yelled from the front seat.

  Greg was still dazed, and wouldn’t have been able to speak, even if he’d wanted to. He was lying down in the back with Jenny.

  “I want to choke that little shit girl to death,” Kent said. He started to get up from his seat.

  “Cool it, Kent,” William said. “We have very strict instructions not to hurt her.”

  “Hurt her!” Kent yelled. His voice was incredulous with irony. “Do you see what she did to us!”

  “Calm down, Kent.” William said. “Now you know why I preferred doing this without the trucker getting involved. Imagine what it would have been like with him when his old lady was this hard for us.”

  “For fuck’s sake you got that right!” Kent said.

  “OK. Now we’ve got to followup with the rest of the plan.”

  Hugh had done his business, and was outside the front entrance waiting for Jenny. When she hadn’t shown after more than a few minutes, he went inside to look for her. She was probably shopping.

  As soon as he entered the store he could see a lot of commotion in the back toward the restrooms. He hurried in that direction. The Women’s door was open, and he could see blood spatters on the sink and walls. A trail of blood led from the bathroom, down the hall and out through the service entrance door.

  Hugh had no doubt about what had happened, but he was surprised at how quickly the enemy had managed to put the plan together and pull it off. He had his cell phone in hand, and was getting ready to dial 911 when he heard his ring tone. Jenny’s image popped up on his screen.

  “You son-of-a-bitch. If you’ve damaged one hair on her head!” Hugh answered, yelling. The guy had called using Jenny’s phone, but Hugh had correctly guessed it wouldn’t be Jenny on the other end of the phone call.

  “Here’s what you’re going to do,” a voice said. “You are not going to call 911. You are not going to try to find us. We have her, and her health and safety are entirely up to you. Got it?”

  A cold, hard hatred and resolve overcame Hugh. It was combat time again, and also time to be smart. Top priority was keeping Jenny unharmed.

  “What have you done to her? How badly hurt is she?” Hugh heard ironic laughter from the kidnappers’ end of the conversation.

  “Don’t worry, she’s completely unhurt,” William said.

  “That’s a lot of blood.”

  “Not hers.”

  That’s my Jenny, Hugh thought. Those self-defense lessons must have paid off.

  “Go back to your truck and await further instructions. Continue on to Phoenix tomorrow to make your delivery as if nothing has happened. We’ll be in touch.”

  Two thoughts went through Hugh’s mind. One was to thank God they had Jenny’s phone and were likely to keep it with them. Hugh would be able to track where they took Jenny.

  The other one was a plan already forming in his mind how to rescue Jenny from her captors … and his idea did not involve calling the cops. Quite the opposite, in fact.

  Hugh did go back to his truck, but he had absolutely no intention of going quietly into the night.

  His first phone call was to James to tell him about the kidnapping, and to warn him that Charlie might be next. The thugs didn’t know about James, and that Charlie was riding with him. But they did know because of the tracking on Charlie’s phone she was no longer on Hugh’s truck. So, she had to be somewhere, and they could find her.

  He suggested they ditch Charlie’s phone where it could be carried off in a different direction from where James was going. That should keep Charlie safe for a while as long as she didn’t return to Boise.

  He hung up, and found the name in his contacts he was looking for, and dialed from his phone again.

  “Yeah,” was the answer. A gruff, smoke-roughened voice.

  “Is this Roc?” Hugh asked.

  “Maybe. Who wants to know.”

  “You said if Jenny is ever in trouble you’d come. No matter when. No matter where.”

  “Did the trucker guy fuck with her?”

  “No. I’m the trucker guy. We’re getting married, but she’s in trouble. She needs your help.”

  Hugh explained briefly what had happened, and what he was hoping Roc and his motorcycle gang could do about it.

  “So, you’ve got tracking on her phone? That’s smart, man.”

  “Thanks. Are you in?”

  “Of course. Where do you want us, and when?”

  “Right now, all I can plan for is to be in Phoenix tomorrow. As soon as I know where they are keeping her you’ll be the first to know.”

  Sleep came hard to Hugh that night.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The next morning, even though Hugh had less than a three-hour drive ahead of him, and his delivery wasn’t until later in the afternoon, he had a lot of nervous energy and wanted to get on the road to Phoenix.

  Shortly after taking the on-ramp to I-40 east, Hugh’s phone rang. It was Jenny’s image that popped up on the screen.

  He answered with his Bluetooth headset, “What?”

  “During your deposition, you make up any story you want to about how the accident was your fault. Just make sure it’s persuasive.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or you’ll never see your little blondie gal again.”

  “You’ve signed your own death warrant, pal.”

  “A threat from someone with no means to make it happen. I’m so afraid.”

  “Be afraid. I’m coming for you.” Hugh hung up.

  Hugh took the exit to Highway 93, which would take him south toward Phoenix. At the end of the off-ramp he braked and parked on a wide gravel shoulder.

  He figured they had Jenny in Phoenix by now, and the phone call was from where they were holding her. He found the hidden icon for tracking Jenny’s phone.

  Zooming in, he was able to locate the address of the house in the Scottsdale area where they were keeping her.

  Hugh pushed his call button again, and spoke into the Bluetooth headset microphone, “Call Roc.”

  “Roc, I’ve heard from Jenny’s kidnappers, and I have an address where they are holding her. How soon can you get to Phoenix?”

  “The boys are all ready. We can leave right away. About seven hours.”

  That would be around three-ish. Hugh t
old him the address for his WestAm terminal in West Phoenix, and said he would meet them there.

  Hugh spent the rest of the time driving down to Phoenix working out the bones of a plan. It was complicated, with a lot of moving parts, and some unknowns that could alter his plans, but he was comfortable with the gist of it.

  Hugh pulled into the WestAm terminal around ten, parked, then went into the terminal office.

  His dispatcher, Gloria, saw him standing at the counter. She gestured to him to come to her work station and buzzed him through the gate.

  As he walked toward her, he glanced around the center, looking over the dozen or so other dispatchers working there. He wondered which of them was the one who had caused so much trouble for him. The fact that he knew it was a female was no help, since all the dispatchers were women.

  “Hugh, I’m glad you’re here. A couple of things,” Gloria said. “Because of the circumstances, you’re being relieved of your load and won’t make your delivery. When you get a chance, drop it, and a day cab driver will ferry it over to the Costco DC.”

  “That’s a relief, thanks,” Hugh said. He knew he had a lot to do between now and tomorrow late morning when he had to appear for the deposition.

  “The other thing is you’re supposed to go upstairs immediately to the terminal administrator’s office. You’re meeting with an attorney who is going to go over your testimony with you.”

  In the terminal administrator’s office, Hugh was introduced to Grant Elliot Johnston III, attorney for Western America Trucking, Inc. Also present was the terminal administrator, Warren Bufont.

  “Sit down, Hugh,” Warren said.

  Hugh sat on one side of a conference table. Johnston and Bufont sat on the other.

  “This is a routine deposition,” the attorney said. “It’s common to virtually all lawsuits, and is part of the discovery process.”

  Hugh nodded.

  “You will be under oath, but it will take place in a casual setting. A judge will not be present, and I will be at your side the whole time.”