by Makenzi Fisk
Daylight waned by the time she found a parking spot near the river’s edge and settled the dog into her backpack. “Ciara keeps reminding me that you have four good legs but it’s faster this way.” He wiggled his head out the open zipper like an infant in a baby carrier. “Ciara’s so great. She’s so funny. Blah, blah, Ciara.” The dog’s ears flattened. “I’m sorry, buddy. I sound like a jealous teenage girl.”
“Rover, you and I are going to find us a fishing hole.” The dog blinked and his tail thumped inside the pack. She slung it over her shoulders. “We’d better get a move on before it’s too dark.”
This was a challenge and Erin loved a challenge. She studied the stars popping up along the horizon to calculate her time. Summer days were getting longer but, in fifteen or twenty minutes, what was left of the light would be gone. If she didn’t hurry, she would have to rely on the moon to navigate. No big deal. It was only a city path after all, not the Minnesota woods.
She trotted, one step ahead of the hungry cloud of mosquitoes tracking her human scent. Half an hour’s brisk walk upstream brought her to the Lockport Dam. Rover perked up at the noise and Erin risked a moment to stand still.
A cascade of water sparkled in the moonlight and she gaped at the sheer force roaring over the massive structure. When the insects homed in on her, she sprinted to evade them. Below the dam, the river was deeper. She could almost see the walleye thrashing at the end of her line. Her mouth watered. She would come back with her rod.
She released Rover from her pack and he shook his tiny body, legs shuddering with the force.
“Are you still sleepy? Well, go do your business before the skeeters eat you alive.”
The dog skittered into the brush. Erin smiled. He was hot on the trail of something and she’d better catch up before he disappeared in the dark. She followed him, amused at the seriousness with which he undertook his task. She’d always considered small dogs mostly ornamental, meaning they had no real dog skills. Rover might prove her wrong.
Nose to ground, he scampered through the bushes and across the field. He was quicker than she thought and she jogged to keep up. It wouldn’t do to lose this dog after she’d rescued him once. When he reached a fallen log, he nosed it and his ears stiffened like triangular sails. His body stiffened and his raised his hind leg backwards.
“Oh, you think you’re a hunting dog, do you?” Erin sank to one knee and patted his head. “But you’re pointing backwards. Did you find a mouse?”
A deep-throated chatter emanated from behind the log and Erin leapt to her feet. The pup barked, a gleeful pronouncement of his canine ability. Erin snatched him up and retreated a few steps. Many animals foraged at night. If this is what she thought it was, it would be a very bad idea to confront it.
The dog quieted in her arms and together they waited. Insects attacked her bare skin in droves but curiosity demanded she catch a glimpse. The chattering stopped. She circled the log, making sure she gave it a wide berth.
A growl vibrated in Rover’s throat, and she patted his head like a proud parent. “Shhh.” He was tenacious, but severely outmatched.
Behind a screen of brush, she squatted and made a low profile. Soon, she was rewarded when a bristly shadow eased away from the protection of the rotted wood. The near-sighted porcupine ambled out to strip berries from a currant bush.
“Seriously?” she whispered to the dog. “You’re not that tough.” She tucked him under her arm and retreated.
When they arrived at the truck, Erin loaded the dog into the front seat and swatted the majority of mosquitoes out the door before slamming it. She ignored the itch of insect bites across her shins. The walk had cleared her mind. She had been petty and juvenile. There really was no reason for jealousy.
Was it Ciara’s overt sexual energy that made her feel ill at ease? It was true that Ciara’s approach was unabashedly full-force, no holds barred. In contrast, Erin shared the understated subtlety of her Nordic heritage. Different personality styles, that’s all it was. She should call Allie. Erin checked her iPhone, but the dreaded No Service notice was displayed in the top corner of the screen. She should drive home and talk to her in person.
She started the engine and drove out of the parking lot onto the main highway. Streetlights blazed past as she neared the city. Puppy cuddled on her lap, she realized how tired she was when the yellow line down the middle of the road blurred. She jerked upright. Did her head bob? Was she at risk of falling asleep at the wheel?
She tried all her night shift tricks, blinking her eyes hard, stretching her jaw, and tickling the roof of her mouth with her tongue. If she had a package of sunflower seeds, she could stay awake all night but right now she didn’t have any. She couldn’t shake the fatigue.
A brighter residential area lit up the sky and she turned off the highway. The streetlights might keep her alert. Maybe she could stretch her legs for a minute and get her blood pumping. She parked on the side of the road and rubbed her eyes until they burned.
Now her phone’s screen showed full bars and she picked it up. There must be a cellular tower nearby but it was after ten. Should she call Allie? She nearly dropped it when it rang in her hand. Call display read Chris Zimmerman. She exhaled in relief.
“Dude, it’s late.” She idly scratched a mosquito bite on the back of her neck.
Erin eased open her window and swatted out a squadron of mosquitoes. Not that it would make a difference. She turned on the air conditioning and cranked the fan on high. The wind might keep them down. “Dang skeeters are eating me alive.”
“A-hem.” Zimmerman cleared his throat like an old man.
“Seriously Z. Twice in one night?”
Erin yelped when a dozen blood-sucking insects simultaneously drilled into her shin. She vaulted out the door, slapping at her legs. The dog stared at her from the seat. Not a single mosquito bothered him. She was the delicacy of the evening.
“I forgot to tell you something earlier.” Zimmerman tapped his knuckles, or was it his boot?
Erin stopped scratching and listened. The dog crawled back into her lap and closed his eyes. Why was he not scratching from insect bites?
“You know I always try to help you out, right?”
Erin grimaced. Even the squeaky clean Officer Zimmerman had been tainted by the media frenzy she’d created in Morley Falls. It was a stench that would have to dissipate over time and left other departments reluctant to soil their hands by association.
“Well, I finally managed to contact a friend whose husband is with Winnipeg PD. She says she’ll ask him to keep an eye out for Lily. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”
“Thanks Z.” She was lucky that he was resourceful, and connected. He’d always been on her side and she sure as hell would move heaven and earth to be there for him on his wedding day.
“Hang on! Who’s—?” Zimmerman’s normally low voice raised a couple of octaves. “Aw, never mind. It’s nothing.”
“You’re edgy tonight. Too much coffee?” She scratched welts on her ankle. Would Ciara have anti-itch ointment at her house? “Now get off the phone and get your paperwork done.”
“I’m not doing paperwork.” He lowered his voice to a whisper, as if it suddenly mattered. “I’m doing surveillance.”
“Let me guess. You’re sitting in a marked patrol car, directly underneath a streetlight, across the road from your target.”
“Uh, I’m not under a streetlight.”
She smiled to herself. He probably was. “Whatcha working on?”
“Trying to catch the suspicious character who’s been stalking my mom.”
“I told you Allie said not to worry—”
“Shhh!” Zimmerman’s hoarse whisper stopped Erin’s words. “There the bugger is! He’s been circling my mom’s block when he thinks I’m at work. Same red sports car, same bald guy hunkered down in his seat. I gotta go!”
The siren blasted, scrambling the phone’s sound into alternating static and squeals. Zimmerman
must have dropped the phone and forgotten to disconnect their call. Between the garbled sounds and the real life chase happening on the other end, Erin’s pulse raced. What if Allie was wrong? Was the mysterious man in the red car dangerous?
Tires squealed and the siren distorted something Zimmerman shouted. Was he calling for help?
“Z-man! Talk to me!” Erin’s fingers dug into her steering wheel. She pressed the phone hard to her ear and thumbed up the volume.
The squealing halted. A moment of silence was followed by a terrible thump. A gunshot? The eerie silence was filled by a tinny voice on the AM radio. She held her breath.
“Dang!” Another thump.
“Z-man!” Erin shouted as loud as she could. “Are you okay?”
There were rustling noises and then Zimmerman was back on the line. “Erin? Are you still there?”
“What the heck just happened? Are you okay?”
“The phone rolled under the seat.”
That explained the thumps, but what about the siren and the squealing tires?”
“I lost him,” he groaned. “Two blocks into it, all I see is dust. That car is fast.”
“Oh my God. I thought you were in a shootout or something.”
He chuckled hollowly. “I wish I could get that guy in my sights.”
Erin shook her head. Her heart rate had settled back to normal but her nerve endings were still firing. “You nearly gave me a heart attack, buddy.” There was something strange going on, but she had to trust that Allie was right. “It’s probably some poor vacuum cleaner salesman trying to make a living.”
“He can explain that to me when we meet face-to-face,” he harrumphed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“I’ll let you get back to your surveillance then.” She hung up and leaned her head back. The events of the day hit her squarely between her exhausted shoulder blades. She was reluctant to go home and face Allie after her childish jealousy. Maybe she could stall until Allie was asleep. Tomorrow she needed to apologize. Tonight, she was tired. Maybe she could close her eyes for a moment. Only a moment.
Her lids drooped. Was she reliving Zimmerman’s pursuit or did a black car race into an alley just at the edge of her peripheral vision? The hood bounced when it vaulted over asphalt and back onto gravel. Erin’s brain processed the information as if she were relaying it over the police radio: newer model Mustang, black in color, driving erratically, southbound. That was the same make of car she saw Lily steal. Her finger twitched to activate the overhead light bar as she fell into the dream.
CHAPTER 17
It takes only a few minutes to drive to Nina’s house in my shiny black Mustang. I’m satisfied when the only car in the driveway is her mom’s red van. No more dad. Easy as that.
Nina’s bedroom light is off, but it comes on in an instant when I toss a pebble at the window. By now she knows the drill and slides it open. She knows I’ll keep throwing rocks until she does.
“Pull out the screen,” I whisper.
“What happened to your face?”
I put a hand to my cheek and it comes away red. The skin is rough. I never noticed that before now.
“It’s a scratch. No big deal.”
“You’re going to have a nasty scab.” She sucks in her bottom lip.
“The screen.” I almost got my head run over for her tonight. The least she can do is stay on track.
She pulls the plastic tabs and the screen falls inside. I toss the bag up to her and it takes her about three seconds to count the bills.
“This is only two hundred.”
“That’s your share.” This was my idea and she can’t possibly imagine that I would give it all to her. I did the work. The other four hundred is tucked into my pocket in a tight roll of twenties. “Don’t be greedy.”
“I’m sorry.”
That’s more like it. “Sneak out.”
“Right now?” She glances over her shoulder. “It’s almost eleven”
Wow, that means I was passed out at the parking lot for hours. Well, I deserve a beer. “Yeah, right now. Just come for a while. I have a car.” Nina won’t admit it, but she really likes when we drive around. “You can be back before anyone notices.”
Fire dances in her eyes and she shoves the screen back into place. She’s coming.
I wait in the car, engine running, and she slides in beside me a few minutes later. As usual, she buckles up and then stares at my seatbelt. She never lets me get away with it. I sigh and snap it on. What’s the point, really? We’re in a stolen car. It’s not like a seatbelt violation is the first thing a cop will nail us for.
“Where are we going?” Nina smoothes the wrinkles on her lap and adjusts her shirt collar. The corner of her lips curve up. She’s too restrained to allow herself to actually smile but I know she’s excited.
I shift into drive and slouch in my seat so I can jam the gas pedal to the floor. The tires squawk and we rock back in our seats. Nina’s grin widens. Tonight I’m driving the car I was always meant to drive. The Mustang’s black paint gleams like the shiny coat of a panther and Nina has to be impressed. The steering is responsive as I veer down the first alley we come to and the speedometer hits sixty before we reach a crossroad. Sixty kilometers is not as fast as sixty miles, but it sure looks kick-ass when the dial zips past.
There is no limit to the stupidity of car owners. This sucker is worth forty grand easy. Who would leave forty grand cash sitting in a mall parking lot? Leaving the keys in the car is just the same. Stupid people deserve to have their cars stolen, just like my stupid uncle deserves it when I drink his beer.
I park a half block from my motel and tiptoe in. Uncle Albert works nights a lot, sometimes double shifts, and I never know when he’s going to be here. His snores shake the bedroom door. I ease open the fridge door and take out the six-pack he bought on his way home. He’ll be scratching his head in the morning, wondering if he actually put that beer in there or not. Within a couple of minutes, I’m back in the car and we take off again.
In the next alley, I push it and the car hits eighty before I have to slow for the crossroad. I gulp a mouthful of beer and place one hand in the twelve o’clock position on the steering wheel. I’m slouched so low I have to peek between my knuckles to see over the dash.
Nina is not as cool as me. Like on a midway ride, she curls one hand around the door handle and clenches the front of her seat with the other. Her face is frozen. I can’t tell if the half-grin is from excitement or fear. She squeezes the beer I gave her, unopened, between her knees. She’s on the best ride of her life.
“Did you seriously blackmail my dad?”
“Damn right.” I can’t believe she doubted me. “The bastard deserved it.”
“He did.” Her eyes narrow and she gives a single nod. “He really did.”
I suck the last of my first beer and twist open a second. Maybe it’s the time I spent conked out in the park, or the thrill of the fat roll of twenties in my pocket, but my head floats. I’m on cloud nine.
Nina fiddles with the buttons and the sunroof slides open, giving us a view of the streetlights flashing past. This night is perfect and nothing can go wrong. By the time I flick the cap from my third beer out the window, the excitement bubbling up from my belly overwhelms me.
Like a wild animal, I whoop to the sky. It feels good to let it out. I do it again. This time, Nina whoops with me, hers a tiny baby noise, but a holler all the same. She turns the radio up and surprises me with her choice of heavy metal. I roar out the sunroof while she accompanies me with drumbeats on her thighs. Her head bobs, whipping her hair back and forth. It looks cool. We look cool. We are cool.
When we pass a sign directing traffic to the highway bypass, I instantly make my decision. Tonight we're going to see how fast this car will go. I jerk the wheel to the right, throwing Nina against her seatbelt. With a little luck, and only a few cars around, no one will notice us. I steer the Mustang to the on-ramp and twist the cap off my four
th beer. Nina still holds her unopened bottle between her knees. She would have so much more fun if she drank it.
“Come on, don’t be a pussy.” I point the neck of my bottle to hers. There is a ninety-nine percent chance she’ll do what I want if I call her a pussy.
“I’m not thirsty.” She shifts in her seat. “And I don’t really like beer.”
“Pussy.”
“Don’t call me that. I’m not a—”
“Pussy. Pussy. Pussy!”
“Stop it! You're as mean as my dad!”
I almost pull the car over to the side of the road to slap her mouth. “I’m nothing like that bastard.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that.” Nina’s face blanches, eyes round as marbles. “You’re not… I’m so sorry.” She twists the cap off her beer and swallows half of it without taking a breath in a show of good faith. One eye squints with the effort. She takes another sip. “I’m sorry, Lily.”
“Fuck that!” It’s over and I can’t stay mad, not on this perfect night. My fourth beer sloshes in my gut, giving me the gift of forgiveness. This must be how the church people do it. Enough of that holy wine and they’re so happy they’ll forgive anyone. I stomp on the gas pedal and the car zooms onto the highway. I watch the speedometer shoot over a hundred.
Always sticking to side roads, I’ve never driven at highway speed before. Everything seems so fast. The dotted yellow line morphs solid and road signs flash by, barely giving me time to read them before they’re gone. My pulse pounds in my throat and my entire body vibrates. With the sunroof open, the roar inside the car is deafening and the wind twists Nina’s hair upright like the Tilt-A-Whirl at the summer carnival.
“You’re going too fast!” Nina’s face is pink and her knuckles are white against the armrest, but she still has a smile on her lips. Her empty beer bottle rolls across the floor.
Nausea hits me with dizzy force and I slow to a crawl. Cars honk their horns and swerve around us. “I feel sick.”
Nina touches my head. “Maybe it’s the excitement. Maybe you’re hungry. Did you eat today?”