“I suspected.”
“Then why are you doing it? Don't go!”
“Because I think I can stay alive long enough for somethin' important to happen. If I don't go all of these past months work and Sloan’s death will have been for nothin’.”
“But he’s gonna kill you because of me. Crocker wants me and thinks you know where I am. Maybe I should turn myself into him.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I’ll tell him I ran away, that you had nothin’ to do with it.”
“Absolutely not.”
“If I do it before you show up, maybe I can stay alive long enough for what you need to happen.”
“This is not up for discussion, Rose. He will probably hurt you the moment he sees you, if not shoot you dead first. You’ve embarrassed him twice.”
“But he’s gonna kill you. Because of me.”
“No, he won’t.”
“I saw it!”
“You’re livin' proof that what you see doesn't always happen. Rose, I can’t not go because you saw somethin' happen in your head.”
“You’re the one who made me try it,” I said, hurt by his reaction.
Joe pulled me into his arms and gave me a kiss. “I don’t want to leave with us fightin’.”
“Then don’t go.”
Joe sighed and got up. “Do not look out the windows. Do not go outside until I come back. If something happens to me, Hilary knows you’re here and will come and get you herself. Do not open the door for anyone.”
“You make it sound like I’m in jail.”
“As far as I’m concerned, you are. Come here.” He grabbed my hands and pulled me off the sofa. “How about a kiss for good luck?”
I gave him a good one, trying to make him forget about going. But it didn't work. He walked to the front door.
“Please be careful, Joe,” I choked out through the lump in my throat.
He turned to look at me. His face looked like it belonged on Mount Rushmore, his profile hard with determination. “You still have to play in the rain,” he said, breaking out into a mischievous smile. “I want to do that one with you. Don’t do it without me, okay?”
I nodded, afraid I’d burst out into tears if I said anything.
And then he was gone.
I must have paced a furrow in his living room floor. I glanced at the clock. Only ten minutes had passed. I had no idea how long Joe would be gone. It could be an hour. Or ten. I threw myself on his sofa in frustration, sure I was gonna go crazy before he came back.
Then I heard barking.
I scrambled up. The sound came from the backyard. I ran into Joe’s bedroom and looked out the window. Over by my shed, at the edge of all the contents that still littered the yard, stood Muffy. Barking.
Muffy never barked. Why was she by the shed? She moved next to the rose bushes and howled, a chilling, haunting whine.
My stomach tumbled with nervousness and indecision. That dog meant everything to me. What if she ran away again? I couldn’t just leave her out there.
I ran to the front and peeked through the cracks of the curtains. No cars on the street, nothing suspicious-looking. Should I risk it? If I got caught, Crocker would know Joe helped me.
I returned to the bedroom window. Muffy had stopped howling and lay down on the mulch by the roses, waiting for me. She’d turned her body so I could see her back hip and the red splotch on her fur. She was bleeding. I knew I had to go to her. The question was how I could get her and not give myself away.
I’d climb out the back window.
I’d learned a lot about climbing out of windows the last few days, so I was much quicker than the first time I tried it. I even landed on my feet and plastered my body to the rear of the house. Dark rain clouds were rolling in and Joe’s yard was more shaded than mine. I could run through his backyard and most likely stay hidden. Then I’d skirt through the trees, make my way to the back of my yard and get Muffy.
The first part worked perfectly. I sprinted to the rear of Joe’s lawn and practically vaulted his three-foot fence. It helped that I hadn’t put on my shoes. While I was wearing my clothes from the night before, I figured heels were impractical running through wildlife.
I made it through the trees, directly behind the rose garden. It was a good twenty feet from the tree line. “Muffy!” I called. She turned her head to look at me, but kept her head lowered and whined.
“Muffy!”
She continued to ignore me and started digging in the dirt where I buried the gun. Did Muffy want me to dig up the gun?
As crazy as it was, it seemed like a good idea.
I bolted to Muffy and checked her backside first. Dried blood covered the wiry hair on her back left hip, but it looked old. When I tried to look more closely, she dug with her back legs, kicking dirt in my face. I let her go and started scooping dirt with my hands, thankful Muffy had a head start on me. In less than thirty seconds, I had the bag uncovered.
“Now what, Muffy?” I asked, thinking I needed to go back the way I’d come. I guessed I could push Muffy up into Joe’s bedroom window.
Muffy whined and ran into the trees. I tried to coax her toward Joe’s house, but she sat down in the shadows and whined again.
I kneeled beside her, rubbing her head. “What is it, Muffy?”
That’s when I heard the pounding on Joe’s doors. I dropped to the dirt, hidden by the shade of the trees. Two men beat at the door on the side of Joe’s house, one of them busting it in with a good kick. I clung to Muffy, shaking. I would have been in the house if she hadn’t come back and barked. After several minutes, they came back out, along with two other men. One of them held the shoes I wore the night before. They got in two cars and drove way.
What did that mean for Joe?
I sat in the dirt, stroking Muffy’s head. “You saved me, Muffy. Now I think we’ve gotta save Joe.” The only problem I saw with this plan was I didn’t know anything about saving anybody. I didn't even know where to go, let alone have a car to get there. But I did have a gun, even if I’d never shot one before.
I unwrapped it, careful to point it away from me. I couldn’t find the round spinny thing for bullets, then I remembered those were the kind of guns they used in prehistoric times. That covered most of the television shows I’d watched pre-cable. I was looking for the thing at the bottom of the gun. After a lot of fumbling and, I hate to admit, a little bit of cussing, I got it open. It appeared loaded.
Now to get to Joe. I remembered the truck parked outside of my house, the one driven by the guy who broke into my house. Weston’s Garage. It seemed like a good place to start.
Weston’s Garage was an old battered warehouse out past The Trading Post, off Highway 82 and a half-mile down a country road. I’d been there once with Daddy, back when I was about thirteen. They worked on service vehicles and tractors. Uncle Earl had asked Daddy to see if they had a part for his old combine. Back then it had been a scary place, with old farm equipment scattered around the warehouse yard like mutant lawn ornaments. Given the circumstances, I supposed it would be even scarier now.
First I had to figure out how to get there. I had no keys, no car, no driver’s license and no money. This could be a problem.
I stood up and walked toward my house. I needed shoes and I could think about my transportation issue while I got them. Lucky for me, Daniel Crocker’s friends had already opened the door.
His boys could learn a thing or two about being polite houseguests. My house was torn to bits. The intruder on Thursday had been looking for something; this time they did it just to be mean. I was gonna have to pay a cleaning service again and that made me plenty mad.
I found a pair of tennis shoes and slipped them on and I ran outside, still unsure how to get to Joe. Mildred’s old Cadillac sat parked in her driveway and an idea sprang to mind. I ran across the street, Muffy following behind, and beat on her door. I was just about to give up when Opal, the elderly neighbor next door to Mildred, poked h
er head out .
“Mildred’s at church, honey. She’ll be back after lunch.”
“But her car’s in the driveway.”
“Her son picked her up.” Opal came out onto the porch, leaning on her metal walker with florescent green tennis balls on the feet.
I stared longingly at the 1974 white Cadillac. It was a tank. I knew Mildred kept the keys in the ignition. I had an evil idea.
“My car’s in the shop and Mildred told me I could use hers. I plum forgot she had church this mornin’ and just wanted to thank her again for lettin’ me use it. So I’ll just take off and thank her later.” I was already moving to the driver’s door.
“Are you sure?” Opal asked, sounding confused. “Mildred don’t let nobody drive her car.”
“I know! That’s the amazin’ part, huh?” I opened the door and Muffy hopped in. She’d gotten me this far; it didn't seem right to leave her out now.
Opal pointed to Muffy. “I know for a fact Mildred don’t let no animals in her car.”
I had turned the key, the engine roaring to life. “Thanks, Miss Opal. You have a good day, too!”
She shouted as I pulled away. I turned to Muffy. “I’ve shot right on past the Seven Deadly Sins and moved onto breakin’ the Ten Commandments. We’re surely goin’ to hell now.”
Muffy answered by lifting her chin and turning her head. I was sure she told me she had nothing to do with the car stealing; she was letting me take all the blame for this one.
In about ten minutes I reached the country road where Weston’s Garage was located. I passed The Trading Post, my Nova still in the parking lot. If I had my keys, I would have switched cars. I wasn’t used to driving an ocean liner between driving lanes.
I didn’t have a plan, but I was smart enough to realize I needed the element of surprise. I couldn’t just drive the Titanic up to their front door; then again, maybe I could knock the building down with it. Last time I’d seen the old metal building, it looked pretty rickety. It would probably only take two, maybe three, good rams to knock it down. But Joe was inside, and I couldn't risk it.
I parked the car about two hundred yards down the country road, after I turned the car around to face the highway. Common sense told me we needed a getaway plan. So far, this was it.
I expected to see guys with machine guns or at least shotguns outside guarding the place. But the only thing I found were the tractor parts, even rustier than the last time I saw them and more dangerous since I was old enough to recognize the tetanus risk.
I grabbed the gun out of the car. Woods surrounded the building on two sides. A giant parking lot lay between the back of the building and the woods, scattered with delivery trucks like sprinkles dropped on a cupcake. Several luxury cars sat in the lot in front of the entrance. Crocker’s business partners, I guessed.
The woods had worked well for me the last twenty-four hours, so I returned to what I knew. Muffy insisted on joining me, jumping out of the car when I opened the door. I told her she could come, but she had to be quiet. It seemed like a stupid thing to say, but I felt the need to tell her something. We couldn’t very well synchronize watches. I stopped wearing mine when I got my cell phone.
We crept through the brush, between the trees, and I prayed I didn’t crawl through poison ivy. I still wasn’t sure it was the right place, until I saw Joe’s car was parked in back. The lack of guards outside concerned me.
A metal chain-link fence surrounded the property. I considered scaling it but Muffy would never make it. Besides, I had just mastered climbing out windows, fences were still on my to-do list. I walked along the perimeter looking for any gaps. Muffy found one toward the rear, big enough at the bottom for both of us to crawl under. I knelt down to face her.
“I’m not sure it's a good idea for you come with me, Muffy. Maybe you should wait for me here.” But I secretly hoped she would come.
I lifted the fence and Muffy scooted through first. I crawled through but scraped my side on the metal wire. If that was the least of my injuries today, I’d consider myself lucky. We emerged next to a delivery truck and hid behind it while I figured out what to do next. Since I couldn’t go waltzing through the front door, sneaking around to the back seemed like the best option.
We dashed across the lot and walked the length of the building to the back corner. Open doors gaped in the middle of the back wall, big enough to drive a truck through. Next to me was a metal door, propped open with a brick. I inched toward it and peeked in. Metal shelves lined the room, stocked with plastic bins. I didn't see anyone so I took a deep breath and opened the door wide enough to slip through. Muffy followed.
Edging along the shelves, I made my way toward the center of the room. It looked like a parts room with a door on the opposite wall. I knelt by the door and opened it just a crack, peeking through the one-inch gap. It was a large room, like the warehouse I’d seen in Joe’s vision. Two delivery trucks were parked in the center and men moved stacks of small packages. Joe stood to the side, watching. I didn’t see any sign of Daniel Crocker, which was fine by me.
I wanted to tell Muffy we were just going to wait, but she sensed it and sat down beside me. I sat with my back to the wall and Muffy laid her head on my lap. I scratched her neck while I listened to the voices echoing in the warehouse.
Probably a good ten minutes went by without anything happening. I was beginning to think that we’d make it out of the warehouse without any trouble. I wasn’t sure why I believed that. I had yet to have anything happen without any trouble.
It started with shouting in the distance, echoing throughout the warehouse. I jerked at the noise and looked through the crack. The stack of bundles in the warehouse was nearly gone, now inside the delivery trucks. Joe was carrying a package. Daniel Crocker descended metal steps with two other men. It looked like they came from an office above the warehouse floor.
“McAllister!” Crocker shouted.
My blood turned to ice. My vision was coming true.
Joe swung his head in Crocker’s direction. Rage engulfed Crocker’s face and he literally growled as he reached Joe and slammed him against the wall.
“Where is she?” Crocker screamed. His eyes were wild and even from my location, I saw the veins and tendons bulge on his neck.
“How the hell would I know?” Joe asked, looking disgusted. “I’m done with her.”
“I don’t believe you. The information was fake! I want the fucking flash drive!” Crocker slammed Joe against the wall again to emphasize his point.
Two men stood behind Crocker. I guessed they were important from the suits they wore, their stiff postures, and the bored expressions on their faces. They had to be Crocker’s business partners.
Crocker pulled a gun out of the back of his pants and held it up to Joe’s head. I had already jumped to my feet and stuffed my gun under my shirt, into the waistband of my jeans. I hoped to high heaven I didn’t shoot my toes off.
“Where is she?” Crocker growled.
“Lookin’ for me?” I shouted, walking through the door. I tried to not look nervous, like I knew what I was doing.
Crocker turned in disbelief. Joe’s eyes widened in horror. I hoped to God he didn't try anything stupid.
I walked toward them, hands at my sides instead of up in surrender, even though I was scared out of my wits. I didn’t see me surviving this.
“Lookin' for me?” I shot Joe a condescending glare. I wanted Crocker to think Joe had nothing to do with me getting away. I stopped a few feet in front of the group, their mouths all dropped open in shock. Even the men in the suits looked a bit surprised, although their Botox-injected, wrinkle-free foreheads had a hard time expressing it.
Crocker slapped me across the face. I should have seen it coming, but it caught me by surprise. I almost fell over from the force of the blow, but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. I rose back up, lifting my chin to face him.
“Where the hell did you go, bitch?” he shouted, turning the gun to
ward me.
My cheek hurt and my eyes burned, but I refused to cry. I stood up straight and stared into his menacing eyes. “I was lookin' for a real man. One who knows how to kiss better than you.”
I saw the look of pure fear in Joe’s eyes before Crocker slapped me again, harder this time. I started to fall to the floor, but Crocker grabbed my arm and jerked me back up before wrapping his hand around my throat. His eyes, wild and feral, reminded me of a rabid raccoon I had seen on Uncle Earl’s farm when I was little.
“Why’d you come back?” he growled.
Inside sanity desperately clawed for control, but on the outside I tried to look indignant. “I decided to give you another chance to impress me, although I don’t hold out much hope.”
The men behind him laughed. The fury in Crocker’s eyes turned murderous and the grip on my throat tightened, cutting off my air. I started to feel lightheaded as I gasped for air.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now,” he said through gritted teeth, spittle shooting through a gap in his top teeth.
“I’ll give you two,” I choked out. “One, you’ll never get the real flash drive, and two, you’ll never be able to prove you’re really a man.”
The men laughed again. Crocker growled and gave me a hard shove to the ground and pointed the gun at my head. I stared at him defiantly, waiting for him to shoot, not daring to look at Joe and give him away.
“Crocker,” one of the men said. “She’s right.”
“You mean provin' he’s a real man?” the other laughed.
Crocker leaned over and grabbed my hair in a tight grasp. I couldn’t help the yelp of pain I let out when he jerked me off the floor.
“That hurt, bitch? ‘Cause I haven’t even started yet.” He pulled me toward the stairs. I looked toward Joe. He looked torn. I shot him a look that I hoped read don’t you dare.
We stumbled up the stairs, and I was sure I would have a giant bald spot on the side of my head, not that I would care if I was dead. They could always put a hat on my head although I never looked good in hats.
I was grateful the other two men hadn’t followed us. They stood watching the trucks being loaded, glancing up the stairs, and laughing. Joe had come out of his stupor and had begun moving toward the truck. I really needed him to not come upstairs.
Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes Page 26