Indigo Man

by M. J. Carlson

  “Let me drive around and get you cooled off. Are you okay?”

  Zach held the other half of the cool water bottle to his head. “Yeah, I’m fine, but it’s a little hot out today to leave the kids in the car while you shop, Mom.”

  Sara snarled a response he missed and closed the trunk lid before walking around to the driver’s door and dropping into the seat. She started the car and turned the air conditioning up to full.

  He pushed the seat down and slid his upper body into the much-cooler passenger compartment, letting the chilled air flow over him, careful to stay below the windows. “Okay,” he said, after a few minutes. “That’s better.”

  “Maybe we should find another parking garage and wait until it gets dark and the temperature drops.”

  “No. The quicker we get out of town, the better off we’ll be.”

  “I really am getting a little worried about you in this heat.”

  “I know, but we can’t keep this up all day. Let’s go.”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  “Damn, I knew you were going to say that. You’re supposed to at least try to talk me out of it.” He smiled up at her as he slid back into the trunk space.

  She stared hard at him from where she stood. “It’s not safe, Zach. Either we wait for dark in a parking garage, or we make a run for it, now. You decide this one.”

  “Go. We need to get this done,” he grumbled, and pulled the rear seat up behind him, dropping him into darkness once more.

  Sara spoke just loud enough to be heard past the car’s noise, “Then our next route is out of town. Are you sure you can stand it back there till we get to the Interstate?”

  Zach repositioned himself in the cramped, dark space. “I’m good. Let’s roll.” He patted the flash drive in his pocket.

  The trip across town was a repeat of the escape from the parking garage. Stop and go, bumps and potholes, with the effect of tossing Zach around the trunk like a sack of discarded rags.

  After about forty minutes, a sharp turn shoved him into the wheel well again. Acceleration pushed him toward the rear as the whine from the car’s tires rose to a higher pitch than they had reached before.

  “We’re on the Interstate. We can relax a little, now,” Sara called out, from the front seat. “Are you okay back there?”

  “Great,” Zach mumbled, as he settled back. “I’m good,” he shouted through the rear seat. “Couldn’t be better. Just get us to a safe place, okay?” A muscle spasm in his neck, an aching between his temples, and a nagging pain in the small of his back were all competing with his broken rib for attention. But he’d be damned if he’d come off like a wimp to a woman who had demolished two vehicles and blown up a third to ensure his safety.

  “I’ll pull over at the first place I can and let you get up front.”

  “No hurry. I’ll just lie here, in the dark, curled up in the trunk of a car.”

  “Anybody ever tell you you’re a smart-ass?”

  “You?” he pushed the seat back a little further open.

  “You’ve been spending too much time with my father.”

  Zach laughed. “I’ve been thinking. I should spend some time bonding with your dad. He seems like he’d be fun to hang with.”

  “I will kill both of you.”

  “Aww, it’d be fun,” he went on. “We could go on fishing trips and stuff.”

  Sara started to laugh. “Jack doesn’t like to fish.”

  Zach thought for a second. “Okay, just a thought. How does he feel about the dog track?”

  “Zach.”

  “Wait, how about strip clubs? Bet we could invite Uncle Hank.” The car shifted in the lane, bouncing Zach’s head against the wheel well again. “Hey!”

  “Shut up, Zach.”

  He laughed. “I just thought, your dad being a former cop—”

  “Zach, shut up. Really.” Her voice carried an edge.

  “What is it?”

  “There’s a state trooper behind us. His lights just came on.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Zach worked his fingers around the side of the open seat and tugged it closed it as Sara pulled onto the shoulder of the highway.

  “Don’t move,” she said, as she braked the car to a stop.

  Zach barely breathed as he lay listening to the State Trooper saunter past the rear wheel, less than a foot from his head.

  “Morning, ma’am,” a deep, male voice said. “Driver’s license and registration, please.” After a brief rustling from the passenger’s compartment, the same voice said, “Please stay in your car, ma’am.”

  The sound of boots on pavement passed Zach again, this time headed to the rear of the car. He broke into a sweat that had nothing to do with the heat. The minutes crept by at what seemed like a geologic pace for Zach. A nerve in one of his calves started to twitch. He closed his eyes and worked to relax the muscle.

  The footsteps returned. “Do you know why I stopped you today, ma’am?”

  Zach wedged his shoulder against the wheel well, pressing his foot against the inside surface of the trunk, hoping to avoid a full-blown cramp.

  “I’m sure I don’t, officer,” Sara said. “I know I wasn’t speeding, because I had the Auto-drive engaged and set to two miles an hour below the posted limit.”

  “No, ma’am,” the trooper said. “Your rear tire is a little low. If you’ll pop the trunk, I’ll put your spare on for you.” He tapped his palm twice against the roof of the car.

  The sound pierced Zach’s focus, causing him to jump. He froze, holding his breath, hoping his movement hadn’t alerted the trooper to something amiss. Sweat beaded on his forehead. The twitching in his leg evolved into a mild cramp, as he’d feared.

  “Thank you, officer, but it isn’t necessary,” Sara said. “I’m aware of the low tire. A light on the dash indicates tire pressure, and it’s not blinking yet, so the tire’s not dangerously low. There’s no spare in this model, only a container of compressed nitrogen for emergencies.”

  “You sure, ma’am?”

  Sara laughed. “That’s why I rented the car. So I can call the rental company if I have trouble. It’s only a few miles to the next exit.”

  The cramp abruptly worsened, twisting Zach’s foot in an unnatural direction until he wanted to scream. He clenched his teeth to keep from groaning.

  “If you like, ma’am, I can wait until someone gets here.”

  “Thank you, officer, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to wait in an air-conditioned restaurant, rather than out here in the heat.”

  Tears trickled down Zach’s cheeks. The barbed wire contraction twisted through his calf muscle. He tried not to think about it with as much success as not thinking about an alligator while it gnawed his foot off.

  “Yes, ma’am.” A few long moments later, the footsteps passed him again, then receded.

  Sara started the car and accelerated onto the interstate. A nerve-straining few minutes later, she said, “He just pulled onto the median and turned around. I think we’re okay.”

  “Yeah,” Zach grunted. He forced his foot against the rear shock pillar, trying desperately to quiet his leg.

  “I’m going to drive on for a bit before I pull off.”

  “Okay,” he said, panting from exertion. He caught his breath and said, “I’m going to just lie here, like luggage, being quiet and pretending my leg isn’t trying to twist itself off at the knee.”

  “Whiner,” she said, and turned the radio on.

  “Uh,” he grunted, dropping his head on the thin, felt deck cover.

  A few minutes later, Sara lowered the radio’s volume. “How’re you doing?”

  He was still working the cramp out of his leg. “Peachy. You?”

  “Fine.” The short, clipped speaking style had returned to her voice.

  The noise from the tires dropped and he shifted as she pulled onto the shoulder and stopped, again. His arms and legs were numb, his chest ached, and he felt like he’d have been bett
er off if she’d tossed him out the back of the car and dragged him behind it.

  Sara walked around to the rear of the car, lifted the trunk lid, and held out a hand. “Come on, out. We’re on the other side of Sarasota, just west of Sarasota Springs. You should be okay to sit up front with the shades on.”

  “I can’t move,” he said. His legs refused to accept signals from his brain, and the right side of his chest felt like someone had jammed a knife into it.

  “Okay.” Sara moved to close the trunk hatch, but he threw a hand up, catching it.

  “No,” he laughed. “I’ll be a good boy, I promise.”

  She crossed her forearms over her chest. “Stop fooling around.”

  “Okay,” he said, and grunted against the stiffness as he levered himself out of the trunk.

  “Oh, God,” he said, as he leaned against the car. He stood on the asphalt, swaying on knees too keen on bending, waiting for the pins-and-needles sensation to recede from his legs, savoring the scent of fresh air. “That didn’t work exactly like we planned.”

  She inhaled through her nose and blew the breath out through pursed lips. “I had no idea Murphy was this crazy.”

  He surveyed their surroundings. They were parked in the stingy shade under an old-style billboard. Farm scents from the fields around them tingled the hairs of his nose. Other cars sped past them, leaving road noise and hot breezes in their wakes.

  “What time is it?”

  “Almost three. Do you want to drive on or find someplace to crash?”

  “How’s your head?” He lifted his hand toward the bruise Sara and her mother had covered with makeup a few hours ago. She closed her eyes and turned her head toward his fingers.

  “Hurts. Not bad. How’s your chest?”

  “Hurts,” he said, mimicking her matter-of-fact tone. “Not bad. Where did you have in mind? You’ve had a hundred and eighty relaxing minutes with the stereo to think about it, while I was pretending to be luggage to the steady deafening hum from the rear tires.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s only been a little over two hours, and I didn’t have the radio on the whole time.”

  “What did you say? I’m sorry, I can’t hear you because the road noise made me deaf. I’ve been locked in a compact car’s trunk for three hours.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Miami might be our best option.”

  Zach turned a disbelieving look on her. “Miami’s another two or three hours away, if traffic stays clear.”

  “And it’s the most populous city in the state.”

  “You speak Spanish?” he asked.

  “Not much more than I did with the maid at the hotel. You?”

  “A little. Ft. Lauderdale might be a better choice.”

  “We aren’t looking for a house, Zach.”

  “No, but a gringo couple in a rental car in Miami? We’d have a better chance of survival with the police.”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  He laughed. “It’s worse than that. There must be someplace closer with a library or an office supply store with rental computers between here and Miami.”

  “We’ll be easy targets here.”

  “But not Miami?”

  “Not nearly as much. Any place your name comes up between here and Miami, the local police will be alerted, and your sheet transmitted. We could be in the center of a very tight net within twenty minutes. It’ll take at least twice as long in Miami. No one talks to the cops there. It’ll increase our chances of escape considerably.”

  “They won’t talk to the cops because our bodies’ll be in the everglades.” His chest ached and his head was pounding. Her skin had gone pale again and dark circles were forming under her eyes. He made a decision. “I need a shower and we both feel like crap. I say we drive to Naples, find a place, get some rest, and finish this first thing tomorrow.”

  Sara slipped her hands into her pockets and closed her eyes. “You’re probably right, I just want to end this as soon as possible. How about Fort Myers? It’s halfway to Miami.”

  “Okay. I’ll update the drives tonight. We’ll send everything electronically and mail hard copies tomorrow morning from Miami and disappear for a few days while the shit hits the fan.”

  Sara chewed her lower lip and nodded her agreement.

  He hesitated a moment. “I understand Stiles is untouchable. When this hits the media, he’ll probably have to withdraw as a candidate, but is there any way we can see Murphy prosecuted? I mean, I’ll still be wanted for questioning about Laz’s death and the torching of my house.”

  She shook her head. “Murphy will likely disappear into a federally-sponsored hole. I can explain my actions and then provide you with an alibi for most of it. What time did you leave work?”

  “I don’t know, about six-thirty or seven, I guess. The guard should have the time logged if they haven’t tampered with it.”

  “Did you go straight home?”

  “No. I went to get a sandwich. You ate half, and the pickle.”

  She frowned at the memory. “Okay. Did you talk to anyone there who would remember you, or get the receipt?”

  “Yeah. People who work there. I’ve known Big Tommy since I moved to St Petersburg. The receipt is in the console. I always keep receipts. For the accountant.”

  “Good,” she nodded, thinking. “It’ll be touchy, but with the media circus and the witness statements, you should be okay. We’ll have to cross Murphy’s bridge when we get to it, but I’m pretty sure he’ll never do time, no matter what.”

  Zach climbed into the front passenger’s seat and put on his mirrored shades and hat as Sara accelerated them back onto the interstate.

  ***

  Open pastureland and palmettos slipped by as miles rolled away under the Ford. Zach’s thoughts shifted along the last two days, trying in vain to put meaning to all the pain and loss. Outside the car, the harsh, sunlit Florida afternoon worked itself into a full-blown swelter.

  “How’s this?” Sara asked a few minutes later, as she took manual control of the car and veered onto the exit.

  A large sign beside the road proclaimed fuel and lodging, but Zach shook his thoughts away too late to register any of the places listed. Sara stopped at the light. The road sign read Pine Ridge Road. Another indicated the sleepy, retirement city of Naples lay a few miles to the right.

  “It’ll be fine,” Zach said, rubbing his fingers over his face and stretching.

  “You’re quiet.”

  “I’m trying to figure it out.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why me? Which one of the gods did I piss off to end up this deep in the septic tank?”

  “I don’t—”

  He shook his head. “No, I’m okay. Just wallowing in a little self-pity. I’ll get over it. Hey,” he shrugged. “I’m out of the lab.”

  She stopped the car at the red light for the crossroad. “Preference for dinner?”

  The sun was closing in on the evening horizon. “What time is it, anyway?”

  “Almost four.”

  “Wow. Guess we got kind of a late start, what with almost getting blown up and all. I dunno. A burger’s fine.”

  “Burger it is.” She pulled the car onto the crossroad and found a Kombo, a combination truck stop and fast food burger place half a mile away. After they’d filled the low rear tire, Sara pulled into the drive-through.

  “Two Kombo cheeseburgers, fries, and…” she turned to him. “Coke?”

  “Please.”

  “Two Cokes, please,” she said into the microphone.

  “Pull around, please,” the voice from the speaker said.

  At the window, a young man took Sara’s money and passed their food out. She handed the bag to Zach, placed the drinks in the console cup holder, and eased the car forward. He opened the paper bag, allowing the pungent aroma of artery-clogging, deep fried heaven to fill the car. Zach’s mouth watered as he closed his eyes and inhaled.

  “Hey, pass one this way,”
Sara said, as she turned the car east.

  Zach removed one of the burgers, unwrapped half of it, taking care as he folded the paper down, and handed it to Sara. He put the other burger and fries on the floor by his feet. Then he split the bag the food had come in down the seam, and spread it on Sara’s lap to protect her slacks from spills.

  She smiled at him. “Thanks. I’ll find us a place to stay the night. We’ll both feel better after a shower.”

  Zach nodded and stared around at the early evening, chewing a mouthful of burger. About a quarter of a mile past the Interstate, they found a small, local motel with a vacancy sign.

  She parked in front of the well-lit entrance to the motel and patted his knee. “You stay here. Best if I go in alone to register.”

  He shrugged. “I just need a shower and a bed, and I’m good.” When she opened the door, he added, “Anything’s better than the trunk of a compact hybrid.”

  She threw Zach a wicked grin before climbing out of the car. “Anything? I dunno, anything covers a lot of ground, and I can be very creative.”

  He grinned at the thought. “I bet. You came up with the trunk. They have a special school to teach you people how to torture us poor civilians?”

  “Why, no,” she said in mock surprise. “It’s just a gift for some of us. I’ll be back.” She handed him her half-eaten burger and stepped out of the car.

  He watched her walk away, appreciating the graceful way her tall frame moved. His thoughts drifted back to the night before last, when she had curled up next to him in her bed. He was still smiling at the thought when she returned ten minutes later.

  She opened the door and dropped in beside him. “What were you thinking about?”

  He shook the last of the fantasy away. “Reliving a pleasant memory. Why?”

  “Must’ve been a good one. You looked like you’d have been happy to stay there.”

  “Yeah,” was all he could come up with for an answer as warmth crept into his cheeks.

  She pulled the car around to a door about halfway to the end of the building and parked. “Come on.”