by Chris Rogers
Sweat drenched her clothes. She sat without moving, her forehead on the steering wheel. When she could no longer stand the churning in her stomach, she opened the door and vomited.
Chapter Twelve
Sunday, July 19, Conroe, Texas
Courtney watched the summer rain making ribbons outside the camp bus window and wondered if Ellie felt as gloomy as she did. Probably not. Ellie would already have met half the kids on the squeaky old bus.
Courtney had never worried about meeting people when Betsy was around. Being two years older, Betsy knew just about everyone. Now Courtney would be the new kid all by herself.
When everybody teamed up, she would be the odd one out, the one nobody picked. The stupid snobs wouldn’t even realize she was an ace player. She’d have to sit on the bench until one of the camp counselors noticed and made the team let her rotate in. THEN she’d spike a volleyball over the net or hit a home run or shoot the winning basket (fat chance), and her team would wish they’d let her play sooner (yeah, right).
Maybe she should fake a two-week stomachache.
“Your first year?” The girl in the next seat was rummaging through a knapsack. She pulled out a Snickers bar and peeled it like a banana.
“First year at Camp Cade,” Courtney answered. “Last year I was at Donovan.”
“Baby camp. I graduated from there two whole years ago.”
The girl had hair the color of tomato soup, and a crooked front tooth. Courtney hoped she also had a mouthful of aching cavities.
Turning back to the window, Courtney wondered if fate had purposely seated her beside the Camp Toad. Why couldn’t her seat mate be another new girl, someone to team up with and share all the first-day blunders?
“Ooh swmem?”
“What?” Caramel and chocolate had stuck the girl’s teeth together, garbling her words.
“Swim. Will you go out for the swim meet?”
“No.” Actually, Courtney was a good swimmer, better even than Betsy, but she didn’t want to encourage the Camp Toad. “I don’t much like swimming.”
“Just as well. I’m going to win again this year.”
“Again?”
“Sure.” The girl rolled the last bite of candy to the back of her mouth, then crumpled the wrapper and dropped it on the floor. “In last year’s meet, I beat out everybody. Even the third-year girls. Now I’m even faster.”
Courtney hadn’t been swimming since last summer at Daddy Jon’s house. He’d taught them all to swim, her, Betsy, and Ellie, when they were little. Sometimes she wished Mama were still married to Daddy Jon, even though he wasn’t her real father. Her real father went away when she was almost two years old. Daddy Jon was Ellie’s real father. He had adopted Courtney and Betsy. Now he and Mama were divorced and the girls spent every other weekend with Daddy Jon. Daddy Travis was okay, but older and never any fun.
“Tennis,” the Toad said. A glob of chocolate had stuck to her crooked tooth. “If you play tennis, we could double.”
“I haven’t played much,” Courtney admitted. She’d never played tennis in her life, but the girl seemed to be making an effort to be friends, and Courtney wondered if she had misjudged her. “I catch on quick, though.”
“Tough. You’ll have to find another partner. I’m a star player. A beginner would drag my score down.”
QUEEN TOAD, Courtney decided, turning toward the window. The rain had stopped. They should be getting close to Camp Cade. She wondered if Ellie’s bus had arrived at Camp Donovan.
One of the second graders had promised to look out for Ellie, but Courtney had a bad feeling about this summer-bad enough that she’d given Ellie her lucky penny. Inside Ellie’s camp book she had written Daddy Jon’s telephone number. Daddy Jon was a good person to call if you got scared.
Listening to the other girls’ chatter, Courtney missed Betsy so much, she felt as empty as a shriveled-up balloon. She wished she could take back all the mean things she’d ever said and somehow let Betsy know she’d done a pretty good job of being a big sister. Courtney wasn’t sure she could ever measure up.
She wished, also, that she could take a BASEBALL BAT to the car that killed Betsy. She’d like to BUST all the windows and FLATTEN all the tires.
Even more, she’d like to BASH Mr. Parker Dann.
Chapter Thirteen
Sunday, July 26, Camp Donovan, Texas
Ellie wriggled into her shorts, slipped her arms into the red camp shirt, and squeezed it over her head fast. She hated getting caught inside.
She smoothed the wrinkles over her tummy and scraped with her fingernail at a spot of something yellow. Mama would say to wear a clean shirt, the blue one or the white—both had CAMP DONOVAN on the front—but Ellie liked the red one best. She’d worn it every day since camp started.
Rubbing her eyes with a fist, she tiptoed to the door, praying she wouldn’t awaken the other girls in her cabin. She’d woke up early so she could beat Anna to the flag. Yesterday, Miss Bower’d said the person who got to raise the flag to the top of the flagpole had to be an early bird.
Easing the door open, Ellie started down the steps. Then she remembered Courtney’s lucky penny.
No, her lucky penny. Courtney said she could keep it, and today Ellie needed lots of luck.
Creeping back to her bunk, she tripped on her untied shoestrings and made a loud thump. She crossed her fingers that Anna wouldn’t wake up. She and Anna had argued last night about who would get to do the flag today. Ellie knew in her heart that she could do a better job. Anna would probably drop the flag halfway up, and then they’d have to burn it. Everybody knew it was very bad luck to drop a flag.
She felt around under her pillow until her fingers closed over the penny. Pushing it deep in her shorts pocket, she hurried back to the door and down the steps. When the door banged behind her, she kept going.
Across the yard, Miss Bower, her blond hair scraggly from sleep, was leaving the Chow Barn, where everybody ate meals except when they had a picnic. Miss Bower had a coffee mug in one hand and the flag box tucked under her arm. Ellie raced across the damp ground to the circle where everyone gathered to salute the flag. Miss Bower was settling into her camp chair to drink her coffee.
“My goodness, Ellie. Aren’t you an early bird?”
“I came to do the flag.”
“Oh…” Miss Bower nodded, but Ellie could tell by the way her smile faded that it wasn’t a yes nod. It was the sort of nod Mama used when she said, “I see.”
“I won’t drop it, Miss Bower. I promise.”
“No, I’m sure you wouldn’t mean to, but it’s an awfully big flag for such a little girl.”
“I’m not so little anymore. See, my hands are big.” Ellie spread her fingers wide to make her hands as big as possible. She heard footsteps pounding behind her.
“Miss Bower! Miss Bower!”
It was Anna.
“Look!” Ellie clenched her fist to bunch up the muscle in her arm, as she pushed up the sleeve of her camp shirt. “I’m strong, Miss Bower.”
“That’s not a muscle,” Anna jeered, offering both arms. “Look at these.”
Just then, the bell rang, calling everybody to the circle.
Ellie had to admit that Anna’s muscles might be a teensy bit bigger than her own. Anna was already six and a half, as tall as second-year girls.
“But, Miss Bower,” Ellie argued, “you told us only early birds get to do the flag. I was the earliest of anybody.”
“Yes, that’s true, Ellie. I did say that, didn’t I?”
Ellie nodded helpfully.
“That’s not fair, Miss Bower. Ellie’s the youngest kid in camp. Us older girls should get to go first, and I’ve never done the flag.”
Miss Bower wrinkled her forehead. “I don’t recall your ever asking before, Anna.”
“No, ma’am, but I still—”
“Well, Ellie was the early bird this morning. Maybe you can get up earlier tomorrow.” When Anna started to object, M
iss Bower put up a hand. “Meanwhile, it takes two girls to unfold the flag and keep it from touching the ground while I fasten it to the flag hoist.”
Behind them, Ellie heard cabin doors banging, feet pounding, as the other girls gathered around the flagpole. Miss Bower opened the box, took out the flag, and handed it to Ellie.
“One girl holds the end while the other girl unfolds.”
Anna pushed forward and grabbed the unfolding end. Ellie had to just stand there while Anna flipped the folded part over and back until it was stretched between them.
“Now, open it wide,” Miss Bower said, standing and moving to the flagpole. “Ellie, you hand me the top corner.”
Ellie knew the blue part sprinkled with stars was the top. Reaching to hand Miss Bower the metal ring in the blue corner, Ellie felt a tug. The flag slipped through her fingers. She grabbed quick, heart thumping furiously, and caught it before it touched the ground. When she looked up, Anna was grinning.
That grin was too much.
“Butthead,” Ellie whispered, with her most ferocious glare. She had learned the word from Courtney, but this was the first time she felt like saying it to anybody.
When Miss Bower finished hooking the flag to the rope, she made Anna step back. Then Ellie pulled hard on the rope, and the flag traveled a little way up the pole. It was heavier than she expected. She looked at Miss Bower, hoping she hadn’t noticed that Ellie had raised the flag only a few inches.
Bracing herself, Ellie tugged harder, the muscles in her arms straining with the effort. This time the flag moved a little easier. Hand over hand, like she’d seen the older girls do, Ellie pulled the flag to the top of the pole, where it snapped and waved in the wind. Then Miss Bower tied it off and everybody said the Pledge.
Ellie had only learned the Pledge since she came to camp. She wasn’t sure what all the words meant, but she said them in her biggest, most important voice.
Afterward, the bell rang again, calling everyone to breakfast. While the other girls ran past, Ellie looked up at the flag flapping back and forth and couldn’t stop smiling. She bet Courtney hadn’t got to pull up the flag on her first time at camp.
Watching the flag as she walked, Ellie started toward the Chow Barn—and fell flat in the dirt. Her chin hit hard. She bit her tongue, bringing tears to her eyes. Sitting up, she quickly rubbed the tears away. Big girls, who could pull a flag all the way to the top of the pole, didn’t cry.
“Nah, na-na-nah-na!” Anna stood jeering at her from the steps of the Chow Barn. “Forget to tie your shoes?” She stuck out her tongue, then disappeared through the door.
Looking at her untied shoestrings, Ellie saw a dirty smudge where someone had stepped on one of them. She had a good idea who that someone was.
But she wasn’t going to let it spoil her best day at camp. She tied her shoes, brushed herself off, and ran to join the other girls at breakfast. Reaching the steps, she fished in her pocket for the lucky penny. Courtney had made Ellie promise to keep it with her to ward off any bad luck. Ever since Mr. Dann’s car ran over Betsy, Courtney had been worried about bad luck.
Frowning, Ellie felt in her other pocket, pulled it wide, and peered inside it. She saw a rubber band she had found under her bed and a piece of cookie from yesterday’s snack.
But the lucky penny was gone.
Chapter Fourteen
Thursday, December 24, Interstate 29, South Dakota
“I don’t want to shoot you,” Dixie said, aiming the .45 at Parker Dann’s chest. He sat next to her now, in the driver’s seat, wearing a cocky grin that had spread across his face the moment she unshackled him. “I especially don’t want to shoot you in my car, where I’d have to mop up the blood.”
His grin drooped at the corners. “So you want me to start this thing or what?”
She handed him the key. When he put it in the ignition, she leaned across the car and snapped a handcuff on his wrist.
“Hey—”
She snapped the other cuff to the steering wheel.
“Dammit, woman, how am I supposed to drive all chained up like a rabid dog?”
“You have eighteen inches of chain between those cuffs, enough to shift gears and drive.” But not enough length to reach her with his big fist. In scoping out a control situation, Dixie always imagined herself in the skip’s place. Parker Dann could watch for the moment her attention wavered, grab the back of her head, slam her face into the dash until she was senseless, then kick her out of the car and be as free as a southbound goose. Now that they’d spent half a day together, she found herself thinking of him more as a big teddy bear than a crazed killer. But that sort of thinking could get her in trouble. The cautious part of her mind said “cuff him,” so she had.
She rested the gun on her lap. “Do your stuff, snowbird. Get us out of here.”
Miraculously, the car had not run into another snowbank coming out of its spin, and Dann seemed to know what he was doing. He handled the Mustang with such skill that Dixie felt doubly embarrassed at her own incompetence. Why didn’t the damn car slide with him driving it?
Then, as her tension began to ease, the passenger-side wheels hit a bump.
“Watch out! You’re going off the road.”
“Gee gosh darn. You’re downright perceptive.” Dann’s cocky grin was back in place, along with his irritating air of assurance. “Hanging two wheels on the shoulder gives us traction. That telltale bump warns us if we start to drift left or right.”
“So why didn’t you share that pearl of wisdom earlier?”
He tossed her a look of amused insolence. “Actually, fresh snow isn’t all that bad to drive on. You were overcompensating, is all. Natural, when you’re not used to the weather and road conditions. It’s ice under the snow that’s tricky, but this blizzard came so fast there hasn’t been much ice buildup since the roads were cleared.”
Dixie nodded, and they rode in silence for a while. For the first time all day, she felt her shoulders and neck relax.
“Guess you know what a legend you are around the jail-house,” Dann said.
“Legend?”
“You know, someone prisoners swap stories about.”
She knew what he was getting at, having fabricated a good number of the stories herself. Her reputation as a badass bitch made skips think twice about resisting.
“Did you really follow a guy into the men’s room, cuff him at the urinal before he could zip his pecker back in his pants?”
More than once. “Catch a man with his pants down, he’s too surprised to fight back.” But she’d never transported a skip in the trunk of her car; those nasty rumors were useful but false.
“Another guy said you started a bonfire outside his bedroom window while he and his girl were getting it on. When they smelled smoke and came crashing out, you were waiting for him.”
“Wouldn’t call it a bonfire. A few sticks, some newspapers.”
Dann laughed. “Hell, you’ve got a cold heart.”
“Only kind to have in my business.”
His smile faded. “That’s a hint, right? Guess it’s not smart to listen to a prisoner’s story.”
When she didn’t answer, he turned his attention to the road. After a few minutes, he cleared his throat, and Dixie knew he was about to lay it on her.
“Truth is, I’d give anything to know for sure I didn’t kill that little girl. I honestly don’t know.”
“It’s hard to know anything when you’re falling-down drunk.”
“I was feeling no pain, for sure. Celebrating my first three-million-dollar sale—to a demolition company out of New Orleans.”
Three million? “What the hell did you sell, explosives?”
“Heavy equipment. Dozers, tractors, backhoes.”
Tuning him out as he droned on about making the sale, Dixie considered how to handle it if they managed to find a motel room. She’d have to leave him hitched to the steering wheel while she booked a room, then cuff him to the bed.
&nbs
p; Her eyes felt sandblasted. She closed them against the strain of the swirling landscape, gray now more than white, with the sun setting. When she snapped her eyes open, twenty minutes had passed.
“Good timing,” Dann said. “Looks like a roadblock ahead.”
The faint glow of yellow lights dotted the road, one of them blinking.
“Keep that cuff out of sight, or I’ll have to turn you over to the sheriff.” She knew he’d rather take his chances with her than end up in a small-town jail.
As Dann coasted to a stop, she slid the .45 under her seat. A man in a heavy parka jogged up to the driver’s side. Dann lowered the window. When the man hunched over to look in, Dixie saw a highway department emblem on his coat and wondered if he might know McGrue. Doubtful, this far north. The parka’s hood was drawn close around the man’s face. Snow coated his mustache and brows, turning them white.
“You folks took a big chance coming through without chains.”
“Didn’t realize we were in for such a storm,” Dann said cheerfully. “Found out the hard way.”
“Not nearly as hard as it could’ve been. There’s sixty miles more of this and it’s still coming. Afraid we’ll have to stop you here.” He pointed. “Turn right and go about four miles to Sisseton. You’ll see the Sparks Motel. Emma Sparks has a room waiting for you.”
Dann raised one of his bushy eyebrows.
“Waiting for us? Like she knew we were coming?”
The officer knocked snow off his lashes with a padded-gloved hand. “Margie, from the Grandin Diner, said to watch for you guys. Otherwise, I’d be home now, with a warm fire and a hot meal.”
“Appreciate your waiting,” Dann said.
“You can follow me into Sisseton, get a good night’s sleep.” The trooper slapped a farewell on the car’s roof and jogged back to the pickup. Ten minutes later Dann turned in and stopped at a red neon motel sign. The pickup blinked its lights and drove on.
Dixie eyed the office. Across the drive, four cabins angled toward the road, roofs laden with snow.