“Damn. That’s frustrating.” Roxie empathized. “By the way, Sue’s parents have called several times.”
“What’d you tell them?”
“That there really wasn’t anything new to report. I assured them you’re closing in and doing your best.”
“Anything else?”
“Not really. We haven’t had any news either, nothing about the vehicle, and no police reports of interest. Oh, except for the tag on the Honda. Turns out it didn’t have one at all, so that wasn’t any help. I don’t know why the owner never got a ticket; maybe the back end was covered in snow, who knows. By the way, Melvin has another list of abandoned buildings you might want to check out, if you’re still working that angle. He’s still checking motels, also.”
Will took a sip of coffee and burned his tongue. It was that kind of day. “Email them to me and I’ll check them when I stop for the night. Tell Melvin to keep at it. Right now, I’m going to retrace my steps and go further a-field at each exit that looks promising. There were a few small towns I didn’t check because they were several miles off the interstate. I’ll give you a call later.”
“Sounds good.” Roxie hung up.
Will opened his jerky and bit off a hunk before pulling back onto the interstate, this time heading north. Sighing, he glanced at his watch; he was running out of daylight. Three small towns later, the sky was almost dark and he had discovered nothing helpful. Fog rolled in, obscuring visibility and slowing him down. Feeling defeated, he continued down the interstate and exited at the first motel he saw, vowing to get an early start in the morning.
After a quick shower, he opened his atlas on the small table and sat in a shabby chair to plan his route for the next day, squinting in the dim lighting of the room. He noted he’d have to drive about forty-five minutes just to get to the first exit. There were still three towns to check out: Bixley, a small farming village; Major, a touristy hamlet that featured scenic river walks and historic B&B’s; and Merlington, a moderate-sized factory town twenty miles off I-85. As he planned his route, he felt his eyes growing heavy.
Leaving the map open, he pulled back the bedding and turned off the lights. He unplugged his cell phone from the charger and made his promised call to Roxie, dropped it back on the table, and drifted into sleep.
Despite his best intentions and the heroic efforts of his alarm, Will overslept. He wasn’t able to pry his eyes open until nearly eleven o’clock. He didn’t realize he had forgotten to have supper the night before until his stomach rumbled, a rude reminder that he needed to eat. He shaved, and dressed quickly.
Checking his cell, he realized not only had he slept through his alarm, he’d also missed a call from Roxie. Waiting in line at a fast-food joint near the motel, he dialed the office.
“I tried to call you.” She sounded chipper.
Will chuckled. “I know. I saw that. I way overslept.”
“Well, don’t drive like a maniac to make up for lost time.” Her voice held the bossy tone he secretly loved.
“I won’t.” He updated her on his itinerary before hanging up, got his food order, and ate while he drove. The fries were hot and salty, fresh from the oil; even the burgers tasted heavenly. He wolfed the food down.
Most of the fog had burned off, though the skies were heavy with gray clouds. It was a good day for driving; the interstate was clear and traffic was light. After the food hit his belly, Will’s mood turned optimistic and he hummed softly while he drove. The feeling didn’t last, however, once he’d visited the first two towns on his list. Not only did it take a while to get to each one, but stopping at every business that seemed even a remote possibility ate up the hours. As he took the exit for the third town late that afternoon, he noticed a burgundy van on the other ramp, just merging onto the interstate. He only got a quick look and it appeared the driver was alone in the vehicle. It gave him a start, nonetheless, and he had to resist the urge to whip around and follow.
It’s not them, he told himself, and continued down the off-ramp. Less than a mile later, he sighed, exasperated with himself. He hit the brakes, and cranked the wheel of his car into a tight U-turn. Stomping the gas pedal, he raced back the way he had come, fishtailing wildly. Once on the interstate, he flew in pursuit of the burgundy van, berating himself for wasting time on a fool’s errand. It soon became obvious he wasn’t going to catch up with the vehicle. Whether he had just blown a prime opportunity or merely lost a little time, he didn’t know. He slowed to a crawl, checking the mirror for traffic behind him. It was clear for the moment. Driving illegally across the median, Will turned back toward the Merlington exit, gripped with uncertainty.
When he finally reached the town, he was dispirited. Then Melvin called, and he congratulated himself for sticking with his original plan rather than continuing after the van.
“I’ve got them, Will,” Melvin spoke rapidly, excitement filling his voice. “They’re at a motel in Merlington. How far are you from there?”
Will smiled. “I’m just entering the town as we speak.”
Melvin gave Will his information and they disconnected. Will drove directly to the motel. According to the clerk, the couple he was looking for were checked into room 15 and they hadn’t checked out. Falstaff hurried down the walk, eyeing the numbers as he went. He hoped they were still here, although he didn’t see Zeke’s van in the lot. When he reached the room, he was surprised to find the door slightly open. He pulled his gun and held it close to his side, then knocked as he pushed his way in.
He took everything in with a glance. The bed was tousled, but the room was empty. The telephone was missing its receiver, a sight that chilled him. Will figured this was a precaution on Zeke’s part, insurance against Sue making any calls for help. Something white peeked out from under the edge of the bed. Will holstered his weapon and bent to retrieve the small scrap of paper. It was a receipt from a local florist, dated earlier that day. Will’s pulse rate accelerated. Torn, he vacillated for a moment. What if they came back? He thought perhaps he should stay right here and wait. But, on the other hand, if he didn’t hurry, the florist shop would likely close and he wouldn’t be able to talk to anyone there until the next day. He checked the time, made a decision, and hurried to his car.
The gray-haired florist was indeed getting ready to close as Will entered the shop. “You barely made it in time,” she said, as she rang up the day’s receipts. “I was just finishing up. Need some flowers?”
“No, ma’am. I need information.” Will showed her his ID and explained his search.
“Well, a couple was in here earlier, bought a dozen daisies. It’s got to be the same people you’re looking for.” She wiped her glasses and put them back on to look at Sue’s photo. “Yes, I do believe that’s her, just her hair was different. Now it’s bright red and kind of sticking out all over.”
Will grilled her on the conversation they’d had.
“Oh, that young man, he was a real sweetheart. Handsome as the day is long. And such a gentleman!” She snapped her fingers, remembering a detail. “His name was Zack, if that helps. She called him Zack.”
“Could it have been Zeke?” Will prompted.
The woman chuckled. “My hearing, I swear! I’m going to need one of those Miracle Ears before long. Yes, it’s possible she said Zeke.”
“I don’t suppose you know where they went?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” She beamed proudly. “They were heading out to the old cemetery.” For a second time that day, she gave directions to the county graveyard.
Will thanked her and left, anxious to find the place before dark. He called Roxie as he drove past the factories on the edge of town and updated her on his progress.
“Can I tell her folks?” Roxie pressed. “They’re on pins and needles.”
“Let’s hold off for a bit. I’m going back to the motel if I don’t find them at the cemetery. They didn’t check out; maybe they’ll come back to the room.”
“Okay, call me.
”
“I will.”
He disconnected and concentrated on the route. Past the industrial district were a few sparsely populated newer neighborhoods. Well-kept houses thinned out as the suburbs gave way to countryside, and pavement turned to hard-packed dirt covered in a shallow layer of white. Tires had left a few muddy imprints in the snow, but even though the road didn’t appear to be well traveled, there were still too many tracks to be able to determine what kind of vehicle had left them.
Will passed an old gray barn, stubbled fields on either side, and finally spotted the sign to the graveyard. His heart sank. There were no tracks in the snow that covered the driveway. It seemed obvious no one had been in the cemetery that day. Still, he turned in the drive and did a quick reconnaissance of the area. The lanes inside were undisturbed, and not a single grave had flowers, let alone fresh daisies. Will slumped over the wheel for a moment and clenched his fist. Another dead end!
He pulled back onto the road to Merlington. As he neared the barn he had passed earlier, he noted a pickup now idling in the driveway. On impulse, he pulled in behind it and got out of his car. A man in brown coveralls stood by the truck and eyed Will suspiciously, a piece of fabric dangling from one hand, a shotgun in the other.
“Hello.” Will stuck out his hand, but pulled it back when the man ignored it. “I’m Will Falstaff, a private investigator.”
“What do you want?” The man rose up to his full height. He was angular, tall, and without an ounce of body fat. Gray hair poked out from under a worn Allis Chalmers cap, matching whiskers covered the bottom half of his wrinkled face.
“I’m looking for a burgundy Dodge Caravan that I think might have been in this area earlier today. You didn’t happen to see it, did you?”
“No,” the man snapped. “But somebody’s been out here. Look at this.” He tossed the fabric to Will. “I get so damned tired of people trespassing on my property, coming out here to neck in their cars, and snoop around. This ain’t no damn lover’s lane.”
Will held the fabric up and recognized it as a torn skirt. “Where’d this come from?” he asked, alarmed by the strong scent of urine on the garment. I hope this isn’t Sue’s.
“Now, how the hell should I know? Found it beside the drive there. Wasn’t there this morning when I drove to town. Looks like some young buck was in such a hurry to get into some panties, he couldn’t even wait for the little Jezebel to take off her clothes, just ripped ‘em right off. And look up there.” He pointed toward the old barn. “Tire tracks. Damn horny-toad trespassing sons-a-bitches!”
Will considered complimenting the farmer on his colorful choice of words, but changed his mind. Somehow, he thought the sentiment would go unappreciated. “So you own this barn?”
“Damn right. I farm all this round here.” He swept the air with his arm, indicating the fields on either side of the structure.
“Did you check inside the building?” Will grew excited at the prospect of uncovering evidence.
The farmer looked at Will as if he’d just suggested they have naked playtime together in the snow. “Check the building? What do you take me for? A total idiot? Of course, I checked in the barn. Nobody’s in there. Whoever it was is long gone.”
“Would you mind if I take a look around?” Will kept his tone polite.
“You’re a pushy piece of work, ain’t you?” The farmer shook his gun in Will’s direction. “Didn’t I just tell you ain’t nothing to see in there? Didn’t I tell you I already looked?”
“Yes sir, you did, and I believe you. I just wanted to see for myself. Sometimes a person can miss things, small details...”
“The hell you beller! Just what are you suggesting, city boy? You saying I’m too stupid to know how to check a damn building? You big shots really get under my hide. You just come onto a man’s private property and throw your weight around, think I have to bend over and kiss your ass. I don’t need no damn fancy detective license to look in a damn building and tell there ain’t a damn thing to see.” He turned the gun around until the barrels pointed at Will. “Get the hell out of here before I lose my kindly disposition.”
“Look, I didn’t mean any offense.” Will raised both hands in the air and backed up slowly. “I’m just doing my job. I’m trying to save a girl’s life.”
“Sounds like a bullshit story to me. I ain’t buying. For all I know, it was YOU that was here earlier, tramping around my land, humping some cheap little tart on my property. Maybe you dropped your prissy-ass cellular phone or something and come back to get it. Pisses me off. In fact, I’m going to count to three and when I get there, I’m pulling the trigger. Man’s got a right to protect his property, you know.”
“It wasn’t me. Please listen. The girl who wore this skirt is most likely in grave danger. I need to find her before its too late.” Will felt a bump against his thigh. He had backed into his car.
The farmer’s face was set in stony lines as he regarded Will. “I’m a-countin’,” he said. “One...”
Will hopped into his car and laid the skirt on the rear floorboard with plans to bag it for possible evidence when he reached the motel. His heart raced as he backed down the short drive. He pulled onto the road and drove away, his eyes glued to the rearview mirror. The farmer didn’t move.
As Will put distance between himself and the shotgun-wielding sourpuss, he wiped sweat from his brow. The farmer’s rudeness had not only intimidated him, but angered him as well. “Touchy redneck bastard!” he grumbled. “Crazy old crank.”
He pulled over to the side of the road, called Roxie, and told her about the experience, still steaming from the ill treatment. “I want to get inside that barn in the worst way. I might go back after dark and do some snooping.”
“Oh, Will! Please don’t. Not on your own.”
Will sighed. “Okay. I won’t. I was just spouting off. What I’m really doing is going back to that motel to see if our boy shows up. In fact, I’m staying there tonight. If nothing happens to change my mind, I’m getting back on the highway tomorrow and heading south again. I don’t know where else to go.”
Roxie reluctantly agreed. “Call me when you get your room and we can go over Melvin’s list. I already emailed it to you.”
“Alright, hon.” Will said, and then harrumphed self-consciously. “I mean, Roxie.”
She laughed softly before hanging up.
ATM Dream
Zeke kept the speedometer hovering four miles above the speed limit as they cruised down the highway.
“I’m hungry,” Sue ventured to say.
“Yeah. Well so am I, but you don’t hear me whining about it.” Zeke stared straight ahead.
“I wasn’t whining,” Sue mumbled under her breath.
“What the hell did you say?” Zeke now shifted his eyes between her and the road.
“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”
Zeke stared daggers for a moment before barking, “You’d better not say anything either. I’m not taking any shit from you today.” He started nervously rapping on the steering wheel, beating out an unknown tune.
The miles rolled by below the van’s tires before Zeke spoke again, calmer now. “Hey, bunny. Why don’t you lift your skirt and let me get at that cute little snatch of yours?”
Sue trembled with revulsion but complied with his wish, sliding her skirt up to her upper thighs and turning slightly toward Zeke.
“Where’s your string?” he asked.
“I’m done with my period. It was just a short one.”
“Good. Finally you did something right.” He groped beneath the material and poked roughly at her private parts.
“Ouch!” Sue gasped.
“Does that hurt?” Zeke asked, and jabbed a little harder.
“Damn it, Zeke. Stop!” Sue shoved his hand away.
Zeke immediately pulled the van to the side of the road. He twisted in his seat and thrust his face in front of hers. “Did. You. Just. Tell. Me. To. Stop.” Spittle dotted her fa
ce as he spat the words.
Sue knew instantly that she’d better make amends or Zeke might kill her right here and now. “Oh, Zeke. I’m sorry, honey. You just hurt me a little, that’s all. I want you to keep touching me.” Sue grabbed Zeke’s hand and tried to slip it back between her legs.
Zeke resisted for a full minute, remaining face-to-face with her as she tried not to visibly shake. Finally, he slid his hand up her leg and resumed fiddling with her, his touch much gentler than before. He removed his hand and pulled his pants down. “You do me,” he said as he reentered traffic.
Sue took Zeke’s penis into her mouth and struggled not to gag on the salty tang. Smells she used to find stimulating and arousing now left her nauseous. Luckily, Zeke didn’t take long and Sue was soon able to sit back up in her own seat. She wiped the corner of her mouth and forced back her tears.
Zeke remained with his pants down, lightly fondling himself. “You know what I need?”
When Sue didn’t answer, he looked her way. “Well? Do you?”
“No, Zeke. What do you need?”
“I need a woman I can play with.”
“Play with?” Sue looked confused. “You just did that with me.”
“Not like that, doofus,” Zeke said, stroking himself a little faster as he once more firmed up. “You know! Like I played with Daisy.”
Sue was speechless for a minute, then out of self-preservation, she asked, “Where do we get someone like that?”
Zeke smiled when Sue included herself in his plans. “There’s a decent-sized town coming up. Surely we can pick someone up there.” He groaned and pulled Sue’s head back into his lap. “Just thinking about it gets me all fired up.” When finished, he swerved a bit as he yanked up his jeans and slid the zipper home, satisfied for the moment.
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