by Randy Rawls
She chewed, then set her fork down abruptly, causing Tom to look up. “Did you slash my tire to keep me from following you?”
“Someone gave you a flat? Damn shame about that. Maybe you can bill it to the office.”
“Have I told you what a son-of-a-bitch you are?”
“Several times. Now, shut up and eat.”
Abby stared daggers, then returned her attention to the food.
Ten minutes later, Tom pushed his plate away. “Take your time and finish, but before you load the dishwasher, make sure you rinse the plates. Egg hardens like concrete.”
“Just what makes you think I’m loading the dishwasher? You want it loaded, you load it.”
Tom chuckled. “Gotta earn your keep if you’re gonna hang with me. Like I said, no egg residue in my dishwasher.”
She frowned, then grinned. “You have such a quaint way of wording things. However, I could clear the table if you told me what’s going on?”
“You can clear the table to pay for your lunch. I’ll stand by and watch.”
“Good. That means you accept me as a partner. Right?”
“It means I accept you as a pain in the ass. I figure it’ll be better to know where you are than worry about you dehydrating some place.” He paused and grinned. “Or wetting your thong again. I don’t want you on my conscience.”
“Ha. I believe that. So, where were you this morning? I don’t wear a thong. And I didn’t wet myself.”
“Out.” He stared at her. “Wouldn’t want to prove that, would you? I mean, about not wearing a thong.”
“Not in your wildest dreams.”
His gaze softened. “Look. I have a job to do, something you don’t want to know about. If you’re serious about helping me, I have your phone numbers. I’ll call if I need you. Other than that, you can return to work and tell Bert you did your best. Or, you can spend a few days on the beach. I’ll never tell.”
“No chance. Not now. Not ever. Now, you look—” She paused, glanced upward, then returned to him, and said in a conciliatory tone, “Let’s not fight anymore. I promise not to get in your way if you take me along. Who knows? Maybe I can help. It could save both of us a lot of pain.”
It was Tom’s time to look away. “Abby, I think you believe that, but the worst thing I could do is let you go with me. Go home, go to the office, or go shopping, but stay away from me. Nothing good can come to you by being too close. I must do what I must do. And you don’t need any part of it.”
“But—”
“No buts. When this is over, you can repay me with dinner.”
“Fat chance.”
EIGHT
Tom positioned himself where he could see the rear of Publix Supermarket. The moon was at three-quarters, giving limited light to the shadows that danced around the firelights of the building. The smallest shadows came from bugs diving in and out at the illumination, as they had done for thousands of years. Tom figured if he walked over to one of the quieter locations, he’d find a fat frog sitting there, his lightning fast tongue loaded for a gourmet meal.
It seemed the temperature had dropped little since sundown—probably low eighties, perhaps high seventies. The humidity worked beads of sweat from his brow. He watched as a worker smoked beside the door, the glow of his cigarette arcing through the air, glowing pink, then red as he raised it to his lips. He slapped at his neck and arms. Maybe mosquitoes had found him. Or maybe he was simply hypersensitive because he knew mosquitoes and other biting bugs would find him soon.
Tom checked his watch, hitting the built-in light. Eleven-thirty. Johnny would be off work soon. Tom’s bet was Johnny was the type who slipped out early when he thought he could get away with it.
Tom had dressed in dark clothing, navy blue. He didn’t want to be the cliché of the second floor man in all black. He didn’t even have a ski mask although he did wear a black baseball cap. His knife hung from his belt, the sheath with a Velcro loop so he could ditch it if the situation called for it. His filled ankle holster was in place.
A young man with long braids came through the rear door at ten minutes before midnight. Tom examined the photograph he carried and smiled. Proving me right, aren’t you, Johnny? He checked the area again. The smoker had gone back into the building several minutes before and, as far as Tom could see, there was no one else around. Watching Johnny’s path, he used the shadows and shifted his position so he could intercept him as he arrived at his car.
When Johnny reached for the door, Tom nicked him in the back with his knife. “Hi, Johnny. Don’t make a sound. We’re going for a walk.”
“Who are you? What do you want?”
“Your new best friend.” Tom sliced upward with the tip of the blade against Johnny’s T-shirt, opening it, and creating a red line on the skin. “I said, don’t make a sound. I’ll tell you when to speak. Let’s go.”
Johnny reached behind him. “You sonavabitch, you cut my shirt. Shit, you cut me.”
“Thanks.” Tom slipped a handcuff on the wrist. “Kind of you to make it so easy.”
“Grayson, I’m gonna dock your pay for leaving before your shift is over.” The voice came from the back door of Publix causing both of them to jump.
Damn, Tom thought, pushing the tip of his knife against Johnny’s side. “Ignore him. Don’t answer.” He pulled Johnny into the shadows.
“I see you out there. One of your gang buddies meetin’ you?” the man shouted. “Keep this crap up, and you’ll be lookin’ for a job.”
Tom leaned into Johnny. “Give me your other hand.”
“Like hell I will.”
“Like hell you won’t.” He flicked the blade again, this time drawing blood. Johnny put his other arm behind him, and Tom cuffed it. “Okay, let’s walk.” Glancing toward the back door of the store, he saw it close. Too late to worry about what the supervisor may have seen.
Gripping the chain between the cuffs, Tom pushed Johnny in front of him into the shadows along a concrete block wall, then turned him so he could see his face, shoving him against the blocks. “Look at this,” he said, brandishing the knife so the moonlight reflected off the blade. “It’s the sharpest you’ve ever seen. Tell me about Mary Lou Smithson.”
Johnny’s face reflected fear, and it was obvious he fought to control it. “Don’t know nobody by that name.”
“Really. Your expression says different.” Tom moved the knife. Johnny’s T-shirt parted across his stomach, and a bead of blood appeared on his skin. “Wanna try again?”
He stared at the blade. “What the hell you doin’?”
“Answer the question.” Tom laid the tip of the knife against Johnny’s navel. “Or, we’ll find out what happens when your belly button is opened up.”
“Ah shit. Might have been some chick what worked here last summer.” Johnny’s eyes were huge. “Is that who you mean?”
The knife jerked again, and blood oozed from Johnny’s abdomen. “Not good enough. Think hard. I think you know her better than that, and I need to know who killed her.”
This time, the fear that took over Johnny’s face stayed there. “I don’t know. I didn’t have nothing to do with that.”
“Yeah,” Tom said, a hard edge to his voice. “Now we both know you’re lying. Time for a ride. Head for the convertible—the one with the top down.” He turned Johnny and nudged him with the knife. With each touch, blood appeared.
Upon reaching the car, Tom said, “We’re going to do this by the numbers. I hope you won’t get antsy. If you do, I’ll gut you right here.”
“Where you taking me?”
“Someplace we can talk without worrying about interruptions. I enjoy privacy, don’t you?” Tom smiled as he unlocked the cuff on Johnny’s left wrist. “Climb in the backseat. And don’t mess up the plastic covering the seat.”
“Screw you.”
Tom’s smile grew. “You wouldn’t enjoy it. Now do what I said.” The knife dug into a tattoo on Johnny’s arm with a resulting seepage of bl
ood.
“You sonavabitch,” Johnny said, but followed instructions.
Tom quickly cuffed his right wrist to the ring attached to the roll bar.
“Hey, what—”
“You talk too much. Now shut up and you won’t bleed…not right now anyway.” He pricked the back of Johnny’s hand with the knife. “Slide to the center, then secure your ankles. You see the rings on the floor?”
When Johnny had complied, Tom walked around the car. “Your left hand. Put it here.”
“The hell I will.”
“We’ve been there already,” Tom said, resignation in his voice. “You’ll do what I tell you, or you’ll die here. I’ll open you up and leave you here holding your intestines in your arms while I drive away. Your choice.”
Johnny raised his left arm, and Tom cuffed him to the roll bar. “That’s better. Now we’ll put the top up and visit a friend of mine.”
* * * *
Abby crouched in the darkness, peering across the hood of a pickup truck, wishing she could get closer. From her vantage point at the end of the parking lot, she could see Tom’s car and movements, but the distance and the lack of light kept her from making out any details. It looked like whoever was with Tom was in the backseat, and Tom had gotten in the front. Then the engine started and the top went up. As he pulled out of the parking space, Abby scooted down beside her car, which she’d parked between two SUVs. She hoped he wouldn’t notice her, thankful she’d had the foresight to wear black jeans and a black, long-sleeved T-shirt. A black scarf covered her red hair.
Apparently, he didn’t see her as he drove past her position. She jumped into her car and drove out of the space, congratulating herself that she’d had the foresight to back in. Leaving her lights off, she followed. At the street, Tom turned right. With traffic working to her advantage, she let a couple of cars pass, then pulled out, flipping her headlights on as she merged into the lane.
He drove five miles above the speed limit, hanging in the right lane, not doing anything that might attract attention. She stayed two to three cars behind, maintaining as low a profile as possible, comfortable they were doing nothing that would interest the police. Traffic was light enough to enable her to keep him in sight, but heavy enough to hide her. She relaxed. Piece of cake.
Tom took the southbound ramp onto the Florida Turnpike, merged into the light traffic, and picked up speed. Abby stayed with him, keeping one car between, wondering where he was going. Maybe Fort Lauderdale or Miami. There was enough crime in each to interest him. At the intersection with the Sawgrass Expressway, he switched roads. Abby slowed, not wanting to be too close if he stopped at the tollbooth. He used the Sunpass lane and sped through with Abby two cars behind. Once through, both accelerated to eighty miles an hour as other traffic zipped past them.
Glancing at her fuel gauge, worry lines creased her brow. What had looked like an easy track now revealed a problem. Her indicator hovered just above the quarter-tank mark. She’d burn that quickly if Tom continued to race at this speed along the length of Florida’s toll road. Maybe he’d exit soon and head for some place where they’d have to slow. Her best hope was he’d stop, and she could get the address, then gas up and return. With a grimace, she acknowledged he was right about learning the ropes. This was her second mistake of the day. Without a doubt, he’d topped up his tank before the evening began. At least she had a case of water this time.
When he turned west on Interstate 75, she looked at the lights along the frontage road, wondering how many gas stations were located under them. She searched her brain trying to remember where she could double back if necessary. She had no idea of his destination, or how far it might be. Interstate 75 ran due west from Fort Lauderdale to Naples then turned north, swinging up the gulf side of Florida. Even the west coast would be beyond the fuel in her tank, not to mention possible destinations far past that. For all she knew, he could be off to spend a few days with a girlfriend, but she’d never find out. She’d have to break off as soon as possible. The idea of running out of gas on Alligator Alley did not appeal to her. And she felt sure the cops had heard it so many times, their sense of humor resided elsewhere.
Darkness closed around her headlights, changing them into two spears piercing the night as city lights faded from her rearview mirror. “Damn you, Tom Jeffries.” She banged her hand on the steering wheel in frustration. “And screw you, Bert, for getting me into this mess.”
* * * *
Tom set his cruise control at eighty and rested his hand on the top of the steering wheel. A worry line formed on his forehead as he studied the headlights behind him. He might be wrong, but there was one set that could have been with him since Publix. Only one way to find out. He kicked the Chrysler, and it jumped to ninety. The trailing car fell back, then began to close the gap.
“Abby,” he mumbled. “Gotta be her.” He glanced in the mirror again. “Damn stupid broad.” He grinned. “Persistent bitch, though. Gotta love it. Of course it could be someone else, someone with an interest in my passenger.” He shot a quick look over his shoulder. “Johnny, did you have any friends meeting you tonight when you got off work?”
“Screw you.”
“A limited vocabulary is a sure sign of ignorance. Plus, we’ve already been there. Now, if we had more time, I could probably improve your education. But we don’t have that luxury. Your time is short. You need to be nice to me. I can make it hard on you, or I can make it easy. So, let me try again. Were you expecting anyone?”
“You’ll find out. And if I am, he’ll have a gun bigger than that toothpick knife of yours.”
Tom laughed. “Whistling past the graveyard, aren’t you? But you answered my question. Understandable, too. Why would anyone care about a worthless piece of shit like you?” He glanced in the rearview mirror again. I’ll see if the car follows me in. If so, I’ll have to divert it. “Be patient, Johnny. Not much farther.”
* * * *
Last Exit Before Toll. The sign popped into Abby’s headlights bringing a sigh of relief. Route 27. A chance to double back before crossing the Everglades.
She lifted her foot from the accelerator, letting the car coast. In front of her, Tom’s taillights raced away as if he had increased speed. “You win this round, Tom. But like you said, I’m learning. Next time I’ll be better prepared—a case of water, a full tank of gas, and enough gumption to follow you to hell if I have to.” She steered into the right lane, watching his car, willing it to stop. Blow a tire or something, you asshole, she thought.
He raced on.
Nope, looks like I lose again. Well, tomorrow is another day.
She turned left over the overpass and returned to I-75 headed south. You won the first two, Jeffries. However, I never strike out, so the third one is mine. But first, some shopping in the morning. At the first opportunity, she exited, filled her tank with gas, then headed for home and a night’s sleep.
NINE
As he passed the Route 27 cutoff, Tom shifted into the far left lane, studying his rear view mirror to see if anyone followed suit. The car he spotted earlier exited, and no others copied his movement. He frowned, wondering if his imagination had worked overtime, or if his surveillant had broken off.
He sped forward, still glancing in his mirror until the toll island marking the beginning of Alligator Alley appeared. He knew the Sunpass lane was on the right, but waited before making his move. He slowed, then about a hundred yards from the booths, veered to the right. A satisfied smile appeared when he saw that no one followed his maneuver. His toll sensor beeped as he drove through at a sedate thirty miles an hour. The two cars that rode his bumper quickly jumped around him and sped into the night.
“Hey, Johnny,” Tom said. “You can relax now. Looks like we’re home free. Nobody on us.”
“Yeah, man. I’m just so freaking glad to know you’re happy. Now, when you gonna park this piece of shit and let me out of here? You ’n me gonna have words. I’m gonna stick that knife up your ass.
”
“Ah, Johnny, you’re so negative. Relax. I’m not charging by the mile.”
Johnny shut up, and Tom drove in silence. They passed a couple of recreation areas, then a rest stop. Tom held his speed at a steady eighty miles an hour as he peered into the darkness.
“Ever been out this way, Johnny? Nah, probably not. I figure you find your adventure in an arcade…or raping young girls. Which do you like better, the games where you get to drive fast and wreck a lot of cars, or the ones where you get to kill everybody? Do you like your victims to lay quiet or fight you?”
“Go to hell,” Johnny mumbled.
“Be nice now, and I’ll teach you a bit about nature. Look on both sides. All that darkness covers some of the most intriguing country in the world. Miles and miles of Everglades filled with more creatures than you’ve ever heard of. Egrets, herons, wood storks, and more types of ducks than you can imagine. There’s otters, bears, snakes, turtles, deer, even Florida panthers. I’m sure you heard about alligators, but did you know American crocodiles live here, too? I have to admit my favorite is the alligator. So damned ugly, it’s beautiful. Reminds me of me in some ways. Pretty much a loner, doesn’t much care about its diet, will eat anything.”
Tom looked at Johnny’s reflection in the mirror. “You probably have a limited number of things you eat. Let me guess. You look like a burgers and fries man. Am I right?” When there was no response, Tom continued, “Me, I’ll eat about anything that don’t bite me first. And I’ve eaten a few that did try to bite me first. Been all over the world and enjoyed things we’d never dream of eating here. Yep, I’m always open to experimenting. I figure that’s how a gator thinks. Can’t tell if it’s good if you don’t try it.”
Tom checked his side mirrors then his rear view mirror past Johnny’s head. “Nobody back there. Just you, me, and the Everglades. Gonna be a fun night.”
“Where we going? I got friends gonna be asking ’bout me.”