Gone Duck

by L. L. Muir

  “When?” Macey took a step in her direction. “How far back?”

  The woman shrugged. “Couple of miles. Maybe more. Don’t remember.” But the look on her face made Macey believe she knew exactly where she’d thrown it.

  “Macey!” Shawn nodded at the officer. “Don’t move!”

  Barney Fife was a mess. Pointing from one suspicious character to the next, he now added Shawn in the rotation.

  “Officer?” Dorothy stumbled forward, pointing at Shawn. “Please help me. I believe this man kidnapped me.”

  The gun suddenly steadied. “Down on the ground, sir.”

  Shawn caught the strap of the backpack on his arm and raised his hands in the air. “She’s got Alzheimer’s, Officer. At night, she gets confused. For all we know, she’s reliving whatever show she was watching just before she went to bed.”

  Dorothy wrinkled her nose at him. “So what am I doing out of bed, then?”

  Shawn started swiping at bugs attacking his head. The old couple began stealing a few inches at a time toward the shadows, away from the headlights.

  “Nobody move!” the officer shouted. “Everyone down on the ground. I’m not going to tell you again.”

  “Even me?” Dorothy started fretting. The officer turned his head toward her for a second and when he turned back, Shawn had his glock on him.

  “Nice and slow. Put the gun on the ground,” Hot Shawn said. What was it about a man and a gun?

  With eyebrows high, the poor guy did what he was told.

  Shawn nodded toward the old couple. “Now cuff those two before they get away. The cab of that truck is full of stolen goods. You’re going to be a hero, son.”

  Two minutes later, sirens rose in the distance. Macey tucked her legs and all three backpacks into the passenger side of the highway patrol car. Shawn shut the door on their prisoner in the back seat, then climbed behind the wheel and got them back on the road.

  Dorothy beat on the metal grid between them. “Let me outta here! I’ve been framed!”

  Shawn flipped on the siren just to drown her out.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Macey could still hear the siren in her head, even though Shawn had turned it off. Dorothy was blessedly quiet. Shawn looked a little too comfortable behind the wheel with the glow of the computer screen lighting his face.

  A sign flashed by. Washington State Line, 4 miles. She was going to be sick.

  “The state line is just ahead,” she said. “What are we going to do, crash through some blockade?”

  Scenes from the old Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid came to mind. She wasn't ready to die. Not like that. Not like...anything!

  “No. Trust me.”

  He turned up the cop's radio. Apparently the Washington State police were setting up a road block.

  Shawn pulled off onto the shoulder. “I have an idea.” He turned and looked at Dorothy. “How you doing, sweetheart?”

  The old woman sat back against her seat with her arms folded. “I want my lawyer.”

  Shawn nodded. “You don't need a lawyer. This is a ride-along. Just for fun, remember? You won the contest at the Boob Center—a ride along with an undercover state trooper for the length of his shift. And this is Macey McDaniels, the contest coordinator from the radio station. I'm sorry it's been a little hairier than usual tonight, but at least it hasn't been boring, right?”

  Dorothy kept her arms folded, and her frown remained, but it was a little less angry and a little more confused. Macey couldn't think of anything better than the story Shawn had come up with, so she just kept her mouth shut. Shawn pulled out a speed gun and aimed it at the road. Dorothy moved her head so she could see the numbers.

  A couple of cars passed. Dorothy unfolded her arms. Another car passed and she scooted forward.

  A large black truck sped by and the speed flashed.

  “Got him!” Shawn handed Macey the clunky black speed gun and threw the transmission into gear. “Seatbelt, ma'am.”

  The engine roared. Dorothy giggled.

  “Well, at least we're having a good time.” Macey didn't want to come out and ask what his plan was because she was afraid to know.

  Shawn grinned. “I've always wanted to drive one of these.” He flipped on the siren and the lights. They caught up to the truck within a mile. It was already moving off the road in surrender, which was lucky, since they didn’t have much Idaho road left.

  “I don't know about this guy,” he said. “I think he might be drunk. If he is, we'll have to take him in. So I'm going to need you two to get out of the vehicle for a minute. If it becomes necessary, do you think you can drive that truck and follow us back to the station? That way we won't have to wait all night for backup.”

  “I can drive it,” Macey said, wishing her acting ability came as easily as Shawn's seemed to.

  “Okay, then. Let's move.”

  They got out of the car and Shawn headed for the truck with a sinister looking flashlight in hand. Macey opened the back door and helped Dorothy out. “This is kind of exciting, isn't it?”

  “Where are we?” Dorothy looked around. There was nothing but pine trees on either side of the freeway. Cars sped past and the wind they created buffeted them. Poor Dorothy looked scared to death. “Why are we here?”

  She'd already forgotten the ride-along story.

  Macey stepped close to her and put her arm around her shoulder. “Just hang on, Dorothy. We'll be okay. Shawn won't let anything happen to us.”

  “Who's Shawn?” The old face looked like a child's as she searched Macey's features for something she could trust.

  “He's the cute one, remember?” She pointed to the guy patting down the poor Idaho cowboy who was about to lose his truck.

  “Cute is good,” Dorothy said. She put her arm around Macey's waist and hung on. She was shaking.

  The guy was handcuffed and brought back to the car on the driver's side. Carrying all three backpacks, Macey steered Dorothy forward and in the darkness, feeling like a cross between a pack mule and a border collie. The cowboy didn't seem to notice them, either because of the darkness, or because he was too terrified to notice much at all.

  Two minutes later, the guy was in the “cage.”

  Shawn, now wearing the other man's cowboy hat and toting Jared’s shotgun, came up and held the keys out to Macey. “I wasn't kidding about you driving.”

  She shook her head. “I'm going to sit in the back, with Dorothy. We're really tired.”

  He smiled at Dorothy and nodded, then tossed the backpacks onto the floor in the front.

  The stretch pickup looked like a town car from the inside. Macey opened the rear passenger door and helped Dorothy climb in first. They slid into butt-hugging white leather seats. Their hands rested naturally on wood paneled arms. The only thing missing were drinks to set in their cushioned drink holders.

  Yeah. That cowboy is going to be pissed.

  Shawn climbed into the bed of the truck. He rolled the shotgun up in a tarp and laid it up tight against the back of the cab. Then he came to stand just inside the door next to Dorothy.

  “You ladies get comfortable...”

  Macey could tell he was gearing up to give Dorothy some crazy reasons for leaving the cowboy in the back of the patrol car, so she shook her head and put a hand up to stop him.

  “Relax,” she said quietly. “She doesn't remember any of it.”

  Dorothy looked at her and gave a little nod. Macey wanted to believe the woman appreciated straight talk.

  Shawn gave Dorothy's hand a squeeze, then he shut her door and climbed up behind the wheel.

  Traffic slowed as they neared the state line. A semi merged in front of them and kept them from seeing much. Just darkness, brake lights, and offensive mud flaps.

  “I'm sorry, Macey,” Shawn said over his shoulder. “I’m sorry I couldn't think of another way out of here.”

  She didn't like the sound of that. Apparently, he wasn't expecting to get past the checkpoint.


  “I'm sorry I couldn’t think of anything better either. It’s not like we could start hiking into the mountains with an eighty-year-old.”

  Emotionally, she was spent. She didn’t know if she could last a minute longer without breaking down. She needed to either let go and cry, or figure out some reason to cheer up. But that was the Macey in her. She needed a little dose of Morty herself. So she tried to pull him on, like a jacket. What would Morty expect out of Keefer if he’d written the boy into a tunnel and there was only one way out?

  “I'll just take it as a sign we don't need another plan,” Macey said aloud. “This one is going to work just fine. If we get caught, it’s because we’re meant to get caught.”

  She looked in the rearview and found Shawn looking at her. It was a silent exchange. Then he winked and looked back at the road.

  The truck inched forward.

  It was strange—almost freeing—to think they were probably going to be taken into custody. But she wasn't afraid of the cops. It was the people who would take her away from the cops who were the danger. And if Shawn's warnings were right, she wouldn't have to worry about jail time. They'd never make it to jail. And if they did, they wouldn't be there long. Lacrosse didn't want them talking to inmates. They didn't even want them talking to cops.

  “I'm sorry we didn't get those files copied and sent off somewhere,” she said.

  “Not your fault. We've had no chance. We'll just take it as a sign we weren't meant to.” He smiled in the mirror.

  The road opened up ahead of them. The semi had been waived to the side. There were three cars between them and the first trooper. A unit sat sideways in the road ahead. They couldn’t just bully their way through. After a car was waived on, it had to turn and drive around two units just to get to the narrow path that led back to the blacktop beyond. And to both sides of that path, other units were lined up with armed officers standing behind them. They weren't playing around.

  With a puckered brow, Dorothy met Macey’s gaze. All Macey could do was shrug and the woman went back to looking out the window.

  The cop was two cars away. Macey made a mental note to grab Dorothy's backpack when they were hauled away. Surely cops would understand how important an old woman's medications might be.

  One car now.

  Someone pounded on the driver's door and Macey jumped.

  Shawn rolled his window down. “Terrorists get over the border again?”

  A powerful flashlight lit up his face and the rest of the cab. “This your truck, sir?”

  “Sure is. Ain't she a beaut?”

  “Any weapons?”

  “No, sir. My wife don't like 'em.”

  Jared's shotgun was rolled up in a tarp in the truck bed. She had no idea where Shawn's glock might be. Last time she'd seen it, it had been pointed at Barney Fife.

  “Where you headed?”

  “Spokane.”

  “How many are in the vehicle?”

  Shawn sobered. “Two women in the back, officer.”

  “I'm going to need you to pull over to the right. You see that space?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Move your truck into that space and turn off the engine.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Shawn looked over his shoulder, to see if the coast was clear, but he paused long enough to wink at her and Dorothy. A minute later, when he turned off the noisy diesel engine, it felt final, like the slamming of a jail cell door.

  Macey leaned over and took Dorothy's hand in hers. It was cold. The skin was incredibly soft. The fingers were strong where they gripped her own. Macey wouldn’t look at her though. She was afraid she might cry.

  A different officer approached Shawn’s window. “Do I have your permission to search the vehicle?”

  “Yes, sir.” Shawn didn't hesitate. “You want me to get out?”

  “If you don't mind.”

  Shawn opened his door and climbed out.

  “Stand over there, sir.”

  Macey's door opened. “Ma'am?”

  “Officer?”

  “Do you have any weapons back here?”

  “Hell no.”

  “Can you tell me why you are in the back?”

  “Sleeping. If he's not going to let me drive, I may as well sleep.”

  Dorothy's door opened wide and two officers stood in the opening.

  “Ma'am? Are you all right?” one asked.

  Dorothy frowned. “Yes. I'm fine.”

  “Have you been kidnapped, ma'am?”

  Dorothy grinned. “Kidnapped? I don't know. Can you call it kidnapping when your daughter is taking you to live in a home?” She laughed, but the officers didn't think it was funny.

  “Is your name Dorothy?”

  She frowned. “That's not funny, son.”

  “I wasn't trying to be funny. Is your name Dorothy?”

  “No. I'm Liz. And I don't appreciate you teasing an old woman who has a hard enough time keeping her memories straight. Who's in charge around here?”

  The two officers looked through the cab at the officer standing next to Macey's door.

  He took a hard look at Macey.

  “Has a woman really been kidnapped?” she asked.

  “Is this really your mother?”

  “Yes.”

  “May I see your ID?”

  “What's the hold up?” A loud officer stepped up behind the one harassing her. “You find them?”

  The officer stepped back and spoke with the loud one. The squeal of big rig brakes kept her from hearing anything they said.

  Finally, the loud one stepped over to the truck and looked at Dorothy. “Ma'am? Can you tell me your name? Do you know who you are?”

  Dorothy's face became a thundercloud. With all the adrenaline pumping through her system, there was no telling what she was going to say. And as soon as they realized how confused she really was, it was all over.

  “My name is Elizabeth Taylor, and I want to go home.”

  “Elizabeth Taylor?” One of the men standing next to her smirked. “That's not what she told us before.”

  “Horseshit.” Dorothy Jean turned back to the loud one. “I told him my name is Liz. This boy is an idiot. And I'll have you know I was Elizabeth Taylor a good two years before the movie star was even born!” She shook her head and mumbled. “Laugh at my name. You can kiss my ass.”

  Their hand radios chirped. The officers jumped and listened.

  “They've found the car,” said the loud one. “With the man locked inside.” The radio exploded with static and voices. He shooed his hand in Dorothy's direction. “Let them go.”

  Let them go? Was he teasing? And what about Shawn?

  A man with a cowboy hat climbed into the truck. She'd almost forgotten Shawn had been wearing one. He pulled back onto the road and wound slowly between the remaining patrol cars. He rolled up the window as he went.

  “Holy shit,” he said once they were able to get up to full speed. “I can't believe they let us go!”

  “Me neither.” She turned to Dorothy. “Someone in here deserves an Academy Award.”

  Dorothy frowned. “I don't know what you mean.” Then her straight face dissolved into a smile. “Thought you were going to crap your pants when I said my name was Elizabeth Taylor.”

  Macey quickly told Shawn what he'd missed.

  “Well, if they found the police car, they now know what we're driving, and those Washington State troopers aren't going to be happy they let us get away.”

  Luckily, the city of Spokane and its suburbs lay just over the state line. They made it to the Liberty Lake exit without any flashing lights. Every hundred yards or so and a little more tension eased away, like a fast leak in a big tire. They wound through town and Shawn pulled into an IHOP. Macey and Dorothy got out and took the backpacks inside while he went to dump off the truck.

  “I’m not really hungry,” Dorothy murmured.

  “That’s all right. We’re just going to sit on this bench and wait
for Shawn to come back.”

  Ten minutes later, Dorothy started snoring. Her chin had dropped to her chest, but she sat perfectly upright otherwise. Macey kept shaking her head at the waitress until the woman finally stopped asking if they were ready to be seated yet. After a half hour passed, she was freaking out, imagining that Shawn had already been caught.

  There wasn’t a chance he’d give away their location, so she had some time to think. They were inside, not waiting on a corner somewhere, but then again, IHOP was known for being open all night. Of course Lacrosse’s guys, or the state police, would come looking for them there. They had to move. She decided to give Shawn ten more minutes and then they were out of there. And hopefully, another ten minutes of sleep would be enough to rejuvenate Dorothy.

  She didn’t have a watch or a phone, so she decided to count to sixty ten times. She was holding up nine fingers when her beautiful, wonderful Neighbor Dude came through the door. She was so relieved she couldn’t speak, but she held up her nine fingers to show him how close he’d come.

  “I’m sorry. But I found a good spot to leave the truck. I had to lose the shotgun. It may take Lacrosse days to find either of them.”

  Macey gestured toward Dorothy Jean, who slept and snored on. “She can’t keep up with this.”

  “I know. We’re going to have to find somewhere safe and lay low for a few days. I don’t know if it’s the disease or a misfiring chip, but stress seems to weaken her. And the only doctors that might know how to help her work for WHOSO. They could tell her exactly what was going on...after they got a look at the chip.”

  “But you said they wouldn’t be able to take it out without killing her.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Then we’d better keep her healthy.”

  She just hoped they’d be able to do a better job taking care of the patient than they had looking after the damned duck.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Shawn had a burner phone in his bag and he used it to call a cab. He asked the driver to take them to the cheapest hotel she knew, but Macey wasn’t about to complain. It wasn’t her sack of money, and she certainly didn’t know how much was in it. Far be it from her to tell him how much to spend on a hotel. Besides, when he’d chosen the tiny excuse for a cabin instead of a big fancy one, it had turned out pretty well.