by Brenda Novak
“I want you to turn around and take a good hard look at the man you’re thinking of hooking up with.”
She glanced at the truck driver. Jason did too. The top of Stan’s shaved head was blinding in the sun. He was big and brawny and didn’t need to smile for Jason to see he only had a few teeth left. He could smell the guy’s body odor from here.
“What about him?” Angela asked.
“He’s going to give you a ride all right, but he’s not going to take you anywhere you want to go. He could be a serial killer for all you know.”
“That’s calling the kettle black, don’t you think?”
“Listen. I know you don’t trust me. And there’s not a lot I can do to convince you of my innocence, but you’re not thinking this through. If you’re going to go with the truck driver, that’s your decision. I’m not going to try and stop you again. But I want you to know that once I drive out of here, you’re on your own.”
She crossed her arms. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“I haven’t given you any reason to be afraid of me. I haven’t touched you in- appropriately or—”
“You took advantage of me just last night.”
“You kissed me. You’re lucky it stopped there.”
She looked him straight in the eye. “Why? I thought I wasn’t your type.”
He was this close to telling her the truth…that he had hardly gotten any sleep last night. That she was a beautiful woman and her douche of a boyfriend was a fool for letting her go. But reality set in and he kept his mouth shut. His freedom was on the line. This was his chance to prove his innocence, and here he was trying to convince a woman he’d known for less than forty-eight hours that she should pick him instead of some toothless truck driver. The notion made his jaw hurt. “I need to get going,” he said. “You do what you need to do.”
And then he walked off.
***
Angela watched him walk away. She tried to tell herself it was for the best.
He was a convicted felon who had spent the last eight years in prison. He’d kidnapped her and was keeping her against her will. And yet he hadn’t taken advantage of her last night, she thought, as she turned back toward the truck and its driver.
The trucker grinned as he watched her walk toward him. “My name’s Stan,” he said, holding out a hand.
“Angela,” she said.
He licked his cracked lips before he said in what she assumed was supposed to be a comforting voice, “You’re doing the right thing.”
He helped her into the truck, both hands squeezing her ass as he pushed her high enough so she could easily climb inside. She’d never been inside an eighteen-wheeler before. And she didn’t like it one bit.
The inside of his truck smelled worse than Stan himself. Dirty boots, empty water bottles, half-eaten food and trash littered the floor. A filthy curtain separated the back of the truck from the front. When she moved the curtain aside, something skittered to the rear of the vehicle. Then her gaze fell on a pile of used condoms in one of the cup holders. The smell of rotted meat and body odor grabbed her by the throat and shook her.
What was she doing? Had she completely lost her mind?
The driver’s door creaked open just as she was reaching for the handle on her side. The door was heavy, though, and she had to use her legs to push it all the way open. She jumped out—half fell—onto the hard ground. Her knee hit the pavement first.
Before she could get to her feet, she watched her car pull out of its parking space and move toward the exit. “Don’t leave me,” she called out. Scrambling to her feet, she limped hurriedly toward her abductor, Chris Patterson, waving her arms above her head, praying he would see her. She didn’t have a phone or a dime to her name.
But it was too late.
She watched her car roll out onto the long road and then merge onto the highway.
She had done what she said she would do. She had escaped a convicted felon. And yet she felt nothing but dread. Taking in a deep breath, she headed for the benches lined up near the restrooms. Both knees ached. She stopped at an old payphone to search for quarters.
No such luck.
She picked up the receiver, then saw the “out of service” sign.
A car she hadn’t noticed before, parked at the other side of the rest stop, backed out of a parking spot. She waved her hands in the air, hoping they would stop but the car never slowed before merging onto the freeway.
Overwhelmed by her predicament, and needing a moment of clarity, she took a seat at a wooden picnic table, folded her arms in front of her, and let her head drop.
“Come on, girlie girl. It’s okay. We’ll take good care of you, I promise.”
Her head snapped up.
It was Stan. And he wasn’t alone. His friend was as skinny as a broomstick—a broomstick with long, stringy hair. Dirty jeans hung low on his hips.
“I can’t go with you,” she said, trying to remain calm despite the voice in her head telling her to get the hell out of there. “My friend is coming to pick me up. She’ll be here any minute.”
“How did you call your friend? The payphone is out of order.”
“My other friend…the guy who just left…called her for me.”
His grin told her he knew she was lying. “Why don’t you come with us and wait for your friend there? I set up a nice little lunch in the back of my truck. The three of us are going to have a good time. We’ve got everything you need until she comes for you.”
“No, thanks. I’d rather wait here.”
She didn’t think her predicament could go from bad to worse, but that’s exactly what had happened. Panic settled over her in waves. There was no way she was climbing into that truck again.
Her heart beat faster as she scanned the area.
Where had everybody gone?
Both men’s gazes feasted on her, their intentions clear. They weren’t asking her to join them, they were telling her.
The skinny man pounded a fist on the wood table.
She jumped.
“Come on. Let’s go. Now!” His eyes were wild. He was as high as a kite.
She stood, pretending she might go with them. Instead, she pushed off from the table and took off, sprinting across the wide expanse of grass. Her ankle hit a soft spot in the ground and nearly buckled. But she regained her balance and ran into the women’s restroom before she remembered there was no main door to the bathroom, no way to lock the men completely out.
Hidden within the middle stall, she stood on the toilet, trapped. Her breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling. She’d never been so afraid in her life.
Footsteps echoed off of the cement walls. “I know you’re hiding in here.”
It was the skinny one.
“No reason to try to run off again. We just want to have a little fun.”
The first stall door creaked slowly open and then slammed shut with a bang.
He moved down the line, one door at a time.
When he got to her stall, she kicked the door as hard as she could.
Broomstick fell to the ground. She darted from the bathroom and slammed into Stan’s barrel chest. He held her close, his dirty hands clinging to her waist as he grinded against her like a dog in heat. She was going to be sick.
“I got her, Al,” Stan shouted to his friend.
“I think the bitch might have broke my nose,” the guy called from the bathroom.
“Leave her alone!” a third voice challenged.
Angela looked in the direction of the voice. It was Chris. He’d come back for her.
“Fuck you!” Stan shot back. “You had your chance.”
Al exited the bathroom. He pulled out a three-inch blade, making sure everyone saw it, then looked at Chris when he said, “You best turn around and go back the way you came.”
Chris waited for Al to approach. Just as he had done in the morgue, he took a couple of long strides toward the man and grabbed hold of his wrist, twistin
g until Al let out a wild screech and dropped the knife.
He went for Stan next, told Angela to duck, then punched him in the side of the head. As the trucker fell to his knees, Chris grabbed hold of Angela, stopping her from falling to the ground with him, and said, “Get in the car.”
She didn’t have to be told twice.
She ran toward the vehicle and jumped inside. Chris was right behind her. He slid in behind the wheel and peeled out of the parking lot.
Chapter Seven
They had been driving for hours. The sign on the side of the highway told Jason they had just entered Nebraska.
Neither of them had said a word since the incident at the rest stop.
Until now.
“Since we’re in Nebraska,” Angela said, “I was thinking we could stop at my mom’s house for the night. I haven’t seen her since she moved here. We talk on the phone every so often,” she went on after he said nothing in response. “I was thinking I could borrow her computer, so you could do some research, figure out if that defense attorney you’re planning on visiting still lives in California. It would be a shame to get all that way and discover he moved.”
He remained silent, kept his eyes on the road.
“I could say you were Rob, since she’s never met him. She wouldn’t even know the difference.” She sighed. “She doesn’t watch television, so even if you happened to be on the news, she would have no idea.”
Jason had been doing a lot of thinking since leaving the rest stop. He might actually entertain the idea of staying the night at her mother’s house, because he’d realized it was time to set off on his own. Worrying about Angela running off had become exhausting. He couldn’t do it any longer. But he also needed to know she would be okay. Leaving her with her mother sounded like the perfect solution.
“Talk to me, Chris. I’ll go nuts if you don’t.”
He’d forgotten she thought he was Chris Patterson. He didn’t bother correcting her. “I have nothing to say,” he told her.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted.
He sighed.
“I never should have attempted to run off with that trucker. But try and put yourself in my shoes for a minute. A dead guy at the morgue where I work turns out to be an escaped convict accused of killing his business partner and friend. That same man forces me to go with him, against my will. He steals my money and then expects me to sleep in the same bed as him.”
His jaw twitched. “I told you I would let you go when this is over. I haven’t touched you inappropriately or harmed you in any way. If anything, I’ve provided a means by which to help get you out of your rut.”
“My rut? Who said I was in a rut?”
“Nobody. Forget I said anything.”
“No. I want to hear it.” She crossed her arms as she often did when she was upset. “Why do you think I’m in a rut?”
“Maybe rut was the wrong word. But come on, the way I felt you staring at a dead man back in Vermont was my first clue that at the very least, you might be bored.”
“That’s not a fair assessment, especially since you weren’t even dead.”
He wasn’t in the business of judging or analyzing others, but the fact that she’d been causing him nothing but trouble egged him on. “The fact that you hadn’t bathed in who knows how long was another indication that something was wrong.”
“I had a rough night and I was late for work—oh, never mind.”
“And what kind of woman would date a guy like Rob?”
“Sure, okay, I’ll give you that one, but—”
“You also happen to work in a privately-owned morgue in the middle of nowhere.”
“Where do you get off judging me and my choices?”
“You’re the one that wanted to talk. I made a simple observation and you wanted details, so maybe it’s best if we go back to watching the highway.”
“How do you know the morgue is privately owned?”
“It was all on Chris Patterson’s chart.”
“You mean your chart.”
“Yeah, sure, my chart.”
“Oh, my God. You’re not Chris Patterson!”
He drew in a breath. “Chris Patterson is dead.”
“You killed him. You are a killer.”
He released an exasperated breath. “Listen carefully because I refuse to repeat what I’m about to tell you. A riot broke out at the prison. Six men died. Refrigeration trucks were brought in and the bodies were picked up. Because of good behavior,” he said with much emphasis, “I happened to be on cleanup duty outside the prison. I switched all the wristbands on the corpses, put Chris Patterson inside another’s guy’s body bag, then took off my clothes and climbed into his empty bag. The rest is history.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t the one who had my ass squeezed by a toothless man as he helped me into his freightliner.”
For a few moments, she was quiet. “I do appreciate you coming back for me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“If you’re not Chris Patterson, who are you?”
“Jason Caldwell.”
It didn’t take long for the silence to stretch out between them once more. When Angela went back to staring out the window, he said, “I’ll take you to your mom’s.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her smile.
They stopped for directions no less than three times. It was dark by the time they finally pulled up in front of a house in the middle of a five-acre lot in Lincoln, Nebraska. It was a big, two-story home with a long, gravely driveway and a wrap-around porch. They grabbed their stuff and climbed out of the car.
“She won’t mind that we just show up without warning?” he asked.
“No. She won’t mind.”
Thunder clapped in the distance and before they got to the front door, the clouds cracked opened and the rain began to come down hard. They ran quickly up the stairs to the covered porch, and stood there, gazing out at the downpour.
The wind had picked up and from where Jason stood the trees seemed to be dancing, their gangly branches swaying back and forth. It was one of the most beautiful sights he’d seen in a very long time.
When Angela looked his way, he smiled at her.
Despite the warmth of the air, hail came next. Angela reached out a hand and laughed as they both watched the icy pebbles gather in her palm.
The front door to the house opened just then and a barefoot blonde wearing a sleeveless, pale blue dress stepped out onto the porch. Her face tightened when her gaze fell on Angela. The woman’s wavy blonde hair swept well past her shoulders. She was the same height as Angela and they had identical noses and mouths. Definitely related. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” she asked.
“I wanted to surprise you.”
The blonde pushed strands of damp hair out of Angela’s face, then hugged her as if it strained her to do so. When she stepped back, she looked her over and said, “You’ve gained some weight, I see.”
Before Angela could answer, the woman gave Jason the once-over, letting her gaze roam slowly, carefully, down the length of him. “And who do we have here?”
“Mom, I’d like you to meet Rob. The guy I mentioned on the phone the last time we talked.”
“Nice to meet you, Rob.” Her mother came up on her tiptoes and kissed him on one cheek and then the other. “You can call me Samantha.” She looped an arm through his and ushered him inside the house, leaving Angela to follow behind.
He could hear music playing and people talking.
“It sounds like you’re having a party,” Angela said.
“Just a few friends.” Samantha dragged him into the main room. “Everyone! I’d like you to meet my daughter, Angela, and her boyfriend, Rob.”
There were three women and two men sitting in various spots inside a vast living space with floor to ceiling windows. Everyone seemed to be having a good t
ime. Jason, on the other hand, didn’t like the idea of being seen by too many people. He wasn’t sure what the deal was with Angela and her mother, but the tension between the two women was thick and uncomfortable.
“Is this the daughter who spends most of her time with a bunch of stiffs?” a woman asked.
They all laughed.
“Looks like she caught herself a live one, though,” another woman said.
More laughter.
Samantha ushered them both to the kitchen. “What can I get you two?”
“Nothing for me,” Jason told her.
She filled two glasses with champagne and handed one to Angela and one to Jason.
Jason set his full glass back on the counter. He needed to get out of there before someone recognized him.
Angela took a sip.
“Oh, come on,” Samantha said, trying to hand Jason his glass again and nearly toppling over in the process.
“Mom, I’m sorry to show up without notice, but I hope it’s okay if we stay the night.”
“Of course.”
“Thanks,” Angela said. “It’s good to see you having fun. Every time we’ve talked recently, you tell me you’re bored and spending your weekends alone.”
“That was before I met Gordon, over there.” Samantha indicated a man seated on a sofa across the room. He waved in response. Then Samantha laughed as she reached for Jason and gave his arm a squeeze before brushing a hand over his jaw.
She’d obviously had too much to drink.
Angela blushed. “Mom. Please. Leave him alone.”
“Oh, would you look at that? My daughter’s getting all territorial.”
Jason’s eyelids felt like cement blocks. “If it’s all right with you two,” he cut in, “I need to get some, sleep since we’ll be heading off early in the morning.”
“So soon?”
“It can’t be helped.”
“After you lovebirds visit with my friends, you can take the guestroom upstairs, second room to the left.”
He turned to Angela. “Why don’t you spend time with your mom? I’m going to go get some shut-eye. We have a long drive tomorrow.”