by Noah Rea
“I am not a quitter, and I could not leave another human to those thugs.” She said and pulled a handgun out from under the seat and handed it to me. “Right now I am more afraid of them than I am of you, and I want you to have a fighting chance if they catch up with you.”
We agreed we both needed to lay low for a few days. I bought a hat with a wider brim so when I was around other people or cameras I could hide my face better. She turned her phone on for two minutes at a time to get messages. We left all of our phones off most of the time. She changed the number on her original phone and made double sure it was unlisted and registered it using her middle name with no D in front of it. She called her essential customers and gave them her new phone number. One good thing came out of it, though. Now Deb knew for sure I had been telling the truth. She was on my side for real.
As I continued to try to alter my appearance, I grew quite a beard. Deb asked me if I looked real clean cut when I was wearing a suit and tie everyday and working as an accountant.
I told her I had. My hair was short and it was a nice cut with a small part. It looked very conservative and typical of the industry. She said I should go to the opposite of that and look hairy. I needed to let my hair grow to at least my jaw line. I could wear a hat or head band. With a beard, long hair and dark skin, I would look very different. She helped me with the hair dye as my hair got longer. The driving all day wasn’t doing anything good for my gut, but some of the work that went along with the job was helping to build some upper-body strength I didn’t previously have. When I was pushing a pencil and pounding a keyboard it didn’t give me much exercise.
Occasionally, when I looked in a mirror, I didn’t see Ben Raines. I saw a trucker I didn’t know. I had a feeling I wasn’t the only one beginning to like the new appearance of this trucker. I sometimes caught Deb looking my way with a small smile, and at times it made me feel guilty—guilt that I was alive and Rebecca was not. But other times the thought of Deb smiling my way made me smile a bit, too.
Chapter 5
Networking
Now there were three of us working together, we thought, and we might be getting some light shed on the situation. Jim was the assumed name of the FBI agent. He was tracking something down my wife had been working on. I had no idea what he could be talking about. She wasn’t a spy or detective or lawyer. She was a court reporter. She heard and saw things lots of other people saw and heard but nothing private.
“Maybe she got a transcript wrong and someone was hurt by it or went to jail,” I told them. “But it can’t be that because she was always so careful. She recorded everything and went over her transcript while listening to the recording to verify. She also sent copies of the recordings along with the transcripts so they could verify she had transposed verbal testimony correctly. That could not be a cause for murder anyway.”
Jim and Deb agreed with me.
One day Jim asked, “Do you recognize the name Leon Dickenson?”
“Yes. He is an old man in a nursing home Rebecca helped out from time to time.”
Jim said Rebecca’s and Leon’s names were on a suspicious encrypted note they found and decoded.
I had begun to like Deb and trust her more and more. We were really good friends and she and I were sharing more and more of our life story in little bits as they fit with what we were talking about. It is amazing how you get to know someone when you are in the cab of a truck with them twelve hours a day. She was pretty, so part of it was easy, but I felt guilty when any warm feelings came to me. But they were coming more and more often. At first I felt I was betraying Rebecca. She had been murdered, and we had not brought justice to her killer. But she had been gone for over a year by now so my feelings were torn but I was in transition.
Anyway, Deb was too busy and scared, and I was too scared to think of much else. My new name was Sam Adams not Samuel, and I didn’t make beer. I told Deb I believed a prominent name stuck in peoples mind more than one which was hard to say or spell. Once someone knew me as Sam, they would be less likely to think I was someone else. I hoped it would make it less likely they would connect me with the guy from Fairfax.
Lots of truckers remembered my name quickly.
We got to California, and Deb decided we should work our way up the coast to Seattle. That sounded good to me because she wasn’t talking about putting me out. We had not seen any black SUVs or black helicopters for several days and were beginning to get into a work cadence. But we never totally relaxed, and we would talk a lot about being safe and watching out for the bad guys.
We stayed together walking to and from the truck or anywhere there weren’t a lot of people around. We kept our handguns in our duffle bags or close at all times. I got a fanny pack and started carrying my gun in it. I worried about getting in trouble with the police by carrying a concealed weapon without a permit, but Deb had one. If they caught me, the least of my problems would be a concealed weapon. We were way more afraid of the black SUV people than we were of the police, so we went on very carefully.
We both wore our fanny packs and carried our guns when we went running. And we stayed together. After the first week I could make five miles but it was so hard I was nearly sick. But by week four I could keep up with her at the pace she wanted to run.
I had enough highlights in my hair that I didn’t look anything like I did in the accounting office. I made sure I was darker skinned. I worked outside without a hat or shirt on when I could or lay out on those rare occasions when we were waiting on something. I used tanning beds if we were laid up over a weekend somewhere, or I used tanning spray when I had no better options. I kept my hair about jaw length as Deb had suggested so I was not that clean cut accountant.
“I ran into another FBI agent who is working on several cases of elderly people disappearing,” Jim said. “No bodies, no blood, and sometimes no records of them having been alive the last five or ten years. It was really strange stuff. Would either of you be willing to talk to him?”
Deb and I discussed it and felt a better situation would be for questions to come through Jim. We didn’t want exposure with too many people, even if they were FBI. His supposed name was Mike, but we didn’t want to talk to him unless it was essential. We were still very scared.
Days and weeks turned into months and then a year. I took over the truck and trailer maintenance. I did the daily checklist, but I also learned from every repair shop where we laid over. I asked about everything and learned about Cummins, Detroit, and Caterpillar diesel engines. I learned about brakes and air lines and lighting.
Deb had a very good safety rating before, but it was getting better. And I got to sleep in the top bunk now. Man it was a relief. It is a wonderful thing to have a good comfortable bed. But I kept the sleeping bag close. If the black SUV started showing up again, I intended to grab it and lead them away from her. No use the two of us getting killed. Now I was relatively certain she wouldn’t kick me to the curb or turn me over, so I really started to sleep well.
We laid over in Seattle one weekend, and I was able to get a birth certificate, a driver’s license, a passport, and a carry permit all from the state of Texas. I was an official Texan. I was officially Sam Adams. I was told even in Texas it would look good because they would have me in the state’s computer within days. I just shouldn’t go to Texas in fewer than two weeks. Soon I would be able to drive. No one would guess this truck driver had been a CPA.
I got a real phone, and I opened a checking account. I sent a bill to Ben Raines for $10,000. I called Ben’s parents and asked them to pay the bill if there was enough money, and pay what they could if not the full $10,000. Sam Adams became a family friend to Ben’s parents, and we talked as often as we wished. About a week later the Ben Raines estate paid $7023.01 of the debt he owed to Sam Adams. So I had some money in my account, and it wasn’t taxable because tax had already been paid on it. We agreed to sell the house Rebecca and Ben had owned. Everything in it would be sold except personal stuff after
each family got what they wanted, and then they would split the proceeds. They would call Rebecca’s parents and make arrangements for them to get into the house and get whatever they wanted.
Also I would be calling Rebecca’s parents and Sam Adams would be one of their new friends as well. The equity in the house with the rest of the estate paying Sam what was owed him. And since he had been a “friend of Ben and Rebecca’s,” by extension he would be their friend. They would all have to remember to talk about Ben and Sam keeping their names separate. Especially since we were sure the killers were listening.
But we weren’t able to relax. We were constantly looking over our shoulders. We jumped every time a black SUV appeared anywhere. Another thing that gave us the creeps was Jim called and said Mike had died in a traffic accident. He said it looked suspicious to him.
Well, that did it for me. I was never going back to Fairfax. I had changed, and I wasn’t going to take any chances. Now I was afraid to talk to Jim. I was afraid to talk about my old life or people I knew. There were some wonderful people, but I didn’t want to die or cause them to die at the hands of some cruel strangers.
“Please don’t let me get into trouble where they’d fingerprint me,” I asked Deb, “and please don’t take me to the Northeast,” I was so done with there until my name was cleared. Probably forever.
Some of her customers were big regional or national carriers. I started talking to the yard foremen while she was working the truck. They told me who to contact so we could get the better loads. I began to negotiate repair contracts. When we dropped a load at a location that had a repair shop, then we could get repairs done there rather than going to a stand-alone shop. Their shop rates were closer to cost, and we paid about half. Sometimes we got really good loads to Pennsylvania or Ohio. It was farther northeast than I really wanted to go, but as long as we stayed away from Virginia and DC, then I wasn’t too scared about where we went. The shop in Carlisle charged us forty-five dollars per hour, for example. It was their internal-fleet-budgeted shop cost. I was very thankful for that.
I was becoming a trucker. Deb taught me how to back into a parking space in a parking lot or a warehouse dock, how to parallel park, and perform other maneuvers a truck driver had to know how to do. Now we were together spending twenty hours a day in the same cab and getting to know each other even better.
About the only time we were apart was when I was taking care of repairs or trying to get better loads or Deb was doing chores. Or she was doing our laundry now and I was washing the truck.
“I met the FBI agent working on Mike’s case,” Jim called to say. “He had proven it wasn’t an accident, but he couldn’t determine who had killed him yet. His name is “Stan” and he’s begun to work Mike’s cases. Stan started asking about Rebecca and Leon. He found out Leon had put Rebecca’s name on his banking account and had given her power of attorney.”
“She had never mentioned it to me.” I said.
"Stan told me it was because she had pledged confidentiality, and Leon didn’t want anyone but her to know about the deal.” Jim replied.
“OK,” I said thinking out loud. ”So what? She helped out an old man, and he gave her power of attorney and probably made her executor of his will. And somebody would kill her over that? It didn’t seem probable, and even if so, why would it implicate me? This is getting stranger rather than clearer. …Jim, why haven’t you turned me in? Does it mean you believe I’m innocent?”
”Yes, I’m sure you didn’t do it. But more to the point, I don’t’ have you in custody, and I can’t arrest you very well over the phone. And since I don’t know where you are and won’t ask, then I can’t drive up on you,” he explained further.
One night Deb wanted us to shower first and eat later. It was OK with me. We worked very well together and had become good friends. She paid me a fair cut of the truck profits for my driving, maintenance work, and bookkeeping. I had almost no expenses, so I was getting Sam Adams’s financial house in order. I had been with Deb now for almost two years, and though I had been fearful, having her in it with me made it much easier to take.
I got done with my shower earlier than Deb did as usual, and I went ahead and got us a table in the restaurant. I was reading a paper when she came in. She wore a skirt that came almost to her knee and a teddy with a jacket over that. My heart nearly stopped. I hadn’t really looked at her in a long time. At least not that way. She was beautiful.
I told her she shouldn’t have dressed the way she had because she might have to kiss me later. She smiled but didn’t answer me. She seemed pleased that I had noticed how she dressed. She wanted me to notice her as a woman now and not just a friend or truck driving partner.
The rest of the evening went pretty much the same as other evenings with us talking to each other and then being repeatedly interrupted by others who wanted to talk. That’s all that changed that night, but it did change. Our relationship was different now, and I didn’t know where it was going. I didn’t bring up the kiss again, and neither did she, but I thought about it several times and caught her looking at me, probably thinking about it.
“Stan found an agent from Texas, “Tex,” who was finding the same things he and I are,” Jim said on his next phone call. “Elderly people were disappearing. No bodies, no blood, and no signs of struggle. In some cases no evidence they had ever lived.
Or they were in nursing homes and would die suddenly when they appeared to be stable. They didn’t disappear but seemed to have died prematurely. Some of the nursing home workers would be surprised.
Tex found something else. Every now and then, the person who disappeared wasn’t elderly. The three of us talked but couldn’t put anything together or make any connections.”
One day Deb asked, “Would you like to go halves with me on another truck?”
My first thoughts were she wanted us to split up, and each of us would have a truck to drive. I didn’t like the idea of her and me going separate directions. What was she talking about? My thoughts raced trying to find the best answer, but I went back to an old principle. I needed to get all the facts. I asked how she envisioned it would work.
She said she knew a lot of truckers and could find one who would be a good driver. I was relieved to find out she wasn’t trying to get rid of me. She reasoned if she and I bought a truck and paid cash, then our overhead would be really low, and we could make money when other truckers couldn’t.
“OK, but what happens between us. I mean how does it change you and me?”
“We would be partners, silly. You put up half the money and I put up half. We split the expenses and the profit.”
I sat in silence, relieved she wasn’t trying to put me in another truck. I liked being a team driver with her. When we had a layover somewhere, we could run around together and have fun. It was a lot better than being alone for one thing, and having her with me was better than anyone I could imagine. I was really enjoying her company and was wondering if we weren’t getting closer. Besides I was still sure I needed someone to cover my back. Life was a little quieter, but this was too much to handle alone.
“What’s your concept about the expenses,” I asked. “For example, if I fixed something myself and saved some money by doing it, would I get extra pay? Or are you going to do some work so we would each do the same amount to maintain the business side of another truck?”
It was an interesting prospect, but it concerned me that it might ruin our friendship. I saw horror stories as a CPA. People with the best intentions would get in a situation where the company lost money, then both partners found fault with the other, and they weren’t friends any longer.
“Friendship for me has to be more important than the money, but partners also need to plan well enough that neither one gets hurt financially,” I told Deb.
And thinking to myself especially with her and me.
“A big part of it for me was to refuse to have debt as much as you can.” I went on. “I have seen all kinds o
f things where IRR, internal rate of return, was analyzed and how to make the most money from the lowest possible investment being highly leveraged.
But I have seen those things get upside down and go bust especially in a slowing economy. But if we pay cash and if things go well, then we would have lower overhead and a greater profit margin than most others. If things don’t go well, then we don’t have a note to pay after the company quits turning a profit or goes out of business. That is unless we have a lot of equity or capital somewhere to cover your loan. Most people don’t.” I paused. “I don’t.”
”What do you think of me buying into the truck we’re driving?” I asked.
“That wasn’t what I was talking about.” She said and changed the subject.
So we drove on for several weeks without the issue coming up again. She and I were more than friends now, and I got to collect on the kiss. I had to get her cornered to do it. But she didn’t protest too much.
One evening Deb suggested we get a motel since we got to our drop early and had a lot of free time in the afternoon and evening. We could each have a bigger bed and a real TV of our own. That sounded great because usually in a truck stop we had to watch what everyone else wanted to watch. And we would go eat somewhere besides a truck stop restaurant.
“Sounds good to me,” I said.
We checked into the motel about three in the afternoon. She started teasing me about the attire I was wearing when she first saw me. She asked if I had a swimsuit, and I didn’t. She said we needed to go shopping.
When the lady says we need to go shopping, we go shopping, and I got a swimsuit. We both got some other clothes that were on sale. I made a substantial wardrobe upgrade from the least expensive jeans I had been wearing to some much nicer ones that didn’t cost much more because they were on sale.
At the checkout I got in line and was standing back from the person in front of me.