by Glenn Trust
Interspersed among them were tradesman like Cy and Clay. A few family travelers, usually older people driving big land yachts or the ones who had been fueling their motor homes at the pumps, made up the remainder of the clientele.
The Purcell boys and Lyn waited for their coffee and looked around. Cy was beginning to realize that the task they had been given, while simple enough on the surface, might be a bit more tricky than they had thought. He wasn’t sure where to start or exactly who to talk to about getting a ride for Lyn.
He glanced over at Clay who was intently focused on Lyn. She was going through her purse carefully. It made her look small and vulnerable. She was counting money to herself. Cy felt something briefly tug in his chest, but then forced it away. He saw it coming but was powerless to stop it. Clay spoke to Lyn.
“You want some breakfast? I’m buying.”
“Oh, no. It’s okay. I’ve got some money.”
“Well, you best save your money. Long ways to Canada, you know.”
The waitress arrived with their coffee, and Clay began ordering breakfast for the girl. Cy gave up and stirred some sugar into his cup. How in the world did they end up here?
A reddish beam of light pierced the dirty café window as the sun broke suddenly above the window sill. The bright rays lit everything up from the side, making things stand out clearly in the contrast with the dark shadows.
Cy squinted at the window as a waitress moved over to close the blinds. The higher the sun rose, the less direct the light, and as the shadows faded, the less clear and defined things would be.
The world always appeared washed out and bland in the day sun. Without the side lit shadows, things were less clear. And that was how it felt. The longer they dawdled around with the girl, the less clear things were becoming for the brothers.
30. Gassing Up
The northbound traffic was light this time of day. Mostly trucks trying to make some miles before the heavy traffic crowded I-95. The old Chevy proceeded northbound keeping pace with the trucks.
His little bit of business done, Lylee settled back and began looking for a gas station and convenience store where he could fill the tank up in the old car and get some coffee. Just a guy on the road making miles. He could have been anyone.
The early morning hour made him feel alive after the night’s activity. For much the same reason that Tom Ridley liked relieving himself in the yard in the darkness just before sunrise, it was his time. Quiet and solitary time. It gave him a sense of freedom.
The lights of a gas station lit up the horizon a couple of miles up the interstate. Pulling off at the exit, he drove up to the regular pump and started filling the tank. There were no other cars around. The digital numbers on the pump whirred by quickly.
Walking inside the little convenience store, he could smell coffee brewing. He found the pot and poured himself a cup. He was looking around for the clerk when she startled him coming out of the drink and beer cooler. A small laugh escaped from her when she saw him start.
“Sorry,” the little blond said. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen. “I could see you through the glass door on the cooler. Just stocking the shelves for the day.”
His ‘charming’ smile spread across his face. It was one of the many faces he could present to the world.
“No problem. Just thought there might be something wrong.”
She smiled back, her ‘be nice to the customers smile’.
“Nope. No problem.”
She was still smiling. Lylee stood there in a casual way, staying away from the cash register and sipping his coffee, taking everything in.
“It would make me nervous working here at night on my own,” he offered as an opener.
“Naw,” she said matter-of-factly. “I guess I was a little nervous at first, but I been here seven months now and never had a problem. The deputies and state patrol usually stop by a couple times a night. Didn’t see them last night though. They must have been busy.
Lylee nodded. Yep, they were busy. Definitely busy. They would be busier still, soon.
“And there’s always a trucker or someone like you comin’ in,” she continued, “So I’m not alone here much.”
“Besides,” she added, “we got a camera”. She nodded her head in the direction of the wall.
Lylee looked up with mild interest in the direction she indicated. It wasn’t necessary. He had seen the camera right off. He had also seen that it was focused on the cash register and that if he didn’t get within three feet…say five feet to be safe…it would never see him. He would just be someone off to the left talking to the pretty blond.
This was not a sign of a superior intellect. It was just a part of his instinctive cunning.
The predator in him never ceased calculating, figuring the odds, the probability of success or failure, and assessing danger. He was good at it. He had the knack of self-preservation, and of course, there was that luck that seemed to follow him and watch over him on his runarounds.
He told his few acquaintances at work that he just went for driving tours to some national park or historic site or city on his excursions. He made sure that he actually researched the places he was supposed to visit and always had a few travel brochures so that he could answer questions for the few people who would give a shit about what he’d been up to. It wasn’t a very large group.
The excursions kept him sane, like a good vacation for most people. Of course, in Lylee’s case, sane was a very relative term. If the details of the runarounds had been known to those who were acquainted with him, it is unlikely that sane would have been an adjective that anyone used in connection with Leyland Torkman.
At the moment his brain whirred on automatic behind the gray eyes, calculating the odds of having the pretty little blond join him on this runaround as project number two. He casually scanned the surroundings, outside and around the store.
He wondered how she would react if she knew about the bundle he had dropped off not ten miles from here. Would she still have that cute little smile on her face? Maybe not, but it made him smile to think of it.
“What? Did I say something silly?” the blond asked, seeing the smile.
“Huh? Oh, no, not at all. I was just enjoying your company and sipping my coffee, thinking what an unexpected pleasure to be able to spend a few minutes with a girl as pretty as you on a long trip.”
This time he smiled for real. He really could be quite charming when he wanted. It was part of the disguise; high grass to hide what lurked below, blending in so that they wouldn’t see the claws and fangs until it was too late.
Now she was smiling, and said softly, “That’s nice. Men around here don’t talk like you do.”
Her Georgia drawl was a little softer and more syrupy than it was a minute ago. A few more minutes, he thought. She was still unsure, but soon he could invite her to breakfast or find some other pretext to get her from behind the counter and away from the camera.
“So where are you headed?”
“Oh, just taking a little road trip,” he said sipping his coffee. “Thought I would go up to Maine. There’s a place where the sun rises first in the entire United States.”
“Really? That would be fun to see.” The customer smile was gone, replaced by her ‘I might want to know you better’ smile. She leaned forward on the counter a bit. “I never really go anywhere.”
“No?”
“Nope. Born and raised in Pickham County. Been to Savannah a few times. Boyfriend took me to Atlanta one weekend to see the Braves play.”
“That must have been fun,” he offered, still sipping thoughtfully at his coffee while evaluating the blond and waiting for an opening.
“Naw, not really. I’m not much into baseball. That was a while ago anyway. He’s not my boyfriend anymore anyway.” She dangled the statement there like an angler waiting for a bite, completely unaware of the extreme danger in baiting this particular fish.
Lylee smiled. “So, no boyfr
iend and you like to travel. And here I am, no girlfriend and I am traveling. Quite a pair, aren’t we?”
The moment was close, so close.
“I guess we are,” she said with a flirtatious giggle.
Air brakes screeched and hissed from outside. The focus on his prey had distracted him momentarily. Awareness of his surroundings came crashing in upon him.
He had been uncommonly careless, and he realized that maybe she was just a little too cute. It was only a short ten miles from this gas station to his dumpsite. He hadn’t even left the county, not far enough for safety. Wouldn’t be good for a stranger to be remembered talking to a pretty, young girl when his dumpsite was discovered.
Snatching a bill from his pocket, he reached out and threw a twenty on the counter. The girl started to make change.
“Don’t bother. Keep it,” he said, already opening the door.
The two men who climbed down out of the truck never really noticed him drive quickly, but carefully out of the parking lot. The little blond watched him leave, astonished at his sudden departure. She was off in an hour and was thinking they might have spent some time together before he had to move on.
Maybe, the thought had crossed her mind, she might have gotten to see the sunrise from the spot in the United States where it rose first before anywhere else. That would have been fun, or at least different. Something different from being stuck in Pickham surrounded by truckers and farmers and horny young boys. He was different. She liked that.
“Probably queer,” she said to herself as the door opened and the two truckers came in.
“Hey, Beth, how you doin’?” one of the men said.
“Doin’ good, Pete. Tommy. How y’all been. Haven’t seen you here in a few weeks.” The customer smile was back on her face.
“Yep. Just making a run down to Fort Lauderdale. What you lookin’ at?”
Gazing over their shoulders, she was surprised to see no car out by the pumps. The strange man was gone.
“Oh. Nothing,” she said and smiled her best at the two truckers. They didn’t have the way about them that the stranger did. They were just customers.
Lylee was a mile up the interstate heading north. Reaching for the sunglasses in the car’s glove box, he squinted his right eye in the bright sunlight that had just exploded above the horizon.
31. Plenty of time.
She ate with determination. Steadily forking it up and chewing it down without looking up. Other than the toast at the I-95 Diner, it was the first food she had had since early yesterday, long before the trouble started with her father. The Purcell boys just watched and sipped their coffee.
Cy eyed the truckers in the cafe, looking for one that might be trusted with the young girl. Clay eyed the young girl.
Lyn looked up at him and smiled.
“Sorry,” she said. “I was hungry, I guess.” She mopped up some egg yolk with a piece of toast.
“What you gonna do now?” Clay asked, looking down at his coffee. “Offer still stands. Come stay with Mama and us. At least until you get things sorted out.”
Cy heard but continued to eye the truckers in the cafe. Let Clay do what he had to. He was going to make sure he fulfilled Kathy’s instructions, while this little drama between Lyn and Clay played itself out.
Lyn looked at the young man and knew he was trying to say something to her and wasn’t quite sure what. The fuller her stomach became the more worthy of consideration Clay’s offer became. Almost, she could see herself saying yes and going off with him to stay with his mother. Almost.
But the boys were from Pritchard, not all that far from Judge’s Creek. Daddy would find her, and when he did…what? She wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, she couldn’t drag these boys into it and make them a target for her father’s anger.
“I don’t know. It don’t seem right. I just got this picture in my head of Canada, and I can’t get it out.” She paused and took a breath as if to try to understand for herself, “Sam and me. It was our way to get away from it all; from the fighting. I guess now it’s just burned in me. I can’t seem to let it go.”
She glanced over at Cy, noticing the way he was studying the truckers.
“Besides, your brother is right, it’s not really a good idea.”
Clay shot Cy a sharp look, and he quickly looked down at his coffee. “It’s not that,” he said. “It just took me by surprise. ‘Bout the same as you, I expect.” He looked over at his brother, “Clay always was quicker to decide on things. Takes me longer to figure them out. That’s all. You’d be welcome if you wanted to come back to stay with us and Mama.”
Clay nodded and turned towards Lyn. “So, now you see we both want you to come home. No strings attached. It just ain’t right for you to be out here on your own. I don’t feel right leaving you here.”
Cy looked up and added, “He’s right about that, you know. I been looking around here, and I wouldn’t know where to start or who to trust.” He shrugged and then looked her in the eye for the first time. “It really is chancy to just get in a truck with someone.” He looked away again and added, “Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”
She wasn’t used to people treating her this way and didn’t know what to say. They were good boys. The older one wasn’t as taken with her as Clay, but they were both good.
She looked back at the younger brother.
“I don’t know,” she said shaking her head slowly. “Like I said, it’s just burned in me, Canada. Crazy, I know.” She shook her head at the irrationality of the dream and her situation.
“So, what are you gonna do then?” Clay asked. “You heard Cy. He’s right. How you gonna know who to trust?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know. I’ll just sit here and try to figure it out. I’ll find someone to trust,” her voice quavered, “or sit here until I do. I have to give it a try.”
Damn. Clay realized that running into this girl at the diner was changing a lot of things for them. Before, there had just been the business and getting to Savannah. Work all day and a few beers, then a bed in a cheap hotel outside of town. Do the same all week, and then drive home with his brother Friday night.
Now there was…something else. The girl…Lyn…had stumbled into their lives. None of them had asked for it, especially her, but there it was…and whatever it was, leaving her there alone seemed wrong beyond all reality.
He took a deep breath and then took a napkin from the holder. “Here,” he said scrawling on the napkin with a flat carpenter’s pencil he had taken from his pocket. “This is my cell phone number.”
Clay saw the question in her eye.
“Cell phone, one of these,” he pulled the battered phone from a weathered leather case on his hip. “You know about cell phones, don’t you?”
She smiled a little, “Yeah. Seen ’em before. Never had one. Never called one before.”
“Well, this is the number to mine. You take it and keep it. We have to go check in at the job, but we’ll be off around five this afternoon. Okay?”
She reached out and took the napkin from him. Their hands touched briefly, and they withdrew quickly, embarrassed.
“We’ll be back this afternoon. You don’t have to go anywhere. We’ll pick you up after work.”
She was stunned. Things were completely out of balance as she tried to process this new development. “I’ll try. I can’t promise. I don’t know,” was all she could say.
“You know, you got to trust someone sometime. We’re not gonna hurt you. Your choice.”
She nodded and looked away. Doubt was creeping in and clouding her plan.
“Okay, we’ll pick you up. It’s settled.”
At that, she stiffened and looked Clay firmly in the eye. “Nothing’s settled. I said I’d try, but I’m not promising anything.”
Chastised, Clay looked away this time. More softly, he said, “Okay. Sorry, you’re right. No promise, but even if you get a ride, call this number and let us know you’re okay. Just so w
e won’t worry. Fair enough?”
Lyn nodded.
Awkwardly, Cy stood up. There wasn’t much else to say. She was old enough to be on her own if she chose.
He looked down at Lyn. “You take care girl. Call us if you need something, anything.” He started to walk away and then turned and said, “See you tonight when we come by, if you’re here.” A few seconds later, he was across the room and by the door paying the bill at the cash register.
Clay stood, slowly. “I hope you’re here this afternoon.” It was a last plea.
Unable to commit to the end, she could only mutter, “I’ll try.” Her hand quickly flicked away a tear as Clay turned towards the door.
The two brothers clumped out of the cafe in their work boots. No one paid any attention to the little drama playing out in the cafe. No one except a heavyset truck driver sitting in a booth in the far corner.
Henry, the trucker, had watched with keen interest. He was in Savannah waiting for a load, and the AcrossAmerica Truck Stop was a gathering place for drivers with time on their hands. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but it was clear that there was a lot going on at the table where the girl sat with the two boys.
Two punks, he thought. And the girl, Kathy’s niece, my ass. That girl was just some straggler on the road, and Kathy had them two boys bring her down the road. Didn’t trust him to do it. Well, he’d see about that.
Henry motioned the waitress over and ordered some more coffee. He didn’t have a load until tonight. Plenty of time.
32. Runaround
An hour north of Pickham County, a police cruiser, lights flashing and siren wailing, roared south on the interstate passing the old Chevy in the opposite direction. Every nerve ending and sense twitched, testing the air for danger. They controlled his every movement. His face had the alertly concerned look of an alley cat caught with its head in a garbage can when the porch light comes on.
Somewhere in a buried place in his brain, everything was evaluated to determine what his next reflexive action should be. Remain motionless? Fight? Flee? Hide? His muscles were taught. Every sinew strained, waiting for the signal. The instinct for survival controlled him completely.