Highways & Hostages

by Jax Abbey

  “What about your job? You said your boss was considering you for a promotion to Vice President of Acquisitions?”

  Finn sighed. He needed to start jotting down his lies on sticky notes to keep his stories straight. “That fell through. Things have been a little…crazy…at work lately,” Finn explained. “But I think he’ll be reconsidering soon.”

  “Well, Jacob, I want you to know how incredibly proud of you I am,” Gloria gushed. “Promotion or no promotion, you are doing wonderful things. Your Pop Pop would be proud of you too.”

  Finn immediately reached for his dog tags, his eyes prickling with unshed tears. Only his grandmother had this effect on him. “Gram, stop.”

  “I mean, you’re doing so well for yourself, and you still remember your little old grandma from time to time.”

  “You’re all I have left; I would never forget you. Did you get the check I sent last week?”

  “Yes,” Gloria replied. “And I told you I don’t need anything else; you’re already paying my rent. Save your money so you can buy that girlfriend of yours a nice rock.”

  “Gram—”

  “I won’t be around forever, Jacob. I want to know that someone is taking care of you,” Gloria cut in.

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “I know, but sometimes you need to take a break and let someone else care for you.”

  “I’ll take that into consideration,” Finn promised. “I have to go now—I’ve got a big meeting tomorrow and I need to do some research. I love you.”

  “I love you too, son. Promise me you’ll call again soon!”

  “I will, Grammy. Bye.”

  Finn clicked off the call and put his phone back into his pocket. He leaned his elbows on the balcony railing and dropped his head into his hands. He preferred to ask forgiveness rather than permission, but this time he would cover all his bases.

  “God, I don’t know if You really exist or not. But if so, You’ve probably already given up on me. If You are listening…I just want to say I’m sorry for lying to my grandmother, and what I’m about to embark on. Please, just take care of my Gram. Um…amen.” Finn stood up and glanced around, waiting for a sign that God was listening, or that lightning was about to strike him where he stood on the balcony. When nothing happened after a few moments, he went back inside.

  SUNDAY

  ..................

  STELLA, 8:06 P.M.

  “Alright, Bert, my last table just left,” Stella announced happily. She untied her apron and hung it up on a peg across from her boss’s office.

  Bert leaned out his office door, too lazy to get up from his rolling chair. “Good work, Stella. I wish all of my employees were as dedicated as you.”

  “Well, now I’ve got a wedding to pay for, so I need all the hours I can get.”

  Bert grunted as he repositioned himself in the chair. “That man better take good care of you, or I’ll come after him myself.”

  Stella hugged Bert’s thick neck. In the two years she had been working at the Leaky Stein, Bert had taken on the role of father figure in her life. “I’ll tell him you said that.” She planted a fat kiss on his cheek and Bert’s color rose.

  “After all, can’t have someone carting off my best waitress,” he blustered, quickly falling back into his usual role of curmudgeonly dictator.

  “Of course, that’s all it is,” she said with a smile. “See you tomorrow, Bert.”

  Stella exited the bar through the door next to the office and made her way through the parking lot. Preoccupied with searching for her keys in her large purse, she didn’t see the man coming around the side of the building.

  “Hi,” he said with an awkward wave.

  Stella jumped and her keys fell from her fingers. It was Blondie, alone again, without Mr. Hot Stuff. She bent to retrieve the keys, then straightened. She racked her brain for the name she always saw on his bankcard. “Um, hi…Jacob. What are you doing back here?” she asked cautiously. Customers rarely came into this part of the parking lot.

  “Actually, no one really calls me Jacob. It’s Finn.”

  “Okay…Finn. What are you doing here?” she asked again, slowly backing up.

  “I need your help with something,” Finn said.

  Stella quickly assessed the situation. Finn was holding a duffle bag in one hand, and his other hand was in his jacket pocket, where there was also a gun-shaped object. She opened her mouth to scream, but before she could call out for Bert, Finn had cocked a gun and aimed it at her.

  “I really am sorry to have to do things this way,” he said. “But if you scream, I’m going to have to shoot you.”

  Stella remained still, her eyes wide. She wondered why this man had given her his nickname before pulling a gun on her. Clearly he intended to rob her. “Look, I don’t have anything in my wallet, but you can have it. Actually, you can have my whole purse if you want it.” Stella removed the purse from her shoulder and held it out to Finn.

  “I don’t want your purse—”

  Stella clutched her left hand in distress. “Well, what do you want? My ring? Is that it? Please don’t take my ring. I don’t think it’s very valuable anyway!”

  “Goddammit, I don’t want your purse or your ring. I want you!”

  Stella’s head swiveled as she looked for an escape route, but she didn’t dare move an inch with the gun pointed at her. Why the hell wasn’t anyone else in the parking lot or exiting the bar? Maybe she could reason with the guy.

  “Sorry, but I’m a little confused. If you don’t want to rob me, why did you corner me in a parking lot? I’m pretty sure that’s not a water gun aimed at my face right now—”

  Oh shit. A new thought occurred to Stella. Did he intend to rape her? From her previous interactions with him he didn’t seem like the type. But that’s what people said about serial killers like Ted Bundy.

  Or what if what Valerie said was true, and Blondie had a crush on her? But then, why would he hold her at gunpoint? Was it possible he could be that desperate? Hmmm… He was pretty good-looking, so it couldn’t be hard for him to get a date. There must be something seriously wrong with him—in addition to the whole holding-people-at-gunpoint thing.

  Stella cleared her throat and fiddled with a pigtail. “Finn, is it? I’m very flattered and all, but I can’t date you. I’m engaged.”

  “Oh my God,” Finn exclaimed, waving the gun around crazily. “I’m not trying to date you. I need your help!”

  Stella tensed and closed her eyes, waiting for the gunshot to ring out and make impact. She really hoped Finn wouldn’t hit anything too vital.

  “Look, let’s go to your house and I’ll explain everything.”

  Stella risked opening an eye and peeking at Finn. “Let me get this straight. You hold me up in the parking lot at the place where I work. You tell me you want to go to my house, but you want me to believe that you’re not stalking me or in love with me?”

  “Well, when you put it like that…” Finn said, shrugging. “Look, I don’t have any more time to waste.” He waved the gun at her. “Let’s go.”

  Stella glared at him. “So what? Are you going to follow me in your car or something?”

  “About that… Yeah, I’m gonna need to ride with you.”

  Stella’s jaw dropped. This guy was definitely off his rocker, but you didn’t mess with crazy.

  “Which car is yours?” Finn asked.

  Stella closed her mouth and glared at him before turning and gesturing toward Josie.

  His nose wrinkled in disgust. “Are you kidding me? Are you sure that thing even runs?”

  “You hold me at gunpoint and tell me we’re going to my house. Then you insult my car?” Stella replied.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. We’ve been over all that already. Whatever, let’s just go.”

  Stella reluctantly shuffled toward the Beetle. Finn kept the gun trained on her as she unlocked the passenger door before unlocking her own. He frowned at the polka dot car seats, then toss
ed his duffle into the backseat, careful to keep his gun aimed at Stella all the while. She settled herself behind the wheel with her purse on her lap. Finn reached over and grabbed it. “I’ll hold on to this for you,” he said.

  Stella glared at him. “Be careful, your inner gentleman is showing.”

  “Not really,” Finn said, digging through the purse. He victoriously held up her cell phone. “I was looking for this. Can’t have you calling in the cavalry. Here ya go.” He plunked the purse back in Stella’s lap.

  She shook her head in a mixture of annoyance and disbelief. The nerve of this guy! She took back any nice thought she’d ever had about him.

  FINN, 10:22 P.M.

  They rode to Stella’s home in tense silence. Stella clutched the Beetle’s steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip while Finn anxiously tapped out a beat on his thigh. He came to attention when Stella pulled into a trailer park.

  “You live here?” Finn asked.

  Stella swallowed and gritted her teeth in answer.

  “Sorry, that was really rude. It’s just not what I was expecting.” Finn was striking out all over the place with the waitress. This was not how he’d planned for this to go. He couldn’t believe she’d thought he wanted to ask her out. Did guys normally ask her out while pointing a gun at her? Women.

  Stella continued to wend through the park without speaking. She finally pulled up to a decrepit singlewide. Finn watched as she threw open her door and got out, closing it gently. Finn eyed the mobile home with distaste and started to second-guess himself. He got out of the car, glad to be able to unfurl himself from its cramped interior. He wasn’t claustrophobic, but he didn’t think anyone would be able to spend any significant amount of time in that small, dusty car without going insane. That didn’t bode well for the trip.

  “Be careful!” Stella exclaimed. “That door is hanging on by duct tape and a prayer.”

  Finn could believe it. He followed Stella up a small set of steps. “This is…nice,” he offered as Stella unlocked the door. She didn’t answer. Instead she stepped into the dark trailer and flicked on a light.

  “Phoebe?” she called.

  “Phoebe’s not here,” Finn said matter-of-factly.

  “And how would you know that?” Stella asked him. “Did you accost her and have her drive you somewhere earlier on her bike?”

  “No, but I do know where she is and who she’s with,” Finn explained.

  “Did she go to Mexico?” Stella growled.

  “Not quite,” Finn replied. He eyed the tatty floral couch that looked like it would have fit perfectly in his Gram’s living room. “Look, can we sit? I’ll explain everything.”

  “Will you stop pointing that gun at me if I say yes?”

  “Possibly.”

  Stella gestured at the couch. Finn sat down experimentally, feeling around for any out-of-place springs. Stella stood in the middle of the room with her arms folded over her chest and one eyebrow raised.

  “You might want to sit for this,” Finn suggested.

  “I’m fine,” Stella said. “Just tell me what this is all about.”

  Finn reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a plastic baggie, its contents somewhat obscured by the blood-red substance coating the bag. He placed it on the coffee table, leaned back, and crossed his legs.

  “What is that?” Stella asked.

  Finn clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back into the sofa. It was actually quite comfortable. “See for yourself.”

  Stella inched closer to the coffee table and bent forward. She poked the baggie and leaned closer. She poked it again and screamed.

  “Shhh!” Finn directed.

  “What the hell is this?” Stella exclaimed.

  Finn opened the plastic baggie and pulled out a severed human index finger. The guy at the prop house he’d gotten it from did a great job. He placed it on the coffee table and looked up at Stella. Her eyes were wide, as if she had seen a ghost, and she seemed to be gasping for air. He hoped she wouldn’t faint or something. He didn’t know CPR.

  “Oh my God, get that off my coffee table.”

  “It’s one of Phoebe’s fingers.”

  Stella took her eyes off the severed digit to glare stonily at Finn. “No, it’s not.”

  “Yes. It is,” Finn said, calm and collected.

  Stella shook her head, never taking her eyes off of the coffee table. “That is NOT Phoebe’s finger. She painted her nails an ugly shade of blue the other day. That is CLEARLY not her finger,” she said with increasing volume.

  “Are you sure?” Finn asked.

  “WHOSE FUCKING FINGERS ARE ON MY COFFEE TABLE AND WHY AREN’T THEY ATTACHED TO A HAND? AND WHY DO YOU HAVE SEVERED FUCKING FINGERS?” Stella shouted.

  Finn sat forward and threw his hands up. “Keep it down! Fine, since you’re so damn difficult. No, they aren’t Phoebe’s fingers, but they very well could be. Phoebe is being held hostage by one of my friends.”

  “What the fuck, dude?” Stella said. “I am so confused. Is this some kind of shitty-ass prank? Am I on a hidden camera show?” Stella glanced around and waved as if expecting a cameraman to pop out of her minuscule kitchen.

  “This isn’t a joke,” Finn said through gritted teeth. He was beginning to lose his patience.

  Stella was silent for a moment. “You’re really serious?”

  Finn nodded, glad she was finally understanding the gravity of the situation.

  Stella sank into one of the shabby armchairs flanking the couch. “Is it Mr. Hot—one of those guys who always comes into the bar with you? Why did you take Phoebe? What do you want from me? I’m broke.”

  Finn held his hand up to silence her. “I need you to join me on a road trip for my job. I’ll return Phoebe safe and sound—not that she’s being hurt or tortured or anything,” Finn blurted out.

  “Let me get this straight. You’re holding my sister hostage…and you want me to go on a road trip with you?”

  “Phoebe’s in great hands. And ‘hostage’ is such a harsh word. He’s more, like, babysitting her.”

  Stella stared at the fake fingers on the coffee table and crossed her arms. She lifted her eyes to meet Finn’s gaze. “You can keep her.”

  “What?” Finn asked, unsure if he’d heard correctly.

  “I said you can keep her.” Stella leaned back against the armchair and studied her nails as if bored by the topic of conversation.

  Finn sat forward, hands on his knees. “What?”

  “This is way more work than I’m willing to put in.”

  “Are you serious?” Finn leapt from the sofa. All of his plans hinged on Stella being willing to help him. He hadn’t thought for a second that she would turn him down.

  “The kid’s a brat. You can have her.”

  “What the fuck? I have your kid sister!”

  “And I said you can keep her! Besides, I’ll call the police,” Stella declared, looking him straight in the eye.

  Finn towered over the seated Stella and channeled Julian’s intensity. He imagined the look on his face was dangerous.

  “You do NOT want to do that. Besides, I have your phone, and what on earth makes you think I’d let you leave this trailer without me?”

  “Wait a second, how do I really know you have Phoebe? Let me talk to her.”

  Finn threw back his head in frustration, ready to tear his—or Stella’s—hair out. “Phoebe’s alright. But here.” Finn retrieved his own phone and dialed Billy’s number. The phone rang three times.

  “What’s shakin’?” Billy answered.

  “Stella wants to speak to her sister.”

  Billy murmured something. Finn passed the phone to Stella. She listened for a moment, then her eyes widened and slid back over to him.

  “Oh God, it’s true,” Stella said in a small voice. She listened again and then held the phone out. “He wants to talk to you.”

  “I’m back,” Finn said.

  “How’s everything on your end?”
Billy asked.

  “Just fantastic,” Finn replied.

  “Good; keep it that way. Talk to you later.”

  Finn clicked off the phone, looked at Stella, and arched a brow.

  Stella crossed her arms and fixed Finn with an intense glare. “What’s in it for me?”

  Again, Finn was caught off guard. He’d have to watch himself around her. “What’s in it for you?”

  “Yes, what’s in it for me, and what do you need help with?” Stella repeated. “You are obviously desperate for my help, or you wouldn’t have gone to such great lengths.” She waved a hand at the discarded baggie and its severed fingers.

  Finn ran a hand through his hair. “I need to get from here to Millstown, Texas by Saturday. It’s near San Antonio. I need your car.”

  “So why don’t you just take my car? Why do I have to go with you?”

  “Because you’ll run to the police.”

  “Driving you to Texas is way more work than I’m willing to put in. What if I promise I won’t run to the police?”

  Finn frowned. “Are you serious? Look, I’m going to make A LOT of money by doing this. I’ll give you fifteen percent of what I make.”

  Stella’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What kind of job is this? It sounds like you’re going to rob a bank. Are you a bank robber?”

  “No, I’m a…courier. I have to pick up something for my boss from Texas and bring it back.”

  “So you’re a drug mule,” Stella said.

  “How the—” Finn put his hands on his head and doubled over in frustration before righting himself and sighing deeply. “No.”

  “Is it legal?”

  “Erm…not exactly. Look, I’ll give you twenty percent for your trouble.”

  Finn could see Stella turning over the offer in her mind. “Is it blood money?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I want fifty percent.”

  “Twenty-five.”

  “Fifty.”

  Finn scrubbed at his face. “Thirty-five. I’m being generous here.”

  Stella regarded Finn for a few moments. “Could you put that thing away?” she asked, gesturing at the gun. “It’s not exactly instilling me with confidence.”