Truck Stop

by John Penney

  Ben nodded and started away.

  Frank closed the back of his truck and watched Ben leave. He had wanted to tell Ben much more, but he knew he couldn’t trust him. He couldn’t trust anyone with what was going on with him. It was too dark. Too deep.

  __________

  Ben was heading toward the glossy maroon rig when he decided to take a detour. He cut over to Roger’s Mustang instead, clicked on his flashlight and shone it around outside. Nothing seemed unusual. The doors were locked. Ben shone the light inside. He could see the blanket in back and the junk food trash on the floor. No sign of the little girl.

  Ben stood up and looked over at the diner window. He could see Roger and Kat watching him from inside. He turned and crossed over to the maroon truck. The door opened as he approached.

  “That poor little girl still missing, Officer?” the friendly woman in her 60s asked as she peered out the cab door.

  “I’m afraid so,” Ben answered. “What’s your name, ma’am?”

  “Florence. Florence White,” she answered. “Oh dear Lord. I told him I ain’t seen nothing the whole time.” Ben looked past her, into the shadowy cab as she prattled on. “You let me know if there’s anything I can do, won’t you?”

  “Just let us know if you see anything.” Ben leaned back, his cursory examination of the cab complete, and smiled at the pleasant older woman.

  “Yes, yes,” Florence said. “Poor thing. Out here in this weather.”

  Ben had seen enough; she was certainly not someone he should waste any time interrogating. He nodded and started away.

  Florence watched him go for a moment, then closed her door. She shifted her angle and could see Ben through her windshield as he crossed over to his patrol car and climbed inside. She watched him click his radio on and start talking to someone as he typed into his squad car computer.

  He seemed like such a nice man, Florence thought. It was too bad. He was after all, a man, just like the rest. She knew she couldn’t believe all that sweet talk and kindness. In the end they all only wanted one thing, and it was a dirty, unclean thing.

  Florence grabbed a pump bottle of hand sterilizer and filled her palm with the cleansing liquid. She rubbed her pale palms vigorously as she watched Ben. She could already imagine what he’d do if he could. His large black hands squeezing her breasts and buttocks like a desperate animal. His lips digging into hers and his tongue ramming down her throat.

  God it was hideous. Vile and hideous. And, of course, the worst part of all, the large monstrous thing that would rage from his loins, ripping, stabbing, and violating her.

  Florence hated imagining things like this, but she knew she had to. She knew she had to remind herself so she wouldn’t be fooled again.

  She took a deep breath and looked away from the vile man; the moment was passing, thank God.

  She turned and retreated into her sleeping area, her safe place that was filled with glorious little things. Stuffed animals, little jackets, trousers and caps. Her special collection of children’s belongings.

  Florence settled back and grabbed her collection of little socks, socks that had been on the feet of the little angels. The sweet innocents, pure and unspoiled. She smiled to herself as she gently caressed the socks. It made her feel so good inside, so calm.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  All this waiting was driving Roger insane. After he had seen the cop leave Russell’s truck, he couldn’t believe it. He was seconds away from bolting from the diner and racing over there. If that idiot cop couldn’t find Lilly, he could. He would beat the shit out of the degenerate until he confessed.

  It was Kat who had talked him down, not with words but by being there. He knew if he had made a move, she would have stopped him. There was something about her that was keeping him grounded.

  But now, what was that cop doing in his patrol car? Maybe he had found something and was calling in for more help. Maybe he….

  Headlights swung around the side of the building.

  Roger looked over. It was a pickup truck. “Now who?” he said.

  Kat squinted out the window as the truck came to a stop outside the front door. “It’s just Kincaid,” she said. “Kincaid Lewis, our mechanic.”

  The mechanic hopped out of his pickup and hurried inside. He paused in the foyer, stomped the mud off his boots, and brushed the rain off his jacket. “Just got word that the top of the grade’s officially snowed closed,” he announced.

  “Completely?” Kat asked.

  “Totally. They’re starting to turn traffic away down below, off I-15.”

  “You leaving?” Kat asked.

  “No point in staying.”

  Bart came out of the kitchen carrying several boxes of day-old pies. “Got a couple of apples tonight,” he said to the mechanic. “I think there’s a pumpkin here, too.”

  “Thanks,” Kincaid said as he took the pies from Bart.

  Kat glanced back out at Kincaid’s truck. She could see someone in the passenger side. “You got company tonight?”

  Kincaid looked out at his truck as the person in the passenger side lit up a cigarette. The glow from the flame illuminated Lucinda’s face.

  Kincaid grew a little embarrassed. “Yeah, well, she needed a ride down the hill. I figured….”

  Bart chuckled and slapped Kincaid on the back. “Cold night. Gotta keep warm somehow, right?”

  Roger exchanged a look with Kat; this was driving him crazy. The more everyone accepted weird shit like this from these weird people, the more nuts it was making him. He felt like screaming, “Fuck all this. My daughter’s missing!”

  Kincaid shifted the pies into one arm and took out his keys. He started to turn back to the door, then paused. He looked over at Roger sympathetically. “Hey,” he said. “Good luck with everything, huh? Bart’s got my number. He can give me a call if you need help with anything. I’m only half an hour down the mountain.”

  “Thanks,” Roger nodded. He put on his most sincere look. It was everything opposite of what he felt.

  Kincaid ducked out the front door.

  Roger watched as the mechanic climbed into his pickup, started it up, and pulled away. As he was heading out of the parking lot, his headlights swung across Ben, who was coming in from his patrol car. Finally. Fuck, that had taken a long time.

  Roger was up and out of the booth when Ben came in. “So? What’d you find out?”

  “I’ve got the Amber Alert for your daughter going out now.”

  “What about that creep in the tanker truck?”

  “I talked to him. At this point, there’s no reason to think he’s involved. He was just defending his rig. Now if you want to press assault charges….“

  “Fuck that. I want to find out what he knows about my daughter,” Roger snapped.

  Ben raised his hands, trying to diffuse things. “Look, I know he’s a bit strange. But I ran his license. Other than a few misdemeanors, he’s clean. I’ve got no reason to bring him in.”

  “What about the other people out there?”

  “I ran their plates. Talked to them too. They might be a little strange, but they’re all clean.”

  Roger slammed his fist on the table. “This is bullshit!”

  Ben stood his ground and let Roger simmer for a moment before he continued, calmly. “Roger, I can’t arrest people because of how they look.”

  Ben felt for the hell this man was going through. He knew Roger was feeling utterly helpless and needed to be told what to do with himself during all this, so that’s what Ben did. He told Roger exactly what he should do. “You should stay put here until this storm blows over. I’ll know where to reach you if I hear anything.”

  Roger’s eyes snapped anxiously back to Ben. “Where are you going?”

  “They called me to report down at the bottom of the hill to help close off the highway,” Ben said. “As soon as it’s secure, I’ll come back. I promise.”

  Roger grimaced anxiously. “Fuck.”

  Kat looked a
t Ben reassuringly. “He won’t be alone,” she told Ben. “Bart and I are here all night.”

  Bart nodded “We got sleeping rooms and showers if you….“

  Roger shot daggers at Bart. “Sleep? I’m not going to fucking sleep!”

  Kat gently put her hand on Roger’s shoulder. “Then you can stay right out here,” she said. “I’ll be with you.”

  There was a moment of silence. Ben assessed the situation, and it seemed to be stable enough for the moment. “All right then. I’ll call in as soon as I know anything.” He turned and headed out the door.

  Roger took a deep, anxious breath. This can’t be happening this way. How could there not be a squad of helicopters with searchlights overhead looking for Lilly right now? Where was the team of rescue dogs and volunteers scouring this piece-of-shit truck stop? His entire fucking life was going down the drain, and that cop was being reasonable and logical rather than reacting the way he should. Everyone seemed to be doing everything they could to keep him calm when they should be as freaked out as he was feeling. A storm? An Amber Alert? What the hell kind of bullshit was that to keep them from lighting this whole place up and calling out the National Guard?

  Roger felt dizzy; he steadied himself on the edge of the table.

  “Roger?” Kat saw him sway unsteadily.

  Roger looked away from her and slumped back down into the booth.

  There was a moment of silence. They all felt the helplessness Roger was feeling.

  Bart looked over at Kat and spoke quietly. “Anything he needs, just go ahead.”

  Kat nodded. “Thanks, Bart.”

  Bart headed back into the kitchen.

  Roger ran his hands back through his hair and looked out the window. He could see Ben’s patrol car pull out of the parking lot, head out onto the highway, and disappear into the misty darkness.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  A bitter cold breeze swirled through the truck stop complex. The rain had let up for the moment. It had been over an hour since Ben had left, and an eerie emptiness had settled in. No one had come or gone. It was just the four trucks and Roger’s car in the parking lot.

  But Cedar Mountain Truck Stop was never silent. It was always restless.

  Inside the shadowy truck wash, the rows of hanging shammies swayed slightly in the breeze that whistled down the large tunnel.

  In the repair garage, the eerie maze of parts and equipment stood silent, but the wind seeped in through the cracks in the sheet-metal siding, causing the chains from the massive engine hoist to tinkle slightly. Kincaid’s weird sculpture waited, half-formed, for its artist to return.

  And in the back hallway of the diner, there was the lonely dripping sound of the rainwater in the buckets and the rustle of the missing-persons fliers on the bulletin board.

  Cedar Mountain Truck Stop was alive and breathing, and it would never rest peacefully. Too many dark and evil events had happened here over the years, and time alone wasn’t enough to separate those events from this world.

  The only refuge for the living at the moment was inside the warm diner. Bart was busy cleaning the grill in the kitchen, and Kat was at the cash register with Ida and Daniel Consiglio, who had come in to take showers.

  “There you go,” Kat said as she handed Ida some change. “Towels are in the rooms. Leave them in there when you’re done,” Kat took out two keys with numbers stamped into them. “Number 5 and Number 6,” she said.

  “Thank you,” Ida said as she took the keys and turned to her son with a stern look. “Daniel.” It was a command.

  Daniel obediently followed his mother as she started toward the back hallway.

  Kat came around the end of the counter and joined Roger, who was still slumped in the booth, staring out the window. He didn’t look up. He kept staring out into the darkness. Kat waited a moment, then asked, “Coffee?”

  “Can’t afford the caffeine,” Roger said, still looking away.

  “Decaf?”

  “Still has some.”

  “Barely,” she said, then grew puzzled. “What’s the deal with caffeine? You came in here to buy that energy drink earlier, and that’s loaded with the stuff.”

  Roger grew a bit irritated. “It makes me more aware, that’s all. More sensitive, you know, to the things I see.”

  “Oh,” Kat said; it all made sense to her now. She looked over at Bart, busy in the kitchen, then took a seat at the booth.

  Roger felt her scooting in across from him; he was being rude and angry, and it wasn’t fair to her. She was only trying to help. He turned and looked at her. “Thanks anyway, though.”

  “No problem. Let me know if there’s anything else I can get you, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Roger mumbled, then looked back out the dark window.

  There was a moment of silence. Kat was torn about what she should say. Nothing seemed right anymore. Anything she could come up with seemed stupid and superficial.

  It was Roger who finally spoke, quietly. “I never should've left her out there.” His words were full of pain. It was a tortured, horrible thing to confess, and he couldn’t look at her when he said it.

  “Roger, it wasn’t unsafe. You parked right out there in plain sight. If anyone should feel shitty about all this, it’s me. I didn’t see her get out.”

  “You were doing me a favor,” he said. “Lilly’s my responsibility, and I’ve been fucking that up for years on my own, trust me.”

  Kat reached out and gently put her hand on his arm. “Don’t do this, Roger.”

  “No, fuck it. It’s true. Most of the time I’m out playing some shitty gig someplace when I should be home with her.”

  “But you said you’re going to stay in Las Vegas from now on.”

  “Yeah, now. But that doesn’t fix what I fucked up before, believe me.”

  There was another long moment of silence. Kat looked at the tortured man as he continued to stare out into the blackness. He was open and honest with her. No one had been honest with her before, and she felt like she could tell him anything. “You want her. That counts for a lot. My mom ditched me for fourteen years. Then she found me here two years ago. Came in here like nothing ever happened. Bart gave her a job waitressing. We actually got along at first. I started thinking things were going to work out.” Kat reached down to a bracelet on her wrist. It was a unique piece of jewelry—woven strands of silver with delicate jade inlays. “We got each other these matching bracelets. We were like regular BFFs. Only then she did it again—took off with some trucker. Haven’t heard from her in two years. Nothing. No phone calls. E-mail. Nothing.”

  “That’s fucked up.”

  “Yeah, but my dad is still around, and that makes all the difference. Like I said, your daughter is lucky to have you.”

  Roger took a moment to consider Kat’s story; she was speaking as someone who had survived a self-destructive parent, and he believed her. Zoe had been deep into drugs from the moment Lilly was born, and even with all his out-of-town gigs and tours, Roger had always made sure he let Lilly know how much he loved her.

  A faint flicker of lightning danced in the turbulent sky in the distance followed by a low peal of thunder that rattled the window. Another storm front was on the way. They both regarded it silently; any other time, they would have said something, but after a night like this, it hardly seemed noteworthy.

  Kat looked down at the damp stains on the table from Roger’s wet jacket sleeve. His clothes were soaked all the way through. She could only imagine how cold he must feel.

  She gave him a smile. “So what am I going to have to do to get you to take a hot shower and get into some dry clothes?”

  __________

  Roger trudged down the dark, deserted back hallway with a shower room key and some dry clothes from his car. He hadn’t cared what he was wearing, but he agreed to shower and change. Anyway, maybe Kat was right. It wouldn’t hurt for him to be warm and dry.

  Roger approached the bulletin board filled with the missing-persons
fliers, and his pace slowed. The collage of eerie pictures took on a new meaning to him now as they fluttered slightly in the strange hallway breeze. His eyes wandered over the yellowing photos of the forever lost, and a dark thought began to cloud his mind. It wasn’t the haunted feeling he had had before. It was worse. Much worse. Would Lilly’s picture soon be there, too?

  Roger looked away, shaking off the horrific idea. No. He would find her. Some way, somehow he would find her.

  A low metallic bang came from a side door; Roger shot a look in its direction. It had yellow peeling paint and a faded sign that read “Waste.”

  Roger hesitated, listened longer. Then it happened again. A low, metallic bang came from beyond the door.

  Roger crossed to the door, turned the old knob, and gave a push. It was stuck. He leaned into it with his shoulder and it clunked open. Roger shoved hard and the door swung wide. The loading dock and garbage Dumpsters were on the other side. Roger heard the rapid retreat of footsteps and looked over to see someone disappear around the corner. Who the fuck was that?

  Roger darted outside, jumped off the loading dock, and raced around the corner. He looked out across the dark parking lot and saw the favorite-aunt woman struggling with a heavy plastic garbage bag as she climbed into her truck.

  Roger stood his ground, considering the older woman’s odd behavior. He turned back and crossed over to the Dumpster. He carefully lifted the lid and peered inside.

  There was nothing unusual, just the typical garbage that might be found coming from a truck stop like this. Roger let the lid go and it slammed shut. A Dumpster diver. He never would’ve pegged the friendly woman for a Dumpster diver.

  Roger stepped back into the hallway and closed the door. He continued down the hall to the shower rooms, consulted the key Kat had given him. It was room 2. He found the matching door and slid the key in the lock.

  A low murmured voice drifted to him in the quiet.

  Roger hesitated, turned back. He listened carefully. It was a man’s voice coming from inside room 5. Roger crossed over to the other door and pressed his ear to the door.