The Suitcase

by T V Scribner

  Startled by Boone's abrupt warning, she sighed, "Not again! Now what?"

  He responded, "There's a farm house over there on that hill…just beyond that wooden shack in in the trees…stay here, inside the tree line," and he headed through the trees to investigate.

  This suited her just fine, and she sat down on the ground, happy to have a chance to rest, yet wondering what he was doing. He returned in a bit, with a big smile, and said, "Stand up please, I've gone shopping! I hope I picked the right sizes?”

  CHAPTER 30

  Boone tossed some clothing towards her. Surprised, she caught the bundle, then held up the pieces—jeans, socks, a sweatshirt and a tee shirt. Boone began to change into his duds right there, but Paisley quickly retired to the tall grasses. When she emerged, he smiled and whistled softly, and she rolled her eyes.

  "Now that's what I'm talkin' about! I like a girl who can rock a sweat shirt with a ‘Farmer Smith.Com, For High Quality Hog Feed’ logo, emblazoned on it!” She never heard him laugh so hard, and looked down at her sweatshirt and laughed, too.

  "The pants are a little tight and the sweatshirt is much baggier than I prefer," she commented, "but at least they smell clean and they’re dry! Where did you get them?"

  His outfit consisted of a pair of well-worn blue-denim, bib overalls, a black and blue-plaid flannel, long-sleeve shirt, and a gray-flannel hooded, quilted jacket. His were ill-fitting too, so she also, had a good laugh.

  "As I approached the farm house to check it out,” he said, "there were no lights and no cars to indicate anyone was home, so when I spotted laundry hanging on a clothes line out back, I crept up and ‘borrowed’ our outfits.”

  She could tell, he thought it was clever, and smiled, then said, "It feels great to have clean, dry clothes, even if they don't fit, but I want to return our fancy duds, when this is all over, or I'll feel guilty. Now, what do we do with our old clothes?”

  “Hmm…Let’s bring them along for the moment, until we find a place to stash them—we don’t want to leave them behind, in case our mystery captors are using dogs again.”

  They each rolled their old clothes into a ball, and with the fashion show over, Boone turned and led her up the next hillside, which was flanked by birch and pine trees, keeping them well-hidden from the farmhouse, until again, Boone stopped suddenly. He grabbed Paisley’s arm to hold her back, and she froze.

  "Again!" she whispered. And with her heart pounding, said, “I’m beginning to develop SFS—Sudden Fear Syndrome—from your frequent alarms!”

  He chuckled. “Okay, but do you hear that? It's the sound of cars on a road!"

  "Yes, I just heard one pass by…shouldn’t we worry?" Her heart sank.

  "Not this time, we're home free—to a point of course—it's the sound of civilization!"

  He gave her a high five, and they ascended another embankment, pausing in a small cluster of trees to dust themselves off, and assess their situation.

  "What's our next move, now?” she asked.

  "Straighten yourself a little," Boone said, "because I think we're going to that bar across the road, and we don't want to stand out anymore than we already do…see that sign—The Bridge Tavern? It looks like a place where we can go.”

  “What about our old clothes?”

  “I know, you stay hidden here and I’ll go across to the bar with the clothes, and find their trash bin, and dispose of them there.” She was skeptical about this plan, but it took just a few minutes, and he was back by her side.

  Relieved, at his return, she brushed herself off and tried to comb her hair with her fingers, then said, "Any dirt on my face?"

  He stared at her in a way that made her feel self-conscious. Her cheeks felt warm, and she could tell she was blushing…so could he, she realized.

  Using his fist tucked into his sleeve, he brushed a little smudge off her cheek, and grinned, "You look perfect," and he rubbed his face hard with his sleeve, then asked for her approval.

  Giving him a nod, she smiled, “You’ll pass, but you do have a bit of a five o'clock shadow."

  "All right, I'll make it work...here we go!" Boone said, and led the way across the highway, into small field next to a parking area, as music drifted across the breeze.

  They stood for a moment on the edge of the parking lot, taking stock of the place, when Paisley broke the silence, "Do you really think we should go in?"

  "I believe we'll take our chances. Yes, we'll go in, and listen to the music, and although we can hear it out here, we’ll be warmer in there. We still need to be undercover…because we have no idea if they’re still searching for us.”

  Crosby, Minnesota The Bridge Tavern They headed across the parking lot towards to set of wooden steps, next to a wooden ramp, which led up to a large, well-worn wooden deck, with a sliding glass door entrance. Boone and Paisley ascended the broad steps. The place had the flavor, of a western saloon. Ducking inside the dimly lit bar area, the strains of a country song were coming from a larger side-room, to the right.

  A few colorful characters in their cowboy gear, were seated on stools at a wooden bar, while others were seated in a few of the booths, and at scattered tables, in the small area in front of the bar. Bikers, decked out in their leathers, were seated at one of the tables drinking beer, and engrossed in a lively conversation.

  Boone gave a slight nod to those sitting at one of the tables. As he entered, under his breath, he said, “Ingles, let's slip into the restrooms where we can wash up a little.” She nodded, and they went their separate ways.

  Inside the Girls Room, Paisley looked in the mirror and was shocked to see herself. What a mess, she thought! Washing her face and hands, she attempted a re-do of her hair. She glanced around the small space, until she spotted a rubber band on the floor and used it to put her hair in a ponytail—so much for germs! She longed even more for hot shower, as she finished primping.

  Reuniting with Boone, they heard music emanating from a inside a large room to the right of the bar area, and they opened the glass door and entered it. They found themselves in a large, high-ceilinged room with tables at one end, a wooden dance floor, replete with dancers and a stage for the band, at the other end. Paisley, was stunned to see a country band in person. The music was catchy, and she thought she even recognized the song—well, maybe she didn’t recognize it, but it did sound familiar.

  Boone slid in between a couple of dancers, pulling her onto the dance floor, and began to do, the two-step. She was totally taken off guard. This would have worked out fine, except she didn't know how to dance. However, with a little coaching, she caught on, and soon they were two-stepping with the best of them—well almost! She loved it as they circled the floor and danced by the stage where she could look at the musicians and see them play their instruments for a moment.

  "This is a perfect vantage point, to scope out the place," he whispered.

  Next, they tried a polka, which didn't go very well, and then a waltz, which was mediocre. Finally, they left the dance floor for a table in the far corner, and sat down. She was surprised he knew how to do these dances. Regardless of her lack of dance ability, she loved the music and the fact that the customers were having so much fun.

  Happy to sit down and rest a moment, she said, “Next time, take it easy with my sore arm, and as much fun as that was, I'm beginning to feel faint from hunger again, and exhaustion. However, this music is great! I never listened to country in California, so who knew I’d like it so much! When our ‘adventure’ is over, I would love to come back to this place!

  Boone, was surprised by her comments. He’d always liked country music and he had to agree—it was a really good band. However, he was also in need of sustenance, as they had little to eat since the escape, with the exception, of the wild berries and mushrooms. Boone rose and skirted the dance floor, returning with two large, ice-filled glasses of water.

  After they took a couple of long chugs, he said, "I'm goin' back to see if I can rustle up some grub, litt
le lady."

  She laughed, “Who are you? I see you like to act—you're a chameleon—adaptable to any environment!" She watched the different musicians play several more songs while she waited.

  When he returned, he said, with a grin, "I convinced the waitress that our car broke down, and when some guys stopped to help, they stole our wallets and phones, instead! She's gonna bring us some chow!” He chuckled.

  With his explanation of how he managed to procure the food, her only comment, was spoken with admiration, ”Ohhh!…you're good!" And the next thing she knew, they were eating hamburgers and slurping wild rice soup—on the house—and when they finished their meal, she commented, "That food, was delicious. You know, it's hard to believe I'm actually having fun, even though, we’re being hunted."

  Boone smiled and sat back in his chair, "I agree, but since you brought up our predicament, we need to assess our situation. We have no idea how far behind; our ex-captors are.”

  “I’m hoping, by the time they discovered we escaped,” she said, “that they had trouble in the tunnels, with the twists and turns. I hope they spent lots of time in the maze, trying to find where we exited.”

  "Yes, unless of course, they already knew the location of the exit, and started from there! However, we won’t take any chances…we must assume those guys aren't far behind.”

  "Can't we hide out tonight and rest someplace dry,” she pleaded, “it would be so nice, not have to camp out, or be on the run. I’m beginning to feel like a criminal, on the lam!"

  He laughed, "You've been watching too many whodunits," he said, matching her corny phrase. "The Bridge will give us cover for the time being…right now, we're hiding in plain sight...until this place closes!"

  They sat for a while in the darkened corner of the room, watching the various dancers. The waitress even brought them each, a can of pop, and after a very long sip, Paisley felt like she'd died and gone to heaven! As night faded from dusk, to complete darkness. Boone told her to stay put, and left to investigate the Bridge Tavern's surroundings. He slipped outside and walked the perimeter of the building, looking around the area, for a spot where they could take cover for the night, and get some much needed rest.

  Returning shortly to their table, where Paisley patiently waited, he helped her to the dance floor again, for a slow two-step, to a Merle Haggard, country classic song. While they danced, he whispered his plan to her, and before the music ended, and without drawing attention to themselves, they casually danced towards the back door, and made a furtive exit. Outside, it was cool and dark, with no moon. Boone led the way, around the back of the Bridge Tavern, to the perfect hiding place. He’d found it on the west side, of the building.

  Boone trotted down a dirt ramp, which sloped to old basement doors, at its base, and proceeded to pull the doors open, motioning Paisley to follow. They entered, and he closed the doors behind them. Boone reached in his pocket, and produced a match book he'd picked up from the bar, then lit a match.

  Paisley, peered around the shadowy cellar, and agreed it was a perfect hiding spot. Although, even with the light from the match, it was dim inside, as their eyes adjusted. Old chairs, lurked in the corners, next to tables stacked haphazardly against the back wall, casting shadows in the gloom, like discarded, ghostly sentries. The large cellar ran under the dance floor and bar area, where faint strains of county music floated down from above, serenading Paisley, Boone and boxes full of storage items.

  Boone moved one of the large boxes in front of the door, and piled more items against it. "Now we can sleep," he said, and rummaged around by the light of yet another match, finding old burlap bags, which he piled into makeshift mattresses.

  "We can use these discarded tablecloths as blankets," Paisley said. The mustiness of the burlap wasn't pleasant, but Paisley didn't care…she just wanted to sleep.

  They dozed off, on the make-shift beds. However, Boone, a light sleeper, was awakened during the night by the sound of a helicopter. It was distant at first, but minutes later, had moved closer. He glanced at Paisley…the noise didn’t wake her. He sat still, until the noise of the helicopter faded, then he breathed a sigh of relief, happy with his decision to stay off the roads for the night, and fell back into a restless sleep.

  Boone woke early. Since Paisley still slept, he unblocked the cellar door and cautiously peeked outside, relieved to see it would still be awhile, before the sun rose. He closed the door, struck another match, then headed towards Paisley, gently shaking her. She opened one eye, but It took several minutes, until she was fully awake and could stand.

  Sunday, May 21, 2017 Groggy, as if she'd barely slept, it surprised her when she saw Boone ready to go. She stretched for a moment, then stood up and dressed so she could help him replace things. He’d managed to find a candle, which made it easier to see. As soon as they finished, he slowly drew the door open a crack and glimpsed outside. It was still dark, a perfect time for their departure.

  Dousing the candle, they slipped through the door, closed it and ascended the ramp. The two of them headed towards the back of the property, where Boone had spotted a couple of old vehicles the night before, when searching for a place to hide. It appeared to Boone that the old ‘beaters’, were used to haul supplies to The Bridge. Either one, would be perfect to drive away from the area.

  A seasoned, nondescript, old Ford truck, seemed like his best bet, so he checked the wheel wells for keys, while Paisley stood watching. Her arms were folded, and she bounced up and down to warm her self up in the chill, of the early morning air. Boone quietly opened the rusty, battered door. It made a terrible sound, which he ignored as he slid into the front seat. He checked on top of the visor for keys—nothing. He checked under the seat—nothing. Deciding to start the car the old-fashioned way, he pulled a couple of wires from the ignition, then struck them together until the engine sparked, chugged and finally turned over.

  Leaning over the seat, he shoved open the passenger door, "Hop in," he said with a smile, “time to get outta Dodge!"

  She climbed inside, and they drove away. Boone drove the back roads, while keeping an eye out for any car that might look suspicious. Thankfully, there was no daylight yet, to illuminate their hasty retreat. She sighed with relief and settled back on the ragged seat, as she breathed in the smell of car oil from the empty cans, carelessly tossed on the floor in back, by whomever owned the truck.

  "Well, well," he searched the compartment between the seats, “look what I found in here!" and he held up a battered cell phone, to show Ingles, that it still had a little battery life. “So—how about looking around to see if you can find a charger?"

  CHAPTER 31

  Paisley complied with Boone’s request, and in a minute or two came up with a charging cord from under the oil cans on the floor, behind the front seat. "Bingo! I can't believe our good luck...uh-oh, scratch that idea...this truck is old and has no place to plug in a cell phone."

  "Figures," he said. "I'll try a making a call anyway,” and of course, he couldn't get a cell signal, so he turned it off.

  Taking as many back roads as possible, he looked over and noticed Paisley had dozed off again, so he let her be. A road with a mile marker, indicated a town up ahead, and as it came into view, he picked up speed. He woke her, to give her the news, and excited, she picked up the cell phone again, and turned it on.

  "Hey! I finally have a signal, it's weak, but it’s there," she said excitedly, and handed the phone to Boone. He called Dave Kaufman first, but was annoyed, when it went straight to voicemail. Uttering an expletive, he called Commander Walters, head of the task force.

  “Wally! This is Boone!" he said, relieved, “Lucky I have your number memorized—I’ve lost my phone!Listen carefully, I'm with Detective Ingles, and we're both safe. We've had quite an adventure, but I'll fill you in later, as soon as I can figure out where we are. We’ll be heading to Pinecrest, and I’ll want to speak to Dave right away." Walters verified the arrival of the special forces, in Brainerd. T
hey had assembled, and already set up the Command Center, and Dave had gone to Boone’s place.

  Suddenly, the phone filled with static, and the Commander's response was unintelligible, as the signal grew weaker, and the connection became spotty, Boone said, ”Later—over and out!".

  It was almost dawn, yet the early morning, felt somber, with clouds from the previous storms, still stretching into the distance, like a giant, puffy-gray comforter. The small town was soon in sight, and Boone knew where he was. He diverted the truck onto a back road to Pinecrest, which zigzagged through the back streets, until they arrived at the back alley, which ran behind Boone's cabin.

  Brainerd Paisley, who had napped again, began to stir, and lifted her head to determine where they were, while he pulled the truck close to the back of the cabin and stopped. She began to exit the truck, but Boone stopped her saying, "Stay put while I run in, to apprise Kaufman, about our disappearance, and other important matters."

  "Oh no! Not without me!" she said.

  Hesitating a moment, he reconsidered, then motioned her to follow him, as they ran around to the front door and up the steps two at a time. Reaching the front door, he was about to knock, since he didn't have his keys, then noticed it stood slightly ajar. Puzzled, he put up his hand, indicating to Ingles, to stay still, then put his finger to his mouth, indicating the sign for silence.

  He pushed on the door, and opened it as quietly as possible, while his heart pounded with anxiety, and he took two careful steps inside, Paisley at his elbow. Signaling her to stop again, he crouched and stealthily peeked around the corner of the wall, into the living area. What he saw made his blood run cold, and he involuntarily gasped.

  She whispered, “What is it?"

  “Don't come in—its Dave. He's dead...it's gruesome!” Anger, rose inside of him. Who did this? He pounded his fist on the wall in frustration!

  "I'm not afraid!" and she came around the corner, and gasped then clapped her hand over her mouth, and all she could say was, "Boone, I'm so sorry."