Killertrust (21 page)

Two hours later, Ricky began
to squirm as they approached the western edge of Columbia, on Highway 70.

“I need a bathroom break,
does anyone else?”

Rhetta sat up, and stretched.
“I do.”

She had laid her head on
Randolph’s shoulder and although not asleep, was keeping quiet. Randolph was
snoring lightly. Billy Dan and Ricky were chatting quietly.

After some creative maneuvering,
some of which involved Rhetta’s backside being in the air a time or two,
Randolph had managed to get stuff moved around behind the back seat to allow
enough room to squeeze in the small bag. He piled the truck jack and some rags
and a small tool box on top of it, and once he’d satisfied Rhetta that he’d
stashed the little suitcase well enough, finally sat back against the seat.

“I know you think I’m being
paranoid,” Rhetta said. “But honestly, I can’t shake the feeling that someone’s
watching or following us. I think either someone is after the money or the
paperwork. Or both. I tucked everything into that bag.” That’s when she cuddled
next to Randolph. She really had to since a toolbox shared the seat with them
along with her notoriously oversized purse. It was nice having someone else
drive, and cuddling in the back seat. Even if her husband did fall asleep.

Ricky exited the highway and
pulled into a truck stop. She parked in the back at the end of the rows where
the tractor-trailers parked. Everyone but Rhetta got out.

“I’ll wait here until you get
back,” she said. “I don’t want to leave the bag, even if we do lock up the
truck.”

Randolph said, “Let me stay,
you go on and I’ll run in when you get back.”

She agreed, and hurried in.
She was back to the truck in no time. Ricky went into the restaurant, and Billy
Dan stood near the restaurant door, firing up a cigarette.

Randolph left to take his
turn. While waiting for everyone to return, Rhetta got out, locked the truck
doors, leaving her purse with the toolbox, and checked the trailer again making
sure the car was still secure. When she reached the far side, she checked the
tire pressure on the right rear tire of the trailer. It appeared low to her.
Before she could straighten, she felt a sharp prod in her back.

“Real quiet. Stand up. Make
any noise at all and you’re dead. Unlock the truck.”

Rhetta’s heart slammed
against her ribs. Good thing she had just gone to the bathroom. She nodded and
slowly straightened. She started to turn around.

“Don’t turn around. Or it
will get ugly.” He said ugly like he meant it.

She nodded, kept her back to
him and inched her way to the truck. She pointed the key fob at it and the door
locks shot upward. She tried surreptitiously to glance around, hoping that
Billy Dan or Randolph would appear. “Quit stalling. Get out of the way. Turn
toward to the restaurant. Do not turn toward me, or I will have to kill you.”

She obeyed. She heard him
snatch the toolbox. Then in that ugly voice again, he said, his words like
measured venom, “Do not turn around. I will definitely kill. Do you
understand?” She vigorously nodded her complete understanding. She believed
with all her heart that he would do as he threatened. She had her head turned
just enough to catch a glimpse of him in her peripheral vision. He was
clutching the toolbox. Not her purse, just the plastic toolbox, which had
several of Randolph’s truck tools inside. He obviously wasn’t a run-of-the-mill
bandit. He was after something specific and believed it to be in the toolbox.
She knew that what he wanted wasn’t in the toolbox, but he hadn’t yet
discovered that. She hoped he would be far away by the time he did. Still
trying her best to size him up with her peripheral vision, she couldn’t shake
the feeling that he seemed familiar. Had she seen him before?

Then she knew. That’s who was
at the impound yard the day her father met her there and the car burned up. He
was the one who escaped in the truck. She was sure of it. Had he caused the
explosion?

He darted sideways, ducked
between the trucks, and because she didn’t dare turn her head, she quickly lost
sight of him. She stood very still. When she believed he was truly gone, she
locked the truck and bolted for the restaurant. As she rounded the corner, she
collided with Randolph.

“We just got robbed! And I
think I know who it was.”

“Dear God, Rhetta, what happened
?”
Randolph came to her, and put his arms around her. She was trembling. “It’s
going to be all right,” he said soothing her.

His tone indicated to her
that he misunderstood why she was trembling. “I’ve had it with someone
attacking me!” She stomped her foot and pulled away, turned, and looked into
Randolph’s face. “I’m so mad I could just shoot him! I wish I’d had my gun. I
would have.”

“Lord, Rhetta, think of all
the paperwork that would cause.” Randolph’s lips twitched in a grin. She knew
he was trying to make her feel better.

“I mean it, Sweets, next
time—”

“You said you thought you
knew him. Who was it?”

“The same guy that was out at
the impound yard. I’m sure of it. That truck we saw was his, too. I recognize
it now.”

“Did he get your purse?”
Randolph asked before he peered inside the truck. When he did, her purse was
still on the seat. “What did he get?”

“He took the tool box. He’ll
be disappointed when all he finds inside are your tools.”

“He probably thought since
you had it with your purse that the money and paperwork were in it.” Randolph
checked behind the seat. “The other bag is still here. Wonder why he didn’t
take your purse?”

“If he knew there was a lot
of money, he would have realized it wouldn’t have fit in my purse.” She held
her hand up. “Don’t say it. Even though you think it’s as big as a suitcase, it
really isn’t.”

Billy Dan and Ricky strolled
up. Billy Dan dropped his cigarette to the pavement and ground it out with his
shoe.

“I’ll drive for a while,”
Randolph said, slipping behind the wheel. Rhetta took the front passenger seat
next to him. Billy Dan and Ricky opened the back doors to the truck, and began
climbing in.

“Where’s the tool box?” Ricky
asked, glancing about.

“I just got robbed. Again,”
Rhetta said, as she fastened her seat belt.

“Are you serious?” Ricky
gaped at Rhetta.

Rhetta nodded.

Randolph had his cell phone
out. “I’m not sure where the 9-1-1 calls from here go, but we’ll find out.”

Once everyone was buckled in and they were underway again,
Rhetta spoke up. “That officer was a lot nicer than the ones at home. I doubt
if Unreasonable would have assigned a patrol car to follow us.” She turned
around and spotted the highway patrol car about three car lengths behind.

Rhetta had given the officer
as much of a description as she could, considering that she didn’t see much of
her attacker. “I feel sure that it’s the same man we saw at the impound lot. If
so, I can describe him, and his truck.” Together she and Ricky provided the
patrol officer with a description of the truck and the driver. The officer had
radioed in the description.

“I wonder if he and his truck
are still on the interstate. If he’s smart he would have gotten off.”

Ricky swiveled around to look
out the back window. “Hey, our officer back there just threw his blue lights
on.”

Rhetta’s head snapped around.
The patrol car zoomed around them in the outside lane.

Randolph leaned forward.
“Looks like another patrol car has a blue truck pulled over up ahead.” As he
spoke, Rhetta spotted a dark blue truck stopped on the shoulder. The officer
had the driver spread over the hood of the truck. Rhetta’s heart began
pounding. Randolph eased the rig over onto the shoulder and joined the two
patrol cars.

As they stopped, Rhetta’s
heart sank. The driver, a young man was turned facing the officer. He looked
like he was scared enough to pass out.

It wasn’t the right truck.

After Rhetta had told the
officers that she was sure this wasn’t the truck, and that she was also sure
the young man wasn’t the perp, the officers released the truck and its driver.

The officer had flipped his
notebook closed. “I hate to say it, ma’am, but your assailant is probably long
gone by now. We will keep the BOLO active and see if anything turns up.” He
tipped his hat at them before he left.

“Be on the lookout, right?”
Ricky asked when Rhetta returned to their truck. “That’s a BOLO?”

“It is. Not exactly a
bonafide police term these days, but most officers still use it. Most folks
know what it means from cop shows,” Randolph said as he eased himself in behind
the wheel.

“I guess it was hoping for
too much to think they got this guy caught that easily,” Randolph said. “We
need to be especially watchful. I think our bad guy is looking for the
paperwork for the car. Maybe he didn’t get the VIN off the car after all.”

“I don’t know what’s going on
with the business with your dad, Rhetta, but I do know I don’t want anyone
damaging this precious Camaro. I still can’t believe somebody cut the top.”
Ricky shook her head. “I’m afraid for you, too. Please, please be very
careful.”

“I haven’t heard any more
from my father. I don’t know anything since the fire at the impound lot. I
don’t know if he’s dead or alive. Since that letter I got from him was supposed
to come to me after his death, I wonder about him.”

Randolph glanced sideways at
Rhetta, and added, “Your father is probably dead.”

Rhetta nodded. “I should feel
worse, I guess, but I feel ambivalent about him. I’m angry he has me involved
in all of this. Yet part of me feels sorry for him. I just don’t know what I
should feel.”

Randolph reached over and
squeezed her hand. “Of course you feel unsure about him. That’s to be expected.
Let’s just get through this. We’ll find out everything, I’m sure.”

She squeezed his hand and
nodded.

“Someone is trying very hard
to get the VIN for the car,” Randolph said. To Ricky, he asked, “Is there any
way you can remove the VIN tag when we get it home? We’ll put that into the
safe deposit box with the title. I doubt if he can break into the bank’s
vault.”

“I can take it off,” Ricky
said. “I can order those special starburst rivets so I can put it back so that
it looks original. In case you ever want to show it.”

“What about the top? Can that
be fixed?” Rhetta asked.

“I’ll ask Mr. Montero, my
upholsterer, if he can fix this one. I’m pretty sure he can. He can fix
anything.”

By the time they reached Saint Louis, the temperature had
warmed enough to melt any snow that remained. According to the weather app on
Rhetta’s iPhone, Saint Louis had barely received an inch of snow, and none had
fallen in Cape Girardeau. The roads were all clear.

Buoyed by the improvement in
the weather, Ricky said, “Let’s just drive straight on home. I don’t want to
stop to eat, and take any more chances on getting attacked.” She checked the
fuel gauge. “Well, except we need to get gas. We’ll probably need to stop at
Perryville. We can pick up some snacks.”

Randolph agreed.

Billy Dan piped up. “I am
about to pass out from a nicotine craving, so Perryville is a must-stop.”

“Okay, okay, we can do this,”
Randolph said. “Let me have your .38 when we stop, Rhetta. This time, I’ll be
the lookout. And we stay in pairs.”

An hour and a half later, they pulled in to the brightly lit
filling station at the Perryville exit on Interstate 55. Night had fallen, but
the service station glowed eerily from the blue vapor lights that bathed the
pump area in light brighter than daytime. The air was cool, but the ground was
dry.

Randolph filled the tank
while Billy Dan and Ricky headed inside. When they returned, Randolph handed
Billy Dan the gun, and he and Rhetta took their turn inside. Rhetta bought some
fruit, snacks and coffee to tide them over. They returned and settled back into
the truck, heading down Interstate 55 on the final fifty miles home. Ricky
insisted on driving.

Rhetta’s eyes were tired and
gritty from staring at every vehicle on the road.

Ricky wheeled the truck and trailer into her driveway. Her
shop was located in a converted wooden barn that sat about fifty feet from an
old farmhouse that she had inherited and painstakingly restored. She’d
installed a green, metal-roofed breezeway that connected the house and shop;
the breezeway matched both for one continuous roof. She pulled up alongside the
first garage door.

“I’ll go and turn off the
alarm.” She jumped down from the truck and disappeared inside her shop. In a
moment, bright overhead lights lit up the doorway and driveway.

“It won’t take but a few
minutes to unload the car into the shop. I’ll take off the VIN tag, and you can
take it home with you.”

Ricky unwrapped the car.
Rhetta climbed up the trailer and squeezed through the driver door. She steered
as Randolph and Billy Dan pushed the car while Ricky let the winch out. The car
glided soundlessly down the ramp.

Once unloaded, the men pushed
the car into the shop. Ricky pulled the doors down and locked them securely.
Five minutes later, she handed the VIN tag to Rhetta.

“Here it is. Now, keep it
safe.” Rhetta’s hand closed over it. Her heart sped up.

After pulling the trailer to
its parking spot, Ricky and Billy Dan unhooked it, and took out their bags. “If
we left anything behind, I’ll pick it up at your office,” Ricky said.

“I’ll drive Ricky over to get
her truck tomorrow,” Billy Dan said, draping his arm across Ricky’s shoulders.

Rhetta and Ricky hugged, and
the men shook hands. Randolph tucked in behind the wheel and fired up his
pickup. Rhetta buckled in and turned the heater on high.

As they backed out of the
driveway, Rhetta’s iPhone rang. She didn’t recognize the number.

“This is Rhetta McCarter,”
she said, checking the time. It was almost six o’clock. Her stomach rumbled as
a reminder that they hadn’t eaten any supper. They were all so determined to
get the Camaro home before any more trouble came their way that they didn’t
stop to eat. She thought she and Randolph could hit a Subway and grab something
after leaving Ricky’s. She was tired, and didn’t feel like cooking. Besides,
she craved a large fresh salad.

“Mrs. McCarter, this is
Katelyn Montgomery from Family Outreach at Saint Mark’s Hospital in Cape
Girardeau. It’s about Frank Caldwell.”