American Crow (12 page)

Chapter Twelve

‘bad ride’

‘
Y
ou’re a right fucking doughnut, that’s what
you are,’ Lenny boomed.

‘Perhaps.’

‘Perhaps! I’ve got my bleeding nephew
spitting feathers down the line because of the fallout from the stolen rig. Do
you how much organisation it took to sort that out?’

I held my tongue and let Lenny continue
his rant. Interrupting would only prolong the dressing down. Experience had
taught me that.

‘I mean, why did you have to go and torch
the bloody thing?’

‘I didn’t. Some bikers did.’

Now I could hear him choking on his words
like he was choking on his food.

‘And you expect me to believe that,
Blakey? Sometimes you revert back to being a bloody hooligan. You act first and
ask questions later. You torched it to cover your tracks, didn’t you?’

I felt my hackles rise.   

‘I stole the truck because Jed was being an
asshole, Lenny. And it was lucky I didn’t get torched myself, because the same
bikers returned to even a score. The only thing that saved me was the fact that
I took some guy they’d roughed up to hospital.’

I heard him release a long extended sigh
on the other end, my explanation seeming to pacify him a little.

‘Well, I can tell you this, Blake,
there’s no more favours from that neck of the woods, so I don’t know how in the
hell you’re going to get out of the bleedin country when you’ve found the girl.
My nephew has had to sort a replacement truck for that bozo too, until the
insurance pays up, so he’s not happy either. I said we’d sort him out with the
money he’s stumped up as soon as you find the girl and we get paid ourselves,
if we do, that is. Now, please god, tell me some good news?’

I took deep breath and swallowed any
remaining residue of annoyance.

‘Well, I’ve got a photo of Olivia that
was taken around four weeks ago by some activists she’d been hanging out with
in Minneapolis. It looks like she’s got herself involved romantically with some
eco-type then gone on some protest in the Appalachians.’

Instantly Lenny’s tone changed

‘You serious?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good work, son. That would explain a
lot. And you’re
sure
it’s a recent picture, was definitely of the girl?’

‘I saw the date on the photo folder
before it was printed. If that’s accurate, then I’m sure it is.’

‘Right, well I’ll get onto Henry with the
update. He’s gunna be one hell of a lot happier knowing that she’s been seen
four weeks ago rather than six, and got a chaperone too, even if it is some
wayward boyfriend. I mean, at least she hasn’t been abducted or killed. The
signs are looking good for a full pay-out, son…So where are you headed now
exactly, so I can tell him?’

‘Kentucky, some place called Lexington.’

‘And you’ve got some good leads to go on
down there?’

‘Well I’ve got some leads, put it like
that. I know roughly where they’ve gone now and why. So the net’s beginning to
close...’

‘I knew you were the man for the job,
Blakey. Just keep your nose out of trouble and get the girl on a plane, okay?
Then we both get paid in full.’

‘Right.’

‘Be good.’

Lenny clicked off. I slid the phone into
the pocket of the sheepskin coat I’d brought then continued to walk down the main
drag of Hopkins feeling the fifty-dollar investment was worth every cent.

As I strolled passed a brightly-lit
cinema packed with kids I realised I needed to invest in some food too. I was
starving. Seeing a Greek Deli on the street corner I headed towards it, then
ordered more dishes than I could eat.

After a good hour and a half of rest, and
feeling sufficiently fed and watered, I headed back to the slip road where Tug
had dropped me off, hoping I’d get picked up quickly before my newly acquired
body heat dissipated and before it got too dark.

I pulled the scarf up over my nose and
lowered the ear flaps of the Cossack-style hat as the biting wind surged at me
again. It wasn’t the sort of place to be hanging around for too long that was
for sure - I’d freeze to death in the hour.

To my surprise, fifteen minutes later, a
brightly-coloured rig slammed on its air brakes and pulled up next to where I
was standing shivering on the slip road.

I jumped up onto the foot rest and opened
the door feeling euphoric, then felt my heart sink into my boots as I absorbed
the face of the driver at the wheel. It was the blonde trucker from Mickey’s
Diner...

‘Where ya headed?’ she asked smoothly,
the realisation not forthcoming.

‘Kentucky, Lexington would be perfect,
but anywhere that way would do,’ I stammered, thinking as soon as I took off
the hat and scarf that would be that.

‘Where ya from?’

‘England.’

‘Well, you’re in luck, cowboy. I’ll be
heading through Kentucky later. I’ll drop you off on the way. The name’s Bunny.’

‘Bret,’ I said, climbing in.

I slammed the door and said my thanks as
she pulled away, keeping my hat pulled low and my scarf pulled up to help mask
my identity. She looked at me blankly and turned on the radio. Some gentle
country music came on helping to ease the tension and she started to whistle
quietly to herself.

I sat there anxiously, waiting for her to
realise suddenly, screech to a halt and dump me off in the middle of nowhere to
die of hypothermia. After a few more minutes the realisation still hadn’t come.
After a few miles more she sparked up some conversation.

‘So where you from in England?’

‘London. Downright warmer there, I can
tell you.’

‘Everywhere is warmer than here, honey.’

She ran a hand through her wavy blond
hair and reached for some gum on the dashboard.

‘So what do you do for a living?’ she
said, peeling the foil off the strip with her teeth.

‘I’m in property. I travel around the
world looking for good investments for clients. Mainly rentals. I thought I’d
check out the Twin Cities for once…’

She laughed.

‘Good luck with that. All I can say is
that any houses you choose are going to need one heck of lot of maintenance.
The winters are long and harsh here, honey. And that’s if they’re still
standing after the tornado season.’

‘We don’t get many of those back in
England thankfully.’

‘Sure, but then the rain makes up for it
though, don’t it?’

‘Yeah, I suppose it does.’

The conversation eventually drifted and
we sat in silence again. I stared mindlessly at the road flashing beneath us,
then at the changing landscape, which opened up into cascading wooded hills
then faded into open fields the colour of chocolate where they’d been newly
ploughed.

Settlement after settlement slowly
greeted us humbly as we clocked up mile after mile then vanished like ghost
towns in the side-mirrors as if they’d never been there.

Gradually the hum and vibration of the
cab lulled me into a dreamy haze, then a deep sleep, which I welcomed after the
previous uncomfortable night in the hospital. At one point I woke up and
drowsily caught Bunny’s eye wondering where I was. She smiled like some doting
housewife and changed the channel on the radio allowing some softer music to
fill the cab, luring me back into unconsciousness again.

When I awoke several hours later, dusk
was fast approaching and a light drizzle had replaced the earlier white-out of
Minnesota. All around us the fields seemed to stretch for miles then melt into
darkness, a handful of tractors working them slowly, their bright headlights
piercing the furrowed gloom.

‘Where are we?’ I said groggily, taking
off my jacket.

‘We’re in Iowa now, honey. Fancy getting
some food?’

I wondered if that included some fun in
the toilets and suppressed my revulsion at the idea.

‘Sure…’

We pulled off the interstate into a gas
station that had a pleasant-looking eatery next door. It introduced itself as
‘Sally’s Snack Shack’ in bold magenta lights, fanning across a shiplap cabin
exterior. It looked inviting in comparison to the last joint and made me
realise just how hungry I was again.

‘I’m gunna get some gas. Be mighty
appreciative if you can order some strong coffee and some waffles with banana
and maple syrup for us? Get whatever you want as well. I’m covering these. You
can get the next ones.’

‘Okay,’ I said, stumbling out of the cab.

Bunny pulled over towards the gas pumps
as I made my way inside the double doors half asleep, where a smiling waitress
welcomed me into the rustic-style surroundings.

‘Two coffees and waffles with banana and maple
syrup twice,’ I said hazily, choosing a booth by the window again.

‘Sure thing. Name’s Candy.’

I enjoyed her swaying hips working their
way back to the kitchen, then scanned the other clientele like I always did out
of habit. In the next booth were an old couple complaining loudly about the
weather and to my right, some agricultural sort, tucking into a huge steak like
it was his last meal.

Further away, in another section were a
young couple sitting in stony silence sipping cokes then a guy beyond them, who
had his face buried in a newspaper and a Stetson tipped low over his face.

I watched intrigued as a coffee arrived
at his table. He placed the paper carefully down on the table revealing more of
his face. I studied him closer. The guy had a thick, well-trimmed moustache
that matched his camel-coloured jacket, and weary grey eyes that had seen far
more than its fair share of life.

I placed him somewhere in his
late-fifties, just like Tug, and the sort who didn’t suffer fools gladly. I
wouldn’t have even been surprised if he was the local sheriff, winding down
after a long hard shift. He had that sort of look. 

I stirred my newly arrived coffee as he
stirred his then pulled my attention back to the gas station to see how Bunny
was doing. The truck wasn’t at the pumps. She must have parked up around the
side and was about to head in.

I waited for another five minutes and
started to feel agitated at the no-show, then wondered if she was actually
fixing herself up, hopeful for another lustful liaison. I felt my stomach turn
at the idea again. Her perfume had been overpowering, cheap and musky as her
synthetic tan.

The waffles finally arrived, breaking my
thoughts. I tucked into them ravenously, tiring of waiting for my host, who I
thought couldn’t have been that hungry to be taking so much time getting ready.

Quickly I worked my way through the plate
as I picked over how dumb Bunny was not to remember my face, then reflected
that she would have only set eyes on me for a few seconds anyway, when Jed had first
greeted her at Mickey’s.

In fact, she may not have clocked me at
all, such was her distraction. The last thing she’d suspect either, was for the
guy who’d stolen her friend’s truck to be hitching a ride out of the same state
a short while later. I relaxed a little and enjoyed the last few mouthfuls of
food, then washed it down with the rest of the coffee satisfied how the hunt
for Olivia was beginning to shape up after the initial troubles.

If I hadn’t had gone to the dealer’s flat
to find Ethan, then I wouldn’t have been there when Tug had turned up. I then
wouldn’t have got dropped off in Hopkins to get a free ride south with a pocket
full of cash and a fresh lead. The mystery guy who’d been tailing me too, had
thankfully vanished; probably after witnessing my friendly interactions with
the local police...

I rested my head back against the back of
the booth and reflected on the bizarre run of events since my arrival, then
stared at the untouched plate of waffles bemused. They were going to be cold soon...

I looked out the window absentmindedly as
Bunny’s truck pulled out of the lot and powered effortlessly onto the feeder
road towards a busy looking highway, a nonchalant hand of acknowledgement raised
in my direction as she melted into the fast moving traffic. I jumped up
realizing what was going on then ran outside fuming.

‘Fuck it!’

I kicked the ground in anger and went
back inside, then felt the glares of the clientele eyeing me up with renewed
interest as I returned to the booth. The moustache guy dabbed his mouth with a
napkin slowly, observing me carefully. I eyed him back sternly until he’d
dropped his gaze and continued reading his paper, then turned my attentions to
Bunny’s plate still feeling hungry.

Halfway through it I froze, fork
suspended in mid-air as another realization hit home suddenly. I’d left my new
coat in the truck too...I’d taken it off as the cab had heated up, then in my
daze, just wandered into the café in my bomber jacket, which I’d been wearing
underneath.

To make matters worse, the money Tug had
given me was in the inside pocket of the sheepskin, as well as the disc from
Ethan’s flat...I put the fork down and lowered my head into my hands. Now I was
screwed without transport or money again, and I may have just lost a vital
piece of evidence to boot that could have offered a decent lead if the trail
went cold in Kentucky.