Stand Alone (34 page)

Justine pushed the rat gingerly away.

“He’s very nice,” she acknowledged.

“I bet you didn’t know that ratties made such good pets,” he said. “Did you know that rats have a higher IQ than dogs or monkeys? They’re easier to train than dolphins. And they have real emotions, just like people. Why, when Sue Ann died, Billy here cried for a week. Just heartbroken, the poor fellow.”

Justine watched Bill warily.

“That’s really interesting,” she said. “I guess I’m not much of a rat person.”

“Oh, that’s okay. It takes time to get to know them, before you can see how great they are. I had my first rat when I was five, so I’ve had lots of experience with them. Every one has a different personality. But I’ve never had a mean one. They’re sweet little creatures.”

“Just like a really small chihuahua,” Justine said dryly.

Eldron beamed at this.

“Only smarter,” he reminded her.

“Right,” Justine agreed.

After getting out of Eldron’s cab, Justine refused any further help to find a suitable escort. She couldn’t stand it. She’d pick her own ride this time, and take the consequences. She didn’t get out at a truck stop, but had Eldron drop her at a highway intersection, and started skating. She’d been sitting cooped up for way too long. Too many hours and too many stupid stories. Her muscles were stiff and sore, but started to warm up and loosen as she skated alongside the highway. If she could only skate all the way to Burbank
  
…
 
that would be perfect. But she knew that she couldn’t. Too many hours. She’d have to camp by the road, and find a food source. Ration everything out. Justine had to hitchhike. But she didn’t have to ride with grandma and grandpa this time.

After going a few miles on her skateboard, she picked it up and walked backward down the highway, putting out her thumb. It was a while before a pick-up truck pulled over and the driver reached over and opened the passenger side door.

“Hop in,” the driver invited.

Justine looked him over. A thirty-something man, long hair, big biceps, a few days growth of beard. Nope. She closed the door.

“Sorry,” she said, “I was just doing a dare. I don’t really need a ride. My friends are going to be picking me up here in a minute.”

“Come on, get in,” he urged. “I’m not going to hurt you. Where do you need to go?”

“Nowhere,” Justine said, stepping away from the vehicle. “I told you, it was just a joke. I don’t need a ride.”

“You’re out here in the middle of nowhere. Of course you need a ride. Come on. Hop in. I promise I won’t even talk to you if you don’t want me to. Just let me know where you want to go, and we’ll be on our way.”

Justine put down her board, checking out all four directions, trying to figure out the best escape route. He was getting anxious about her not getting into the car.

“Come on, sweetheart, quit playing hard-to-get.”

Justine skated away the way that they had come from. He couldn’t turn the truck around right there on the busy highway. He turned on his hazard lights, and got out of the car, following her.

“Get your sorry butt into the car,” he hissed, running after her.

Justine put on a burst of speed, and watching the timing of the highway traffic, she skated across all four lanes, leaving the man on the other side, looking after her angrily. Justine skated on the shoulder, facing traffic. The man was still there, trying to figure out how to get her. He made a dash across his two lanes of traffic, and stood on the meridian in the middle.

“You want to get yourself killed?” he demanded. “Come back here, and I’ll take you where you want to go. Don’t be stupid and put your life at risk.”

Justine kept riding, ignoring him. Glancing over her shoulder a few minutes later, she saw him retreating back to his truck and climbing in. She heard his truck door slam even over the noise of the traffic and occasional honks as people tried to convince her to get off the road with her board. She watched the truck drive away and out of sight. Justine skated for a long time, watching for any sign of the truck. He could come back for her, wait for her or turn around when he came to an intersection on the highway. It was an hour before she relaxed and traversed the highway again to get back to her side.

Justine was so freaked out after that, she didn’t try to hitch any more that day. She skated along the side of the highway, or walked up the steep hills. She slept in the woods beside the road that night. If you could call it sleeping. She wore her sweatshirt and lay her head on her backpack—long since divested of the heavy books—but she wasn’t comfortable. Sticks and rocks poked into her body, and it got a lot colder than she thought it would overnight. She had some granola bars to munch on in the morning, and started walking again. Justine decided it was time to bite the bullet and hitch another ride. The first taker she got was a couple with two children in the back seat. Justine squeezed into the back seat with the children.

“Are you a runaway, Katie?” the mother asked her. “Out here all by yourself?”

“No, I’m going back home. In Burbank.”

“Don’t you know it’s dangerous to be hitchhiking?”

“Yes,” Justine sighed, “I know.”

“Why don’t you take the bus? Do you have any money?”

Justine considered her answer.

“I’ve got a bit. But not enough for the bus, I don’t think.”

The woman rummaged in her purse, and reached over the seat to hand Justine a tattered twenty dollar bill.

“Here. I don’t carry much cash, but I can help a little.”

“No, ma’am, I don’t want to take your money,” Justine objected, waving her hand.

“Come on. Take it.”

“I’ll have it,” the little boy sitting in the back beside Justine offered.

Justine grinned at him as she took the twenty and tucked it away.

“Thanks,” she said. “You really didn’t need to do that. I’m not a beggar.”

“Everyone needs a little help sometimes.”

The time passed fairly pleasantly, but Justine was ready to get out when they finally pulled over. The kids had spent the time fighting or sleeping on her shoulder, crowding her. The father hadn’t had much to say. The mother had chattered and asked a lot of questions, most of which Justine refused to answer. She got out in spite of objections that they could take her on to the bus station or something, but Justine shook her head and held firm.

“No, this is great,” she said. “I need to stretch my legs for a while. Here is fine.”

Her next ride was an older man. Not as old as Arlen, but old enough that Justine figured he was safe. He didn’t start with the usual ‘Don’t you know it’s dangerous to be hitchhiking?’ That was a nice change of pace. He asked her about where she was going, and not whether she was a runaway. Justine leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Having not really slept the night before, and after riding all morning with the family of four, she was exhausted. The sun was shining in her face, making her squint, and it was easier to just close her eyes. Before she realized how drowsy she was, she dropped off to sleep.

When she awoke, everything was quiet and still. She felt the seatbelt retract from across her body, and a hand slid up her shirt. Justine yelped and opened her eyes, trying to push the hand away. The old man was just about on top of her. He reached one leg across to straddle her, and Justine struck out. Having put himself into an awkward position, the man first took a blow in the crotch from Justine, and then another when he collapsed heavily on the center console. Justine opened her door, grabbed her board and her backpack, and bailed out of the car.

Justine didn’t stop to see where they were. She just ran as fast as she could through the trees. She didn’t hear any sounds of pursuit, but she kept running anyway, until she was too out of breath to continue any further. Justine looked around. She was in the woods, but could still hear the sounds of traffic. She headed toward them, and eventually broke through the tree cover into the ditch beside the highway. There was a fence to climb over, and she was back where she was safe, lots of cars whizzing by her. Lots of witnesses. Justine put down her board and started to skate. She didn’t hitch anymore that day. Maybe the kids’ mother had been right about taking a bus.

Curtis looked at the missing persons bulletin and felt sick to his stomach. He was still just sitting there in the car, staring at it, when Booth returned from his break.

“What’s up?” Booth questioned, looking at his face, and then down at the bulletin.

“Justine Bywater,” Curtis said, adjusting the viewing angle of the laptop screen so that Booth would be able to see it. Booth readjusted it again, and read swiftly through the details. The color drained from his face.

“She never got home after we dropped her off?” he said.

Curtis nodded. Booth swore faintly.

“Get in,” Curtis advised, and Booth complied without a word. They headed out to the highway, where they had left Justine the day before. There was no sign of her. They drove up and down, watching the ditch, the adjoining farms and properties. A few times they went up a driveway and checked out an abandoned building. They drove slowly back from the drop-off point to Justine’s home address.

“It says that she has been known to break into empty houses and stay there,” Booth said.

They drove the reverse course, watching for ‘for sale’ signs or obviously empty houses. Luckily, there were no urgent calls that they had to respond to.

“We’re going to have to report what we know,” Curtis said finally, his stomach churning. When he was little, he used to get carsick. But he’d never felt this nauseated.

“We don’t know anything,” Booth countered. “There was plenty of time for her to get back into the city. Not hard to do on a skateboard. She might have been tired by the time she got home, but she was used to riding all over town.”

“What if somebody picked her up? What if she ran into somebody dangerous, because we abandoned her out there?”

“She’s been reported missing a dozen times before. She’ll show up again in a day or two, like always.”

Curtis shook his head.

“We have to tell what we know. Whatever has happened to her
  
…
 
we can’t just pretend that we don’t know anything.”

The officer who passed the news on to Em had her sit down first, which was a good idea, because her knees went all wobbly.

“A scenic tour,” Em repeated. “What does that mean?”

“It means that they took her outside city limits, and left her there to get back on her own. It’s not legal, but it’s been known to happen
  
…
 
They didn’t want to arrest her and bother with all of the paperwork. They didn’t want to let her go. So they just
  
…
 
took her for a ride.”

“How far? She still should have been back by now,” Em pointed out.

“Yes. She should have been. It was stupid thing for them to do, but not unheard of
  
…
 
and really not
that
dangerous
  
…”

“A fifteen year old girl, on her own, outside the city limits; what do you mean it’s not that dangerous?”

“It shouldn’t have been a problem for her to skate home. Even if someone picked her up
  
…
 
the majority of people who pick up hitchhikers are not dangerous. Just lonely, or friendly.”

C
HAPTER
15

J
USTINE
LOOKED
AROUND
THE
bus depot looking at the other travelers. Mostly college-age students and some retired single men and women. Not very many families with children. Most of the travelers had big duffle bags. Justine felt a little out of place with just her school backpack.

She looked at the ticket prices. She couldn’t quite get to Burbank on the money she had managed to scrape together. But she could get most of the way there and maybe skate the rest of the way. She went to the ticket counter and bought a ticket. The woman selling them looked her over, but didn’t ask any questions. Justine sat down and had a fruit bar from her backpack while waiting for the bus.

The bus wasn’t full. Justine selected a seat near the driver’s seat, and no one sat next to her. The driver got on. A thirty- or forty-something, narrow-faced man. He wore sunglasses even though it wasn’t particularly bright out. Justine gave him a big friendly smile. He smiled shyly back at her and sat down.

“So, how long have you been driving a bus?” Justine questioned, once they were under way.

He glanced aside at her.

“Ten years on this line,” he said. “A while before that.”

“Wow. I’m Katie, what’s your name?”

“Jerry,” he gave her a smile. “Nice to meet you, Katie.”

“Yeah, you too. So
  
…” She cast about for a topic that would keep him talking, “are you from around here?”

He was happy talking about himself, so that Justine only needed to smile and nod to keep him going. He made the first couple of stops, and then looked at her in consternation.

“Isn’t this your stop?”

“Well
  
…” Justine smiled winningly, “I guess that’s what my ticket says. But
  
…
 
I just didn’t have enough money to buy a ticket all the way to Burbank. That’s where I need to go.”

He frowned at this.

“You’re supposed to get off here.”

“You couldn’t just
  
…
 
let me ride to Burbank, could you?” Justine gave him a hopeful smile.

“I’m not supposed to.”

“Who’s gonna know?”

Jerry didn’t say anything. He got up and helped several other people with their baggage. He stood at the front of the bus and looked down the aisle.

“Anyone else getting off here?” he questioned.

No one said anything. Jerry pulled his cap down snugly.

“All right then. Let’s get on our way.”

Justine smiled and they continued on.

That night, Justine slept in a chair in the bus depot, which she didn’t think would be particularly difficult, since she wasn’t the only one doing it. But the seats were surprisingly uncomfortable. Some were a sling bottom, with very short backs, so there was no way to rest your head or neck. The others were molded plastic with higher backs, that were incredible slippery it your tried to lean back on them and would try to dump you on the floor.