Drag Strip (21 page)

I cut across the back edge of Panama City Beach, the cool night air blowing through the open windows. It was a lovely night for a drive, but I could've done better for company. Roy Dell's thoughts must've run along the same lines, because he wedged the gun under one thigh and reached for the bottle. There was only a few inches left, so I figured Roy Dell was well on his way to passing out drunk.

“You think you got problems,” he said finally.

“Did I say I had problems?” I answered, swinging onto the Hathaway Bridge. I was eyeing a car in the distance behind us. A car that had somehow followed me no matter what turn I took to get to the bridge. A car that kept a careful distance, just like its driver had been taught in surveillance school. My stomach flipped over and my temperature started to rise. He was back there, all right.

“Sierra, you're driving in your car, held at gunpoint by a drunk wanted for murder. I'd say you were thinking you had problems.” Roy Dell swiped at his eyes. He'd either caught a June bug slap in the face or he was beginning to cry. My money was on the latter.

“But I got it worse'n you,” he said. “They think I killed that precious angel. Ripped her head half off with my own naked hands.”

“Hey!” I cried. “That's enough!”

“Then my old lady gets caught screwing my best crew man! Damn, I wish that hadn't a happened.” Roy Dell pulled on the bottle. “He was the best backup driver I ever had, and now I'm gonna have to kill him. And top it all off, she's got him lying about me. Saying I was places I wasn't. Sayin' I coulda killed that precious girl.”

“Roy Dell, you are a slob and a drunk, but I do not buy that you are a homicidal maniac.” For one thing, I thought, you are too stupid to be a homicidal maniac.

“Watch me,” he growled. “I'll kill his ass! She weren't much to look at, but she's all I got. Hell, I know she don't love me like a good woman oughta.” Roy Dell was crying. I snuck a look sideways, and there they were, huge fat tears cutting streaks down his grimy cheeks.

“Roy Dell, if you cared so much about your wife, how come you were chasing up after Ruby?”

“You wouldn't understand,” he said slowly, his words slurred around the edges. “It's a man thing. Ain't you read none of that Mars and Venus shit?”

I snuck a peak in my rearview mirror. He was a half a block back, following carefully as I wound my way toward Bayou Drive, down along Saint Andrews Bay, in and among the most beautiful houses in Panama City. My body was suffused with moist heat, and my heart rate was approaching the danger zone.

“Roy Dell, why are you in my car?” I had business to transact with a certain cop and this low-life was delaying my future.

“My aunt Raydean said you'd help me. She said, ‘Take it on the lam and find Sierra. She'll know what to do.'”

“And you took her advice?”

“Well, where in the hell else do I have to turn?” he yelled. “You think I like being in this position?”

“All right, all right! Calm down. She's right, I'll help you, but you need to help me, too. You can't go waving a gun at me and think I'm going to be falling all over myself to help you.”

Roy Dell seemed to think on that for a minute. “All right,” he said finally, “we'll do it your way.”

I needed time to think and it was going to be hard to do that with a cop on my tail and crazy, drunk Roy Dell Parks in my car. “Why do the cops think you killed Ruby?” I asked suddenly.

“Beats me!” Roy Dell finished the bottle and heaved it out the window. Behind me, John Nailor swerved to avoid the shattering glass.

“Hey! That's littering!” I yelled into the wind. “I'd appreciate it if you'd dispose of your trash in the proper receptacles.”

Roy Dell must've taken offense because he reached between his legs and pulled out the gun again. “I will not blow off my testicles!” he said.

“You're hopeless,” I said. “Here's what we're gonna do. You're gonna stay hidden for the time being until I can figure out what's going on and get you hooked up with my attorney. I'm gonna slow down when we get close to the park, and I want you to jump out and start running. Call me tomorrow at noon and I'll tell you what to do next.”

Roy Dell laughed. “That is the dumb-assedest plan I ever heard of!”

I looked over at him. “Look in your rearview mirror,” I said. “You see them cute little headlights? That's my boyfriend, the cop.” Roy Dell's face paled and he right away craned his neck to look.

“Jesus!”

“Jesus ain't gonna help him what doesn't help himself,” I answered. “Now, you see why I gotta get rid of you in a fast but hopefully inconspicuous way? I'm trying to help you, Roy Dell.” I held my breath, hoping he'd go for it and not decide I was somehow an enemy.

“If you put me out, he'll be after me in a car and I'll be on foot!”

I took another curve and began to double back toward Eat at Joe's restaurant.

“Roy Dell, let me handle him. Please? Can you lose yourself if I drop you? 'Cause I'm gonna drop you right … now!” I swung into the tiny park, spun around and slowed to a crawl. Roy Dell, used to flinging his body out of race cars that were in the process of self-destructing, opened the door and half jumped, half fell out onto the hard ground, slamming the door shut behind him.

The Camaro had done a one-eighty and now sat directly in the path of John Nailor's unmarked sedan, our headlights lighting up the thirty feet that separated us.

Nailor jumped out of his car, his hand reaching behind his back. He moved quickly to my passenger side door and yanked it open, still staring out into the darkness of the park.

“You think you're just slicker than owl shit, don't you?” he yelled. His jaw was twitching and his face was red with anger.

“What're you talking about?”

Nailor leaned down and plucked Roy Dell's gun off the seat. “You care to explain this?” he said. “You got a license to carry?”

“Hey, that isn't concealed. And besides, it isn't mine!”

“Damn straight, it ain't yours!” He was livid. I don't think I'd ever seen him that angry and I knew why. He didn't have control of the situation and I did. Pure and simple. It was a man thing, I guessed.

He slid into the passenger seat, almost levitating with rage. “You know you were just aiding and abetting a probable felon? You know you're now an accessory after the fact?”

“Before, after, what's the difference? The man hid in my car and held me at gunpoint, what choice did I have? Besides, the poor fella needed help. Who could he turn to?”

“You?” Nailor laughed bitterly. “That's desperate, all right.”

“Well, go get him if you're so freakin' fired up! He couldn't have gone too far. He's on foot and unarmed and drunk. We're around the corner from the jail. Go get him, big man!”

Nailor glowered at me. I fully expected him to hop out and run, but instead he just sat there.

“What makes you so sure Roy Dell killed Ruby?” I asked.

“Because Frank said he couldn't find Roy Dell just before race time. Said he was missing for ten whole minutes. Frank says Roy Dell wasn't himself before that race, that he was acting strange.”

I shook my head in disgust. “And you believed him? If you're looking for suspects, well, Frank's looking just as good to me. You know he was screwing Lulu? Maybe him and Lulu decided to off Ruby and make it look like Roy Dell did it.”

Nailor was watching me like I had suddenly suggested he fly to Mars. “How would you know that?” he asked. “You know, you shouldn't be nosing around in a police investigation. It's dangerous, Sierra. This is a murder investigation.”

“Maybe you need to hang out with them tiny, petite, brunette types. The kind that aren't in danger of ever taking care of another human being or putting themselves at risk. Maybe what you're looking for is a trophy.”

I was pushing him way further than I knew I should, but I couldn't help myself. I'd had enough.

“You don't know a thing about her,” he said.

I took that as an admission and zoomed in for the kill.

“What'da I gotta know about a Junior League bimbo?” I said. “Girls like that are a dime a dozen.”

“Right,” he said.

“Right? You tellin' me I'm right?” I couldn't believe my ears. John Nailor was copping a plea.

“Have you wondered why I'm spending so much time with her?” he asked.

“'Cause you're tired of tall blond women with brains and looks?”

He threw his head back and laughed, a deep, strong, genuine laugh that warmed me all the way through.

“Yeah,” he said, “something like that. I'm tired of beauty and brains and heat.” He said that last word while his eyes were practically looking straight through me. Suddenly it was way too warm for comfort in my little car.

“So? What're you doing chasing her?”

Nailor sighed. “It's business, Sierra. I'm into something I can't talk about. She's part of it and that's all I can say, and you can't repeat that, you hear?” He looked serious and for the first time I noticed something else. Pain?

“What's so wrong you gotta lie to your partner?” I asked softly. That was it. That was the source of the pain. Nailor's eyes darkened and he looked down at his lap. He couldn't face me with whatever it was.

“I'm over a barrel here, Sierra,” he said. “I had to do what I was told…” He broke off and looked out the window.

“Who's giving the orders?”

He didn't answer for a few moments. Then, “It's the wrong way to go about doing the right thing, Sierra. But I don't get a say in how this goes down. I'm the puppet and if she says ‘dance,' then I gotta dance.”

“Who's ‘she'?” I asked.

There was almost a chill in the night air. The sky was filled with stars. And this wasn't the man I knew. John Nailor never danced to anyone else's tune.

He shook his head and wouldn't answer me.

“It's Carla, isn't it? This is a DEA investigation.”

His eyes flickered, an admission. “What are you talking about? Now you're making stuff up,” he said, but his voice had changed, suddenly anxious.

“Carla, your ex. I saw her at the racetrack. You can't tell me she's not back in town. I bet she's got you by the short hairs, big guy. You're working for her, aren't you?”

I knew he wanted to talk, but instead he stayed silent. He wouldn't look at me.

“This ain't you,” I said. “You're in trouble, aren't you?”

“I wish it was that easy,” he said.

I reached over and touched the side of his face, letting my hand slide around the back of his neck as he slowly looked up at me, and then moved closer. I turned my face to his and felt his lips melt into mine. He reached over and pulled me to him, hungry and insistent. It was as if we'd been starving. There was an urgency to our movements. His lips moved across my face, down the side of my neck. His hands slipped under my shirt while mine fumbled with the buttons of his starched, oxford-cloth shirt. I wanted him. I had never wanted anyone or anything the way I wanted him at this moment.

“Wait,” he said suddenly, looking around as if coming up for air.

I moaned. “Not now! What?”

“Sierra, we're in the middle of a public park with our headlights on!”

I didn't care. I would've taken him right there, if only he hadn't forced me back to reality. He turned to me, running his thumb along my bottom lip, just like he had the other night. I moaned again involuntarily.

“Come on,” he whispered. “I'll follow you back to your place.” His eyes were dark wells of energy. Oh God, I couldn't wait.

“Your place,” I said. “We have to go to your place!”

“We can't,” he said. “Come on, let's go to your place. I'll be careful. No one'll see us.”

“John, I can't. I have company.”

The temperature dropped a good ten degrees instantly. “What do you mean, company?”

I laughed. “My brother Al and Ma are staying with me for a little while.”

“Damn!”

I pulled my shirt back into place and straightened up. The mood was quickly evaporating.

“What's wrong with your place?”

“It's too dangerous,” he said suddenly. “In fact, I don't know what I was thinking. This is too dangerous.” He'd buttoned his shirt and now he picked up Roy Dell's gun. “Do you know how to use this?”

“No, I don't believe in guns.”

He sighed and shook his head, then shoved Roy Dell's gun into his waistband.

“But I do know how to use this!” I said, whipping out my Spyderco and snapping it open so the shiny steel blade hovered an inch from his navel.

“Put that thing away before you hurt somebody, most likely yourself!”

“Hey! I'm a frustrated woman, all right?” I flicked the knife shut and started to shove it back in my pocket.

He leaned over just then, slipped his hand behind my head and kissed me. Long and slow and deep. I sighed and melted against him, drinking in the smell and taste of his body against mine, half thinking maybe I could slip him past Ma and Al. But it was over before I could say or do anything. He was gone, walking away to his car, not looking back once.

I sat there and watched him back out of the park and onto the road. I was gripping the steering wheel with both hands, my heart pounding. Every spot where he'd touched me still burned. I wanted that man, and one day soon I was gonna have him.

Twenty-four

All hell was breaking loose at my house. It was four
A.M.
when I pulled up onto the parking pad, and every light in the trailer was on. Every light in Raydean's house was on, too, but that was nothing new when you consider that she spent a lot of her time patrolling for alien invaders. From the looks of her lawn and front door, she'd finally proven her point: alien life did indeed exist. The place was seriously trashed.