Repairman Jack [07]-Gateways (20 page)

“A truck then. Sounds as if he pulled out in front of a truck.”

Jack looked up and down the road. His father’s Marquis had been hit on the right front fender. That meant…

“A truck? It would have to have been coming from the west…from the Everglades. Maybe he had a little stroke or something.”

“Dr. Huerta said his brain scans showed no damage.”

“Then it’s a mystery.”

“I don’t like mysteries, especially when they involve someone I know. And speaking of mysteries, I’m still trying to find out how someone reported the accident from downtown Novaton—”

Anya shook her head. “You call that a downtown?”

“Okay, from the local supermarket—before it happened.”

Anya peered at him through her huge sunglasses. “How do you know when it happened?”

“From my father’s watch. It’s cracked and broken, and the time on the face is something like twenty minutes after the accident call. How is that possible?”

“Clocks,” Anya said with a shrug. “Who can trust them? One’s set too fast, one’s set too slow—”

“My father was always a tightass about having the right time.”

“‘Was,’” Anya said. She
tsk
ed and pointed a gnarled finger at him. “What do you know about his watch lately?”

Jack looked away. She had him there.

“Not much.”

“Right. And—”

Oyv started barking. He was standing at the edge of the ditch with his head down and his ears drawn back flat against his head.

“What is it, my sweet doggie?” Anya said. “What have you found?”

Jack followed Anya over to where Oyv was still making his racket.

“Oh, my!” she said.

Jack came up beside her. “What?”

“Look at these tracks.”

Jack saw five-toed impressions in the damp mud at the bottom of the ditch. They spanned about a foot across. Whatever had made them was big. And pigeon-toed.

“Got to be a crocodile.”

Anya looked at him and made a face. “Crocodile? The Florida crocodile likes brackish water. These are alligator tracks. See that wavy line running between them? That was left by his tail. Look at the size of those feet. This is a
big
alligator.”

Jack did a slow turn. With all the reeds and saw grass around, it could be hiding anywhere.

Now he knew how Captain Hook felt.

“How big?”

“Judging from the size of these prints, I’d say twenty feet long, maybe more.”

Jack couldn’t imagine how she’d know that, but wasn’t going to call her on it. This lady knew an awful lot about Florida.

“Twenty-plus, huh? Why don’t we get back in the car.”

“Not to worry. These look old. See how the mud is dry? They were probably made days ago.”

“That doesn’t mean the maker isn’t still nearby.”

The tiny Chihuahua was down in the canal sniffing at the tracks. He showed no fear. Jack half expected him to start cooing,
Heeere, leezard, leezard, leezard…

His right hand drifted to the small of his back where his little AMT backup rested in its holster under his T-shirt. He wondered if a .38 caliber frangible would stop a gator that size. Probably break up on its head. But he alternated them with FMJs in the magazine. They might do some damage.

“Anyway, I’ve seen what I came to see.”

“Which was?”

“Nothing in particular. I just thought I should come out and see where it happened.”

What had he been hoping for? A mystery-solving clue, like in the movies? It hadn’t happened. Wasn’t going to happen. The whole thing was just a stupid accident.

But still…he wished he knew who’d been barreling along South Road out of the swamp in something big and heavy early Tuesday morning.

Back at the car, Jack played the gentleman and held the door for Anya—and Oyv—as she settled herself in the passenger seat, then he walked around to the other side. Physically he was heading for the driver seat; mentally he was miles away, thinking about giant gators and heavy rolling equipment. He was reaching for the door handle when Oyv started barking again. He looked up and saw a red truck racing toward him—
for
him.

No time to get in the car so he back-rolled onto the hood and got his feet up and out of the way just as the truck sideswiped the Buick.

Jack’s heart pounded. That son of a bitch almost—

The truck…an old red pickup he’d seen before. Jack couldn’t make out who was driving but he’d bet he wasn’t pretty. Coughing in the trailing dust cloud, he slid off the hood, pulled open the door, and jumped inside.

“What was that?” Anya said as Oyv kept barking.

Thanks little guy, Jack thought. Bark all you want.

“That was an attempted hit and run.”

He slammed the car into gear and spun the tires as he started pursuit.

Anya looked worried. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Going after them.”

“And if you catch them, then what?”

“As the saying goes, I’m going to kick ass and take names—in a very literal sense.”

The bogus nurse in his father’s room yesterday had driven away from the hospital in that truck, and now that truck had tried to drive into him. It wasn’t big enough to cause the damage that had befallen his father’s Grand Marquis without totaling itself, but it was connected. Oh, yes. Definitely connected.

Jack followed the pickup’s dust cloud along Pemberton. He was gaining on it when it suddenly braked and hung a hard right. Jack skidded to a halt, almost missing the turn. He nosed onto a pair of sandy ruts that curved to the right. He accelerated but the dust was so thick that he missed the path and slid off into the brush. It took a few back-and-forth maneuvers to get moving again, and by the time he made it back to the road—that pair of ruts was nothing more than an arc that curved back to South Road—the truck was nowhere to be seen.

Jack drove to the intersection and got out. He scanned the roads up and down in search of a tell-tale dust cloud, but saw nothing. The truck had either slowed or pulled off the road to hide in the brush.

Frustration set his teeth on edge as he swung back into the driver seat. He pounded once on the steering wheel.

“Not to worry,” Anya said. “I have a feeling you’ll be seeing that truck again.”

“So do I,” Jack said. “That’s the problem.”

5

Jack needed to pick up some beer and a few munchies. Anya said she needed to do some food shopping as well. So, following her directions, he drove them to the Publix in downtown Novaton. On the way he saw a number of homeless types begging on the sidewalks. He hadn’t noticed them on past trips through.

A fellow with a cauliflower nose and a lumpy face that looked like he’d stuffed his cheeks with marbles stood near the door. He held a Styrofoam cup and shook the change within, looking for more.

As Jack slowed, trying not to stare but wondering if this guy was related to the two in the pickup, Anya grabbed his arm and pulled him through the automatic door.

“Give him nothing. His type are up to no good.”

Inside, he and Anya split, she rolling her cart toward the produce section while he headed for the snack aisle. There he found more varieties of fried pork rinds and pork cracklins than he’d ever imagined possible. He’d heard of them but never tried any. He passed them by and stocked up on healthier fare—tubes of cheese Pringles, one of his household staples. On his way back past the pork rinds he gave in to an impulse and picked up a bag. He’d try anything once. Couldn’t tell Gia, though. She’d be grossed out.

He found the beer section on the left side of the store where it took up the whole wall. But nowhere on that wall could he find Ybor Gold. He saw a stock boy who didn’t look old enough to drink stacking twelve-packs of Bud Light in the cooler; he had late acne and an early goatee. His brown hair was gelled into shiny spikes. Jack asked him where they hid the Ybor Gold.

“I don’t think we carry that one anymore,” he said.

Damn. He’d enjoyed those two he’d had on the way down.

“Why not? It’s a local beer.”

“That’s not local. It’s made in Tampa.”

Exasperated, Jack started waving his arms. “If you can stock Sapporo Draft from the other side of the world, how come you can’t stock something from the other side of the state?”

“Wait a minute,” the kid said. “Come to think of it…”

He went over to the imported section, shuffled some stock around, and pulled out a six pack of Ybor Gold. He held it up, grinning.

“Knew I’d seen this somewhere.”

“My hero,” Jack said.

“There’s one more back there. Do you—?”

“Sold!”

As the kid put the two six packs in the cart, Jack handed him a five-dollar bill.

“Naw, that’s okay,” he said. “Just doing my job.”

Jack shoved it into the breast pocket of the kid’s shirt. “Yeah, but you deserve a raise.”

He hunted up Anya and followed her around as she picked out what she wanted. This involved playing touchy-feely with almost every piece of fruit in the store. Finally she was done and they checked out. Jack qualified for an Express Lane and cooled his heels by the door as her order was rung up.

Out in the parking lot, he was loading everything into the trunk when he spotted a battered red pickup parked against the far curb half a block down. Anya and Oyv were already in the car; it was running with the AC on. Jack leaned in the driver door.

“Can you spare a few minutes?” he said. “I want to check something out.”

She glanced at her watch. “Don’t be too long. I’d like to stop in on your father before we head home.”

That was on Jack’s to-do list as well. But first…

He angled across the parking lot, then crossed the street. As he approached the truck—no question now that it was the same one—he noticed a slim young woman with a dark complexion and wild hair a startling silver white. She leaned against a nearby wall. She wore white Levis and a tight black vest over a long-sleeved white shirt buttoned up to the collar.

He stared at her. Something familiar about her. Not the hair, but that face, those black eyes…

And then he knew. Stuff that hair under a black wig, put her in a nurse’s uniform, and she’d be the mystery woman who’d fled his father’s room yesterday.

First she’s a brunette in the hospital, now she’s white haired and hanging out on the street. What the hell?

Next to her stood a hulking man Jack recognized as the one who’d ferried the mystery nurse away yesterday.

The woman’s eyes met his and he saw an instant of recognition there. She hid it immediately and slid her gaze off him, but he’d caught it.

Jack stepped back and edged toward the truck. The guy with the bulging forehead was leaning against it. Couldn’t forget him. He’d been driving when Jack’s tire was slashed. Had he been driving an hour ago?

Time to find out. Time to see if he could provoke a little something out of this clown.

Jack lidded his anger and sidled up to him. The man’s misaligned eyes were fixed on the crowd. Jack got his attention by giving his right shoulder a none-too-gentle shove. The guy bumped against the truck’s passenger door and whirled on Jack.

“Hey! What—?”

Whatever he was going to say never got out. Jack saw his eyes widen with recognition and knew he had his man.

“Almost nailed me out there, didn’t you,” Jack said, stepping closer and getting in his face.

“Luke?” the guy said in a high, quavering voice.

Jack gave him another shove. “Whose bright idea was that? Yours? Or somebody else’s?”

“Luke?” he said again, louder this time, his eyes darting back and forth. “Luke!”

Jack was about to give him another shove when the big burly guy who’d been next to the woman came up. His little pig eyes fixed on Jack.

“What’s goin on?”

“This your truck?”

“What if it is?”

“It sideswiped me out in the boonies a little while ago.”

Luke shook his head. “No way. It’s been sittin’ here all day. Ain’t that right, Corley?”

Corley missed a beat, then nodded his misshapen head. “Yeah. That’s right. Here all day.”

“Really?” Jack stepped over to the right front fender and ran his hand along the beige-streaked dent there. “I bet if the police compare the paint on these scrapes to the paint on my car they’ll come up with a perfect match.”

He had no intention of getting the cops involved, but they didn’t know that.

Luke’s eyes shifted from the scrapes, to Corley, to Jack. “What if it does? Don’t prove nothin’.”

“I think the cops will see it differently, and then I won’t be the only one wanting to know why you tried to run me down.”

“Somebody tried to run you down?” said a woman’s voice behind him.

It was the girl.