The Highway (12 page)

It was a miracle, he thought, that no one had driven by on either side of the highway since he’d stopped. In the back of his head a clock ticked, and he knew his odds worsened by the second. He’d accomplished his task within five minutes of stopping and the hard part was already done, but everything could be ruined if someone passed by and saw him. Or stopped to see what was going on. In that case, he’d have a decision to make. Involuntarily, he reached down and touched the heft of his .380 in his overalls pocket.

He lumbered out onto the asphalt of the highway to assess his situation. The Yellowstone River roared on the other side of the road. He could see white water lace streak the black surface of the water below. There were no houses or lights on either side of the canyon yet. The canyon walls were dark and high on both sides and the stars were oppressive in their silent intensity. The air smelled of juniper from the brush leading down to the river and diesel fumes from his idling truck. He looked both ways on the highway, knowing he would see headlights long before he heard a vehicle approaching. The road was empty.

The Ford couldn’t have broken down at a more perfect location, and he reveled in his luck. Gardiner was miles behind and out of view. Ahead on the highway, two miles north after the walls narrowed precipitously for a while, the canyon opened up on the opposite side across the river into a wide bench. That’s where the religious compound was located, where there were people and a smattering of lights and a clear view of the highway. Those members always seemed acutely aware of vehicles and traffic, and if the Ford had broken down there he would have kept on driving. But it didn’t.

He took a deep breath and walked back to the Ford. He noted an odor he hadn’t noticed before: the acrid smell of hot burnt oil that wafted up from beneath the hood. He wondered how it was the girls couldn’t have recognized the odor while they were driving. Maybe, he thought, they smelled it and had no idea what it was. That didn’t surprise him. Teenagers weren’t like they used to be when it came to cars or car care. They just got in them and drove off; he’d seen it. As long as the stereo system worked—that was all that concerned them. As a young driver so many years ago, the Lizard King treasured and babied his first used car, a 1978 Chevy half-ton pickup. He knew everything about it and he spent nights and weekends tuning the engine and keeping it in prime running condition. It disgusted him how little kids cared anymore, as if their cars were an entitlement and driving their right.

Unlike him. He’d parlayed his love and competence for wrenching and driving to truck driving school, where he’d paid $3,000 to earn his first commercial driver’s license (CDL), then hired on with Swift Trucking on their “Train, Lease, Drive” program that eventually paid for his first rig. That was four trucks and three million miles ago.

*   *   *

He threw open the driver’s side door of the Ford. The dome light came on but it was muted and weak—the sign of a dying battery. He rooted through his cargo pockets past the stun gun and the pistol and withdrew a mini-Maglite flashlight and twisted it on. With the flashlight clamped between his teeth, he leaned into the car. It was a mess, which confirmed his disgust. The floors and dash were littered with junk but he found what he was looking for: their two cell phones. He knew from experience that there was no service inside the canyon where they were located but that there would be a signal within two miles when the canyon walls receded and the Paradise Valley opened up to reveal the compound. He was blessed with luck! It was meant to be!

The phones, he knew, might contain GPS capability. But no matter. He grasped a phone in each hand as he backed out of the car and turned and fast-stepped across the road.

The phone in his right hand came to life and he nearly dropped it out of surprise. He lifted it and saw the call was coming from someone named Justin. Surprisingly, there seemed to be sections of the canyon where there
was
spotty cell service, and this appeared to be one of them. He refused the call and quickly powered the phone off and threw it toward the river.

As he reared back to throw the second phone there was a pinprick of light in his right eye. Someone was coming from the north. He threw the phone anyway, heard a second distant splash far below, and jogged back toward his truck trying to assess how much time he’d have before the vehicle arrived. The road to the north paralleled the serpentine river, so the oncoming car was temporarily tucked out of view. He figured he had two minutes until it arrived.

Opening the door, he emptied his pockets on the floor of his cab, his .380, the stun gun, the case with the syringe (now empty), the flashlight, and the handcuffs. Running his hands down his jumpsuit as if frisking himself, he was satisfied he’d left nothing behind. He quickly shed the Tyvek overalls and kicked the bundle off his boots. He stuffed the white mass into a dark plastic trash bag and shoved it under his driver’s seat to be disposed of later.

And suddenly the oncoming car was upon him, much sooner than he’d anticipated. A yellow wash of headlights lit him up as he stood but he fought the urge to look over his shoulder and show his face.

The car passed by but he could hear the motor decompressing as it did so, and he shot a glimpse under his right armpit to confirm that yes, red brake lights flashed. The car was slowing down.

Why?
He wanted to shout. What had they seen?

He watched as the car pulled over to the opposite shoulder five hundred feet away and began a U-turn.

The Lizard King felt his face and scalp pull tight with rage. Everything had gone so well, and now this! He considered clambering inside the cab and roaring away before the car could reach him. But to do so would definitely create suspicion when the driver arrived to find the empty Ford. So he stayed where he was, frozen in time and space, but let his right hand creep back up into the cab until his fingers grasped the grip of the .380.

The car that had passed him stayed in the highway lane instead of pulling over. It slid up beside him and he squinted against the beam of the headlights, trying to figure out how many heads were inside; deciding that if there were more than two he wouldn’t fire because it would get too complicated …

The car was a late-model four-door sedan and as it arrived the passenger window rolled down. Inside was the grinning face of his partner.

“Scared you, didn’t I?”

“I should fucking shoot you anyway,” the Lizard King said, pulling the gun down in full view of the driver.

“Good thing you didn’t.”

“Yeah—good thing.”

“Jesus Christ, what happened to your face?”

The Lizard King absently reached up and dragged his fingertips through blood. He’d completely forgotten about his wound. The blood was hot and sticky.

“Guess I banged my head in all the excitement.”

“You better clean that up. You look like hell itself.”

He nodded.

His partner gestured toward the dark Ford. “Is this the double load you mentioned?”

“It is.”

“Young ones?”

“Like I said.”

“Anyone come by and see anything?”

“Only you.”

“
Fantastic
.”

“Everything ready at the place?”

His partner nodded. The grin seemed plastered to his face and in the green light from his dash he looked malevolent, like a gargoyle.

“You had better get in your rig and get going,” his partner said. “I didn’t see anyone behind me but that doesn’t mean someone might not show up.”

The Lizard King nodded. Now that the situation had defused itself he felt equal measures thrilled and exhausted.
This was going to work.
He said, “You going to follow me in?”

His partner said, “In a minute. Once you’re clear I’m going to push that car farther off the shoulder into the brush. I don’t want anybody seeing it or noticing the license plate until we get back here to drive it away.”

The Lizard King shook his head, “That car won’t run. I think the engine is seized up. You can smell it. We’ll need the tow truck to get it out of here.”

“Shit.”

“It is what it is. But believe me, this will be worth it.”

“That good, eh?”

“One of ’em, at least. I didn’t get that great of a look at the other. But this is exactly what we talked about that time, remember? And they’re not meth heads.”

“Kind of like Christmas, eh?”

“Yeah,” the Lizard King said. “Oh, there’s a dead one in there, too. It was an accident.”

“You’ve been a busy man.”

“I’m motivated.”

His partner nodded, then conspicuously peered out through his windshield ahead and checked his rearview mirror. “Still clear,” he said, “You better go. It’s going to be a busy night.”

“See you soon,” the Lizard King said, turning to pull himself back into his cab. “I’ll drop off the precious cargo before I unload.”

16.

8:52
P.M.
, Tuesday, November 20

D
ANIELLE’S CELL
PHONE RANG ONCE
and stopped. Justin held his phone away from his face and stared at it, unbelieving. He made sure he hadn’t misdialed and confirmed that he hadn’t.

Christian said, “What’s up, man? Didn’t she want to talk to you?”

“She hung up,” Justin said, surprised. “One ring. Maybe she was in the middle of something and she’ll call me right back.”

“
Right,
” Christian chided. He had a baby face despite his size, and it took only two beers for a blush of pink to bloom across his cheeks. He’d had at least two, Justin guessed.

“I don’t know,” Justin said. “Maybe they’re still going in and out of cell phone range. Last I heard they were going into the Yellowstone River canyon out of Gardiner, so that might be it.”

“Yankee Jim Canyon!” one of the boys on the sofa cried out. “I went on a white-water raft trip there last summer and froze my balls off.”

“Sweet,” one of the girls said, and the other laughed.

“Try again,” Christian said to Justin.

He punched the button. This time the call went straight to voice mail:
You’ve reached the voice mail of the awesome Danielle Sullivan. Please leave a message and I’ll call you right back unless I don’t. Ciao!

“That’s weird,” Justin said. “She doesn’t take my call and then it goes straight to her mailbox.”

“Try it again.”

This time, Justin heard a recorded message from Verizon saying the number he was calling was not available.

“It’s like she turned her phone off. That’s just weird. Danielle
never
turns her phone off. I doubt she even knows how to do it.”

Christian shrugged. “Maybe her phone ran out of battery and she doesn’t know it. Or she forgot to bring a car charger. Didn’t you say she was kind of an airhead sometimes?”

Justin didn’t remember saying it but thought he probably had because she was.

“In fact, I’m going to try Gracie’s phone next.”

Justin scrolled down his contacts list for Gracie’s number and tuned Christian out. He wasn’t in the mood for Christian, and especially Christian with a few beers inside him. The party had already lost some people, who had moved on to other parties. Christian had called Justin a “buzzkill” because, he said, “nobody likes seeing a dude sitting at a table working phones and a computer when they want to kick back and relax.”

Gracie’s number repeated the same message from the carrier. He closed the phone, frowned, and looked up. Christian stood there, hovering. Justin responded with a shrug. “
Both
of their phones are off. That just doesn’t make sense.”

“Screw her,” Christian said. “You’ve got better things to do. I know
I
do.

“Who knows, man,” Christian said. “Maybe they stopped for gas and she met some studly biker. You know, chicks just say they want nice boys. Really, they want the bad ones.”

From the couch, Kelsie said, “Christian, you don’t know what you’re talking about as always.”

“It’s true,” Christian said to her, walking into the kitchen to pull another beer bottle from the cooler of ice.

In his absence, Kelsie got up and joined Justin at the table. She sat close and said, “If those girls don’t show up, Justin, you know who to call, don’t you?”

He looked up to confirm he’d heard her correctly and she smiled. She was sweet, cute, and available, he thought. Danielle would make mincemeat out of her if they were ever in the same room.

*   *   *

He waited ten minutes, then called both numbers again. Same result. He was getting worried. If they’d had car trouble, or had been in an accident …

Justin stood, closed his laptop, and shoved his phone into the pocket of his hoodie.

“I’m out of here,” he said to Christian.

Kelsie sat back, hurt.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But if they show up at my house and I’m not there…”

She crossed her arms over her breasts and glared at him.

*   *   *

He went out into the night with his laptop under his arm and his cell phone in his hand. He climbed into the older model Toyota Camry his father had somehow obtained the year before from the county impound lot, and sighed deeply as it warmed up.

He wondered if Danielle was gaming him, making him worry so he’d be more grateful to see her. She was capable of it, he knew. But if Gracie was along, Danielle couldn’t get away with that, he thought.

It didn’t feel right to have a girl, even one as smoking hot as Danielle, so determined to be with him that she’d drive hundreds of miles herself. It should be the other way around, he thought. Maybe the whole thing was a ruse? Maybe Danielle had been in Denver or Omaha the entire time and the long drive was something she made up to shame him, to make him remember how close they’d been and how much he’d miss her if she was gone?

Involving Gracie was the kicker, though, and pushed him back over the line. He’d seen how tough and resourceful her sister could be. Gracie wouldn’t get involved in a deception.

Justin thought about the sequence of calls and texts earlier. She’s been in constant contact with him, seemed thrilled to hear back from him, and then … nothing. He could think of no reason she’d simply turn off her phone. And if her phone had run out of battery power, she would use Gracie’s or call from a pay phone to check in. Danielle hated a vacuum and felt obligated to fill it.