Look-I said Im sorry. I just dont have time to stand here and argue with you. Or justify myself. She turned her head enough so she could call over her shoulder without taking her eyes off him, Mary Kelly, its okay, Ive got us a ride.
After a moment, C.J. saw the big-haired woman edge out from behind the ladies room entry screen farther down the back side of the building. The little girl was still snugged up against her side, and he knew now what she reminded him of. It was those pictures hed seen on the news of refugee kids in Bosnia or Afghanistan-big-eyed and scared, but stoic.
Turn around, please, and start walking toward your truck. The low, almost whispered command jerked his attention back to the woman with the gun, and he saw that it and her hands had disappeared back inside the pocket of her sweatshirt. I dont want to upset Emma, she explained, speaking rapidly now. I hope I wont have to. Trust me-the guns still right here, pointed at your belt buckle. Now, go on-move.
What could he do? What did he do? Something brave and heroic? Hell, no, he did what anybody with a lick of sense would have done-he turned around and started walking. His spine was stiff as a poker and his back felt exposed, as if his clothes had been split open down the back and an icy cold wind was blowing in the gap. He had the good sense to be a little bit scared and wobble-legged, too, but mostly what he was, was maddern hell. Madder than he could remember being in his life.
Behind him he could hear the scuffle of footsteps on pavementa murmur of conversation between the two women. He didnt turn to look, but he kept seeing the little girl hugging her mommas legs, and her big scared refugee eyes. That was what made him the maddest. At least he thought it was. The truth was, C.J.s feelings were pretty complicated right then.
When he was even with the back end of his trailer, he stuck a hand in his pocket and hauled out his keys, making a big deal out of holding them out to show his hijacker what he was doing. He unlocked the passenger-side door and held it wide open, and in a POd, sarcastically polite way waved his passengers in.
He felt mean and childish when the big-haired woman looked at him as she was lifting her little girl into the cab and murmured a breathless and sincere, We really do appreciate this, mister-thank you. Her accent was thick Southern-not Georgia, someplace farther west. Arkansas, maybe, or Oklahoma.
Get back in the sleeper and shut the curtain, the hijacker ordered the woman, just as if it had been her truck. When C.J. waved her in ahead of him she gave him a tight little smile and murmured, After you.
So he had no choice but to get in on the passenger side of his own rig and climb across the seat and the center console, dumping his law books on the floor in the process. By this time his anger was a buzzing inside his head, incessant as a horsefly trapped against a windowpane, and if there were any calm and reasoning voices left in there, he couldnt hear them.
A gun. Shed pulled a gun on him!
What he wanted was to lash out and knock that damned gun into next week. He considered trying it. Thered be a moment-maybe when she was hauling herself into the cab and her hands were otherwise occupied.
Jeez. He was being hijacked by a woman, for Gods sake. And one who looked like something out of a book of fairy tales!
Well, shoot, he couldnt very well knock her into next week. Reluctantly C.J. allowed that one inescapable fact into his consciousness, where it had the effect of pouring oil on boiling water. Hed never struck a woman before in his life and wasnt about to start now, not even for this. His stomach turned queasy and his right arm went numb just thinking about it. Plus, there was that little girl. What if he put up a fight and hurt her by accident?
C.J. put his anger on slow simmer and settled into the drivers seat. The hijacker lifted herself up to the cab, light as a butterfly landing on a blossom-and all the time managing to keep one hand, he noticed, on that gun in her sweatshirt pocket. She took her eyes off him only once, and that was when she was hauling the door shut and she glanced out at the mirror.
She gave a hiss of alarm and instead of settling into the passengers seat, crouched down in the space in front of it. Pull out, she said in a croaking whisper. Now. Gogo!
It was on the tip of his tongue to remind her in a withering tone that it wasnt a dragster he was driving, that eighteen-wheelers dont do jackrabbit starts, but what he did instead was take a look in his mirrors to see what it was that had got her so spooked. All he saw was a dark-gray sedan with tinted windows cruising slowly through the rest stop behind him. As he watched, the sedan pulled up behind the lone car parked in the lot and stopped. Two men got out of the passenger side.
They lookin for you? C.J. inquired, keeping his eyes on the mirror.
Can we just go? Please? For once it was a plea, not an order.
Glancing over at his hijacker, he saw her face gazing at him from out of the shadows, pale as a daytime moon. Without another word he turned on his running lights, shifted gears and pulled the Kenworth slowly onto the ramp, accelerating on the downslope to the interstate. His heart was pounding and he had a peculiar, hollow feeling all through his insides, even his head, and he wondered if that was what people meant when they said something didnt seem real.
Hed just about gotten up to cruising speed and was still keeping a close watch on his mirrors when he saw the gray sedan with the dark-tinted windows come barreling up behind him. His heart leaped into overdrive, but the sedan had already zipped into the fast lane and was shooting on past him. C.J. figured it had to be doing at least ninety.
He waited until the sedan had disappeared over a rise in the road ahead before he spoke to the hijacker in his quiet new voice, what he thought of as his unwilling coconspirators undertone, muttered out the side of his mouth. You can come up now, if you want to. Theyre long gone.
She hesitated, then came up slowly in kind of an elongating process, first swiveling her head like a periscope to take in the road ahead and alongside as well as her mirror before easing into the seat with an exhalation that was almost a sigh. After giving C.J. a look to make sure he understood he was still under cover of that pistol of hers, she set about fastening her seat belt and settling in.
Those guys were looking for you, he said again, only this time it wasnt a question. Why in hell-
She stopped him with a frown and a warning shake of her head, then jerked it toward the sleeper compartment behind them.
Exasperated, he turned on his radio, already set to a country music station, and flipped the speakers to the sleeper so theyd provide some cover noise. Then he said, You could have just told me if youre in some kind of trouble, you know. You didnt have to go and pull a gun on me.
I thought Id made that pretty clear.
Something besides car trouble, for Petes sake!
When she didnt answer right away, he looked over at her. She was staring straight ahead, and he could see the pale, slender arch of her throat move with her swallow. Her lips tightened. I didnt have time to explain. How could I know what youd do? I knew they had to have caught up with us by now-
Whos they? What do they want to catch up with you for? What in the hell have you gotten me into, lady? was what he really wanted to ask.
He could feel her look at him. Theyre not cops, she said in a cold hard voice. If thats what youre thinking.
It wasnt. In fact, he realized it was about the farthest thing from his mind. Those guys had looked like a couple of serious thugs to him, but now that shed mentioned it He chewed on it in silence for a minute, then said in what he thought was a friendly sort of way, Okay, you want to give me an idea now what kind of trouble youre in? Maybe I can help.
She gave the kind of laugh without any humor in it. Youre helping the only way you can. And the less you know about anything, the better. Believe me. She turned her face toward the window then, but out of the corner of his eye he could see her hand flex inside the pocket of her sweatshirt, and he knew that gun was still pointing in his direction.
Chapter 2
Hey. You hungry?
The hijacker jumped, as if shed forgotten-for a few minutes, at least-that C.J. was there. She looked over at him but didnt reply.
Theres all kinds of snacks and things, he went on, thinking now about the little girl with the hungry eyes. You know, if anybody wants anything to eat, just help yourself.
Those silvery eyes held steady on him for a heartbeat or two. Then she softly said, Thank you, and unbuckled her seat belt so she could hitch around and slide back the curtain that closed off the sleeper. After a moment she eased it shut again, settled back in her seat and rebuckled the belt. Asleep, she murmured, then added on an exhalation, Thank God. They were both exhausted.
And you? he thought, gratified to feel his brain shifting into work mode again. He was getting the glimmer of an idea.
Aloud, he asked, How longve yall been on the road?
Since yesterday. Was it wishful thinking, or were her words a little slurred? He figured if anybody ought to be exhausted it was her, since shed been doing the driving. He hoped so, anyway.
Whereabouts you come from? he persisted, growing braver.
She hesitated. Miami.
C.J. gave a low whistle and nodded. He was starting to have an idea what this might be about, and after a moment he asked the question that had popped into his head when shed first mentioned the word cops. Have you thought about going to the police? Which maybe seemed like such a natural thing to do because his own family was lousy with lawyers and law enforcement, including one in-law who was with the FBI.
His hijacker shook her head. Thats not an option, she said in a flat, dull voice. He could feel her head swivel his way as she added impatiently, Look, believe it or not, I know what Im doing. Okay? Justkeep driving and dont ask questions. Please, she added, as a polite afterthought, then scrooched down on her tailbone and put her head back against the seat. She didnt close her eyes, though, and again he could see the telltale shape inside her sweatshirt pocket, of her delicate little hand clenched around the butt of a snub-nosed pistol.
He went back to driving and keeping his mouth shut the way hed been told, but he was starting to get angry again. Not the burning-all-over rage that had overwhelmed him before, but a slow simmer of resentment. First of all he wasnt one to take kindly to being bossed around, never had been, and being bossed around by somebody holding a gun on him was even harder to take. Add to that the fact that the person holding the gun and doing the bossing was a woman, and a pretty one It surprised him that that particular aspect bothered him, given the way hed been raised, but dammit, it did. He couldnt help but feel it reflected badly on his courage that hed let such a thing happen-and even, in some foggy way, on his manhood.