old buddy. A plan that either entailed more henchmen on her tail, a way to escape from them, or a better way to keep her under his thumb a little longer.
Traffic was heavy. She watched with one eye while surveying her surroundings. Across the street was a restaurant sporting an enormous peeling sign, SPORTS BAR RESTAURANT. The door opened, allowing a glimpse of subdued lighting and the sound of raucous cheers. Paige wondered what sort of sport garnered such a crowd at ten in the morning.
To the left of the sports bar was a flower shop, whose owner was obviously more concerned with what went on inside the shop than the impression created outside. Weeds grew tall through cracks in the pavement and between heavy heads of orange marigolds and purple and red petunias, the flowers’ colors clashing with each other yet lending an air of hominess to the scene. Paige recalled a time about a year ago when she'd spotted a weed in her roses. She'd fired the gardener on the spot saying it wasn't the appearance of the weed itself, but the fact that he had allowed it to grow to its full height without tending to it.
Deciduous trees lining the fringes of the surrounding Ozarks showed the first signs of the coming autumn. Pointed mountain shadows lay over the town, a sharp punctuation to the rolling country space and freedom, a thing Paige wished she could feel, or even define properly. There was no sign of the white Suburban or the black SUV, whichever one hadn't burst into a ball of flame.
"Are you ready?” Chris’ voice made her start.
Tom stood beside Chris, his hand roving somewhere inside the back of the overalls, an expression of whimsy on his face.
She cast a suspicious frown in his direction. “I guess. Where are we going?” she asked as they climbed into the tractor.
"You'll see.” Chris winked.
It wasn't a wink that inspired confidence.
They were on the road again, this time bob-tailing through town.
"Stop that scratching, will you? You're driving me crazy."
"Sorry, your friend really got to me. How did you ever meet someone like that?"
"Met him right there. I had a flat tire and stopped to get it fixed. Tom's a nice guy."
"He needs to be fumigated.” Paige pointed at a large white sign with black letters. “What's in Greenwood?"
"Nothing. That's the point. It's off the beaten path, a place they probably won't think to look for us. I warned Tom that someone might come around asking about us."
"What's he going to say?"
"That he didn't see any woman. That I talked about going to Missouri: Springfield, to be exact. I'm banking they haven't found out who my dispatcher is. If they've contacted him, they'll already know we're headed for Memphis."
"Okay, what's in this Greenwood that caused so many sly looks between you two?"
"Er, I thought we could do a little shopping, get a real meal or maybe two, spend the night..."
Spend the night? “What about your schedule?"
He laughed. “It's all blown to hell now, isn't it?"
"So, why was that schedule so all-fired important yesterday and now you don't seem to give a damn?"
Chris gave an exasperated grunt. “Sometimes other things take precedence.” He stopped at a red light and leaned forward, looking first behind and then left and right. “And, sometimes things happen to put your own life in perspective."
"What are you looking for?"
"The...” At that second, a flash of white screeched out of the Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot to the left.
"Shit.” Chris yanked the wheel right, and jammed his foot on the throttle.
The tractor shot into the intersection, pitching Paige to the left. Her seatbelt locked in response. “What the—"
The Suburban, for which Paige had been so diligently watching behind them, slewed to a halt just inches from the driver's side door of the tractor.
"Damn! It's them!” Chris yelled.
"Shit, they got past us?"
He didn't answer, just slammed the truck into gear, wrenched the wheel left and bashed the front of the Suburban. The SUV
Traffic was heavy. She watched with one eye while surveying her surroundings. Across the street was a restaurant sporting an enormous peeling sign, SPORTS BAR RESTAURANT. The door opened, allowing a glimpse of subdued lighting and the sound of raucous cheers. Paige wondered what sort of sport garnered such a crowd at ten in the morning.
To the left of the sports bar was a flower shop, whose owner was obviously more concerned with what went on inside the shop than the impression created outside. Weeds grew tall through cracks in the pavement and between heavy heads of orange marigolds and purple and red petunias, the flowers’ colors clashing with each other yet lending an air of hominess to the scene. Paige recalled a time about a year ago when she'd spotted a weed in her roses. She'd fired the gardener on the spot saying it wasn't the appearance of the weed itself, but the fact that he had allowed it to grow to its full height without tending to it.
Deciduous trees lining the fringes of the surrounding Ozarks showed the first signs of the coming autumn. Pointed mountain shadows lay over the town, a sharp punctuation to the rolling country space and freedom, a thing Paige wished she could feel, or even define properly. There was no sign of the white Suburban or the black SUV, whichever one hadn't burst into a ball of flame.
"Are you ready?” Chris’ voice made her start.
Tom stood beside Chris, his hand roving somewhere inside the back of the overalls, an expression of whimsy on his face.
She cast a suspicious frown in his direction. “I guess. Where are we going?” she asked as they climbed into the tractor.
"You'll see.” Chris winked.
It wasn't a wink that inspired confidence.
They were on the road again, this time bob-tailing through town.
"Stop that scratching, will you? You're driving me crazy."
"Sorry, your friend really got to me. How did you ever meet someone like that?"
"Met him right there. I had a flat tire and stopped to get it fixed. Tom's a nice guy."
"He needs to be fumigated.” Paige pointed at a large white sign with black letters. “What's in Greenwood?"
"Nothing. That's the point. It's off the beaten path, a place they probably won't think to look for us. I warned Tom that someone might come around asking about us."
"What's he going to say?"
"That he didn't see any woman. That I talked about going to Missouri: Springfield, to be exact. I'm banking they haven't found out who my dispatcher is. If they've contacted him, they'll already know we're headed for Memphis."
"Okay, what's in this Greenwood that caused so many sly looks between you two?"
"Er, I thought we could do a little shopping, get a real meal or maybe two, spend the night..."
Spend the night? “What about your schedule?"
He laughed. “It's all blown to hell now, isn't it?"
"So, why was that schedule so all-fired important yesterday and now you don't seem to give a damn?"
Chris gave an exasperated grunt. “Sometimes other things take precedence.” He stopped at a red light and leaned forward, looking first behind and then left and right. “And, sometimes things happen to put your own life in perspective."
"What are you looking for?"
"The...” At that second, a flash of white screeched out of the Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot to the left.
"Shit.” Chris yanked the wheel right, and jammed his foot on the throttle.
The tractor shot into the intersection, pitching Paige to the left. Her seatbelt locked in response. “What the—"
The Suburban, for which Paige had been so diligently watching behind them, slewed to a halt just inches from the driver's side door of the tractor.
"Damn! It's them!” Chris yelled.
"Shit, they got past us?"
He didn't answer, just slammed the truck into gear, wrenched the wheel left and bashed the front of the Suburban. The SUV
Similar Books
