The 45th Parallel

by Lisa Girolami

  “I don’t know, but I think we should get the hell out of here.”

  Val nodded, and they started back for the window when her eye caught something on one of the mechanic’s workbenches. When she peeled off from Cam, she heard, “Where are you going?” in an inflection that rose a few octaves by the end of the sentence.

  She got to the bench and her mouth dropped open.

  “Oh, fuck!”

  She held it up for Cam to see. It was a metal plate with the screw holes in it.

  Cam’s eyes widened.

  “And it’s got your pen marks on it.”

  “They’ve been in your house again.”

  Jolts of terror shot up Val’s back. “Tonight.”

  Cam waved her arm rapidly, motioning for her to head over to the window.

  “We can’t go back there,” Val said, moving toward her, but she stopped, handed the spring to Cam, and went back to the bench.

  “I think it’s time we go to the police.”

  “With what?” Val picked up the metal plate. “A hunk of metal and a story about a deer catapult?”

  “Val, they were in your house. More than once.”

  Val walked back toward Cam. “We have the spring and the plate but not a whole lot—”

  Three loud pops sounded, and one of the panes of glass in the front of the garage shattered. Cam and Val instinctively ducked and flung their hands up to cover their heads. In a surreal and frozen second, Val thought, Now that’s what glass breaking sounds like in the movies.

  Cam grabbed Val’s sleeve. “Time to go.”

  She pulled her toward the window and they scampered through, Cam holding the spring and Val gripping the metal plate. They ran down the back alley toward the street where Mr. Harlin’s car was parked. At the back corner of the garage, Cam suddenly skidded to a halt. Val almost slammed up against her. Cam pointed toward the front of the building, and they both slowly peered around the corner. Mack and two other men were coming around from the front. They all had handguns.

  Val pulled Cam backward and they took off running back down the alley, past the girl’s Buick and toward the street on the opposite side of the garage.

  Val’s heart was pounding so loudly, she couldn’t hear her own footsteps, but she could make out Cam saying, “The woods!”

  They hooked a sharp left just as voices began to shout from behind them. Pushing past branches and snapping others that lay on the ground, Val now ran for her life. She didn’t have to turn around to know that branches breaking behind them meant that the men were now entering the woods.

  Through her panting, Cam said, “Head for that house.”

  At the edge of the woods was a clearing that led to the residential street behind Mack’s garage. But the closest house still seemed too far away.

  Cam and Val crashed through the last of the trees and underbrush, reaching the house and dashing around to the front.

  “This way.”

  Val followed Cam to the street and she led them as they ran, bent over, crouching behind the parked cars they passed. They got a couple of houses down before Val grabbed Cam.

  They could hear that the men had reached the street. They’d stopped to look for them. Val peered over the car she and Cam were hiding behind. The men were standing on the sidewalk close enough to one of the house’s porch lights that they were illuminated just slightly. She couldn’t see much of their faces, but she recognized something else.

  Val ducked back down. She leaned close to Cam and whispered as quietly as she could, “Mack’s with one of the guys who beat me up. The guy with the Dingo boots. I didn’t see much, but I could see his boots.”

  Cam nodded and they both took a peek.

  “Dollars to doughnuts,” Cam whispered, “that third guy is the one that helped him.”

  The three men stopped whatever they were discussing and fanned out, leaving the light of the porch.

  Val heard “Oh, shit” and wasn’t sure if Cam said it or she thought it.

  “They can’t just shoot us in the middle of the street,” Val said.

  “Do you want to stick around to see if you’re right?”

  Cam and Val took inventory of their situation. They were behind the front grill of a van that was about twenty feet from the man with the Dingo boots. They were on the house side of the van, opposite the man. The man with the Dingo boots held a handgun in his right hand and was walking their way. The other two headed away from them, both with handguns drawn.

  Dingo Boots reached a car that sat two cars behind Val and Cam. He squatted down and looked under the car to the other side. He then went one car closer to the van.

  Val motioned to Cam and then to the van’s front wheel. Cam moved quietly over until she was positioned to hide behind it while Val moved behind the back wheel.

  Dingo Boots squatted down again and looked under the second car. He stood and slowly moved toward the van. As he crouched down, Val and Cam froze in place. Instead of standing back up right away, he hesitated.

  Val held her breath until Dingo Boots straightened back up. In the silence, Val began shaking. Every part of her body screamed at her—leg muscles wanted to break into a run, brain cells flashed lightning bolts warning of imminent death, and her lungs threatened to gather enough wind to shriek out the impending terror she wasn’t sure she could escape.

  The chewing of boots on the road indicated that he’d pivoted and taken a step. She locked eyes with Cam, and they stared at each other until it was clear which direction he was heading. She didn’t have to see the shock in Cam’s eyes to know he’d be at her own side of the van in less than three seconds.

  It was too late to run. She’d never escape the speed of a bullet. They’d confront each other. She had no choice but to grip the metal plate, her only weapon.

  There wasn’t enough light for him to cast a shadow so she had to wait, panicked, as the sound of the slow-moving boots grew louder.

  It all happened so quickly. Dingo Boots rounded the corner and she heard Cam hiss. As Dingo Boots jerked his head toward Cam, he almost stepped on Val, who sprang from her crouched position and swung the metal plate as if it were a baseball bat and she was going for the outfield bleachers. Val felt as if her ribs were shattering as she cracked him hard on the chin and left cheekbone.

  Cam was suddenly by her side and they grabbed Dingo Boots as he fell, assisting him to the ground to try to deaden the noise. He lay there in a heap, not moving. Val stood over him for a second, ready to crack him again if he regained consciousness, but he wasn’t going to come around any time soon.

  Val peered around the van and saw that Mack and the other man were even farther away, searching the cars and yards. She motioned to Cam, who quickly surveyed their options and pointed to the house that the van was parked in front of.

  “Behind.” Cam’s whisper was strained. “Backyard, to the car.”

  And they ran.

  Just as they reached the house, they heard Mack yell. He’d spotted them. Val followed Cam as she ran behind the house and back into the woods toward Mack’s garage. She figured Cam’s plan was that Mack would assume they’d run farther away, not back from where they came.

  Behind them, Mack yelled, “Stay with him.” They’d obviously come upon Dingo Boots. That meant Mack was the only one chasing them.

  Val fought her way through the branches and undergrowth, feeling the burning slices and pokes all over her arms and face.

  They reached the alley and ran past the back of the garage, getting to the street and somehow over to Mr. Harlin’s car without being seen. Cam followed Val to her side of the car, away from the street, and scrambled to unlock the passenger door. They climbed in, thankful Cam had turned the interior light off earlier, and hunkered down, out of view. Val began to hyperventilate and dropped the metal plate on the floorboard by her feet. She grabbed the spring from Cam and flung it down, too. She slid down even farther in the seat, gasping for air and wheezing uncontrollably. Cam reached over to h
old her hand, and Val could tell she was shaking.

  She watched Cam’s other hand tremble as she reached across her lap and into her pocket. She retrieved the car keys, and as she slid them into the ignition, Val stole a peek out the window over Cam’s head. Cam was just about to turn the key when Val barely eked out, “Stop!”

  Mack was walking down the alley toward them, his gun pivoting as he looked left and right. She removed her hand from the ignition.

  Mack now crept up to a pile of boxes stacked against the back of the garage. He took his time searching every potential hiding place.

  Headlights flashed and a car turned off Coast Highway, driving right toward them. They slid farther down in their seats, and the inside roof of their car lit up from the headlights. Val watched them swing toward the alley, and they both inched back up again.

  A police car. Val inwardly cheered. Help is here!

  The officer got out and walked over to Mack. He no longer had the gun and reached out and shook the officer’s hand.

  Val’s heart sank. Help just left.

  They watched as Mack gestured toward the inside of the garage and talked.

  Cam said, “I can see this one coming. Mack’s going to tell the cop we just shot up his garage.”

  “And then he’ll take him over to that guy I hit.”

  “Guess who he’ll suggest did it?”

  “They won’t have any proof.”

  After a brief pause between them, Cam turned to Val as they said in unison, “The video camera.”

  They spoke at the same time again, but when Cam said, “Shit,” Val said, “Fuck.”

  “But he won’t show it to him tonight,” Val said. “He’s gonna have to edit out the kinky parts first.”

  “If we don’t find out what the hell this list is all about, we’ll be in deep shit.”

  “And we’re going to have to avoid the police until tomorrow night.”

  “Not to mention Mack and his goons.” Cam checked her watch. “Actually, just until tonight. It’s almost one A.M.”

  They looked back at Mack and the police officer. They talked for a few more minutes, and then Mack shook his hand again.

  “He didn’t show him the broken window.”

  Cam was right. “I don’t think he said anything about us.”

  “Fuck. That means he’d rather take care of things himself.”

  Val looked at her. “That’s not good.”

  The police officer got back into his car and drove off. Mack stood there another beat, and just before he walked back down the alley, he took one last look around.

  They watched him retrace their previous path and disappear into the woods.

  “He’s going back to his buddies.”

  Cam started the car. “Time to go.”

  “But where?”

  *

  Outside a convenience store, Cam returned to the car with a bag of groceries and two cups of coffee. Val took the bag from her as she got back in.

  “Thanks. I got some munchies, a blanket, and a flashlight. Just in case.”

  “It probably wasn’t smart stopping here.”

  “You’re right.” Cam started the engine and looked in the rearview mirror. “What’s the plan?”

  “A hotel is out. The police might decide we’re suddenly worth scouring the town for.”

  “You mean a shot-up garage and a cold-cocked guy is enough to send out the cavalry?”

  Cam dropped her head and smirked. “This is Hemlock.”

  “Let’s get out of town.”

  “Pick a direction.”

  Val thought a moment. “North.” It was much less populated past the Hemlock city limits. And the road was virtually pitch-black in the twenty or so miles to the next town.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cam pulled onto a gravel road at the turnout for Cascade Head Mountain. A U.S. Parks sign announced the entrance to Cascade Head Conservancy. As the car traveled down the road, the headlights illuminated the evergreens, alders, and hemlock trees that blanketed both sides of them.

  “Where does this lead?”

  Cam slowed as the road got a little rougher. “There’s an area to park just a little farther. I don’t think anyone will come looking for us here.”

  They eventually pulled off the road, to a makeshift lot of dirt and gravel, probably scraped by a park-service bulldozer but otherwise empty. Cam turned off the car, and the silence of the immensely dark forest enveloped them.

  “Are you hungry?” Cam said.

  “No, not really.”

  As her eyes began to adjust in the darkness, Val heard the rustling of the grocery bag.

  “I picked up some Bactine,” Cam said, and Val felt her fingers as they reached out to her.

  She got out her cell phone and clicked on the light app, holding it while Cam dabbed at her cuts. She resisted the urge to jump each time Cam found a new injury, and when she was done, Val said, “I just can’t figure out what Donna, Nedra, and Mack have in common. What the hell do they want?”

  “Whatever it is, they want it enough to hurt you in order to get it.”

  Val took the Bactine from Cam. “Gimme,” she said, and Cam put her arms out. She dabbed Cam’s cuts and scrapes, taking a moment to enjoy the feel of her arms. They were firm yet soft. Val hated that they were now crisscrossed with branch trails.

  She finished and put the first-aid bottle back in the bag. When she sat back, Cam put her arm around her, and she leaned in to her. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt comforted.

  She looked out into the darkness and her mind began to wander. She imagined flying in an airplane, ten or twenty thousand feet above them. Sometimes that worked when she was at her job and needed to back up and look at the big picture. She saw her mom’s house and Mack’s garage. She traveled north to the place on the road where she’d had the accident. She thought about where she’d been coming from. She flew over the Portland airport and the hospital where she’d picked up her mother’s car. She sailed through the clouds and finally came to rest in her mom’s front yard. The for-sale sign was there.

  “Cam?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I just can’t picture my mom hanging out with Nedra Tobias. They’re total opposites. Maybe the whole church connection serves as some kind of grand equalizer, I don’t know. Mom didn’t seem to have a lot of friends, so maybe the few from the church and the theater were good enough for her, but Nedra?”

  “I know. She’s like the Ursula of the Oregon Coast.”

  Val laughed and Cam joined in.

  When they settled back down, Cam said quietly, “What did your mom die of?”

  “Sudden arrhythmic death. I read about it online. It said something about the fact that in one in twenty cases, there’s no definitive cause of death. It just happens. Even an expert cardiac doctor sometimes can’t determine why.”

  Val inhaled deeply. Even though she hadn’t been in touch that much, she really missed her mom. “I guess we’ll never know. You can’t autopsy ashes.”

  Cam hugged her tighter.

  Val paused, going over their close call at Mack’s garage. “We could be in deep shit, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m a bit freaked out,” Val said. “I can’t go to jail.”

  “We won’t. We’ll figure something out.”

  They fell silent, and Val went over and over every detail of her last few days. Everything seemed connected, but then again, nothing did. The gas incident at her house might not have been tied to the beating she got. Nedra could simply be a realtor and no more. Mack, however, was a sick fuck, that she knew for sure, but that fact didn’t seem to be related to anything else. Sure, he knew the girl from the accident, but pretty much everybody knew everybody in Hemlock.

  “My head is spinning from all this,” she said, stifling a yawn.

  Cam reached over Val’s lap, grabbing the grocery bag, and pulled out the blanket she’d bought. She unfolded it and gently placed it
over them.

  “I’m not that tired.”

  “Just try to sleep for a while. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

  Val slouched down in her seat, more exhausted than she’d realized. Cam turned the ignition key to auxiliary and powered the stereo on. The voice of a religious man in the middle of a rather fervent sermon rose and fell as if he was galloping toward judgment day. Thunderous words like wrath and serpent made the speakers on the dash hum as he warned his listeners to shun the devil’s invitation to temptation’s party. Cam changed stations, trolling across the airwaves, until she found some soft rock.

  “Just some music for a little while to chill out to. We won’t wear the battery down.”

  A silence settled between them as they listened to a James Taylor song.

  “Mr. Harlin’s a nice man,” Val eventually said.

  “He is. He’s lived a long, interesting life, and he’s as true blue as they come. It’s like the modern world hasn’t influenced him at all. He has no cell phone or Internet. He reads the paper and listens to his radio or watches old movies on TV.”

  “He called you the real McCoy and even said applesauce!” Val laughed. “He said he hadn’t driven his car much since twenty aught nine. Other than my mom, I don’t know many people who say aught.”

  “It’s refreshing that he’s such a simple guy. When I’m at his house, I can relax and not worry about anything. It’s like you go back in time there, you know?”

  Cam inhaled deeply, and Val suddenly sat farther upright.

  “Val?”

  “Aught,” she said as if Cam understood, which she couldn’t have. She pulled out the paper. “Look. One, aught, as in one, zero. These are dates!”

  “Let me see,” Cam said, and Val shared the paper.

  “Look at this first listing. One, zero. That’s October. Zero, five. That’s the day. October fifth.”

  “Nine, three…’93? No, wait a second. Nine, three, zero. That’s not the year.” Cam looked up at Val. “It’s the time.”

  “Is that when the house was first listed, maybe?”

  “Why would that be important, especially the exact time?”