by Makenzi Fisk
Allie gave her the car keys and got into the passenger side. “Hello Chris.”
“Hi Sweetie, my favorite psychic, best godmom ever.”
She squinted at a road sign in the distance but couldn’t quite make out what the letters spelled. “What can I do for you today?”
“I need your insight on this case.” He didn’t give her a moment’s pause before he rattled off the details. “Ex-con gets whacked in a motel room, two bullets in the chest and a face like hamburger.”
Allie groaned. Erin glanced over and turned the car onto the highway.
Zimmerman immediately apologized. “Sorry about that. I meant he’d been struck in the face many times with a blunt object.”
“That mental image is not any better.” Allie’s greasy dinner churned in her stomach. A burger and fries. What had she been thinking? Why hadn’t she ordered the salmon?
“Okay, I’ll skip the rest of the crime scene details. Here’s the thing. Derek Peterson’s name was written on a piece of paper in the dead man’s pocket. His name and a time. Possibly a time for them to meet.”
“Derek Peterson?” she repeated, and Erin’s eyes widened.
“Well, not his real name. His prison nickname. The paper said van Gogh . Everyone in Stillwater Prison called him that, since he lost his ear and all. Word is the dead guy was responsible. So, did Derek do it?”
Allie closed her eyes. This was not the way her gift of intuition worked. After all they’d been through, he should know better. “I don’t have a crystal ball.”
He sighed. “I guess not. Well, maybe you can keep the channels open, or fine tune your space signals, or something, and call me if the answer somehow comes to you.”
“You’ll be the first to know if the skies open up and I’m struck with the knowledge like a bolt of lightning.”
“That could happen?”
She couldn’t tell if he was serious, or kidding her back. “I’m on a date with my sweetheart, whom I haven’t seen in months. Say hello to Gina, and let her know my plane lands at five on Sunday. Goodbye, Chris.”
“Right, one of us will be there.” He hung up.
Erin tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “So…” She wanted every gritty detail but there wasn’t much to tell.
“Derek Peterson’s name came up in the murder of a guy he knew in prison. The guy who ripped off his ear.”
“Derek?” Erin gaped at her. “Murder?”
“Yes, and Chris wants me to wave my magic wand and solve it for him, but I don’t have a clue.”
“I can’t believe…” Erin’s finger tapping became drumming. “This is dangerous stuff to get you involved in. Too dangerous.”
“Honey, please stop that noise. He wants advice, not backup.” Allie massaged her temples. It was as if her brain had stretched sideways. Erin was often intense, but today she’d reached new heights. “Your energy is out of control and I’m getting a headache. How much coffee have you been drinking?”
“A lot.”
“You might want to limit your intake before you spontaneously combust.”
Erin laughed. “I’ve missed good coffee so much, and suddenly there’s this new café in the Student Center, and their dark roast is amazing, and now my heart is beating a mile a minute, and then I find out my best buddy Z-man would rather be your best friend.”
Allie leaned back in her seat and stared at the upholstery. “You’re not jealous.” The speed at which Erin’s energy was vibrating assaulted her.
“Don’t worry,” she gave Allie a wink. “I’m a big girl. Give me a minute. I’ll get over the sting of rejection. I can share.”
“Thank goodness, you’re kidding. Honey, I think we need to detox you from all that caffeine so you can speak in full sentences.”
“Right-o.” Erin saluted her. “I’ll take Doppler for a run as soon as we get to the motel and burn some of this off.”
* * *
A half hour later, Erin opened the door to their motel room. At her feet, the dog panted heavily and sank to his haunches. “You did great today.” She patted his head. “Come on little buddy. Let’s get you a drink.” In the kitchenette, she filled a bowl with water and set it on the floor.
Allie’s bag lay open on the bedspread, its contents spilling out. Erin narrowed her eyes at the letter from Lily, crumpled and tossed on the floor. It was quiet. Too quiet.
She knocked on the bathroom door. “Baby, we’re back! Are you in there? Can I come in and shower?”
Click. Click.
“Allie? Are you okay?” She turned the knob. “Why is the door locked? Suddenly modest?”
Click.
Erin hurried to the bed and rifled through Allie’s bag. There must be something she could use. A paperclip. That’s it! “I’m coming in.” She straightened it, inserted it into the knob and twisted.
In front of the mirror, Allie stared at her reflection. One hand clicked the lighter under her open palm. The spark flared and went out. She clicked it again.
“What are you doing?” Erin snatched it from her hand. “Allie!”
“What?” Her eyes were dark, confused. “Did you go for your run?” She was compliant when Erin turned on the tap and thrust her scorched hand under the cool water. “Ouch! That stings.” Lucidity returned and her mouth opened in horror. “Oh my goodness. I zoned out, didn’t I?”
“You must have.” Erin pulled her hand from the water and inspected it before wrapping it in a wet towel. “You might get a blister. What were you thinking? How long has this been going on?”
“You know I’ve zoned out before, but it was only a few seconds. More like a daydream.” She cradled her wrapped hand. “ This has never happened.”
“I’m concerned about you, Baby.” Erin touched her forehead. “You’re burning up.” She took her by the hand to the bed. Doppler whined and circled their feet.
“Wait. Don’t lay on that. They’re disgusting.” Erin tore the bedspread off before she helped her under the sheet.
“I felt weird at dinner.” Allie pressed her fingers to her temple. “The headache got worse. Usually Doppler lets me know something’s wrong, but…”
Erin grimaced. “But we left him behind. And then I took him for a run.” He might have picked up on Allie’s odd behavior earlier if she hadn’t taken him. He could have warned her it was coming.
“I guess he’s become my unofficial service dog, ever since Lil… ever since she stabbed me.” She pressed her hand to the scar on her abdomen.
Erin grabbed the crumpled letter from the floor. “This is bullshit. Lily can’t threaten us. That goddamn kid is in closed custody in another country. She’s not getting out of juvy!” She thumbed the lighter under the paper and tossed it in the kitchenette sink when it caught fire. “Good riddance.”
Allie stared at the smoke trail as it swirled upward.
CHAPTER SIX
I click the bright red plastic lighter, holding it under my palm until the pain makes me stop. I love the hiss and smell of the fuel, the flash of light when the spark ignites. I do it again. I can take the pain a little longer this time. The flame’s fiery tongue licks my hand. “Oh, yeah!” I whisper back. This panther has missed you so much.
“Are you purring?” T leans over and takes the lighter from me. “Ow!” He drops it on the floor of the bus. “It’s burning hot! How were you holding this in your bare hands?” He examines the tip of his finger and frowns at me.
“Pussy.” He should know better than to touch the metal. I scrabble through the litter under the seat to retrieve it. “Why couldn’t we hitchhike straight south?”
“No way, I tried that the last time I went AWOL,” he whispered. “They watch for us at the border. I was back in custody the same day.”
He watches my face when I hold the lighter under my hand again. I try not to smile.
“This is better,” he says. “Trust me. By the time we hit Brandon, they’ll forget all about us. We can cross the border south from there and go
all the way to California.”
“I’m sure you can talk someone into taking us across.” He’s good at convincing people. A couple of hours ago, he talked two ladies into giving us enough money for lunch plus bus fare to Brandon. I probably would have taken their purses and run for it.
His eyes are still boring into me so I turn my head and stare back. Does he see my predator’s eyes? He doesn’t even flinch, and the corners of his fuzzy baby mustache lift when he reaches over and puts his hand on my thigh. Not even two seconds later, he slides it toward my groin.
I narrow my eyes. Does he know how dangerous I am? When he reaches my crotch I hold the burning lighter to his forearm. Fine hairs curl back from the flame, and his nostrils flare.
“Fuck!” He pulls his hand away.
“Checkmate.”
I was right. Once we reach the Brandon bus station, it doesn’t take long for T to find his mark, and a white-haired lady with a pickup truck agrees to take us across the border. It helped a lot that T looks like her grandson. Swear to God, she almost pinched his cheeks.
We’re nestled under an orange tarp in the back of the truck, bent like pretzels beside a heap of bags containing some damn blankets for a competition. When she hits the highway, I tear one open and make a pillow out of the one with the cat face design. T scoots over and I let him put his bristly chin on a corner.
“What’s the first thing you’re gonna do when we get to California?” He’s got a pathetic sappy look in his eyes when he reaches out to touch my cheek.
I shove his hand away. “I don’t want to go to California.”
“Sure you do. Everyone does.” His fingers crawl back toward me like a spider, and latch onto a lock of my hair. “The first thing I’m gonna do is buy a surf board. Can you imagine living on the beach? Ahhh.” He curls my hair around his finger.
“There are seagulls at the beach. I hate birds.”
“I’ll chase them away for you.” He lays his head back and stares at the underside of the flapping tarp. “It’s gonna be great.”
The truck slows, and T slithers under the bags. I poke my head out the side of the tarp in time to see the big Customs sign. We both lay still as corpses when movement stops.
“Well, hello Verna. Nice to see you again so soon. Another quilting weekend?” The man’s voice sounds way too friendly to be official, and I’m tempted to peek, but T stops me with a soft “shhh.”
“I think I’ll win a prize this time. I’ve got a kitty design that’ll knock their socks off, the old fuddy duddies.”
Verna doesn’t sound nervous at all. She’s pretty old. Maybe she forgot we were back here.
“Good luck,” he says, and Verna grinds the truck into gear.
When we pick up speed, T starts laughing. I push the tarp down enough to see that the Canadian border is the size of a Lego on the horizon. We did it. They’ll never catch us.
A mile down the road, Verna stops and lets us ride up front all the way to Rugby, where we pass a monument bragging that this town is the center of North America, a fact she’s very proud of. She pulls over on the main road and T kisses her cheek before we get out, as if he was her real grandson. Her eyes get all watery and she gives him twenty bucks, ‘for pretending,’ before she pulls away in her old pickup truck. We’re left on the side of the road wiping the grit from our eyes.
“I’m hungry. Let’s get a Big Mac.”
T holds his arms wide and turns in a circle. “This piss ant town isn’t big enough for a McDonald’s.” He flashes the twenty at me. “But I’ll buy you a hot turkey sandwich at the truck stop.”
When I reach for it, he stuffs it down the front of his jeans, but I ain’t goin’ in there for a twenty. I follow him down the road, him rooster strutting up ahead, the setting sun glinting off his dark hair. He thinks he’s all that.
“What were you in for anyway?” Why hadn’t I ever thought to ask him that before? He always asked about me and how many people I killed. I told him a few things that were true, but mostly made up lies to watch his expressions.
He hesitates when I ask him, and his shit-eating grin disappears. “Break and ent… robbery. I went down for robbery.” He sticks his chest out.
“Bullshit.” He hadn’t been arrested for robbery, or break and enter either. It must be something stupid, or embarrassing, or sick. “What did you really do? Rip off old ladies? Kill puppies?”
He glares at me through slitted eyes and turns his back. “Robbery,” he spits over his shoulder, “and escape lawful custody.”
That last part I believe. He knew how to get out of juvy. After he pointed out the errors in my emergency exit plan, he showed me how easy it was. We stalled in the library until old Mr. Angotti got tired of all the extra help and sent us back to our units.
We took our time, and happened to be passing the kitchen right when the delivery truck arrived. With the back door wide open, there was too much activity to track everyone. We simply walked out the freight door and climbed the fence. No attack dogs, no armed guards and no sirens, but my heart hammered like it had come to life. I could have kissed T right then, but I didn’t.
“Two hot turkey sandwiches,” he tells the waitress as soon as we’re seated in a corner booth. “And a couple of beers.” He doesn’t even wait for a menu.
“We have meatloaf on special.”
Her boobs are too big for that outfit. T can’t take his eyes off them. I kick him under the table and he clears his throat.
“Hot turkey.” He turns back to me and shrugs.
“I want a cheeseburger and fries.” I stare straight at T when I say it. Who does he think he is to order for me? I don’t know if I even like hot turkey sandwiches. I’ve never had one.
“I can’t serve you beer without ID.”
T rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Bring us Cokes or something.”
The waitress scurries off and returns a couple of minutes later with the sodas. We both drain our glasses and order refills before she’s had a chance to walk away. She tucks her hair behind her ear when he winks at her. Stupid bitch is probably still pining for him when we finish and walk out the door without leaving her a tip.
“Let’s get some wheels.” T points across the parking lot to the Chevy dealership.
We’re barely out of earshot and I shoot a look to the waitress, but she’s busy cleaning up our mess. Why the hell would he want to screw around breaking into a business, when there’s bound to be someone right here who left their keys inside? “Why bother? Let’s take this one.” I jut my chin toward a little car left running while the owner runs in to pay for gas. It can’t get any easier than that.
“Do you want to get your ass hauled back to Winnipeg?” He looks at me like I’m an alien. “That guy will report it stolen right away, and we won’t get two miles before the cops catch us. By tomorrow, you’ll be back in juvy looking at the same stupid faces you did this morning.”
I hadn’t really thought past taking the car and making a run for it. T’s got a point. “So, what’s your big plan?”
“I used to wash customer cars at a repair shop.” He starts walking, and I have no choice but to follow. “Most of the guys, like me, were too damn lazy to put the keys back on the pegboard in the office. We left them for the next guy.” He pulls his T-shirt up to cover the bottom half of his face. “Cameras everywhere.”
I lower my head and tuck my chin into my shirt. T thinks of things I don’t. Maybe it’s time to be more careful.
He checks one long row of cars parked outside the service bay doors, yelps when he finds a set of keys on top of a back tire, and turns a triumphant smile on me. “It’s a weekend. They won’t even notice until Monday morning.” He unlocks a gray four-door and holds the passenger side open for me.
“I want to drive.”
“You drive?” He jangles the keys in his hand for a moment before handing them over and getting into the passenger side.
Behind the wheel, I settle into the fabric seats and slide the ke
y in the ignition. We’ve got a half tank of gas. That’ll take us miles away. I spin the tires and squeal out onto the highway. We’re not even up to highway speed when he clears his throat. He’s staring at my seatbelt. I knew someone like this before. Always made me wear the damn thing. Fuck her, she got what she deserved.
“I’m not putting that deathtrap on.”
“Fastest way to get pulled over is with simple shit like that. Don’t give them a reason.”
Blood sizzles in my veins. Don’t tell me what to do. I sear him with my stink-eye before I clip the buckle into the slot. When I yank the shoulder strap back under my arm, I’m a trout tangled in a fish net. I hate it. “Whatever.”
He smiles at me when we take off again. “You’re cute.”
I swallow down the spit I want to spew in his face, and ease off on the gas. The speedometer wavers around sixty-five. Don’t give them a reason.
Four hours later, the sign announcing that we’ve entered Montana blurs past. T has his head back, and I’ve turned up the radio twice to try to drown out his snores. They’re like a goddamn bull moose in rutting season. I crunch his jacket into a wad and shove it against his face.
“Ungh!” He jolts awake, fists up, and looks confused at the jacket on his lap. “Where are we?”
I shrug. “Fuck if I know. Somewhere in America, I guess.” The headlights cut a bright path down the highway, to the right of the dotted yellow line.
“It’s dark. Holy crap, it’s dark.” He peers out the side window, but there is nothing to see except weeds and a few stunted bushes in the ditch. In the distance, a speck of light winks from someone’s farm.
“There’s no moon tonight. Shitty fishing.”
“Fishing? Now?” Still not quite awake, he rubs his eyes with the back of his hand.
“No, stupid. I meant that it would be a bad night to fish, if you were gonna.” For a smart guy, he’s such an idiot. “I’m tired. You wanna drive?”
“Uh, okay.” He rubs his face again and slaps his stubbly cheeks while I pull over. Behind the wheel, he tilts his head at the instrument display. “You didn’t think to tell me that we’re almost out of gas?”
