I looked in the mirror again and saw that the truck was closing the distance rapidly. “This is not good.”
“We’ll be ok. Maybe they just want to get around us. I’ll slow down a little.”
I felt the truck slow down as Keaton eased off the gas. Glancing in the mirror, I raised an eyebrow. “Um, he isn’t slowing down and he isn’t trying to pass us,” I said just as the truck rammed us from behind.
“Can you tell who it is?”
“Not without turning around in the seat.”
“So do it!”
I took off my seatbelt and turned as much as my broken ribs would allow. “Oh, great,” I muttered. “Unbelievable.”
“What? What is it?”
“It’s Cash.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” I snapped. “It’s his truck!”
“That doesn’t mean he’s driving!” Keaton snapped back as the truck rammed us again. I bounced around in the seat from the impact before sitting forward and putting on the seatbelt again. Keaton stepped on the gas, sending his truck surging forward. The other truck did the same thing. I glanced at the speedometer – it was up to 80.
“You go much faster and we’re going to fishtail.”
“Straight road, we’ll be ok.”
“If it’s a straight road, then why is there a sign showing curve ahead?”
Keaton cursed and slowed down as the curve came into view. But as he slowed down, the truck behind us slammed into us, sending us spinning. I reached my hands out to brace myself, but slammed the knuckles of my right hand into the dashboard instead. I heard a crunch and cried out. I wasn’t sure if it was my ribs or my hand.
Keaton did his best to keep the truck from flipping, but as we spun around, the other truck clipped the back end as it sped by and we flipped. Have you ever been in a truck when it flips? It’s not an experience I recommend. Everything seemed to tumble around in the cab in slow motion as we rolled; coins that had been in the ashtray floated through the air. I’m pretty sure some canned food hit me in the head at one point.
We rolled three times, coming to a stop with my door against the pavement. The seatbelt was holding me in place a few inches from the door, but hanging like that was killing my ribs, so I unfastened it. I looked up at Keaton. He had a gash on his forehead and he appeared to be unconscious. Reaching up with my left hand, I felt for a pulse in his wrist and released the breath I did not realize I had been holding. “Keaton?” I said, shaking his arm. “Keaton?”
He groaned, but didn’t wake up. Great. How the heck was I going to get us out of this? The windshield window was shattered but still in place and I was sure I could kick it out. Bracing myself against the back of the seat, I started kicking. After five minutes, it fell out. My ribs were killing me as I cleaned a few shards of glass out of the way and crawled out. I had no idea how I was going to get Keaton out of there. I knew when I released the seat belt he would fall to my side of the truck, which could injure him more.
I felt in my pockets for my phone and pulled it out. Oh, good, I had a signal. I dialed Sydney’s number. “Hey Charlie, how’s it going?” she said when she answered.
“Sydney, listen. Keaton and I have had an accident and we need some help. We are about 25 miles south on Highway 77. Call Bernie. Whatever you do, do NOT call 911. Do you understand me? Just call Bernie, no one else.”
“I understand. Here, talk to Braden while I call Bernie from his phone.” I heard her hand him the phone while she mumbled something.
“Charlie? What’s going on? What are you doing on Highway 77?”
I sighed. “It’s complicated, Braden.”
“Are you alright?”
“No. Someone intentionally wrecked us. Keaton is unconscious in the truck,” I said as a sob caught in my throat. “I don’t know if I can get him out.”
“What position is the truck in?”
“Lying on the passenger side. I think the only thing I can do is to crawl back in, release his seat belt and ease him down to my side then slide him out.”
“Let me call 911…”
“No!” I interrupted. “You can’t. No one is supposed to know that we’re not in town.”
“Obviously someone does or you wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“Can we have this discussion later?” I pleaded. “Has she gotten a hold of Bernie yet?”
I heard him ask her. “Yes, he’s on his way, but it is going to take him a few minutes. Wait until he gets there. He can help you get Keaton out.”
“Bernie is too fat to get into the truck, Braden. I had to crawl out through the windshield. I have to try. I’ll call you back when I get him out.” I hung up before he could say anything else.
Putting my phone back in my pocket, I looked around for a stick before crawling back through the windshield. Propping myself against the door, I put my feet against his arm and side. I used the stick to push the seat belt button and braced myself as it released Keaton. I lowered him slowly toward me, but he was heavy and my broken ribs were being pushed into the arm of the door. I moved one foot to the left, grabbed him with my left hand before moving my right foot to pull him the rest of the way down.
His head on my chest, I checked him for other injuries. The cut on his head wasn’t too bad, but he would need some stitches. I ripped the bottom of my shirt and pressed it on his head. He groaned and began to move. “Stay still, Keaton. Don’t move.”
“What about the other truck?”
“Gone,” I said. “Just plowed through us and kept going.”
“You ok?”
“I haven’t checked, but I think so. I got hit with some canned green beans as we rolled. Sorry about your truck.”
“It’s paid for,” he said. He started to turn his head, but stopped. “That hurts.”
“I told you not to move,” I admonished him. “I’m going to try and drag you out of here.”
“How?”
“I kicked out the windshield and crawled out to call for help. Bernie should be here shortly.” I heard sirens in the distance. “See, there he is now.”
I heard a car door slam and footsteps coming up to the front of the truck. Bernie knelt down in front of the punched-out windshield. “Son of a buck,” he muttered. “You two ok?”
“I think Keaton has a concussion, and he’s going to need stitches on his forehead. I haven’t been able to check for other injuries in this position.”
“What about you?”
“I haven’t stopped to check, Bernie, beyond the lump I know I have from flying canned food.”
Bernie stood up and motioned for someone I couldn’t see. “Let’s get you two out of there and we’ll go from there.”
I managed to get Keaton turned enough so Bernie could grab the back of his jacket and carefully slide him out. I couldn’t tell who was with him, but at that moment, I just didn’t care. All I saw was another pair of hands reach out to finish pulling him out before I crawled out behind him. Bernie grasped my right hand to help me out and I cried out in pain. Grabbing my arm instead, he helped me to my feet and look at my now visibly swollen hand. “Didn’t you feel this before now?”
I shook my head. “I remember hearing a crunch, but I was so concerned about taking care of Keaton, I put it out of my mind.”
“That hand looks like you went ten rounds with Manny Pacquiao.”
“It’s ok.” I looked around for Keaton. “Where is he?”
He led me to the back of the truck, where Officer Fox was checking him out. “He’s a registered EMT,” Bernie said when I looked at him for an explanation.
“How is he, Officer Fox?”
“Please, call me Richard. He has a mild concussion, and this cut on his head isn’t as bad as it looks. Some butterfly strips should do the trick,” he replied. “When we get you back to town, the hospital will do a more thorough examination.”
I looked at Bernie. “We can’t go back there. Whoever did this followed us from there.”<
br />
He frowned. “How much further do you have to go?”
“About twenty miles,” Keaton said.
Bernie looked at the truck. “You aren’t getting there in that.”
“I’ll call Sydney. She can take us the rest of the way.”
“How do you know she won’t be followed as well?” Bernie pointed out.
“Well, we can’t pull into town in a police car,” I countered.
“I think you are just going to have to go back home,” Bernie said. “We can’t take you to wherever you’re going and you have no other transportation. We’ll just have to figure out something else out.”
Half of me was thrilled to be going back, and the other half of me was terrified. There didn’t seem to be a safe place to stay. I wonder if crawling into a hole and hiding would work? Except I’m not an ostrich…or a gopher…or a groundhog…anybody have some Advil?
Chapter 32
Bernie dropped us off at the emergency room. I felt like I should just rent a room because I had been there so much this week. Even one of the E.R. nurses commented about my frequent trips. “Are you sure you aren’t being abused, honey?” she asked me as we walked down to the x-ray room.
“Trust me,” I told her, “I’m just a natural walking accident waiting to happen.”
She looked skeptical, but didn’t say anything else. The lab technician took three pictures of my hand and sent us back. I swear, those lab techs really enjoy their work too much. Do they take a class at school that specifically teaches them how to make people with broken bones twist into the most uncomfortable positions? On the other hand (no pun intended), I’ve had so many x-rays, I could probably become a licensed technician without taking the classes.
They were stitching Keaton up when I got back. That was one thing I had never had and watching them do it made me realize I was very thankful. Now watch, I’ll go out and cut myself. Don’t laugh! You know it’s true.
“How are you doing?” I said, sitting in the chair next to his bed. I could see some bruises forming on his arms, probably from flying cans.
“They gave me a shot to numb the area first, so I can’t feel anything,” he grinned.
“Just wait until it wears off,” I warned him. “You’ll feel it then.”
“Aren’t you a little ray of sunshine?”
Sydney burst into the room, followed by Braden in a wheelchair. “What am I going to do with you?” she said, giving me a hug and squeezing Keaton’s hand.
“Love me as I am or leave me be,” I laughed.
“How bad is it this time?” Braden asked, wheeling up next to me.
“I’ve been here so much this week, they’re talking about naming a room after me,” I joked. “And I might get my own parking space.”
“Very funny,” he said. “Seriously, are you alright?”
“I’ve got a knot on the back of my head where I got creamed by flying canned food, and I slammed my hand into the dashboard when I was trying to brace myself. They just took x-rays.”
“Did you get a good look at who did it?”
“I didn’t get a look at the driver, but I recognized the truck.”
“Whose truck?” Sydney said.
“It was Cash’s truck.”
Braden’s face turned red. “I’ll kill him with my bare hands,” he growled. “Unbelievable. What is this guy’s problem?”
“Hold on,” I said, trying to calm him down. “I said the truck was his. I didn’t say he was driving. We need to account for his whereabouts before we accuse him of anything.”
“Did you tell this to Bernie?”
“We talked about the accident as we drove back into town,” I assured him.
“Where were you going, anyway?” Sydney asked.
Keaton and I exchanged looks. “Bernie suggested Charlie leave town for a little while until he could figure out who is trying to kill her,” Keaton explained.
“But why now?” Braden said.
“Someone busted the windows and headlights of Keaton’s car while we were at the police station talking to Bernie,” I replied. “And they left another threatening note.”
“So you were sneaking out of town without telling us?” Sydney said, looking hurt.
“We all felt it was for the best,” Keaton told her. “The fewer people that knew what was going on, the better.”
“Obviously that didn’t work out too well if Cash followed you out of town,” Braden pointed out.
The doctor came in at that moment, which cut the conversation short. I knew Braden wasn’t through with the subject, though. He was mad, but I wasn’t sure if his anger was directed at me, Cash, Bernie, or all three of us.
After going through the torture of having my hand reset and put in purple plaster of paris, we finally left the hospital. Between my ribs and my hand, I couldn’t decide what hurt worse. All I wanted to do was sleep. All Braden wanted to do was chew me out.
“Charlie,” he began as Sydney drove us out of the parking lot, “you are going to have to press charges against Cash. Bernie can lock him up and you’ll be safe.”
“You’re assuming that Cash is the only one going after me. I don’t think that is the case. I think there is one more person out there besides Cash with an axe to grind. Locking up Cash only takes away half the problem.”
“So who is the other person?”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t have this problem anymore, would I?”
“So how do we find the other person?” Sydney said.
“Ask Mr. Policeman in the front seat with you,” I snapped. “It’s not my job. My job is just writing stories. It’s not going out to find maniacs who run people off the road, blow up their cars and burn down their houses!”
Keaton reached over and squeezed my left hand. Braden didn’t say anything else as Sydney drove us back to Keaton’s condo and dropped us off. He spoke up as I closed the door. “Charlie, I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out the window to grab my hand. “I’m just frustrated because I’m laid up and I can’t help you right now.”
I squeezed his hand. “I know, Braden. It’s okay. We’ll just have to use brains instead of brawn right now. We’ll figure it out.”
They drove off as we slowly made our way up the stairs. “I’m going to call the dealership and see if I can get them to speed up the repairs on the Shelby,” Keaton said as we walked in the door.
I dropped my bag on the bedroom floor and sat down on the edge of the bed, dejected. Someone had come along and turned my life upside down and not for the better, either. I did not like the fact someone was messing with me this way. Keaton was involved now, and I didn’t like that, either. My bad luck seemed to be spreading to him like a wildfire. If I had any chance at all with him, I had to get away from him.
Pulling out my cell phone, I made a call. “I need your help. No questions asked.”
Chapter 33
Keaton came into the bedroom five minutes later. “The guy at the service department says he is going to give me a loaner while they fix the car. Sydney is going to give me a ride over there. Is there anything you want while I’m gone?”
“You should probably go to the store to replace what we left in the truck,” I suggested. “Are you sure you’re ok to drive?”
“Probably not, but I’m in better shape than you are,” he laughed. “I should be back in a couple of hours. Why don’t you get some rest? We’ll brainstorm after dinner tonight.”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
His phone rang. “It’s Sydney, she’s downstairs. Take it easy, I’ll be back in a bit.” He leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek before heading out.
I waited ten minutes to make sure he was really gone, gathered the rest of my clothes and supplies from the bathroom, and stuffed them into my bag. I heard a car horn from downstairs, grabbed my bags and pillow, and left.
Mr. Crubbs and my nephew Zayne were waiting for me when I got downstairs. Zayne took my bags and pillow from me and put them in
the trunk while I got in the back seat of Mr. Crubbs’ Cadillac. “I really appreciate you helping me, Mr. Crubbs,” I told him as Zayne got back in and we pulled out.
“It’s like being on a top secret mission in World War II,” he replied. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I don’t have much of a choice.”
“What am I here for, Aunt Charlie?” Zayne said from the front seat.
“I am going to give you a list of names and I want you to do that voodoo that you do on your computer. I need all the information you can get for me without your parents finding out.”
“Child’s play,” he scoffed.
“I mean it, Zayne,” I said sternly. “You cannot tell anyone what you are doing.”
“What if I’m questioned by the police?”
“Then you tell them to call me on my cell phone.”
“Where are you going to go, Charlie?” Mr. Crubbs asked me as we pulled up in front of his house.
“I’m not going to tell you that. No one else is going to get hurt because of what is going on with me,” I replied as we got out of the car.
He handed me the keys to his car. “I understand. Just be careful, Charlie,” he said, squeezing my hands in his. “I think you’re wrong to shut out that young man of yours this way.”
“He’s not my young man.”
“Not yet, but he will be,” Mr. Crubbs said with a twinkle in his eye. “If you didn’t care about him so much, you wouldn’t be sneaking away to protect him.”
Crafty old man. He had me on that one. I didn’t tell him that though; just gave him a hug and got back into the car with Zayne.
Putting a car into gear with one hand in a cast is not as easy as you might think. The cast was so bulky I had to reach across with my left hand, put it into reverse, back up, and then reach across again to put it into drive. Once I did that, the rest was pretty easy. I dropped Zayne off two blocks away from his house. “Are you sure about this, Aunt Charlie?” he said before he got out.
“It’s the only way,” I said.
He reached into his backpack and handed me a phone. “This is my old pre-paid phone. I added some money to it so we can get a hold of each other. If you need anything, you call me.”
Good Night Sleep Tight Don't Let the Stalkers Bite (Charlie Bannerman Mysteries) Page 13
