by Brian Gore
Together, hand in hand, the two walked off down the street, laughing, in search of playgrounds and slides.
Chapter 11
They had made two circuits of the main drag through town when Jamal finally told Terrance to pull into the lot of a Motel 6. His hand on the door, he told the others; "I'm gon' go ask around in here. Then we'll hit all the others down this road until somebody say they seen somet'ing. You jus' wait here till I come back." With a flip of his hand he slammed the door and walked into the office.
Less than two minutes later, a scowling Jamal came back to the car and climbed in. "Well?" Devon spoke first.
"What? You don' think I'd be grinnin' if one of these dumb honkeys knew somethin'? Just pull the car down to that one over there" he said pointing at the Roundup Best Western Motel across the street.
Jamal walked into the Motel office feeling like he was just chasing the wind. How was he going to find her in all these miles of open country? He'd never seen a land so big.
As he walked up to the counter he spoke to the young clerk who'd looked up as he came in. He made an effort, with little success, to reduce his Jamaican accent. "My Name is Jamal, I am an investigator with the CDI." He quickly flashed an ID card in a leather wallet in front of the young man.
"We are looking for dis girl" He said as he slid a photograph of Amanda Blake across the counter. "She is a fugitive traveling with a young bwoy. Have you seen her?"
The clerk started when he saw the picture. "A fugitive? Her?" he asked, looking from the picture to Jamal.
"Yah Mahn, a fugitive, she has crossed state lines with a kidnapped bwoy. This is an official investigation. Do you have any information? Have you seen her?" Jamal repeated, working hard at his bluff; trying hard to bully the man with a commanding, authoritative tone in his voice.
As is often the case, once you've broken through their reservation, and a person thinks they're being interrogated by the authorities... the intimidation factor has them answering questions, you've not even asked yet.
A black man, looking for a young blond girl, might cause a white boy to resist answering... but... a law enforcement agent, looking for a fugitive; well that's something else all together.
"Seen her? Hell yes." the clerk replied. "I had a conversation with her. She was standing right where you are now. Hell, she only left 20 minutes ago in that red Saturn they're driving. Stayed here last night. Asked about a good place to camp with the boy when she came in this morning. She said it was her son. I sent her to Burke Lake, State Recreation area south of here."
Jamal reached across the counter to shake the Desk Clerks' hand and grinning said; "You have been very helpful, Thank You Mahn. Helping us find her will get that lil' bwoy back to his father." Then, he turned and hurried back to the Yukon.
The three men sitting outside in the car saw Jamal come out of the office with a wide smile on his face. Terrance was the first to speak; "I be damned. He found her!"
Jamal supported that exclamation with the command; "Hand me the map" when he'd regained his seat in the car. "We just miss da bitch. She just left a few minutes ago... she's goin' to a place called Burke Lake. It be south of here. She's driving a red saturn... Start the car... Let's go."
Devon looked across the seat as the Yukon pulled out of the parking lot, grinning as he asked; "You play the Law Dawg again?
Jamal looked back and grinned;"Ya Mahn. I'm an agent with the CDI!" and both men laughed.
Musa turned in the front seat; "CDI? What's that Mahn?" he asked.
Jamal, looked from Musa to Devon and back again; "I don' have a clue Mahn! All you got to do with these honkey fools is say three letters in a row, any three letters, flash a fake ID card and sound real bad... they lay down and whimper like dogs!" and every man in the speeding Yukon laughed.
Neither the driver of the Saturn nor the occupants of the Yukon in pursuit, had any idea that just thirty two miles separated them, as the two cars rolled west on the interstate that morning. Or, that the distance separating them had been shaved to only twenty eight miles, a half hour later. The occupants of the Yukon had no idea that the prey they'd unknowingly been closing on, slipped away when they turned south onto U.S. 281 at 7:45am.
Just twenty two miles after leaving Mitchell, South Dakota, following Amanda's Red Herring leading them to Burke Lake State Recreation area, the Jamaicans turned away from the woman they pursued, without ever knowing just how close they'd been.
Several hours later, after methodical but fruitless, cruising and searching, the pursuers in the SUV finally came to the conclusion that their prey had escaped. They drove to a cafe up the road a few miles, in the town of Winner. They found enough cell signal there for Jamal to call in a report to their boss in Chicago. "We'll wait right here Tyrone. We'll take shifts watching that phone. We're close, I can smell the bitch. When we get her, I'll call you."
Without any goodbye Tyrone hung up. The line went dead before Jamal had time to even close his phone. He looked at the phone in his hand for a few seconds before speaking to the others. "Musa, you take the first watch. Stay here in the car with that phone plugged in. I don't want that son of a bitch goin' dead now! We'll go inside, get something to eat and some coffee. You see anything... ANYTHING" he emphasized the last with a jab of his finger; "... you come inside. I'll send Devon out to relieve you as soon as he eats... Got it?"
"Ya Mahn... I see anything, I come get you." he repeated in understanding.
The balance of the crew walked into the cafe taking a booth in front, with a view of the parking lot. Their meal was ordered, and when it arrived, the road weary Jamaicans attacked it as if they were near to starvation. Apparently, coffee and donuts wasn't enough to sustain two hundred pound Jamaicans.
Except for what was required to give their orders to the waitress, not a word was spoken until the meal was nearly gone. All that could be heard at the table was the clinking of silverware on the plates and the slurping of coffee.
As he wiped up the last of the yolk from his, "Breakfast All Day", eggs with a piece of toast, Devon spoke; "What we gon' do Jamal? We gon' jus wait again for the bitch to turn up?"
Jamal looked up from his plate, forking the last of his own eggs into his mouth and looking at Devon as he chewed, saying nothing. He picked up his coffee cup, without speaking, still looking at Devon and took a long drink...
"No Mahn... we're not gon' jus' wait on dat bitch. You go send Musa in to eat, while I think 'bout what we are gon' do."
Devon just nodded and silently stood up to relieve Musa from his phone watching duties; while Jamal pulled a map of the western states out of his jacket pocket. Pushing the dishes aside, he spread it across the cafe table.
"Look here Terrance... She left Chicago and came here. Somewhere, it don' matter where, she got herself a car... but she came here. Chicago to here is mostly west. She's been comin' west..." Jamal said as his finger marked a westward track across the map. "What she told that Motel clerk was bullshit... she don' come this way... she don' come back south... This woman is learning I think. I think she just tried to throw us off... she knew we'd be comin'... an she jus' tried to throw us off her track... I'm bettin' Mahn... she's still gon' west. There's nothing north, nothin'... jus' Canada. I think she's gon' west." As Jamal spoke the last, his finger stabbed the map in the general vicinity of Sheridan, Wyoming.
Terrance looked at the map and nodded his head. "Yeah Mahn, there's nothin' North... but" tapping his finger on the map, "There ain't nothin' here either Mahn".
"No there's not... but I-90 is here" replied Jamal, and running his finger down the track of I-90 on the map continued; "and it runs all the way... West."
Again, Terrance nodded. "Yeah... what you wan' do Mahn?"
"We can sit here, drink coffee and jus' wait... or we can move west. I'm bettin' that's how she gon'... so we gon' go west wit her... we gon' follow the highway a while and not waste time sittin' here. When the bitch turn the phone on again... we'll be a lot closer, than if
we just wait here. We'll be close enough to grab da Bitch this time!"
Musa came through the door as he finished laying out their plan of action with Terrance. Jamal climbed out of the booth and faced the man as he walked up. "Musa" Jamal spoke; "Get your food and choke it down quick Mahn. We leavin' as soon as you're done." Then he turned and headed for the men's room to drain off a little used coffee.
As the Yukon pulled out of the parking lot twenty minutes later, Terrance looked across the seat and asked Jamal; "Do we need to call Tyrone an' tell him we movin'?"
"No Mahn... we need to find dis bitch!" was his only reply as the Yukon, rolling west, passed the city limits sign of Winner, South Dakota.
They'd wasted all day following Amanda's successful Red Herring, and left Winner after six in the evening. Looking at his map Jamal thought out loud; "nothing north... jus' this empty land... first big town west is Rapid City... She sleep good last night... Rapid is only maybe, four hours... she wouldn't stop that soon... she likely go on to..." his finger traced their course west, following along the line of Interstate 90... "to somewhere roun' about" his eyes scanning the map, settled on; "Sheridan, Wyoming."
The big man left the map on his lap, raising his hands to his face and rubbing his eyes. It had been twenty hours since they'd left Chicago the night before. He'd been roused out of bed at six that morning when Tyrone discovered that Amanda had made her escape, with not only his son... but $750,000 of his money as well.
It had been far from a relaxing day and he was dead tired, but they had to make some miles. He had to get them in position to be able to take full advantage the next time this white bitch turned her phone on; allowing the internal GPS program to transmit her position to Tyrone's cell phone. The phone that was never left unwatched.
Most people would not look at Jamal and think of him as a hunter. Yet there was no doubt he had the instincts and the hunger of a predator. Yes his life had been spent in cities and not chasing people across the countryside. But, people are people. They react the same way. The topography might change, but not people. People on the run, have the same behaviors. Once they start running, they keep running for a while, often in straight lines. Sometimes, they circle back to where they started. But in the initial run, their direction is usually a predictable straight line.
This rabbit, he felt sure, had not yet run to ground. He'd follow his instincts and move on west. When she made the mistake of revealing her location, they'd be close enough to take advantage of her stupidity.
Something that complicated this chase was the fact that this time, she'd not run to familiar people, and had left any country she had a knowledge of. Usually, someone trying to hide runs to family or a friend for help. Others simply stay in a familiar area as they try to hide. That fault, makes it far easier for a pursuer to narrow his search.
This time, either through some wisdom she'd gained along the way, or just accidentally, she'd made the chase a far greater problem for her pursuers. They had no idea where she was headed. At this point, considering the amount of cash she had available, the entire world was a possible hiding place.
This chase required Jamal to use every bit of instinct and predatory cunning he possessed, to have any chance of finding her. The only advantage he had left was her cell phone, and that small bit of technology hidden within it... Technology of which Amanda remained ignorant. The technology that allowed her pursuers to track her; as long as the phone was turned on. The GPS monitoring software that transmitted her precise location and movements... IF... her phone was turned on.
What Jamal didn't know was that she kept the phone off because she'd forgotten to pack it's charger in her preparations. The thing that was blocking their 'tracking device' and had them running blind was a simple, absent minded accident.
So... with their technology temporarily dark, they'd roll on following a predators instinct, until that small voice that guided him told him to wait, to hold up, to look; his prey was close. When he heard that small voice whispering to him, they'd stop their westward rush. They'd wait, they'd watch... and when she made her inadvertent mistake, they'd have her.
At ten thirty that night the Yukon pulled in to the lot of a Burger King, just off the interstate on the outskirts of Rapid City. The road weary riders of the Black SUV wolfed down some greasy burgers, filled a couple of thermoses with coffee, and in less than fifteen minutes had climbed back into their rig to continue west, their goal; Sheridan, Wyoming.
Less than a half hour later, the driver of a Yellow Freight truck laid on his air horn in a long, angry, choppy, blast. He hollered curses, at a Black Yukon when it swerved across the road in front of him, missing his fender by inches, as it weaved to the right shoulder of the road in the inky darkness of a moonless Wyoming night.
Inside the Yukon, the sleeping driver was now wide awake. The blaring of the air horn roused him just as he nodded off and swerved the Yukon across in front of 80,000 lbs of truck and freight.
As his head jerked up with panic wide eyes, Devon jerked the wheel hard left. The end of a guard rail raced toward him at 70 miles an hour, lit up in the headlights. His reaction was just a little too sudden for the heavy car, putting it into a spin that took it back across the road in front of the Yellow Freighter... whose horn continued, after a momentary pause, its' staccato, angry, blasting.
Everyone, inside the Yukon was now fully awake... and all were hollering in unison; "eeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeee!!!!!"
Devon, his teeth bared and gritted, eyes wide, fought the wheel to regain control. The car spun, doing a slow 360 and slid off into the median as the semi roared by. The Yukon tipped up on two wheels, almost rolling over, before it ran out of momentum and slammed back down, right side up, and came to rest in a cloud of dust.
"Jesus mahn!" was all the driver could say as he sat there, dark skin hiding his "white knuckled" grip on the wheel... eyes wide and heart pounding.
"God Damn Devon! What the fuck are you doin' mahn!" Jamal shouted from the back seat.
The tension from his fear found its release in anger as he shouted back; "Shit Jamal. I'm dog ass tired mahn. We ain't been to bed in two days! I can't keep my fuckin' eyes open! I'm only drivin' 'cause Musa an' Terrance are more sleepy than me, and you won't drive! Don' shout at me mahn... I..."
"OK!" Jamal cut in... "We all awake now!" Jamal motioned down the road with his hand; " We can't sit here, jus' go down the road till we find a rest area... we'll stop there an' sleep for a couple hours. Jus' don' kill us before we get there, OK?"
Devon, finding some control after their near death experience, and marginally placated by Jamal's, almost, apologetic tone replied; "OK... I'll find us a place to sleep."
Devon put the transmission back into gear and pulled the Yukon slowly up out of the median. He waited on the shoulder for another semi to pass in the darkness. That driver was talking back and forth on the CB with a Yellow Freight driver up ahead, about the idiots in a black Yukon. Then he drove the big SUV back onto the pavement.
Just a few miles west he took an off ramp that looked promising and found a wide dirt area at the bottom of the ramp. He turned in there, pulling to the back of the area behind a semi parked there for the same reason, to get a few hours of sleep.
In two minutes all four men were slumped against the doors, sound asleep. They slept on as the truck they were parked behind fired up and pulled out, two hours later...
After more than 36 hours of running, they were weary, and they slept.
They slept on as light traffic rumbled by in the darkness... The weary men slept on as their prey slept comfortable in her bed, just three hours down the road.
As the clock in the dash of the car clicked 5:00 am... Jamal's eyes opened... He lay against the door for a few seconds rubbing his eyes. Slowly he got his bearings and where he was, awakened in his head. The man sat up looking around and continued to rub his face with his hands. After a few seconds, his eyes fell upon the blue numbers of that LED clock in the dash...
"Shit! Damn!" he squalled... "Wake up! Wake up all you bwoys... Wake the Fuck Up!" He hollered. He slapped Terrance on the shoulder, as the man slept beside him on the back seat and reached forward to rap Musa on the back of the head... "It's late! We slept too long! We got to go! Wake up!"
Chapter 12
Though Amanda might be intelligent and streetwise, she still lacked any training or even experience in security or tracking. Sure, after being on the street for a couple years she could spot the cop pretending to be a john. But she lacked any true understanding of all the small pieces and suggestions of pieces that a tracker's intuition was watching for. She had no knowledge of the tiny little nuances of a trail, which were perceived on a subconscious level, by a skilled tracker. That simply, was not a part of her skill set. It left her vulnerable to making mistakes that someone hunting her could take advantage of.
Even if hers had been a shockingly difficult life, today that didn't matter. Today she was simply a Mother, trying as hard as she could to protect her son and give him the opportunity for a chance. An honest chance at the life she'd never had.
Amanda had them up early again. Before hitting the road, she got them each an Egg McMuffin meal at the golden arches across the road from their motel, along with an orange juice for Timmy and a large coffee for herself. By the time the clock in the dash said 8 a.m. Amanda and Timmy had rolled on up I-90, had crossed the border, and were in Mon-ta-na!
Timmy had cheered; "Hooray!" when Amanda pointed to the sign at the border that welcomed them to the Big Sky state. "See Momma!" he said.
"See what Timmy?" she'd asked.
"Mon-ta-na makes you smile!" he grinned at her.
Amanda could only laugh as she looked over the seat at the love of her life, and smile she did.
