His hand flashed back down to his ring again, and it was like I suddenly had a map into his head. I knew I had hit on a weak spot. Now, let’s see if you’re really as broke as I think. I dropped my voice. “I have two hundred dollars for you if you can get me a new appointment.”
His brows flashed up, and I knew from the angry, proud line of his mouth he was about to protest. Quickly, I continued, “I know that’s not a lot, but it’s all the cash I have—and if you want, I can bring you another two-hundred later, or even mail you a check. Trust me, I’m good for it. You could take this money, and get your lovely wife something nice—”
I’d seen that look before, on a friend in a bar fight who thought he had already won, and then this haymaker came out of nowhere, headed straight for his face. When I asked him later, he said he’d had one quick second of seeing his life pass in front of his eyes.
I had won.
The apple in his neck bobbed. “Nobody can know about this. I’d lose my job.”
I nodded, sudden confidence bringing back the feeling to my extremities. “So would I, remember? And it could be even worse for me—Elijah could come down on my company, refuse to do business. I’m risking a lot here, too, you know?”
He glanced at me again, before looking out the window toward the grounds, as if noticing something. “Tuck it in the bills. They got cameras in here.”
I fished the paperwork for the load out of a manila envelope stamped with ELIJAH FOODS. I leaned down, out of view, and shoved the cash inside, before arranging the paperwork neatly on top.
I gave him my best smile. “Everything you need for the load is in the envelope,” I chirped, and I handed him the entire bundle.
He nodded. “Very good, then. Let me double-check the computer for your appointment time.” He shut the window. I could just barely see the shadow of his body through the glaze on the glass.
Oh God, don’t screw me here. My stomach sank. How stupid could I be? I already gave him the money, and I couldn’t exactly complain about it, not without getting fired—and if he was dishonest enough to take a bribe, why would he feel bad about not keeping up his half of the bargain?
The window slid back open, and I let out a breath.
“Very good. It seems there was a mix-up in the computer, ma’am, and I’m sorry about the inconvenience. You’re ten minutes early. You can back up to dock forty-two, and go ahead and open your doors—we’ve got you in here for a priority unload.” He indicated the way with his thumb. “I’ve gone ahead and called my supervisor and explained the mix-up in the scheduling.” He lowered his voice. “We had a guy quit last week—so I just pinned it on him. If it comes back on him, he won’t care. He won the lottery.” He leaned back from the window. “You’re all set.”
I mouthed a “thank-you” through the glass. Twenty minutes later, I had pulled around to the side, opened my doors, backed up to the dock, and sat down to compose Lynn an email.
Chapter Three
Honk!
I let out a few choice words and stood as hard as I dared on the brakes. A sports car had somehow materialized right in my path, and with the trailer empty from dumping my load at Elijah foods, the weight distribution of the truck was off.
Luckily, the other driver hit the gas, and I let off of the brake. My acceleration back to cruising speed, of course, was nowhere as quick as his, and his tail-lights shrank in front of me, until they disappeared.
But where had he come from? He had to have been hanging out in my blind spot for a while, unless. . .
I sighed. My gut had been churning ever since I dumped that trailer, and I didn’t exactly know why. Was it Luke?
Probably not, although I had a lot of questions there. I mean, we fought more than any couple should, and there were times we really had to force the fit—
And other things. Other skirted things.
Still, it was hard to accept that we were really not right for each other.
So what was it?
There was just something off about that situation at Elijah foods. I mean, I liked to think I was pretty good with people—but what had happened with the gate guard was kind of . . . kind of. . .
Just like that, I lost my train of thought, and the conclusion I had so eagerly grabbed, slipped from between my fingers, dropping me back into darkness.
I sighed, angry at myself for not being able to decipher my own emotions, and turned on the radio. It seemed like my only choices were rap or country, so I settled in for country, letting the guitar and a broken-hearted singer with a heavy twang lull me back into a normal pulse rate.
When the traffic thinned out to the point I didn’t see any other vehicles on the road, I let myself relax and just enjoy the music and the rattle-rumble of the truck. Until, of course, a breakup song came on. With a tickle in my throat, I checked the other station—but the “bitches be bitches” anthem made me gag and change it back—and decide I should probably invest in satellite radio.
And maybe it wasn’t a breakup song after all. I mean, so far, it had just been guitar and percussion—
“I wake up alone in a bed I don’t know. . .”
I coughed. I mean, I knew my bed, all right? It was mine.
“And eat my breakfast all alone. . .”
Ha! I didn’t even manage to eat breakfast this morning!
“I think of calling you on the phone. . .”
That shut me up. I eyed the cell phone on the dash for as long as I dared take my eyes off of the road.
“But I’m afraid nobody’s home. . .”
I paused. I really should turn this off.
“Because you’re with herrrrrrrrr—”
Gasping, I hit the button.
That couldn’t have been it, could it? Had he met somebody else?
My eyes narrowed. Maybe it was that waitress—
Movement ahead caught my eyes. Still a little hopped up from the near collision with the sports car, I almost jumped, but when I saw that the motion was coming from the center median, I let out a breath.
Actually . . .
I could make out more details, now that I was a little closer, and—call me crazy, but it looked like there was a tiny golden bundle running around in circles, up ahead on the grass.
It’s probably just a rabbit or something.
It made another erratic loop, and I felt myself tense up. Any minute now, that thing was going to run out onto the highway and get hit by a car.
I glanced at my side mirrors and eased off the fuel.
This is crazy. What are you doing?
Miraculously, there was nobody behind me, which meant that the break in traffic might be long enough, if only—
Oh fuck it. I clicked on the hazards and grabbed the mic for the CB. “This is FLEX going westbound on the 401, kilo marker 52. I’m pulling over for a full stop. If you got your ears on, you’re going to want to hit the hammer lane.” The warning wouldn’t help a car, of course, but they were maneuverable enough not to need it. I hoped. Any trucks coming up would merge left. I hoped.
The brakes hissed and squealed as the truck slowed, the entire cab filling with that odd stretching lurch of forward motion that comes when stopping suddenly. I prayed that they wouldn’t overheat and fail, or that the dog wouldn’t run away—because that’s what it was, what it had to be. If it did run, what the hell was I going to do?
Finally, I had pulled all of the way onto the shoulder and stopped moving, but I was several trailer lengths past the dog—and I couldn’t see it in my mirrors. In a flash of inspiration, I fished a piece of jerky out of the bag I kept in my overhead compartment, took a breath, and hopped out.
All right. Here goes.
I looked left and sprinted across to the center median. I hadn’t made it halfway before fear and battery acid were pouring through my veins and turning my legs to rubber. As soon as I touched grass, I doubled over in a wheeze. The extra weight I had put on was not treating me kindly at all.
I glanced up. The dog was
still there. It had frozen in place, triangular ears perked high, and its big eyes fixed on me. I tried to whistle, but I couldn’t catch my breath.
What am I doing, anyways? This isn’t my responsibility. I mean, it’s got to be somebody’s pet or something—
A cold thought hit me, one that made my chest hurt and brought me close to crying for the third time that day. There wasn’t anybody around here, just wide open fields—not even a rest stop until . . . Runbury . . . which was at least fifteen miles . . .
Somebody had just up and left a dog in the middle of the highway—or maybe, even worse . . . maybe they had thrown it out of the car.
I felt a growl building in my throat. I had been thrown to one side, too, but at least I could fend for myself.
“Here, um, boy!” I waved the jerky, hoping that somehow the animal’s keen nose would pick up the scent.
The dog cocked its head.
“Here, boy . . . or girl. I don’t care. Just come here and get the jerky!” I waved it again, and the dog took off like a shot. The closer it got, the more of its features I could make out. Its long pink tongue lolled out to one side. Its body contracted and sprang in a bounding, bunny-like gait that flopped its ears up and down.
Watching it run, for a moment, I understood pure bliss.
When it reached my feet, I expected it to jump, but it didn’t. Instead, it pulled short and sat, plopping its butt on the ground so hard I could almost hear it.
I half-squatted. It was tiny—the size of a housecat, maybe. How had I picked it out from so far off—and how had I even known it was a dog? “Hey, buddy. You want this jerky? I’m going to pick you up, okay?”
I got my hands around its waist and lifted, expecting a struggle, but the animal just went limp. I picked it up high enough to cradle it to my chest, and I could feel the tiny heart beating there, fluttering quickly with life and energy. I felt wetness on my chin, and I knew it was licking me.
A wave of emotion washed over me. This dog was mine, now. It was as simple and obvious as the road next to me. I gave it the jerky and jogged back to the truck.
“God, I’m so sorry. I swear, the GPS said you were just sitting at the Husky, and Elijah already called me to ask when you were going to be there. I guess they really needed that load.”
Even with the phone held three feet from my face, Lynn’s voice was still loud.
Needed it bad enough to turn it away for being late, you mean. “Yeah, I don’t know. I mean, it’s fine. You know how GPS is—and then shippers have such bad communication anyways.”
Lynn’s pause made my pulse spike. She cleared her throat. “It’s weird. I don’t even know how they got your number, and besides, who does that? They’re supposed to call me to reschedule the appointments, not you. And what do you mean, how GPS is? I mean, this technology is supposed to be the most advanced—”
I smiled and cut in. “Must have been somebody new working, somebody who didn’t know how to read the forms.”
“Yeah, well, I’m really sorry. I should have trusted you more.”
“It’s okay.” My gut twinged—maybe I was feeling guiltier about it then I thought. I looked at Diesel—that’s what I’d decided to call him—thinking his dopey face would make it better, but he was staring at me, his giant eyes passing judgment.
“Yeah, well—”
I cut her off before she could go down the same road again. “Hey, you know about the pet policy for trucks?”
Lynn snorted. “Lady, I’ve been doing this job for fifteen years. I know everything about FLEX’s policies that there is to know.”
“Well, I found this dog.”
“Yep, and I’m assuming you’ve already taken it to the vet and gotten shots and paperwork, right?”
“Well, I—”
“Great! Since you’ve already done that, I’m going to email you the paperwork for our pet insurance. Just fill it out and send it back, okay?”
I caught the hint. “Okay.”
“Now, I got a load for you, and it’s a doozy, so listen up.”
“Yeah, I saw the email. Greenview?” I hadn’t heard of this shipper before.
“Right. First of all, they’re in Montreal.”
I groaned silently. Driving in Montreal meant horrible traffic, rude drivers, low bridges, and highways that hadn’t been updated in a hundred years. Maybe I can hit it at night. I pressed a few keys on the PeopleNet to check the appointment time while Lynn continued.
“I know for a fact that the dock can be a real bitch to back into—you’re going to have to ask Jeff about that. He can give you a much clearer idea than I can. The real thing to remember is that the address says Henri Bourassa, but it’s not. It’s on East Henri Bourrassa. You go to regular Henri Bourassa, and you’re twenty miles from where you should be, and there’s a cold storage there too—I think somebody, Rick maybe, backed his trailer up to that dock, and the night security guard caught it. They sent four cars out and surrounded him, thinking he was trying to break in. Turns out, the one on Henri Bourassa is some kind of medical storage facility, and they’re real big on security.”
She sniggered, and I almost laughed—almost. Thing was, that kind of thing happened a lot—trucking logistics were awful—and to drivers who had just gone twenty miles out of their way in bad traffic, only to find out they had to go twenty back—and then twenty more to make it to the shipper—all on a street that wasn’t truck friendly—well, now it wasn’t so funny, was it?
“All right,” I said. “I’ll call Malone and get the skinny on it.”
“Great. I think that’s everything. Any questions?”
“Nope.”
“Take care of yourself.”
The call ended, I dialed Jeff, but it went straight to voicemail. I sighed. He could be anywhere—stuck at customs during a border crossing, getting paperwork processed, going through weather, in a bridge or a tunnel—damn, now that I think about it, when are drivers reachable by phone?
I sighed. I wanted to do more than ask him about the load. At the very least, I had to thank him. The last couple of days had really shown me how much I needed a good friend, and he was always there for me when I needed him.
Maybe I could text him?
I looked at screen. There was just no way to say what I wanted to say—what I needed to say—and make sure he understood it. I stared for a while longer, until Diesel jumped into my lap.
I gave up and kept it short.
GOT GREENVIEW LOAD. CALL ME?
“You know what?” I scratched Diesel’s furry head. “You’re going to like Jeff. He’s a nice guy. He was my first friend out here, and he’s good people. He’s got dogs, too.”
Diesel leaned into the scratches and closed his eyes, clearly on some level of doggie heaven.
“In fact, I’ll bet he’d have a treat for you. He has a whole store of doggie treats on the dash, you know that?”
I eyed the clock. One p.m. I could take a ten hour reset now and get all of my hours of service back by eleven. If I left then, and ran all night, I’d make it to the shipper by six in the morning, meaning I’d just make my appointment.
And I wouldn’t have to deal with Montreal traffic on the way in. I could do another ten hour reset at six and then wait a few more hours, and I’d miss the dinner rush on the way out.
Supposedly, we were not supposed to sleep at the shipper. Talk about your impossible rules.
“Bedtime.” I shoved Diesel off, ignoring his reproachful stare, and crawled into the bunk. He padded after me, yet he didn’t try to jump up into the bed. Instead, he just sat at the bottom, his slender tail wagging against the ground.
Obviously, his momma had raised him right.
I flipped off the light and laid my head down on my pillow—and for just a second, I caught a whiff of something tart and spicy, a scent both comforting and achingly familiar. I buried my face in the pillow, but the smell—or maybe just the memory of it—was gone.
Still, it was enough to break
my heart. I could almost feel Luke’s touch. I willed myself to not imagine him holding me, his fingers in my hair, but it was like swimming against an undertow. Before I knew it, I was drowning.
And then I heard a high-pitched cry, a whine that eked its way up from the floor. I brushed the tears out of my eyes. I could see Diesel in the darkness, his bright eyes catching the light.
“You’re lonely, too, aren’t you?” I patted the bed next to me, and after a swift half-cock of his head—are you sure?—he jumped up in with a single leap. The momentum carried him straight into my body, and he plowed into my chest and face with a series of snuffles and licks.
“Okay,” I murmured. “Just this one time.”
He was like a ward against the memories, his scent cancelling out any others I might have imagined. I relaxed, his soft fur under my fingers, feeling myself fall into the grey halls of sleep.
Trailer at Elijah foods—
Your father could get anyone to do anything—
That one was my mother. Groggy and half-awake, I suddenly found it hard to breathe. I almost sat up, and then I felt something soft shift, and my nose filled with the smell of dog. Instantly, my body flooded with a gentle warmth.
Go to sleep, Charlie. Go to sleep.
Chapter Four
By three in the morning, I’d already been on the road for hours. My eyes were starting to droop, the lights of passing cars playing hypnotist in the dark.
Now I remember why I don’t run nights. Running nights was like childbirth—or so I’ve heard—you suffered through, and then a few trips later, you’d already forgotten how tired you felt, how each mile was a struggle of will to keep your eyes open.
In driving school, they always told you to never drive tired. They didn’t mention that everybody did it, or it was impossible not to.
Just one more hour. If I can just get another hour—maybe hour and half—the sun will come up, and I’ll get a nice boost, and then it’s not too far after that.
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