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Gertrude woke up in back of the van with the worst headache of her life. It felt like someone had hit her between the eyes with an ax. She brought one hand to her head, just to make sure it was still there.
She looked around the dimly lit interior. It was still daylight, but the tinted, not to mention filthy, windows didn’t allow much light into the van. The seats had been removed, and Gertrude was on the floor, which made the bumpiness of the road that much more painful. What are we on, a skidder trail? She sat up and looked out the windows. It did indeed appear that they were on a skidder trail. In the middle of the forest. This van is bouncing around like a fart in a mitten.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” Loretta said.
Gertrude looked up to meet her eyes in the rearview mirror. “Where are we?”
“Don’t you worry, friend. The scary part is over. We are going home now.”
Home? Does that mean she’s going to kill me? “Are you going to kill me?”
“Kill you? Of course not! I wouldn’t hurt a fly. You’re my friend. I won’t hurt you again. I’m sorry I hurt you at all. I wasn’t planning on inviting you to come with me, at least not until I got to know you better, but then I thought maybe you knew what I was doing, and I just can’t allow myself to get in trouble with the law. Not after all I’ve done, all I’ve accomplished, how far I’ve come.”
“What you’ve accomplished? What have you accomplished, exactly?”
“Oh, you’ll see,” Loretta burbled. “You’re going to love it. I promise.”
She hit a giant rock with the right front tire, and Gertrude was thrown to the left wall of the van. “Ow!” she said accusingly.
“Oh, sorry, friend. I always forget that rock is there.” She tittered.
Gertrude had a thought, and her hand flew to her neck, but there was nothing there. She groped around her chest, but her LifeRescue pendant was gone. Either it had fallen off in the struggle, or this madwoman had taken it. I hate her, Gertrude thought. I really, really hate this lunatic. “I’m not your friend,” Gertrude snarled.
“Oh, sure you are. You just don’t know it yet. You’ll see. So, friend, what is your real name? I’m guessing it’s not Hazel or Jill?”
“What’s your name?” Gertrude asked.
“That’s a fair question, I suppose. My name is Sue. Just plain old Sue. Ugliest name in the books. Not Susan, not Suzanne, just Sue. My mother was a cruel woman.”
“At least you’re not a boy named Sue.”
Sue laughed as if that was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.
“Where are we going, Sue?”
“I told you. We are going home. And once you get settled in, if you want me to go back for a few of your cats, I would be happy to.”
“How do you know I have cats?” You’d better stay away from my cats, you wacko!
“I saw them in your windows.”
“What else did you see?”
“Nothing. Your trailer park was calm, empty, quiet. No one saw us, don’t you worry.”
“I was wearing a necklace. Did you take it?”
“You mean your LifeRescue button? Yes, we left that back there. Didn’t want you to be tempted to press it. Though it probably wouldn’t even work now. Not many cell phone towers up here.” She giggled like a little girl.
Gertrude slumped back against the wall of the van. “How did you ever get me into this van?”
“I’m stronger than I look. Plus, there’s that.” Her eyes flitted to the wheelchair lift. “Now, what’s your name?”
“Gertrude.”
Both her hands left the wheel and came together in a delighted little double clap. “Gertrude! What a wonderful name! It suits you! Much better than Hazel or Jill.”
“I am Gertrude, Gumshoe, and the cops know all about you. They know what you drive. I even gave them your license plate.”
Sue tittered again. “Well, then, I guess I’d better not go back for any cats! Why don’t you lie down and rest? There’s not much to see around here but trees, and we’ve got about another hour to go.”
“Another hour? Where are we going, Canada?”
Sue didn’t answer. Gertrude tried to figure out what time it was. My phone! she remembered. She still wasn’t used to having a phone with her at all times. She reached into her pocket. “Where’s my phone?!”
“Oh don’t worry, Gert. May I call you Gert? You won’t need a phone where we’re going. And like I said, no cell towers—”
“No, you may not call me Gert, and”—Gertrude was grinding her teeth so hard her jaw hurt—“where are you taking me?”
“Just be patient, Gertrude. You’ll see soon enough.”
“I have to pee,” Gertrude lied.
Sue looked at her in the rearview. “Can you hold it?”
“Sure can’t, Sue.”
“All right. Let me think.” She kept driving. Gertrude kept bouncing.
“There’s not much to think about. Pull over so I can pee.”
“I’m sorry. I just don’t trust you, Gertrude. I’m hoping we can build trust over time. But right now, well, you gave me quite a fight back there. I don’t want to have to go chasing you through the forest. And even more importantly, I don’t want to have to shoot you.”
“Shoot me? You have a gun?”
Sue looked at her in the rearview. “Of course I have a gun.”
“I thought we were friends!” Gertrude began scanning the back of the van for a means of escape. She scooted toward the door.
“Don’t even try it. It’s locked.”
Gertrude felt panic rising in her throat. Calvin will tell Hale, she told herself.
“Where’s my phone?” she asked again.
“I told you, you won’t need it where we’re go—”
“I know. I heard you the first time. I’m asking where is my phone. Do you still have it?”
“Don’t be silly. I don’t want anyone tracking your phone to where we’re going. And when we get there, you won’t want that either. You’re going to be so happy, Gertrude! Don’t you worry.”
“So, where is the phone exactly?”
“In the mud. Right beside that ugly hat of yours.”
“That hat wasn’t ugly! You’re going to pay for that!”
“For the insult, or for the hat?”
“Both!”
So Hale will find the phone, and maybe it will have this lunatic’s fingerprints on it. Please hurry, Hale. She couldn’t believe she was betting the farm on Hale.