They were just over the border of Kentucky the next morning when they saw the gas station.
They were on a two-lane strip of desolate Tennessee hill country road heading downward into a valley, and Gannon saw it ahead on his left off by itself in the middle of nowhere.
It was a blue-and-white Marathon station with a little mart attached to get doughnuts and Gatorade and lottery cards. Behind it was a tree-filled hill edged with a small cliff of striated brownish-gray rock.
“Guys, what do you think? Stop for gas?” Gannon said.
In the back seat, Stick lifted the binoculars they’d brought with them from the hunting trailer.
“Do it,” he said. “There aren’t any cameras that I can see.”
It was cold when Gannon stepped out by pump number one. He looked up at the dawning overcast sky. The forecast called for rain, but snow made more sense. He stepped past the cigarette ads and the propane cage and opened the door.
There was a middle-aged couple inside, a heavyset lady with silvery blond hair and a skinny man with a mustache and glasses.
“Forty bucks on pump one, please,” Gannon said, putting a couple of twenties on the counter.
He saw the cruiser straight off as he came back out the jingling door. It was a Tennessee state trooper Dodge Charger detailed in cream and black with a yellow stripe. Gannon had the pump clunked in and had just squeezed the handle as it pulled to a stop right behind them.
Just bad luck, Gannon thought, trying to calm his breathing. Just full-out bad luck.
The trooper who climbed out of it was pale and square-jawed and about thirty. He was medium-sized, five-nine or so, but bulked up wide with muscle from working out. Gannon, seeing the no-nonsense expression on his lean face beneath the green Smokey the Bear hat as well as the shine to his patent leather cop shoes, did what he could only do.
He smiled and nodded.
“Morning,” he said.
The trooper looked at him, looked at Ruby, looked at Stick, and gave him a fake smile back.
“Taking a trip, huh,” he said.
“Yeah, how’d you know?” Gannon said. Then he laughed. “Oh, right. The plates. Yeah, my old lady’s idea. Got a vacation week off from work, and two nights ago, out of the blue, she says she needs to see Graceland. Bucket list thing.”
“Happy wife, happy life,” the trooper said, peering into the back. “Got a buddy with you?”
“Kinda,” Gannon said.
They both looked out at the road as a rattling dump truck went by tugging a backhoe on a trailer.
“How’s that?” the trooper said.
“That’s her brother,” Gannon said.
“In-laws,” the trooper said, nodding knowingly as he stepped for the mart. “I get you there, partner.”
Gannon heard the door jingle.
“Let’s get going,” Stick said, rolling down the window.
“Shit,” Gannon said as he clicked the nozzle back into the pump.
“What is it?” Stick said.
“It’s only thirty-four.”
“What does that mean?”
“I got change coming.”
“Screw it. Let’s just go,” Stick said.
“Relax,” Gannon said, turning for the mart. “Take it easy.”
The trooper was coming out with a coffee in one hand as he was going in. He gave him a look as Gannon held the door for him but said nothing as he passed.
“Looks like I overshot it a bit,” he said to the heavyset lady behind the counter.
She smiled, opening the register.
Shit, Gannon thought as he looked out at the trooper where he was sitting in the cruiser typing at his terminal now.