Burke was already awake by the time Jess woke up. There was light coming through the shades, so it must have been morning, but damned if she felt at all rested. Lucy was sacked out beside her, drooling on the pillow and hogging the blanket. Burke was doing push-ups on the floor.
“Morning,” Jess said, and Burke banged off a couple more push-ups before he stood, reaching for a bottle of water.
“Morning,” he said. “I was just about to head out, pick up the new wheels. You said it’s a body shop I should look for?”
“I didn’t say you should look for anything,” Jess said, swinging her legs out from under the blanket. “Give me a minute. I’ll go.”
“It’s no problem,” Burke said. “You hang back here with Lucy, get things ready to go. Soon as I get back, we’ll hit the road.”
She stood. “That’s sweet of you, but no,” she said, walking around him to the bathroom. “I know you’ve been in jail awhile, but they let women do things for themselves now.”
She stopped and looked back at him. He was staring at her, openmouthed, like he didn’t quite know how to answer.
She softened her tone. “Burke, you’ve never been in this town in your life. You don’t know where you’re going or who you’re supposed to talk to. Tell me how it doesn’t make sense that I handle this one.”
He scratched his head. Looked down at the floor and chuckled a little bit, and it was kind of endearing.
“Yeah, all right,” he said. “You’ll take the shotgun with you?”
“What, some woman walking around at the crack of dawn with her twelve gauge isn’t going to raise any eyebrows? You hold on to the shotgun. Keep Lucy company. I’ll get us the wheels and we’ll go.”
She turned and walked into the bathroom before he could argue. Closed the door firm and locked it.
The rain hadn’t come back when she slipped out to the parking lot, the remainder of Burke’s cash tucked into her jeans pocket. There was even a hint of sky overhead, somewhere above all those clouds. Maybe they’d get some sun today, dry out a little bit. It had been raining so long, Jess had almost forgotten what sunshine looked like.
The motel’s parking lot was empty. That was a plus. No cars on the roadway beyond. Hank’s cousin’s body shop was a couple hundred yards down the main road, but the road was wide open, with no place for cover in case Kirby Harwood decided to sneak up on her. So she headed in the opposite direction, down toward the bay and the docks, the Coast Guard station. Skirted through a couple of vacant lots, cut across a stand of scraggly-looking pine. She’d almost reached the body shop when she saw Kirby’s truck.
Up the block, on the main road, pulling into the ARCO across the street. Big and red, jacked up and unmissable, probably the dumbest sneaking-around vehicle you could buy. But there he was, stopping at the fuel pumps, climbing out with Dale Whitmer beside him, Dale saying something as he walked past Kirby and into the little store, Kirby popping his gas cap.
Jess tucked away behind a big, gnarly arbutus, knelt down in the shadows and damp, and watched Kirby as he worked the pump. The deputy kept his head moving, eyes scanning the gas station lot and the highway and the body shop, like he was thinking Jess and Burke were dumb enough to see that truck and come running out to meet him.
He looked tired, Jess thought, and though he tried to hide it, she thought he looked worried.
Dale Whitmer, on the other hand, still looked prickly as hell. He came out of the little store with some energy drinks and a pack of Marlboro Reds, his free hand lurking by his holster like he was itching to draw down on some unlucky bastard. Jess had no doubt he would shoot Burke on sight, probably get a little more creative with her, mean son of a bitch that he was, but Dale didn’t scare her.
Neither did Kirby, for that matter.
Kirby finished gassing up as Dale climbed back into the truck. Jess didn’t move, her knees aching, the damp soaking through. A hundred feet more and she’d be at the body shop, have her crack at some fresh wheels and a ride out of town, but she was stuck waiting for Tweedledum and Tweedledickhead to get their butts in gear.
They moved slow but they got there, and eventually Kirby was back in the truck and the truck was fired up and chug-chug-chugging its way out of the gas station lot. This time Kirby aimed the truck toward her, and Jess thought for an instant he’d made her, but he just turned down the road she’d walked up on, cruised it slow. He was past her and had disappeared before she caught her breath back.
She pulled herself up from the dirt. Brushed off her jeans. Came out from behind the arbutus and walked up the road toward the body shop.
Hank’s cousin was a man named Davis. He wasn’t surprised to see Jess.
“Yeah, Hank woke me up about five in the morning,” he said, coming out from behind the service desk and leading her into the shop’s only work bay. “Said you needed a vehicle, and it was imperative that I supply you.”
“I’d appreciate it if you could,” Jess replied. “Something clean and reliable, whatever you’ve got. I just need to get out of this county.”
Davis reached the back of the work bay, a door. He pushed it open, gestured for her to pass through, and she found herself in a little annexed patch of gravel, a half a dozen cars and trucks arrayed before her in various states of repair.
“Got a Plymouth with a couple hundred thousand miles on her, but she still runs pretty good,” Davis said. “How much are you looking to spend?”
“I have five hundred in cash and a Chevy truck that isn’t ready to die yet.” Jess gave the Plymouth a once-over. It wore those two hundred thousand miles plain to see, dented and dappled with mismatched paint and primer spots. It was probably about the ugliest car Jess had ever seen, and she’d served three tours in the fucking Kunar Province.
“If that’s what we’re talking, I can do you a sight better.” Davis motioned her across the gravel patch to a jet-black Chevy Blazer. “Just redid the brakes, and the engine runs fine,” he said. “Hardly any rust underneath. I was going to try and sell it on eBay, but what the hell.”
Jess looked the Blazer over. It was a small SUV, two doors, plenty of room in the back for Lucy. It looked good, looked capable. But it wasn’t going to happen.
“I think I’m better off with the Plymouth,” she said, and she walked back over to the car, hoping it had somehow turned pretty in the time she’d looked away.
It hadn’t.
“That Blazer will get you anywhere you need to go,” Davis said, following her over. “I guarantee it.”
“I know it will.” Jess took Burke’s money from her back pocket. Counted out five hundred-dollar bills and laid them on the hood of the Plymouth, laid the keys to her truck right beside them. “But that truck of mine is kind of a wanted vehicle right now, and if the law finds it before you do, they aren’t giving it back.”
Davis looked down at the money, the keys. “Where’s the truck now?”
“Hidden behind a dumpster,” she said. “One of those old fish plants on Cannery Road.”
Davis stroked his chin. He seemed to be thinking. Finally he came to a conclusion. Reached down, picked up the keys. Slid the money back across to Jess. “You’ll take the Blazer,” he said.
“What?” Jess frowned. “Why? What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know you, Ms. Winslow, but I know what you did in the marines, and I know why you came home.” Davis looked her in the eyes. “And I don’t know what kind of mess you’re into right now, but I do know my cousin, and Hank doesn’t take sides in a fight unless he’s sure it’s the right one. You’ll take the Blazer, and you can keep your money.”
She stared at him. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Consider it a heartfelt ‘Thanks for your service,’” Davis replied. “Now, are you going to let me close this deal so I can find that truck of yours, or what?”