Croc sat in the shotgun seat, his eyes following Boone as he paced back and forth. So far there was no sound coming from Speed in the lavatory. Boone had heard enough noise from Speed Paulsen. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what the neurotic rocker was doing here. The story he’d told about wanting to see Q was a laugh. He’d known Speed and Blaze when they were married and Paulsen was not exactly a caring father.
It was an odd coincidence and Boone was not a man who believed in coincidence.
Croc gave a small bark.
Looking through the coach windshield Boone spotted Angela and Q followed by the hulking mass of Felix, heading to the outlet stores next to the gas station.
The gas station was a big one and around back had room for trucks and buses to purchase diesel fuel and a large parking area where a couple of semis and a touring coach were parked. Boone fired up the coach and pulled it into the parking area. He found a spot near the rear of the lot and shut off the engine. He pulled his phone from his pocket and punched in a number.
“X-Ray? It’s Boone. I need to borrow a tracking device from the coach. Where are they placed? I know you’ve got backups.”
“What’s going on?” X-Ray asked.
“I’m not sure. But I need one. Small, something that can stand up to a little jostling,” he said.
X-Ray told him where he could find what he was looking for and Boone hung up and fished a screwdriver out of one of the drawers in the galley. Kneeling under the sink, he found the device. It was about the size of two pennies glued together. He pried it loose. Boone marveled at X-Ray’s creation. It was amazing to him that he could make something so small, give it an internal power source, and keep it running for days on end.
Speed’s boots were in the sink where Boone had tossed them. With the screwdriver he pried the heel off the right one, hollowed out a small spot with the tool, and inserted the device inside it. He tapped the heel back into place. Croc growled his weird growl then barked his approval.
“I know,” Boone said, “let’s just hope it works.”
Boone opened the lavatory door. To Boone’s everlasting disgust, Speed was sitting on the toilet, his pants down around his ankles.
“Dude!” Speed said. “How about some privacy, man?”
“Want to tell me how you did that with your hands secured behind your back?” Boone asked.
“I’m skinny, man. When you ain’t got hips your pants just slide right down and … and … when you gotta go, you gotta go, man.”
“You’re … you … Just pull your pants up and get out here,” Boone said, backing away from the bathroom door.
“This is harsh, man,” Speed said, emerging a few moments later.
“Good.” Boone took a multi-tool from his pocket and cut the flex-cuffs. He pushed Speed toward the rosewood dining table and he stumbled into a seat. Boone tossed the boots into Speed’s lap. “Get your boots on and get out of here … now,” Boone said.
“What? You can’t be serious, I want to spend …” Speed whined.
“Croc!” Boone said. Croc leaped off the shotgun seat, slowly stalking toward Speed, barking and snarling. It was as if the only thought in his canine mind was ripping out his rock-star throat.
“I’m outta here. Call off that mutt, man!” Speed hollered as he slipped on his boots.
“Croc,” Boone said. The dog sat back on his haunches, eyeing Speed, ready to pounce at the slightest provocation.
“Okay, man,” Speed said. “You can drop me off …”
“Get out now,” Boone said.
“Dude! Come on! It’s pouring down rain out there, man. I can’t do rain, man! Drop me off at the next …”
“Get out,” Boone said.
“Boone, I’m serious, I don’t like rain, and besides you’ve got plenty—”
“Croc!”
“No! No!” Speed shouted. “All right, man, I’m going. Jeez. Harsh, dude.”
He pushed past Boone and made his way to the door and opened it, staring at the pouring rain.
“Dude, you got an umbr—”
“Croc!”
Croc launched himself toward the door. Speed jumped and nearly fell to the pavement but recovered and started running. Boone watched Croc chase him across the parking lot toward the interstate. It looked like it was the most fun Croc had experienced in weeks.
Boone called X-Ray. He found it a little spooky that X-Ray always seemed to answer before Boone even heard the phone ringing.
“You got a signal outside the coach?” Boone asked.
“Yeah, it’s headed east of your location. Pretty quickly, actually,” X-Ray said. “Like something’s chasing it. What is it?”
Boone ignored the question. “Good, do whatever you need to do so we can track that signal on Angela’s laptop and all of our phones. We’re near an outlet mall. Q needs a new phone and you need to clone it so Blaze can call him.”
“I texted Felix to send me a photo of the serial number on the box as soon as he buys it. I’ll have it powered up and ready in no time.”
“Good. Are you still reading the signal outside?”
“Yep, it’s about a half-mile from your location now, next to US 64. What are you tracking, Boone?” X-Ray asked.
“I’m not sure,” Boone said, disconnecting the call. A few minutes later, Croc hopped into the coach through the open door. In his mouth was a plastic bag full of the contents of Q’s pockets. Croc ran out through the door again and a few seconds later returned with Angela’s tattered backpack. A few hours earlier, they had been forced by the terrorists to empty their pockets and leave their stuff behind. After chasing Speed off, Croc must have remembered and hunted it down. Boone was certain that if it were possible, the old dog had a smile on his face.
“Good dog,” Boone said.