They hid behind a little bush near the side of the building where the truck cabs were parked. To Gwen, they were identical—large, hulking machines in uniform whites or blacks.
“Which one is it?”
“We have to check the driver’s door,” Annie whispered.
That was easier said than done. As Tom had predicted, several men were climbing in and out of their cabs, doing inspections or dropping off bags of their belongings. She and Annie had to run, first from the bush to the front of the farthest truck, then from that one to the next and the next. At each one, Annie would pause, crane her head around the driver’s side, then gesture for them to keep going. It was relatively dark outside, but a couple of times Gwen was certain a man inside his truck had seen them. He could have easily been spotted them if he’d glanced outside.
“It’s this one,” Annie finally said.
“How can you tell?”
“You’ll see. But wait a sec—there’s a guy inside the one next to this.”
They were sitting on the balls of their feet as they waited, and the long day was starting to make Gwen quake with fatigue. Finally, Annie turned to her, put a finger on her lips, and gestured for her to follow. They inched around between the two trucks, still stooped, and Annie stopped by the door to the sleeper and pointed. There, under the little American flag on the driver’s door, was a tiny rainbow flag. Gwen grinned back at her and waited for Annie to open the little sleeper door. Annie slid inside a moment later, and Gwen followed, closing the door behind her. She waited a few seconds, catching her breath, and listened, ear pressed to the door. If anyone saw her feet slipping inside, they would probably call out, but she heard no cries of alarm. She scooted back a little, engaged the lock, and then put her back to the door.
Annie had already partially closed the accordion-style plastic curtain between the seats and the bed, leaving it cracked open for the light. The truck sat directly under a streetlight, and it was surprisingly bright with the light reflecting off the windscreen. Annie was sitting with her knees tucked up, almost under her chin, bent awkwardly in half to give Gwen enough room to get in. They had plenty of room to sit upright, but the bed itself was short and narrow, not even as wide or long as a twin. Gwen could hardly picture Tom sleeping in here.
After double-checking that the door behind her was latched and locked, she mimicked Annie’s pose, and the two of them sat facing each other. Gwen immediately felt cramped. With so little room, the toes of her boots touched Annie’s.
“Jesus,” Gwen said. “How the hell does he fit back here?”
“Can’t imagine. He must have to bend in half.”
A little shelf on the right had a footlocker. Gwen slipped the strap of her tool bag off her shoulder and stuffed it into a space next to it. Tom had mentioned snacks, so she opened the locker to peek inside.
“Chips, jerky, some bottled water. Want something?”
Annie shook her head, and Gwen pulled out some water. It was fairly cool, despite sitting in here for God knew how long, and she took a long pull before offering it to Annie.
“Thanks.”
“Well, this is cozy,” Gwen said.
“That’s one word for it. I was thinking it was more like a coffin.”
“Do you want to try to sleep? Who knows how long this’ll take. I’m beat.”
“How? I can barely breathe, let alone sleep.”
Gwen hesitated. “We could lie down. It might be more comfortable that way, anyway.”
“You mean next to each other?”
Gwen laughed. “Of course. What else?”
Annie’s face tightened, her expression anxious, and Gwen waved a hand dismissively. “Sorry. It was just a thought.”
Annie shook her head. “No. You’re right. I don’t think I can sleep, but lying down might be nice. I’d love to get out of these boots, too. They’re a little tight.”
Gwen wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to take off their boots—it would make it harder to run if they had to, but it would be more comfortable. Lying down also presented another problem: her gun. It was still in her coat pocket and would be incredibly uncomfortable to lie on. After a moment’s hesitation, she decided to risk it and shucked off her boots and jacket, cramming them on top of her tool bag. She set Annie’s tiny ones next to hers when she handed them to her. Annie was still clutching her purse, but Gwen didn’t mention it.
“There’s a blanket,” Annie said, pointing.
The mattress was already covered in a thin sheet, and a pillow lay on Annie’s end of the bed. Gwen grabbed the blanket, and the two of them maneuvered awkwardly until they were lying down, facing each other. Annie had pushed herself as far away from her as possible, her back against the curtain that hung between the bed and the seats, but they were barely a few inches apart. Annie still seemed tense, rigid, clasping the purse next to her chest.
“Now, this is cozy,” Gwen said, trying to ease the tension.
Annie gave her a weak smile, not meeting her eyes.
“Do you want the blanket?”
Annie nodded, still looking away.
Gwen sat up a little and flapped the folded blanket a few times to release it, tucking it down around their legs before lying down and settling it over them. It was a heavy flannel, and she felt almost instantly warmer. It was surprisingly cold in here.
“Better?”
Annie nodded, her eyes meeting hers briefly. “Better.”
Gwen took the opportunity to examine Annie up close. She knew Annie could see her staring at her, but she continued anyway. Here, inches away, Gwen could see the beginnings of tiny lines at the corners of her eyes and around her mouth. She was older than Gwen had first assumed—maybe early to mid-thirties instead of in her twenties. She had one of those young faces. Being small like she was added to her youthfulness. Now, without makeup and with her hair still loose and wild, she could still have passed for almost any age between eighteen and forty.
Annie finally met her eyes, her expression almost angry. “What are you staring at?”
“You.”
Annie flushed and opened her mouth a few times, fish-like, clearly at a loss for a reply.
Gwen laughed. “Can’t I look at a pretty woman?”
“N-no!” Annie sputtered.
Gwen couldn’t help but goad her. “Why not?”
“Because I said so!”
“Ah, I see.” Gwen closed her eyes. “Is this better?”
“Yes,” she said, but she sounded uncertain.
They were quiet long enough that Gwen found herself starting to drift off. She was facing the gap between the curtains, so the light outside was full on her face, but she was so tired it didn’t bother her. It would likely be a long time before she was in a bed again—hours, at least, so a little catnap might be just the thing.
“Gwen?”
She opened her eyes. Annie had inched a little closer, and her body had lost some of its tension.
“Hmmm?”
“I’m sorry. I’m not used to—”
“It’s okay. No need to apologize. I was teasing you.”
“I know. I’m sorry I overreacted.”
Gwen nodded and closed her eyes again, tugged toward sleep almost at once.
“Gwen?”
Annie looked, if possible, even closer than before. Gwen blinked a few times, stretched, and rubbed her face, trying to focus and wake up.
“Yes?”
“Where were you going today? When you picked me up? I mean, where were you headed?”
Gwen saw no reason to lie. “Los Angeles.”
“Why?”
“A client fired me this morning.”
“Oh. You were working here in Texas?”
“Sort of. The main office is in California, but I have to travel all the time. I was in Austin for a few months helping out.”
“Is that where you’re from? California?”
Gwen shook her head. “Colorado, originally. I still sort of live there, sometimes.”
“Sounds complicated.”
“It is.”
“So you were fired from a job, but not fired altogether.”
“Exactly. But my boss might fire me altogether when I get back to LA. This isn’t my first fuckup.”
“Sorry.”
Gwen shrugged. “It’s okay. It might be a good thing. I’ve been in this line of work too long. Starting to lose my edge.”
“As a car thief,” Annie said.
Gwen laughed. “No—that’s incidental.” She paused, realizing once again that she didn’t need to lie. “Stealing cars isn’t really part of the job. Officially, anyway. I’m a PI.”
“Oh!” Annie said, eyebrows shooting up.
“Not what you expected?”
“No, but it makes sense, now.”
They were quiet for a while, and once again, Gwen didn’t bother to fight her sleepiness, her eyes dropping closed almost of their own accord. She heard Annie scooting around a little, and the blanket was twitched off her, so she made herself open her eyes. Annie had gotten up on her elbow.
“Something wrong?”
“A handle back here, for the curtain—it’s poking my back.”
Gwen sat up. The curtain had two plastic handles, one for each side. She reached behind Annie to try to move it a little, but it was firmly attached.
“You’ll have to turn around,” she said.
“What?”
“Like spoons,” Gwen responded, grinning.
Annie shook her head. “No—that’s okay. Maybe I can put something over the handle—pad it, or something.”
“Suit yourself.”
Gwen lay down and closed her eyes again. Annie scooched closer, their legs almost flush, and then she sighed, and Gwen felt her sit up entirely. She opened her eyes and watched Annie put her purse on top of their other belongings before she turned, twisted around, and lay down, moving back into Gwen. Gwen kept her arm up on her side a few seconds longer before letting it drop down over Annie, who tensed and then relaxed.
“See! Much better,” Gwen said. “In a bed this small, spoons are the only way to go.”
“Sounds like you have a lot of experience with small beds.”
“My dorm bed wasn’t much bigger than this.”
“Your roommate must have loved that.”
“I think she did—she was the one in bed with me.”
Annie didn’t respond, and Gwen could have kicked herself. It was one thing to flirt and flatter, but she hadn’t actually come out until now. Still, Annie didn’t move away or tense up again, so that was a good sign. Judging from her choice of bars in El Paso and her behavior there, Gwen was more than certain Annie was gay or bi—that act in there had been a little too practiced, too natural, as if she’d been on a date there before. She’d noticed other, less obvious signs all day today, and Gwen had fairly accurate gaydar. And even if Annie didn’t swing her way, cuddling in this little bed together clearly didn’t repulse her. In fact, at least for Gwen, it was pleasant—comforting, really.
They were both dozing when Tom climbed inside. He slammed the truck door and, speaking almost under his breath, said, “The trailer is finally loaded. I’m moving over to hook up. There’ll be some final inspections, and then we’ll be on the road—twenty, thirty minutes. I’ll close the curtain the rest of the way when I get out. My boss will pop in to check the mileage and the brake lights.”
Neither of them replied, and the truck rumbled to life a moment later. They were insulated from the engine a little by distance, but Gwen was surprised by how loud it seemed. The bed was shaking, and she was reminded of road trips to Phoenix as a child. Once, her family had stopped at a motel somewhere in New Mexico, and the bed she shared with her brother had something called Magic Fingers. They’d spent the evening begging their parents for dimes and giggling as the bed shook them hard enough to rattle their teeth.
The truck shifted into reverse, and Tom slowly backed up, a loud beeping alarm announcing the move. Eventually, they moved forward, then backed up once more. Tom closed the curtain, plunging them into darkness, but he left the truck on when he got out. Soon Gwen heard and felt as the trailer was attached. Something slammed into place, jarring them, and shouts came from behind the wall of the cabin outside. The men’s voices, laughing and calling to each other, were too indistinct to catch any words, but she could occasionally make out Tom’s voice in the hubbub.
The driver’s door opened again, and a stranger was laughing as he climbed inside. Annie tensed under her arm, and both of them held their breath.
“—You old son of bitch! Let’s see what we have here,” the man was saying. Gwen heard the sound of a pen scribbling something. She heard something else—movement of some kind. “How’s that?” the man shouted. He turned off the engine and climbed out again, slamming the door behind him.
Gwen let out her breath and heard Annie do the same. “I think we’re going to be okay,” she whispered. Annie didn’t reply.
The wait seemed endless. Gwen could only imagine that they were doing some kind of inspection out there, as nothing seemed to happen for a long time. After what seemed like hours, the driver’s door opened again, and the cabin shifted a little with, she hoped, Tom’s weight. He closed the door, the truck thundered to life, and then they were moving, slowly at first, turning at one point, and then with more and more speed.
“Stay quiet a little longer back there,” Tom said. “My boss said one of the other drivers hit a police barricade outside of town. Let’s hope they’re just doing visual inspections.”
It wasn’t long before she felt the truck slow again. “In line at the barricade now,” Tom said. “Doesn’t look too bad—maybe ten or fifteen cars and trucks in front of me.”
Annie was trembling in her arms, and Gwen gave her a reassuring squeeze. Gwen closed her eyes, inhaling deeply and catching the hint of something flowery and sweet in Annie’s hair. Despite the prison break this morning, she had apparently taken the time to wash it before she left.
The waiting was worse this time. The truck would move a few feet, stop, and then move again, and each time it did, Gwen wondered if this was the end. If the police did any kind of inspection beyond a very casual visual check of the main cabin, they’d be caught. If they had dogs, for example, or if they asked to check back here, they wouldn’t be able to do a thing. Who would she call after she was arrested?
The investigations firm she worked for kept a lawyer on call—she’d had to contact him herself a few times—but she wasn’t sure they’d let her use him for something like this. She had some money saved, so she could hire someone, but she had no idea how to go about it. Tom would be in trouble, too, and as for Annie, she would probably be back in prison by daybreak. All of this was starting to seem like the stupidest idea of all time. The fact that the woman Annie spoke to on the phone had suggested it did nothing to ease her mind.
The truck crept forward again, the brakes and transmission hissing in protest. This time, Gwen heard the window roll down.
“Hello there, Officers,” Tom said. “How’s it going?”
The truck shifted as someone climbed up on the step to look inside. She saw a flash of light on the other side of the curtain as it swept the cabin.
“Fine,” a woman said. “Where are you headed?”
“Albuquerque first, then up into Colorado and Wyoming—Denver, Cheyenne, and a few other stops.”
“Can I see your permits and inspection logs?”
“Sure.”
Gwen heard some rustling and pages were turned.
“Here you go,” the woman said, and stepped down again. “Have a good night. Drive safe.”
“Thanks, Officer.”
They were moving soon after, and again, Annie was shuddering in her arms. Gwen heard her sob.
“Shh,” Gwen whispered. “We’re okay now.”
“I can’t b-believe it,” Annie said, her voice choked and almost indecipherable.
“It’s going to be okay. We’re safe.”
Annie turned, hugging her tightly, and, after her initial surprise, Gwen hugged her back, running her hands in little circles on Annie’s shoulders and making soothing sounds.
“You ladies okay back there?” Tom called.
“We’re fine,” Gwen said. Annie was still crying.
“I want to make some miles before I drop you off, if that’s okay. It might be better for you to wait until right before my first stop in Albuquerque. I could leave you at a motel or something.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“You guys want some light?”
Gwen felt Annie shake her head under her chin. “No—we’re good. Gonna try to catch some shut-eye. Long day.”
“No problem. I’ll wake you up in couple of hours when we’re closer.”
Gwen was afraid Annie would cry the whole time, but it wasn’t long before the tension seemed to suddenly leave her body. A few minutes later, she was breathing deeply, almost as if someone had turned off a switch.
Gwen thought she’d be forced to stay up, her nerves still jangling with spent adrenaline, but she drifted off almost at once, the delicate scent of Annie’s hair filling her, comforting her.