THIRTY-NINE

Car doors slammed. Sheriff Jones and Deputy West weren’t wasting any time. I gathered Jones didn’t know who occupied our Camry when he barked his hands-up orders. Otherwise he’d have called us something a tetch more colorful than “driver” and “passenger.” Sun reflecting off our car’s tinted windshield plus the brown smog we’d manufactured were the only reasons we’d been granted a brief reprieve. Any minute Jones would figure out which varmints he’d caught in his trap.

Mollye’s hands fluttered above her head. “What are you doing?” she squawked, tilting her head forward to peek around her arm. “Put your hands up or they’ll plug us!”

“Shhh. I only need a sec. They won’t shoot us in your car. Too big a coincidence to have two car hijackings gone bad. They’ll take us somewhere private.”

Mollye awarded me a black look. Pretty obvious my prediction hadn’t made her feel safe and cozy.

“That SOS you had me send won’t do us a bit of good if my phone’s off, but we’ll be in a worse fix if the sheriff hears it ring. I’m putting it on vibrate.”

Jones looked like a Neanderthal and West looked enough like a wraith to play the part of Death. I held my breath as they lumbered to within five feet of our bumper. Both men squinted as they tried to peer through the windshield’s glare.

“Damn you, Brie Hooker, put your hands over your head.”

Moldy Munster, a positive ID. Now I understood what the phrase “heart in your throat” meant. My ticker pumped blood so fast the veins in my neck twitched like hopped-up junkies. I couldn’t swallow.

They’d search us. Tear our car apart. They’d find the receivers. Not a doubt in the world. They’d go back and search Victor’s car for a bug. They’d know we’d watched and listened.

Think. No way to hide the receivers, but I couldn’t let them find my cell phone.

Ah ha! Light bulb lit. Good old Dad. He told me one of the cop instructors at the Writers’ Police Academy said he learned the hard way where girl gangbangers hid knives. Snug in their undies. A place no man would pat if his mama had pounded a speck of decency in him. Parking a cell “down under” seemed infinitely less perilous than hiding a switchblade near my privates.

Mollye’s eyes widened as she watched me suck in my tummy, pry open my slacks and undies, and clear a silken chute for my contraband. Thank goodness, I didn’t go for thongs. And I’d thought insidious discomfort was the only reason not to wear them.

I shimmied my iPhone down, down, down until I wriggled it in place. Cold. Yeehaw! Glad I hadn’t upgraded to a newer, beefier model. I needed to walk with my pant-a-phone in place. Uh-oh. What if Andy or Paint rang me back? I’d seen a vibrating phone walk itself off a table. Sitting I’d have no problem. But what if a call came in while I was standing? Could it shimmy its way out of my drawers?

“Hooker, did you hear me? Hands up, or I swear I’ll shoot.”

My hands shot up. I mimicked Mollye’s waving routine, making certain my empty hands caught Jones’ eye.

Guns drawn, the sheriff and Deputy West bracketed our car. Jones took my side; West the driver’s side. Our doors yanked open in unison.

“Out!” Jones yelled.

West herded Mollye over to my side of the car. The sheriff kept his gun trained on us while the deputy patted us down. I figured if West could look the other way while Jones gunned down friends, he wasn’t above copping a feel. Still I counted on his need to hurry. The deputy’s bony fingers ran down my ribcage and up the inside of my thighs, but stopped short of cell phone territory. Fortunately, there’d been no pulsing phone calls to alert West to the presence of my contraband.

“Cuff ’em,” Jones ordered. “Put ’em in the Camry and drive ’em back up the hill. I’ll be along. Need to have a little chat with Max first.”

Who was Max? Another rotten deputy? Last thing we needed was one more villain.

“What you gonna tell him?” West asked. “Max’ll wonder why we didn’t follow him into the lot after we got that anonymous tip about a carjacking.”

“Got it handled. I’ll say we stopped these folks, thinking they might be involved or potential witnesses. Once we discovered they were out-of-towners, I asked you to ride back up the hill with them and take their statements. Doubt Max’ll even wonder what out-of-towners were doing on a dirt road to nowhere. If he asks, I’ll think of something.”

West nodded. “Got it.”

“While you’re waiting for me, search the girls’ car. Take out the seats if you have to. Make sure there’s nothing to come back on us. But remember, we need the car later. Everything’s gotta go back nice and neat.”

A chill slithered down my spine. Whatever Jones had in mind, it didn’t sound like we’d be around to refute his version of our meet-and-greet. There’d been so many murders, I didn’t think he’d risk shooting us. My bet? Mollye and I would have an “accident.” Our car would plunge over a cliff.

“Inside.” West shoved Mollye toward the Camry’s backseat. She tried to scoot to make room for me but didn’t make it past the middle hump. I squeezed in beside her. The front seats were reclined so far our knees grazed the seat backs.

Mollye’s cuffed hands found mine. A tear dribbled down her cheek. I wanted to give her hope, assure her all was not lost.

The vibrating gizmo below grabbed my attention. An incoming call. Was it Andy? Paint? Mom? I could only hope. No way to answer.

With West sitting in the front seat, I couldn’t risk even whispered conversation. I mouthed the word “Posse.” She nodded, but none of the worry left her face. My mind flitted across all the things she may have thought I said. None were good, and one was naughty.

When we reached the barn at the top of the hill, the deputy opened the Camry’s back door, ordered us out, and marched us inside the decrepit structure.

“Sit over there.” He pointed at a post in the middle of the barn. “Put your backs against the post.”

We sat. He unsnapped Mollye’s right cuff and my spirits soared. Was he freeing our hands? Then he clicked the just-freed cuff around my wrist. My hopes dashed. He undid one end of my steel bracelet and attached it to Mollye’s free wrist. We were now linked arm and arm with the rough wood post in the center.

“It’s all your fault, you know?” The deputy’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “You just couldn’t leave well enough alone. You shoulda got the message when I bumped your preppie car into that ditch. Or when the sheriff paid the Nelsons to torch your barn. But no. You just had to push it. You’ve sealed your fate with Robbie. He’ll never let you go now.”

Neither Mollye nor I spoke until West’s backside disappeared outside the barn.

“What were you mouthing at me? Police?” Mollye whispered.

Police. Of course she’d have thought police. “No. Posse. Someone’s been phoning me. Could be Mom, but I’m hoping that tracker app really works, and Andy or Paint got our SOS. If so, they’d know we’d answer if we could. I’m praying they’ll just send help. Otherwise I need to be scared for them and us.”

“What about your mom?” Mollye asked. “What’ll she do when she gets your message?”

“What can she do? Call the state police, but she has no clue where we are. Too bad your psychic skills don’t include telepathy.”

“I wish. I’ve been directing all my mental energies to making a bucket list and figuring out if there was anything I could cross off while handcuffed. Only thought of one. If I go, I want to take Jones or West with me.”

“It’s not over, Mollye. Keep your eyes open for opportunities. Anything to delay Jones’ plans. Anything to buy time.”

Mollye sighed. “You’re thinking car accident, right? Bet they pour alcohol down our throats or shoot us up with some confiscated drugs. Make it look like it’s our fault. Wild women come to a bad end.”

Fried pork rinds, my mind hadn’t gone that far. I only figured “accident.” Didn’t consider that Jones might try to make it look like we were to blame. More heartache for our loved ones.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

They’d pushed me back to my old curse vocabulary. Cheeses and processed meats simply wouldn’t cut it.

No way would I let those scumbags get away with making us look like druggies in death.