| |
The state highway wound through the rural countryside. Bones stretched his nearly six-foot-six frame within the rented white SUV and turned to Maddock.
“You about done counting barns?”
Maddock shot a confused, blue-eyed glance at his friend. “What are you talking about?”
“We’re over an hour northeast of Wright Patterson Air Force Base, cruising past the thirty-seventh barn. I figure you’ve given up on the treasure hunt and are scoping out the farmer’s daughters.”
Maddock smirked. “You must’ve dozed off. We’re up to thirty-nine barns.”
“Not my fault. You were listening to Gordon freaking Lightfoot. I didn’t know anyone actually owned his music.”
“Hey, my dad loved Gordon Lighfoot.”
“And that’s fine for your dad. But you aren’t old enough for the early bird special at iHop, no matter how hard you try to act like a grandma.”
“This should help.” Maddock disconnected his phone from the car stereo, turned on the radio, and scanned the channels until he found a country station. It was one of those generic, modern country songs, a random male singing about his girl, his truck, and the moonlight.
Bones covered his ears. “I surrender. You know my Kryptonite.” He reached over and scanned over to a hard rock station. “The only country music I’ll listen to is Willie Nelson, mostly because dude knows how to party, and that one by David Allan Coe.”
Maddock chuckled as he took the SUV into a curve cut into a hillside. “We’re almost there.”
Bones glanced at the sign. “Podunkville, Ohio. Population, Maddock’s IQ—holy crap!”
The warning came a fraction of a second after Maddock perceived the oncoming danger. Some idiot in a red pickup truck was in his lane, trying to pass a Chevy Cruze.
Travelling at 60 miles per hour, Maddock evaluated his options in a fraction of a second: Slam on the brakes and hope to survive the head-on impact. Veer right and almost certainly descend into a rollover crash ending either against one of the stout maples littering the steep hillside, or settling in the soybean field sixty feet below. Or the only viable option.
Maddock cut left, crossing in front of the oncoming Cruze. The sedan missed the Ford Explorer’s rear bumper by inches. Belatedly the Cruze’s driver slammed on his brakes, tires screeched and horn blasted. The red pickup truck didn’t even slow down.
Angling his SUV up the hillside, Maddock fought the wheel while the rugged terrain abused both the tires and the front suspension system. Branches slapped against the windshield and driver’s side mirror as he threaded the vehicle between a pair of white pines.
Maddock tapped the brakes, hoping the weeds and tangled brambles weren’t hiding any fallen logs, boulders or deep furrows. He had another decision to make while maneuvering between a pair of maple saplings. Fifty feet ahead stood a line of pines. He still had too much speed to stop in time. He might be able to fit his vehicle between two of them. But, within thirty feet, the hillside shifted from a thirty to a fifty-degree climb. The rented SUV wasn’t a real off-road vehicle, leaving him little confidence his ride could handle it. Realizing his only option, Maddock hauled the wheel back to the right.
His hand clamped on the bouncing vehicle’s grab handle, Bones kept quiet. Any suggestions would be useless by the time they reached Maddock’s ears. The smart bet was to count on his partner’s experience and split-second reactions.
The SUV careened back down the hillside, branches from another pine whipping across the windshield and driver’s side mirror. The rough ride and Maddock’s judicious use of the brakes had bled off most of the vehicle’s speed. That assisted his maintaining control as the vehicle thumped and bounced across the uneven ground near the road’s shoulder.
Maddock spotted a blue sports car approaching along the inside lane. He gunned the Explorer’s V-6 engine. The car rental agency hadn’t had anything more powerful available. Maddock turned the wheel, playing the hand he was dealt. His white Explorer bounded onto the road in front of the blue Camaro. Maddock made it to the original far lane with less than a yard to spare, the SUV’s passenger side wheels skidding on the narrow shoulder’s gravel.
Bones casually glanced out the window, feeling the vehicle lean heavily to the right, being rather top-heavy for such a maneuver.
The Camaro driver sounded his horn, but continued on his way, nearly rear-ending the Cruze, only beginning to pick up speed.
Maddock regained full control and eased back onto the state route, stepping on the accelerator.
“Did you opt for the full insurance?” Bones asked. “Because this thing’s gonna need detailing and an alignment.”
Maddock laughed, feeling the adrenalin rush fade. “Did you get that truck’s plate number?”
“No.” Bones scowled. “But I did notice that he’s a Steelers fan.”
Maddock nodded. He’d seen the tattered ball cap through the windshield as well. “More rust than red paint. Probably a dozen in this county just like it.”
“So, what do you think the big secret is that Paris’ aunt is keeping?”
After passing a Chevy dealership, Maddock braked and flipped on the left turn signal. “I don’t know. I just hope she really is willing to share. Otherwise it’s been a wasted trip.”
Bones observed the sign posted in front of the parking lot where Maddock was turning their SUV into. Mallard Creek Care. A nursing home.
“Behave yourself in there, Maddock. I know that some guys go for cougars, but I think they discourage visitors hooking up with the residents.”