9

 

Cora headed home in the hectic rush hour traffic. A Valley Metro bus pulled up beside her at the stoplight, and blocked her view of the exit sign ahead. Her eyes frantically searched the area. Convinced this was her turn, she flipped on her signal in anticipation.

“I hate driving in heavy traffic,” she grumbled. “Now, Mr. Metro bus, if you’ll let me get over, I’ll be all set.”

The bus driver motioned to her. She pulled into the turn-only lane in front of him, and waved a thank you. Cora saw the exit sign. She gulped and an iron weight fell on her shoulders. I-10 E. This wasn’t right. It was one turn too soon. Fear, combined with worry, quickly knotted inside. Her head began to ache. “It’s too late,” she cried. She was headed for the wrong freeway and couldn’t turn back.

Heavy traffic clamored around her which made it impossible to change lanes. Road signs whizzed past and not a single one mentioned Saguaro Valley. Where was she, anyway?

Both lanes slowed and finally came to a standstill. Cora could see red lights flashing in the distance surrounding an overturned semi. This had all the earmarks of a long wait. She put the car in park, but kept it running for the air conditioner.

With a heavy heart, she mulled over the day’s erratic events. She left home early in order to get a break, however, her worries had more than tripled. Now, this new wrinkle topped it all. Would she be able to turn around and get home before dark? Ed must be pacing the floor.

She reached for her cell phone. No signal. There was nothing more she could do at this point. The cell phone was his idea. He’d just have to pace.

Cora groped in the glove compartment to retrieve the Phoenix area map. Maybe she could find her location. Feverishly, she poked her hand deeper into the compartment. Where was it? A flashlight loudly thumped to the floor quickly followed by a bulky pair of wrap-around sunglasses. She grabbed a handful of golf pencils along with wad of restaurant napkins. The glove compartment was now empty except for the diver’s manual and a lone straw. Everything else lay heaped on the passenger seat. Cora remembered marking the route in yellow, and was sure she’d put the map back in the glove box. Had she dropped it in her haste to escape Ed’s third degree? Her impatience intensified. Cora growled and stuffed the motley mix back into their cramped confinement.

She slammed the compartment door shut and angrily began to second-guess herself. Her hand searched the pockets on the doors. The map had to be there somewhere. Maybe it was in the back.

When she turned in her seat, she caught a glimpse of the growing string of vehicles lined up at least a mile behind her. She appreciated being near the front of this untimely parade.

Her appreciation quickly waned as a rhythmic beat emanated from the car next to her.

The grizzled, unshaven driver sported a pencil thin braid down his back. Obviously, the man was a remnant from the flower-power generation. He joyfully convulsed in sync with the vibrating noises, which had to register at least a point four on the Richter scale.

It had to be his favorite song since he played it for twenty minutes. Even then, the only recognizable words were: gotta have peace, gotta have peace.

How could a body find a smattering of peace with that racket?

The monotonous pounding droned nonstop. She’d reached her limit of harsh boom-diddy-booms, yet, was surprised when the repetitious lyrics got to her. The words emphasized her need for the peace that seemed to elude her.

The verse she memorized as a child came back to her. John 14:27. Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, I give unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid. She turned on the radio to ignore the Voice, and cranked up the volume—to point five on the Richter scale.

A calm voice came from the radio and flooded the Lincoln. “When we place our worries and concerns into God’s hands, He faithfully rewards us with His magnificent peace.”

Cora turned the radio off and then covered her face with trembling hands. If only she could believe that once more. For two years she’d turned her back on God. Would He hear her cry? Even after all this time? The Holy Spirit was wearing away her resolve. A tear fell onto her wrist as she whispered, “Help my disbelief.”

The cars in front of her inched forward. The accident scene took nearly an hour to clear. Cora was relieved to finally escape the head-throbbing rock music. However, she couldn’t dodge the Holy Spirit.

The flow of cars and trucks eventually thinned. She’d turn at the next exit. There had to be a place to get directions. Cora’s stiff hands gripped the steering wheel as tightly as possible. The minutes dragged and seemed like hours.

The lush foothills yielded to monotonous desert terrain. On every side of her, diverse varieties of cactus intermingled with a scattering of mesquite and creosote bushes. Scraggly underbrush had joined with free blowing tumbleweeds. Isolated, withered, forsaken. Like her life since Vanessa’s death.

I’ve promised never to leave you, nor forsake you, Cora.

The scorching heat waned as the sun descended on the horizon. Tears spilled down her cheeks as a magnificent display of taupe, red-orange, and mauve filled the western sky.

Cora sniffed. Her heart longed to reach out to God’s promise, but her mind still wasn’t convinced. She leaned over and fumbled for a tissue. The car swerved and interrupted her concentration, and the crucial off-ramp whizzed by. She decided to make a U-turn. However, as she looked into the rearview mirror, the three roaring semis on her tail helped her reevaluate.

Several miles passed before another exit sign was visible. She successfully turned off the active freeway, and her tires hit the slow-down rumble strips of the sloping ramp. The speed of the pulsating Lincoln slowed. Relieved at her return to civilization, Cora pulled into the parking lot of a gas station and convenience store. Two big floodlights illuminated the area.

Cora entered the store. A youthful attendant stood on a small step stool, to fill the soda fountain with ice. Cora stood in his line of vision. “Excuse me, young man. I’m on my way home from Phoenix and trying to get to Saguaro Valley. Am I close?”

“Saguaro Valley?” He pushed up the bill of his cap. “Never heard of it. Is it in Mexico?”

“Mexico? No, it’s near Phoenix.”

“Wow, lady, you’re not even close.” He shook his head. Water dripped down his arm as he continued to fill the machine. “The huge sign for the Mexican border should’ve clued you in.”

There was a sign? Good thing she stopped for directions before being frisked by the border cops and snuffled by guard dogs.

“I didn’t know I was that lost.” She lifted her hands from the counter and momentarily pressed them onto her aching temples. This was one more secret to keep from Ed. “Could you help me, please?” she asked the young man. “I lost my map and took the wrong exit.”

“Just a minute. Let me finish what I’m doin’.” The young man wiped his hands on his ripped jeans as he stepped off the stool. He pulled an Arizona map from under the counter and looked at the list of cities and towns. “Hey! There really is a Saguaro Valley. OK, first, you want to get back on Sasabe Highway and go about ten or twelve miles until—”

Cora held up her hand to stop him. “Wait. Could you give it to me in landmarks? I don’t know my directions very well.” She pulled a napkin from a nearby dispenser, and prepared to jot down the information.

He huffed. “I can get you to the Interstate, but after that you’re on your own with the landmarks, grandma.” The smart-alecky kid pointed outside. “OK, see this road right here?”

Cora nodded, and felt a surge of vexation at his condescending tone.

“Go that way until you come to the Bacadillo Hut. Hang a right at the light and that will get you back on the highway. Got that? Now, take the...” he paused to count. “Take the fourth exit, no wait, make that the fifth exit, then turn left. That road will take you right to I-10 which should take you close to Saguaro Valley.” He looked up with a smirk and added. “Eventually.”

“Bacadillo Hut. Got it. Now, what was the rest?”

He took the napkin and scrawled the directions as he mumbled, “Old people shouldn’t be allowed to drive.”

At that point, Cora couldn’t have agreed more. Wearied, she thanked the impertinent teenager, grabbed the napkin and hurried to her car. She drove off. At least she could make it to the Bacadillo Hut with no problem. After that, who knew?

She unwrinkled the makeshift map and read out loud. “Right at light. Boy, Junior. I hope you know what you’re talking about and not sending this old lady on a wild goose chase.”

A Bucket o’ Cluck restaurant and a few specialty shops were located by the highway’s on- and off-ramps. She was finally headed in the right direction. Cora breathed a little easier and relaxed. She adjusted the rearview mirror to block the glaring, uneven headlights of the car behind her.

Mile after mile, she cautiously ventured deeper into the low hills. The terrain continued to change as the hills became more prominent. It was so late. Why hadn’t she called Ed back at that convenience store when she had the chance? He was probably worried sick about her.

A sign came into view. “Iguana Bend!” she shouted. “I know where I am now.” That’s where she visited Letitia in the local heart center. Encouragement lifted her spirits.

New housing developments had sprung up, hiding the old landmarks she had once relied upon. Before long, she came to a recognizable stretch of road. Almost home.

The relief was short-lived.

A quick and disturbing thought continued to plague her as she glanced into the rearview mirror. It was crazy, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that the same dark car with misaligned halogen headlights had followed her for several miles.

Cora slowed so the car could pass. It slowed, too. She picked up speed, and it kept pace with her. Uh-oh. Was he really following her or was this her overactive imagination kicking into high gear?

A sudden turn onto a side road with the mysterious car in hot pursuit brought the truth home. His brights flashed and momentarily blinded her. Phantom stalker, indeed! The malicious driver pulled up close behind her, only inches from her car. A jolt rocked her as his car made contact. Once, then twice. His horn blared.

Did he expect her to pull over? In the middle of nowhere?

“Not on your life, weirdo. There have been too many people on my phone, in my house, and in my dresser.”

Dahlia’s advice echoed in her ears. “It’s time to stop bein’ the victim.”

Temper forced her usually timid disposition to change. It was either fight or flight. Cora chose both. With empowerment, determination, and adrenaline pumping, she sped up to put some distance between them. Under normal circumstances she’d never drive at this perilous speed.

The chase continued for another two miles. Cora had to keep her wits about her. It would be too dangerous to be isolated off the main road with a maniac on her bumper. She peered into the mirror again. The vehicle had fallen back considerably.

As the Lincoln rounded a curve, Cora could see a small house in the distance. If she turned her lights off and backed into the darkened driveway, the unshakable predator might not notice her and drive by.

Wow! Where’d that thought come from? It didn’t matter…she was going to do it. Cora stepped on the accelerator to widen the gap more. Then, she approached the house, killed her lights and backed into the private drive. She parked the Lincoln beside another car, and waited.

At long last, the maniac’s car zipped past. She sighed. Now was her opportunity to make a beeline back to town. Cora turned on the lights and stomped on the gas. Tires burned rubber. Her car fishtailed on the gravel as it turned onto the road. She hung on to the steering wheel and fought to bring it back under control without losing speed.

“I did it! I did it!” she yelled out loud, and basked in her own glory. “I can take care of myself.” The exhilaration of the moment spurred her on. She drew a deep breath, and loosened her death grip on the steering wheel.

However, several minutes later, Cora’s glory-basking moments dissipated as the intimidating lights crept up on her again. A moan escaped her lips. What would she do if he stayed on her tail?

Another idea came to mind as Cora approached the main drag. Her heart pounded as she pulled into the drive-thru lane at the Grill-n-Chill Root Beer stand.

Tires screeched and a horn blared. Cora twisted in her seat. The stalker’s car tried to nose ahead of a van that pulled in behind her. He’d found her.

There she was, stuck in the drive-thru lane. She couldn’t get out of the car now even if she wanted. Several cars snaked around the building. Her side mirror revealed the damaged fender of the pursuer’s car. Well, duh, of course, it was. He’d rammed into her a few miles back.

The Lincoln inched forward so she could get a better view of the car. Dark blue. Ah-ha! Another clue. The only dark blue car she knew belonged to kindhearted Dr. Sam. She shook her head. Preposterous.

She zipped right past the squawking speaker that asked for her order and pulled up to the pick-up window. Without hesitation, Cora rolled her window down.

The lady poked her head out. “You didn’t give us your order, ma’am. Would you like our Quarter Pound Slimer or our new Double Chubby Cluck?”

“No-no-no! I need directions to the police station.”

“I’m not good with directions. I’ll have to ask the manager. Hold on a sec.”

The lady left. Cora anxiously tapped her left foot on the floorboard. She readjusted the side mirror, to focus on the drive-thru window and the honking vehicle two cars behind.

A few moments later, an older man with a stained apron leaned out. He rested his burly forearm on the frame and turned his attention to Cora. “I’m Max. Now, what can I do for you?”

“Directions to the police station, please.”

“No problem. Go on Bilger to the second stop light.” The store manager grunted and leaned out the window. “Will ya stop blowing that stupid horn, before I make ya eat it?” He looked at Cora. “Where was I? Oh, yeah, Bilger. Then turn east and go five blocks.

“There’s a small bridge you go over on Braddock and then go straight to where the old high school used to be. That’ll be Bradford. Now, Bradford is divided so you have to go around the water filtration plant. The police station is the big building on the south side of the street.”

Cora was once again lost in the jumble of testosterone-laced directions.

“Can’t miss it,” he added with a wink and a smile.

Wanna bet? With an uneasy gulp and an anemic smile, Cora thanked the man. Logic told her the previous ten minutes had been a total waste. She sped out of the restaurant’s drive, onto Bilger Street, and swerved to the right so there would be no need to brake. The dark car pulled out from behind the van to follow her.

This was no time for fear to take over. Cora risked a backward glance. Her clammy hands strangled the steering wheel as she impulsively raced through an intersection on a yellow light. Forced to stop at the second corner, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

Eerie halogen headlights gleamed in her side mirror from a few cars behind. Her stomach plummeted. In spite of the red light, her foot stomped on the accelerator full force. The Lincoln shot across two lanes of traffic. Angry drivers blasted her with a cacophony of horns. Two blocks later, she made a hard right turn, much to the annoyance of a livid taxi driver who shook his fist.

The previous ninety seconds were a blur. It was as though someone else had control of the car. She shivered.

The access to a strip mall was conveniently on her right, and Cora made a sharp turn to enter. Maybe she could get a signal on her cell phone to call Ed. Her heart sank. The parking lot was nearly empty and the store windows were dark. With the stalker only one stop light behind, she was desperate to find a place to hide the Lincoln. Cora drove to the back of the mall and jerked the car to a stop between a maxed-out dumpster and a delivery truck.

Ten minutes should be enough time for Marvin Maniac to pass by. Apprehension, mixed with sporadic headiness from the narrow escapes, made her tremble.

The mouth-watering pictures on the truck grabbed her attention. Oooh, Dolly McElf snacks! Her stomach growled and reminded her it had been nine hours since lunch. She turned off the lights and cut the engine, and dreamed of wolfing down a box or two of ooey-gooey, golden Twinkle Cakes. Focus, Cora. Focus.

She should’ve ordered a Slimer at the Grill-n-Chill, and why didn’t she have sense to tell the manager to call the police instead of asking for directions? Lost, alone and hungry, Cora buried her head in her arms and sobbed. She had to get home.

Several minutes passed as she put time between her and the dark car. Both physically and mentally drained, Cora sighed and wiped her eyes and nose. She scanned the area. No off-kilter lights. She slipped out of her hidey-hole.

The rest of the trip home proved uneventful, although she continued her vigil for vivid blue headlights. Cora turned into the cul-de-sac. She pulled into her driveway, took a long, deep breath and slowly exhaled. Home at last.

Without warning, blue lights glared from across the street, and brazenly pierced the darkness.

Cora screamed and desperately jabbed the garage door opener. The door went half way up, lurched, and came back down. Up, down. Up. She waited for the garage door to fully open, then pounded on the horn with hopes it wouldn’t deploy the airbag. She drove in with one long sustaining blast of the horn.

Ed stood in the garage, and frantically waved his hands. “Cora, stop. What’s wrong?”

She flew from the car and into his arms. Her body quaked as he pulled her close.

“What happened?” Ed held her at arm’s length, and looked directly into her eyes. “Cora?” He sternly, but gently shook her shoulders.

Between sobs, she shrieked, “Car—b-blue lights—followed me home!”

“Someone followed you?”

Her head bobbed as she pointed to the door. “Out there.” Cora ran into the house.

 

****

 

Ed scanned the garage for a weapon. Storage boxes, bicycles, golf clubs. He grabbed his Big Bertha titanium driver, and rushed out into the night. Glaring lights hit his face. A car pulled out of the driveway and sped from the cul-de-sac. An alarm sounded in his head and shock registered as the vehicle disappeared. “That’s George’s car.” he responded in disbelief.