Truck Stop (6 page)

CHAPTER TEN

Ben stood for a moment outside the Consiglios’ truck. There was definitely something not right about those two. But then again, there had been no sign of the little girl in their truck, and no other reason to suspect they were up to any kind of kidnapping. Besides, long-distance truckers were always a bit off; it was the kind of job most people couldn’t handle. They spent most of their lives in a small cab, driving from one place to the next. If they stopped anywhere too long, they risked losing money for not making the delivery on time. Time and distance were the constant denominator in their lives—the dragon they had to slay. And it was unending. Once a delivery was made, they had to scramble to get another run. Then downtime was the enemy. Their trucks weren’t making any money if they weren’t delivering something. It was like being in a continual race that you never won. Hurry up and get there. Hurry up and get another job. If they were lucky to have a family somewhere, they couldn’t spend too much time with them or they’d be losing out on the money it took to keep a roof over their head. It was what made arrangements like Ida and her son. Better to take your family with you than not see them for weeks on end.

Ben started toward the old Mack truck with the Georgia plates.

Country music played on the stereo in the dark cab. Inside, the heavyset driver took a sip from a bottle of Old Crow as he stared sadly at a photograph of a nine-year-old girl clipped to the underside of his visor. She was so fresh and open. Her eyes were bright and without any of the suffering he endured. That youth. That energy. He wished there was a way to capture it all somehow. To hold onto it and never let it go. To hold onto
her
and never let her go. It was a deep, primal desire. Not a sexual one. Sex had done nothing but destroy things in his life. It had made him fall into another woman’s arms years ago when he was married. Sex had also destroyed the little girl he had loved so much, when she had to go and become a woman.

A beam of light scanned across his pasty face. His watery eyes shifted from the visor to Ben, whom he could see out the window, coming straight for him. He snapped the visor up and stashed his bottle. He struggled as he scooted his big body across the cab and opened the passenger door so he was waiting when Ben approached. “Yes, Officer?” he wheezed.

Ben shone his flashlight into the dark cab. “We’re looking for a little girl.”

But the driver knew that. How could he forget the slimy young man who had lost sight of his precious daughter? “Yeah,” he said. “Her daddy come by earlier lookin’ for her.”

“Well, we’re still looking.” Ben’s eyes stopped on the full gun rack behind the seats. “Can I see your permits for those?”

The driver looked at the gun rack, then back to Ben “Sure, no problem.” He shifted his weight forward, grunted as he leaned over, and opened the glove box. He hated to lean forward like this. It was fucking uncomfortable, and it usually gave him heartburn. “Can’t believe he’d leave her alone in a car like that. Oughta have his head examined,” he growled, barely able to get the words out. His thick fingers scraped up the permits; he leaned back, caught his breath, and handed them to Ben.

“Thanks,” Ben said as he took the permits. “What’s your name?”

“Frank Rucka,” the big man said.

“You staying here the night?” Ben asked.

“Yeah, figured so, what with the grade closing and all.”

Ben perused the permits. A breeze shifted slightly, and he could smell a thick, rancid odor. Ben hesitated and looked up. “What’re you hauling back there, Frank?”

Shit. He could smell it. For the first time, Frank seemed anxious. “It’s a shipment for Costco.”

“Where’s your manifest?”

Frank hesitated.

Ben looked more closely at the corpulent, asthmatic man; his intuition kicked in. There was something more going on here. “You have a manifest?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Frank reached down between the cab’s seats and pulled up a clipboard.

He passed it to Ben, who glanced it over until he found the description of the cargo. “Meat?”

“Yeah.”

“Deli meat?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a little overdue, isn’t it? You were supposed to have it in Phoenix last week.”

“Yeah, I was. I just…I had a little trouble.”

Ben looked back at Frank, studied him for a moment more, then said, “Show me.”

Moments later, Frank unlatched the back door to his truck and pushed it open. The smell hit Ben hard. It cut through even the cold and wet of the Utah night. “Jesus,” Ben coughed. “You have a light back here? Turn on the light.”

Frank reached over and snapped a switch. A dim overhead light illuminated the large space. Several pallets of packaged deli meats were stacked in the center. Thick brown puddles of rancid juice surrounded them.

“This is a health hazard, Frank.” Ben said. “You know that?”

Frank did know it. He took a moment before answering quietly. “Yeah. I got stuck down south for a few days, and the refrigerator unit burned out.”

“And you just left it back there?” Ben said. “What the hell are you planning to do with it?”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t know,” Frank confessed. “I had a similar problem last month. They said if it happened again, I’d lose my job.”

Ben looked over at the depressed, heavyset man and felt sorry for him. He had been right. There was a lot more going on. He handed the manifest back to Frank “Well, my advice is to dump it and let them know. You’re putting off the inevitable. If they’re going to fire you, they’re going to fire you. You’re only making things worse for yourself by avoiding it.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re right. As soon as I can get out of here, I’m gonna bring it on in and face the music.”

Ben thought about saying something more, but realized he had probably said enough already. The strangeness out here tonight seemed to be getting stranger. Instead, Ben got back to his business. “If you see anything tonight, you let me know, all right?”

“Of course.”

Ben nodded and started away.

Frank closed the back of his truck and watched Ben leave. He had wanted to tell Ben much more, but he knew he couldn’t trust him. He couldn’t trust anyone with what was going on with him. It was too dark. Too deep.

Ben was heading toward the glossy maroon rig when he decided to take a detour. He cut over to Roger’s Mustang instead, clicked on his flashlight and shone it around outside. Nothing seemed unusual. The doors were locked. Ben shone the light inside. He could see the blanket in back and the junk food trash on the floor. No sign of the little girl.

Ben stood up and looked over at the diner window. He could see Roger and Kat watching him from inside. He turned and crossed over to the maroon truck. The door opened as he approached.

“That poor little girl still missing, Officer?” the friendly woman in her 60s asked as she peered out the cab door.

“I’m afraid so,” Ben answered. “What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Florence. Florence White,” she answered. “Oh dear Lord. I told him I ain’t seen nothing the whole time.” Ben looked past her, into the shadowy cab as she prattled on. “You let me know if there’s anything I can do, won’t you?”

“Just let us know if you see anything.” Ben leaned back, his cursory examination of the cab complete, and smiled at the pleasant older woman.

“Yes, yes,” Florence said. “Poor thing. Out here in this weather.”

Ben had seen enough; she was certainly not someone he should waste any time interrogating. He nodded and started away.

Florence watched him go for a moment, then closed her door. She shifted her angle and could see Ben through her windshield as he crossed over to his patrol car and climbed inside. She watched him click his radio on and start talking to someone as he typed into his squad car computer.

He seemed like such a nice man, Florence thought. It was too bad. He was after all, a man, just like the rest. She knew she couldn’t believe all that sweet talk and kindness. In the end they all only wanted one thing, and it was a dirty, unclean thing.

Florence grabbed a pump bottle of hand sterilizer and filled her palm with the cleansing liquid. She rubbed her pale palms vigorously as she watched Ben. She could already imagine what he’d do if he could. His large black hands squeezing her breasts and buttocks like a desperate animal. His lips digging into hers and his tongue ramming down her throat.

God it was hideous. Vile and hideous. And, of course, the worst part of all, the large monstrous thing that would rage from his loins, ripping, stabbing, and violating her.

Florence hated imagining things like this, but she knew she had to. She knew she had to remind herself so she wouldn’t be fooled again.

She took a deep breath and looked away from the vile man; the moment was passing, thank God.

She turned and retreated into her sleeping area, her safe place that was filled with glorious little things. Stuffed animals, little jackets, trousers and caps. Her special collection of children’s belongings.

Florence settled back and grabbed her collection of little socks, socks that had been on the feet of the little angels. The sweet innocents, pure and unspoiled. She smiled to herself as she gently caressed the socks. It made her feel so good inside, so calm.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

All this waiting was driving Roger insane. After he had seen the cop leave Russell’s truck, he couldn’t believe it. He was seconds away from bolting from the diner and racing over there. If that idiot cop couldn’t find Lilly, he could. He would beat the shit out of the degenerate until he confessed.

It was Kat who had talked him down, not with words but by being there. He knew if he had made a move, she would have stopped him. There was something about her that was keeping him grounded.

But now, what was that cop doing in his patrol car? Maybe he had found something and was calling in for more help. Maybe he….

Headlights swung around the side of the building.

Roger looked over. It was a pickup truck. “Now who?” he said.

Kat squinted out the window as the truck came to a stop outside the front door. “It’s just Kincaid,” she said. “Kincaid Lewis, our mechanic.”

The mechanic hopped out of his pickup and hurried inside. He paused in the foyer, stomped the mud off his boots, and brushed the rain off his jacket. “Just got word that the top of the grade’s officially snowed closed,” he announced.

“Completely?” Kat asked.

“Totally. They’re starting to turn traffic away down below, off I-15.”

“You leaving?” Kat asked.

“No point in staying.”

Bart came out of the kitchen carrying several boxes of day-old pies. “Got a couple of apples tonight,” he said to the mechanic. “I think there’s a pumpkin here, too.”

“Thanks,” Kincaid said as he took the pies from Bart.

Kat glanced back out at Kincaid’s truck. She could see someone in the passenger side. “You got company tonight?”

Kincaid looked out at his truck as the person in the passenger side lit up a cigarette. The glow from the flame illuminated Lucinda’s face.

Kincaid grew a little embarrassed. “Yeah, well, she needed a ride down the hill. I figured….”

Bart chuckled and slapped Kincaid on the back. “Cold night. Gotta keep warm somehow, right?”

Roger exchanged a look with Kat; this was driving him crazy. The more everyone accepted weird shit like this from these weird people, the more nuts it was making him. He felt like screaming, “Fuck all this. My daughter’s missing!”

Kincaid shifted the pies into one arm and took out his keys. He started to turn back to the door, then paused. He looked over at Roger sympathetically. “Hey,” he said. “Good luck with everything, huh? Bart’s got my number. He can give me a call if you need help with anything. I’m only half an hour down the mountain.”

“Thanks,” Roger nodded. He put on his most sincere look. It was everything opposite of what he felt.

Kincaid ducked out the front door.

Roger watched as the mechanic climbed into his pickup, started it up, and pulled away. As he was heading out of the parking lot, his headlights swung across Ben, who was coming in from his patrol car. Finally. Fuck, that had taken a long time.

Roger was up and out of the booth when Ben came in. “So? What’d you find out?”

“I’ve got the Amber Alert for your daughter going out now.”

“What about that creep in the tanker truck?”

“I talked to him. At this point, there’s no reason to think he’s involved. He was just defending his rig. Now if you want to press assault charges….“

“Fuck that. I want to find out what he knows about my daughter,” Roger snapped.

Ben raised his hands, trying to diffuse things. “Look, I know he’s a bit strange. But I ran his license. Other than a few misdemeanors, he’s clean. I’ve got no reason to bring him in.”

“What about the other people out there?”

“I ran their plates. Talked to them too. They might be a little strange, but they’re all clean.”

Roger slammed his fist on the table. “This is bullshit!”

Ben stood his ground and let Roger simmer for a moment before he continued, calmly. “Roger, I can’t arrest people because of how they look.”

Ben felt for the hell this man was going through. He knew Roger was feeling utterly helpless and needed to be told what to do with himself during all this, so that’s what Ben did. He told Roger exactly what he should do. “You should stay put here until this storm blows over. I’ll know where to reach you if I hear anything.”

Roger’s eyes snapped anxiously back to Ben. “Where are you going?”

“They called me to report down at the bottom of the hill to help close off the highway,” Ben said. “As soon as it’s secure, I’ll come back. I promise.”

Roger grimaced anxiously. “Fuck.”

Kat looked at Ben reassuringly. “He won’t be alone,” she told Ben. “Bart and I are here all night.”

Bart nodded “We got sleeping rooms and showers if you….“

Roger shot daggers at Bart. “Sleep? I’m not going to fucking sleep!”

Kat gently put her hand on Roger’s shoulder. “Then you can stay right out here,” she said. “I’ll be with you.”

There was a moment of silence. Ben assessed the situation, and it seemed to be stable enough for the moment. “All right then. I’ll call in as soon as I know anything.” He turned and headed out the door.

Roger took a deep, anxious breath. This can’t be happening this way. How could there not be a squad of helicopters with searchlights overhead looking for Lilly right now? Where was the team of rescue dogs and volunteers scouring this piece-of-shit truck stop? His entire fucking life was going down the drain, and that cop was being reasonable and logical rather than reacting the way he should. Everyone seemed to be doing everything they could to keep him calm when they should be as freaked out as he was feeling. A storm? An Amber Alert? What the hell kind of bullshit was that to keep them from lighting this whole place up and calling out the National Guard?

Roger felt dizzy; he steadied himself on the edge of the table.

“Roger?” Kat saw him sway unsteadily.

Roger looked away from her and slumped back down into the booth.

There was a moment of silence. They all felt the helplessness Roger was feeling.

Bart looked over at Kat and spoke quietly. “Anything he needs, just go ahead.”

Kat nodded. “Thanks, Bart.”

Bart headed back into the kitchen.

Roger ran his hands back through his hair and looked out the window. He could see Ben’s patrol car pull out of the parking lot, head out onto the highway, and disappear into the misty darkness.