Chapter 34
As they turned north from US Highway 2 onto SR 21 at Wilbur, Washington and crossed Franklin D. Roosevelt Lake, fed by the Columbia River, the sun, having reached its apex a couple of hours before and still several hours above the western horizon, slipped behind a bank of dark clouds migrating on a quick pace to the east.
Tony felt success within his grasp. He lived for the chase and the inevitable escape gave a more intense high than the purest cocaine. But this had gone long enough. The tension of the two thousand-mile run, his broken sleep pattern, and the uncertainty of how Natalie would perform her final act, played on his mind. Canada and a place to let the heat die down were less than a hundred miles away. If they could make it across the border, Rudy would direct him to his uncle’s cabin and then, after disposing of lover-boy, he’d have her to himself. There, he could provoke her to do just what Ma demanded.
She had asked, “Why don’t you just shoot me?” but that would have foiled the plan. She had begun to measure up by her willingness in the warehouse but through the last three days, she had come along ways in proving her worth. Ma had been weak and let people use her until nothing of her own will remained. Natalie, however, had gained strength despite what he had put her through. She hadn’t given up. If she continued, she’d be worth keeping around until the end but, if not, he’d tire of her, and, since he held relatively short attention span, that wouldn’t take long.
There’s got to be plenty of places in the Canadian woods for twin graves, he thought. If she failed the test, he’d bury Rudy and Natalie side by side where they would spend eternity together pushing up moss and sword ferns, never to be seen again. Since he had never been arrested for murder, although he had put more than a few lights out in New Jersey and the Bronx, he was confident he’d never do time for any of the crimes he had committed over the last few days either.
“As much as I like this ride,” Tony said and patted the steering wheel, “we need to ditch it and find a new set of wheels. That damn farmer’s sure to have missed his truck by now and he’ll have called the police. The sooner the better, besides we’re running low on fuel and I don’t want to draw any more attention. Holding up another gas station’s not an option this time unless we kill the clerk and take his car.”
He found the switch for the windshield wipers and turned it on. The blades smeared the window at first since only a drizzle had begun to fall, so he flipped on the windshield washer to clear the grime.
Rudy had his head leaned back against the headrest. At the sound of Tony’s voice, he opened his eyes and turned toward him. He lifted his head. “Nobody else needs to die. I’m glad you didn’t kill the clerk last night.”
Tony had hoped to get some long needed sleep last night. A murder meant they couldn’t stay in the area around Baker, though. Finding the hole-ridden clerk would alert the big dogs and the FBI was already on the hunt. “Leaving witnesses isn’t a good idea,” he said. “I’ve got a bad feeling about it.”
“Look, Tony, I’ll find us a new ride but keep your gun in your belt. Okay?”
“Damn straight kid, whatever you say.”
*
Natalie had been lying in the backseat of the truck for hours. Her hopes of being found were dashed when they switched from the Stanza to the pickup. She had left a note at the last holdup. If someone had found it, they’d be on the lookout for a tan Nissan, not a truck.
She was so uncomfortable. Not as uncomfortable as the day in the trunk or the day on the corrugated floor of the van but then she could move around. Now, Tony had hogtied her. She had watched her daddy do it many times on the farm and she wondered if this might be a bad omen. On daddy’s farm, this was the final thing to happen in the pig’s life before its throat was slit.
She still had the diaper gag in her mouth, too. Throughout the day he had tried to push it free but, with it taped in place, it had been futile. It had absorbed the moister in her mouth, which wasn’t much since she hadn’t been given drink most of the trip. To add to the misery, the wide masking tape wrapped around her head several times pulled at her hair whenever she moved.
Besides dehydration and hunger, she felt angry with herself. Every effort she made toward freedom seemed to backfire and she ended up in a worse situation. That didn’t mean she was about to quit. Any opportunity came she’d take it but she couldn’t help the discouragement, now well into her third day of hell.
“Is that a cop headin’ this way?” Rudy shouted and interrupted Natalie’s thoughts. If that was true, she had to act now.
“Shit,” Tony shouted. “We’ve got to ditch this damn truck, now.”
Natalie tried to swing her feet to the floor but, tied behind her back, she could only roll forward and place her knees on the carpet behind the driver’s seat. She pushed herself up and extended her body high enough to peer out the window. Maybe the police will see me bound and gagged.
She was too late. By the time she raised enough to look out the window, the only thing left for her to see of the white Washington State Patrol car was its rear end. Although it had passed and she had lost another chance for rescue, she knew one thing for certain—her efforts would cost her.
“What the hell are you doing?” shouted Tony.
She couldn’t answer even if she wanted to with the gag in her mouth. She could manage was exhale a muffled, “Aaaagh!”
*
They had only traveled another ten minutes when Tony saw a yellow highway sign indicating a crossroad just ahead. The further north they traveled the darker the sky became. The drizzle turned to rain and Tony increased the speed on the windshield wipers. When they reached the crossing, Tony turned the HEMI-powered truck right off the main highway and headed east. Where it led he didn’t care right now. I need to disappear long enough to find another ride.
The countryside, cluttered with outcroppings of dark volcanic rock and sagebrush, stretched out flat on both sides. In the rearview mirror, Tony saw vehicles on the main highway. The burgundy truck had become to him a beacon drawing the cops to him like an airport signal reaches through the night sky to approaching aircraft. He had to find cover, so he pressed harder on the accelerator until the truck approached eighty miles per hour. After a minute, the road dropped over a small rise and relief replaced the strain as the truck hid from SR 21.
He steered the truck onto the shoulder, stomped the brakes until it skidded to a stop, and threw open his door.
*
As morning had turned into afternoon, Special Agent Angela Hawk felt rummy. She had been on duty since eight a.m. yesterday and except for a brief nap just before sunrise, she had been awake for an entire day. Instinct and caffeine had directed her thus far, but her optimism faded as the hours and erroneous reports came and went.
At about ten this morning, she had heard the tan Nissan had been located. Even though she turned the search over to Baker Police Chief, Clarence Bigad, it had been no surprise his name wasn’t mentioned in the report. The Stanza had been found by a woman out for a jog. She spotted the car behind some granite boulders that jutted out of the ground, wedged between a stand of trees, and had called 9-1-1. The Pacific County Sheriff responded.
As Angela suspected, Hank Rogers had been in the trunk, dead. The preliminary medical report said he had died twelve to fourteen hours before. Evidence indicated the other three people had been in the vehicle. Plenty of trash from junk food wrappers, empty water bottles, and soda cans cluttered the floor. Along with an overflowing ashtray, in the backseat, a few blond hairs had also been recovered. Lots of forensics, she thought.
Armed with the information that the suspects were possibly en route to Canada, an APB had been circulated around Washington State for the stolen pickup. Throughout the day there had been a number of reports but most made no sense. Some of them were too far away from the scene of the crime for the suspects to have covered that much ground. Some of them were headed south instead of north. Another had been a solitary driver and one had an elderly couple in the front seat. In every case, when the license numbers were checked, they proved not to be the stolen vehicle’s plates.
This morning, the FBI in Detroit had paid a visit to Rudy Valencia’s father. The report she took over the radio stated he had been unwilling to give any information at first but, when confronted with the knowledge his son was connected to a string of murders and robberies, he gave up the location of his brother’s hunting cabin in Canada. The most direct route to the cabin in Washington State would put them on SR 21.
Agent Hawk had monitored all reported sightings since she left the site where the truck had been stolen and, when the Washington State Patrol reported a new finding, she had been alerted within a few minutes. The details sounded promising. The truck, spotted on SR 21, according to the patrolman’s report, had two men in the front seat.
Angela felt her intuition had kicked into overdrive. She had driven in hopes of being on the right trail and, like the homing device in a homebound salmon points her without wavering to the site of her original spawning, Angela’s instincts had lead her over the last day to within twenty miles of their location. She flipped on her emergency lights, shoved the accelerator pedal to the floor, and let the adrenaline lift her spirits. She was so close she could kiss them goodbye.
*
Natalie, still on her knees behind the driver’s seat, flinched when the back door flew open. Tony aimed his fist at her face and, even though she tried to throw herself to the side, he connected with brutal force on the bridge of her nose. The blow knocked Natalie onto her back behind the front passenger seat. With her hands and feet tied behind her and, pinned by her weight, she was trapped. Waves of agony radiated over her face and pulsated from the point of impact.
“Happy Halloween, Whore,” he yelled. “One more goddamn trick like that and I will kill you. Make no mistake.”
He slammed the back door.
Natalie couldn’t hold the tears of physical pain and frustration back and they rolled into her ears. On the floor stunned, though, something else trickled across her cheek.