C. Box - The Highway

She took a deep breath but said nothing.

He said, “It’s too bad you guys don’t have a GPS.”

“Oh, but we do have a GPS,” Gracie said, shooting a look toward Danielle who looked back as if wounded. “It’s in the trunk of the car.”

“The trunk?”

“She’s your girlfriend.”

Justin laughed wearily, and said under his breath, “Not for long.”

“Hey,” Danielle protested. “Quit talking about me, you two. I’m right here. And if you want to pull over somewhere, I’ll get the GPS out and try to figure out how it works. Geez…”

“You heard?” Gracie asked Justin.

“Tell her it’s a good idea. That way we’ll both know exactly where you are.”

“One more thing,” Gracie said, “The check engine light is on. I don’t know what that means and neither does Danielle.”

Justin sighed and asked how long.

“Forever,” Gracie said.

“Is the car getting hot or doing anything strange?”

“Not yet.”

There was a long pause and she could hear him asking one of his friends about it.

“Eric says it could be a short or it could be serious.”

“Great.”

“He can look at it tomorrow morning,” Justin said. “I mean, if you get here.”

Gracie sighed.

“But, Gracie,” he said, “keep in touch with me. There are some cell phone dead spots, but if I know where you’re at and something happens I can call my dad. He’ll know what to do.”

Gracie recalled meeting Justin’s dad Cody. He scared her at first, but she ended up liking him. And he seemed to like her.

“I don’t know where he is right now,” Justin said. “He didn’t make it home for dinner. But he’s got a cell phone and I’ll give him a call if we need to.”

She found herself smiling and felt her shoulders relax. Justin’s voice was soothing, and he was saying all the right things. Danielle, she thought, never did deserve him.

Gracie felt a pang and lowered the phone to her lap and covered the receiver with her hand.

“Danielle,” she said, “maybe this is a really bad idea. It’s not too late to turn around and go back.”

“What? Are you out of your mind? We’re practically there.”

“But-”

“But nothing,” her sister said, tears glinting in her eyes. “We’ve come all this way to see Justin, and I’m going to see Justin.”

And Gracie realized Danielle wasn’t oblivious after all. She knew . She just couldn’t accept it and probably thought she could talk him out of it. And maybe, Gracie conceded, that would happen. Danielle could be very persuasive, especially with boys.

Gracie raised the phone. “Okay,” she said, “what do we do when we get to Laurel?”

Danielle let go of the wheel, pumped her fist in the air, and shouted, “Yes!”

6:38 P.M., Tuesday, November 20

The Lizard King looked ahead and to the left on the highway and saw the familiar halo of the inferno lighting up the misty sky-the refinery on the outskirts of Laurel. Rolls of steam lit by flames from the flare stacks hung low to the ground in the low pressure and mist, making the facility look otherworldly.

It fit his mood. He was locked in, engaged. His rage had receded into a dark steel box in the back of his mind to be unleashed later.

Since the red Ford had passed him a few miles before, he’d pushed his Peterbilt hard on the flat, keeping his eyes out for the two little taillights. He’d passed several other cars and trucks, and he was surprised he hadn’t yet caught up with the Colorado girls. He kept thinking of the dark-haired one and the way she’d sneered at him. Thinking of that full red mouth and that glimpse of white teeth.

How the boys must like her, he thought. She was one of those … filled with attitude and always flipping her hair around. It was always gratifying, he thought, how quickly their attitudes changed in the right circumstances.

* * *

Part of his ritual with the lot lizards, usually toward the end, was to ask them, “Tell me what you were like in high school?” He made them re-create those years, even to the point of describing what they wore and who they hung with. Most of them had never graduated, but a few had. And most of them had been druggies and losers. A number of whores couldn’t even recall the details.

But there were a few-he thought specifically of that redhead from Amarillo with the butterfly tats-who could recall high school with clarity and fondness. She told him how she bounced between the cheerleading crowd and the heavy metal drug crowd. How she’d gone to three of four proms but skipped the last one because by then she was into meth and goth. How she’d barely graduated and gotten hooked up with older men who didn’t look out for her best interests. But he didn’t care about what she’d become-it was obvious. He pressed her for details of her first three years. As long as she was talking, he kept her around. She admitted, finally, she’d probably been too cruel to some of the boys who weren’t good-looking or athletes. When he asked her if she regretted the way she’d been, she didn’t comprehend the question.

Then he ended it.

She had been his favorite so far.

* * *

Two things would ruin his night, he thought. The Colorado girls could just keep going past Laurel until they were slowed down by troopers enforcing the roadblock. There they’d sit with dozens of other vehicles with more stacking up behind them. It could be hours, and there would be too many eyes.

They could also turn off the highway before they got to where the crash was located. Maybe to get gas, maybe to get some food or directions. Either way, he’d probably lose them.

Or …

Far up ahead, in the fused ambient light of the mist from the Laurel refinery, he saw the red Ford. The girls were easing over to the right with the turn signal blinking.

He felt a charge of electricity shoot through him. The Colorado girls knew the way around the roadblock. There was still a chance their destination was this way, maybe Red Lodge, but he’d bet dollars to donuts they’d be taking the same route he intended to take-over the Beartooth Highway, into Yellowstone, out Mammoth, and toward Livingston to get back on the interstate.

The Lizard King eased off the pedal and downshifted to slow down the truck. He didn’t want to get close enough that they’d know he was still with them. He pulled over onto the shoulder and doused his headlights after he braked the truck to a stop. Good thing, too, because the Colorado girls had stopped as well.

He didn’t hit his emergency flashers because he didn’t want them to see him. The big rig sat still in the dark on the side of the highway, lights out, steaming and rumbling in the cold night.

The body of the lot lizard was surprisingly light. He hefted it back onto the bunk and secured it with long strips of tape. Just to make sure, he pressed his palm against the plastic sheeting where her mouth was. No warmth. No reaction. The body was already stiffening up. He wondered if bodies stiffened quicker when there was no meat on them.

* * *

He found his binoculars in a side pocket on his door and sat back in the driver’s seat and brought them up as the dome light of the Ford went on and the dark-haired passenger got out. He focused on her as she opened the trunk and was rewarded with a fine view of her heart-shaped ass that sent a tingle down his inner thighs. She found whatever she was looking for, slammed the trunk lid, and climbed back into the car. He waited until the Ford’s brake lights flashed and it started up the off-ramp to Laurel before lowering the glasses and reaching for the gearshift. He held in place until they were moving again.