C. Box - The Highway

Opening the door, he emptied his pockets on the floor of his cab, his.380, the stun gun, the case with the syringe (now empty), the flashlight, and the handcuffs. Running his hands down his jumpsuit as if frisking himself, he was satisfied he’d left nothing behind. He quickly shed the Tyvek overalls and kicked the bundle off his boots. He stuffed the white mass into a dark plastic trash bag and shoved it under his driver’s seat to be disposed of later.

And suddenly the oncoming car was upon him, much sooner than he’d anticipated. A yellow wash of headlights lit him up as he stood but he fought the urge to look over his shoulder and show his face.

The car passed by but he could hear the motor decompressing as it did so, and he shot a glimpse under his right armpit to confirm that yes, red brake lights flashed. The car was slowing down.

Why? He wanted to shout. What had they seen?

He watched as the car pulled over to the opposite shoulder five hundred feet away and began a U-turn.

The Lizard King felt his face and scalp pull tight with rage. Everything had gone so well, and now this! He considered clambering inside the cab and roaring away before the car could reach him. But to do so would definitely create suspicion when the driver arrived to find the empty Ford. So he stayed where he was, frozen in time and space, but let his right hand creep back up into the cab until his fingers grasped the grip of the.380.

The car that had passed him stayed in the highway lane instead of pulling over. It slid up beside him and he squinted against the beam of the headlights, trying to figure out how many heads were inside; deciding that if there were more than two he wouldn’t fire because it would get too complicated …

The car was a late-model four-door sedan and as it arrived the passenger window rolled down. Inside was the grinning face of his partner.

“Scared you, didn’t I?”

“I should fucking shoot you anyway,” the Lizard King said, pulling the gun down in full view of the driver.

“Good thing you didn’t.”

“Yeah-good thing.”

“Jesus Christ, what happened to your face?”

The Lizard King absently reached up and dragged his fingertips through blood. He’d completely forgotten about his wound. The blood was hot and sticky.

“Guess I banged my head in all the excitement.”

“You better clean that up. You look like hell itself.”

He nodded.

His partner gestured toward the dark Ford. “Is this the double load you mentioned?”

“It is.”

“Young ones?”

“Like I said.”

“Anyone come by and see anything?”

“Only you.”

“ Fantastic .”

“Everything ready at the place?”

His partner nodded. The grin seemed plastered to his face and in the green light from his dash he looked malevolent, like a gargoyle.

“You had better get in your rig and get going,” his partner said. “I didn’t see anyone behind me but that doesn’t mean someone might not show up.”

The Lizard King nodded. Now that the situation had defused itself he felt equal measures thrilled and exhausted. This was going to work. He said, “You going to follow me in?”

His partner said, “In a minute. Once you’re clear I’m going to push that car farther off the shoulder into the brush. I don’t want anybody seeing it or noticing the license plate until we get back here to drive it away.”

The Lizard King shook his head, “That car won’t run. I think the engine is seized up. You can smell it. We’ll need the tow truck to get it out of here.”

“Shit.”

“It is what it is. But believe me, this will be worth it.”

“That good, eh?”

“One of ’em, at least. I didn’t get that great of a look at the other. But this is exactly what we talked about that time, remember? And they’re not meth heads.”

“Kind of like Christmas, eh?”

“Yeah,” the Lizard King said. “Oh, there’s a dead one in there, too. It was an accident.”

“You’ve been a busy man.”

“I’m motivated.”

His partner nodded, then conspicuously peered out through his windshield ahead and checked his rearview mirror. “Still clear,” he said, “You better go. It’s going to be a busy night.”

“See you soon,” the Lizard King said, turning to pull himself back into his cab. “I’ll drop off the precious cargo before I unload.”

8:52 P.M., Tuesday, November 20

Danielle’s cell phone rang once and stopped. Justin held his phone away from his face and stared at it, unbelieving. He made sure he hadn’t misdialed and confirmed that he hadn’t.

Christian said, “What’s up, man? Didn’t she want to talk to you?”

“She hung up,” Justin said, surprised. “One ring. Maybe she was in the middle of something and she’ll call me right back.”

“ Right, ” Christian chided. He had a baby face despite his size, and it took only two beers for a blush of pink to bloom across his cheeks. He’d had at least two, Justin guessed.

“I don’t know,” Justin said. “Maybe they’re still going in and out of cell phone range. Last I heard they were going into the Yellowstone River canyon out of Gardiner, so that might be it.”

“Yankee Jim Canyon!” one of the boys on the sofa cried out. “I went on a white-water raft trip there last summer and froze my balls off.”

“Sweet,” one of the girls said, and the other laughed.

“Try again,” Christian said to Justin.

He punched the button. This time the call went straight to voice mail: You’ve reached the voice mail of the awesome Danielle Sullivan. Please leave a message and I’ll call you right back unless I don’t. Ciao!

“That’s weird,” Justin said. “She doesn’t take my call and then it goes straight to her mailbox.”

“Try it again.”

This time, Justin heard a recorded message from Verizon saying the number he was calling was not available.

“It’s like she turned her phone off. That’s just weird. Danielle never turns her phone off. I doubt she even knows how to do it.”

Christian shrugged. “Maybe her phone ran out of battery and she doesn’t know it. Or she forgot to bring a car charger. Didn’t you say she was kind of an airhead sometimes?”

Justin didn’t remember saying it but thought he probably had because she was.

“In fact, I’m going to try Gracie’s phone next.”

Justin scrolled down his contacts list for Gracie’s number and tuned Christian out. He wasn’t in the mood for Christian, and especially Christian with a few beers inside him. The party had already lost some people, who had moved on to other parties. Christian had called Justin a “buzzkill” because, he said, “nobody likes seeing a dude sitting at a table working phones and a computer when they want to kick back and relax.”

Gracie’s number repeated the same message from the carrier. He closed the phone, frowned, and looked up. Christian stood there, hovering. Justin responded with a shrug. “ Both of their phones are off. That just doesn’t make sense.”

“Screw her,” Christian said. “You’ve got better things to do. I know I do.

“Who knows, man,” Christian said. “Maybe they stopped for gas and she met some studly biker. You know, chicks just say they want nice boys. Really, they want the bad ones.”

From the couch, Kelsie said, “Christian, you don’t know what you’re talking about as always.”

“It’s true,” Christian said to her, walking into the kitchen to pull another beer bottle from the cooler of ice.

In his absence, Kelsie got up and joined Justin at the table. She sat close and said, “If those girls don’t show up, Justin, you know who to call, don’t you?”