Depraved 2 (6 page)

The roar of the Falcon’s engine dropped to a throaty rumble as she guided it along the curving stretch of ramp. Jessica stopped as she reached the secondary road at the end of the ramp and took a moment to study the area. There were convenience stores and fast food joints everywhere she looked. There was at least one motel a little ways to the left. Its presence prompted her to turn in that direction. The idea of holing up somewhere a while—even if just for a few hours—to think things through possessed an obvious appeal.

Rather than proceeding directly to the motel, however, she pulled in at the first convenience store she came to and parked at the gas pump closest to the store’s entrance. Thinking it’d be good to have a fully-gassed tank in light of her uncertain legal status, she filled up, paying with a credit card. Her brow furrowed slightly as she watched the rapid climb of the numbers on the pump’s digital display. Something about it troubled her. When she realized what it was, her breath caught in her throat and she relaxed her grip on the fuel nozzle’s handle, cutting the flow of gasoline to the car.

Fuck! You fucking idiot!

She still wasn’t thinking straight, thanks to the lingering effects of whatever the beautiful assassin had used to drug her. Buying gas with a credit card was the kind of mistake that could spell her doom. She was leaving an electronic trail. This was basic stuff. At the top of her game, she never would have made such a fundamental error.

But she was nowhere near the top of her game.

Her paranoia kicking in, Jessica craned her head around for a look at her surroundings. There were no law enforcement vehicles anywhere in the vicinity. The only person paying any attention to her was a teenage boy in the backseat of a Prius parked at the pump across from her. This wasn’t a surprise. She had the kind of body that drew the attention of horny males wherever she went, even in her present disheveled state. When he realized she’d become aware of his scrutiny, the boy stuck his tongue out and waggled it suggestively.

Some weird impulse made Jessica stick out her own tongue. She then slowly licked her lips in the most provocative way possible. The boy jerked his gaze away from her, intimidated by the unexpected response.

Jessica smirked.

That’s what I thought, kid.

She got some satisfaction from embarrassing the kid, but the feeling was short-lived. Antagonizing anyone, even some dorky teenager, was a mistake. She didn’t need to be doing anything to make herself stand out in anyone’s memory. It was just another misstep in an increasingly long chain of them.

God, when am I ever gonna get my shit together?

Her gaze went again to the pump display. Okay, so she wasn’t operating with top-level efficiency here, that was a given, but she didn’t necessarily need to start panicking. As far as the gas purchase was concerned, the damage was done. What she needed to do now was make the most of the situation. To that end, she finished filling the Falcon’s tank and went into the store to use the ATM, where she withdrew the maximum daily cash limits on all her cards. The total came to more than a thousand dollars. Not as much as she’d like to have, but it would help her get down the road a ways without adding to her digital trail. Before leaving the store, she bought some disposable cell phones, an atlas, and a bag full of junk food and energy drinks.

The Prius was gone when she came out of the store.

Thank God for small favors.

She drove away from the convenience store and continued on past the motel, eyeing it in the rearview mirror with a pang of regret. The pause in her flight had calmed her nerves some, but the downside of that was she’d become more aware of her various aches and pains. More than anything else, she longed to crawl into a bed and sleep for many hours.

As she continued along a maze of interconnecting secondary roads, her thoughts turned to another of her more immediate problems, namely the Falcon. She loved the old car. It had been her deliverance from the nightmare that was Hopkins Bend, but she would have to ditch it soon. Modern vehicles tended to blur together on the road, but the Falcon would stick out like the proverbial sore thumb. She didn’t like the idea of abandoning it, but she would do whatever was necessary to avoid apprehension. Her real dilemma would be how to go about acquiring a new ride no one would connect to her.

She needed advice from someone she could count on.

Which left her with just one choice.

Jessica pulled the Falcon over to the side of the road and took one of the disposable cell phones from the convenience store bag. After activating the phone, she punched in her father’s number from memory.

Captain John Everett Sloan answered on the first ring. “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t need it.”

“Daddy?”

Jessica winced at the uncharacteristic meekness in her voice. She sounded weak and afraid. But maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing in just this one instance. It would communicate the seriousness of the situation faster than any words she might choose.

She heard an intake of breath from the other end. “Calling me wasn’t a good idea, hon.”

The words were like a spike through her heart. She knew what they meant. “So they’re already looking for me.”

“Yes.”

“I’m calling from a burner phone.”

“Good. Get rid of it the instant we break connection.”

“I will, daddy.”

“That’s my girl.”

Jessica let out a weary breath. A scattering of cars and trucks moved in each direction down the lightly traveled road, but none of them were law enforcement vehicles. Still, she couldn’t afford to linger in this spot long.

Her father cleared his throat. “I’ve been talking to some of my people and I’m already up to speed on your situation. Things are happening fast.”

“Whatever you’ve heard is bullshit.”

“I figured as much.”

“I’ve been set up. Those pictures are bullshit, too. This bitch drugged me and--”

“Honey, I know all that. I don’t need an explanation.”

An abrupt welling of tears blurred Jessica’s vision. “What am I supposed to do? I feel like I’ve got a target painted on my back driving around in this big red bitch.”

“Switch cars now. And don’t let yourself be apprehended. Avoid that at all fucking costs.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“It’s worse.”

Shit.

“This is all about what happened in Kabul, as I’m sure you’ve guessed.” A bit of the gruffness left Captain Sloan’s voice. “I’m working some angles on this. I think I can get on top of the situation and maybe even make it go away, but until I’m sure of that I need you to get someplace safe and stay out of sight.”

Jessica sat up straighter behind the wheel. “Okay.”

“I’m hanging up. We’ve talked too long already. Good luck, baby. I love you.”

“I love--”

The line clicked dead. Jessica missed the sound of her father’s voice as soon as it was gone. Talking with him never failed to comfort her, even in the absolute worst of times, but he had done the right thing by ending the call so abruptly. Doing hard but necessary things had long been part of the retired officer’s job description. She pictured him grimly hitting the disconnect button and felt a surge of intense love for the man.

But she couldn’t allow herself to get caught up in emotion. Her father was taking care of things as best he could from his end. She owed it to him to do her part to the best of her ability. Getting rid of the burner phone would be a good start. So she pulled out its battery and tossed it out of the car.

She was reaching for the ignition key when she glanced at the rearview mirror and saw an old brown pickup truck. It was slowing down and pulling in behind her. The door on the driver’s side began to open. Jessica grabbed her stuff and got out of the Falcon. She was moving and thinking fast, energized by the talk with her father. She was halfway to the truck by the time its driver had fully emerged. He was a youngish guy with a lean build and scruffy brown hair. That was good. Guys were easier to manipulate.

She put on her brightest, most dazzling smile, which she was certain would still be pretty damn effective even in her somewhat haggard state. “Hi! My car died on me. Do you think you could give me a ride?”

The guy leaned to one side to peer past her at the Falcon. She moved closer, invading his personal space. The aim was to distract him with her body. His gaze stayed on the Falcon long enough to make her think he might be gay, though that didn’t seem likely. He was too much the stereotypical redneck straight dude. Still, appearances could be deceiving. She was relieved when he stopped looking at her car and glanced at her breasts.

“I could take a look at it for you.” He grinned in an affable way. Despite the peek at her boobs, he projected a palpable decent guy vibe. A pity. “I’m a mechanic.”

Jessica reached out and touched the man’s arm. “That’s really not necessary. That old bitch has been on her last legs forever.” A bald-faced lie—the Falcon was very old, but it had been impeccably restored and was in top condition. “I should have known better than to take her out again. I appreciate your offer, but what I really need is a ride.”

She gave his arm a squeeze.

He glanced at her hand before looking her in the eye again. “I could give you a ride, no problem. I’m actually on my way in to work. I could call ahead and arrange to have a tow truck sent out for your car.”

“Great!”

Jessica let go of his arm and started around to the other side of the truck. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the guy looking at the Falcon again, squinting at it as if he couldn’t make out whether it was real or a mirage. It was easy to understand why. The old girl looked like the exact opposite of a jalopy on its last legs. She slapped her palm against the hood of the man’s truck to get his attention. “Hey, I don’t mean to be a bother, but I’ve already lost a lot of time and I’ve got tons of shit to do today. Could we maybe get a move on?”

He gave the Falcon one last puzzled look, nodded, and they both climbed into his truck. Jessica experienced a moment of immense relief. She would feel a lot better once she’d put some serious physical distance between herself and her compromised vehicle.

Her would-be white knight pulled a cell phone from the breast pocket of his shirt. “Calling the garage so they can send out that tow truck. We’ll be on our way in just a second.”

Jessica plucked the cell phone from his fingers and tossed it through the open window on his side. He gaped at her for a moment in an expression of almost comical astonishment and then turned his head to look out the window.

“Why the hell did you--”

He stopped talking when his head swiveled back in her direction and he saw the automatic pistol aimed at his stomach. It was the gun Jessica had taken off Zelda. A suppressor was affixed to the barrel. That same look of dumbfounded disbelief came and went again, giving way to a more fearful expression as the reality of what was happening registered.

Jessica’s face was a stony mask as she said, “What’s your name?”

The man swallowed a lump in his throat. “Billy. You’re not gonna kill me, are you?”

“That depends on how well you take orders.”

“I’m great at it. Ask anybody.”

A corner of Jessica’s mouth twitched. “That’s good to hear, Billy. Maybe you’ll get to keep on living a while. Listen close, because this is important. We’re not going to the garage. In fact, you’re not going to work today at all.”

“Yeah? Well, where am I going?”

Jessica smiled. The impromptu plan she’d hatched was so insane she figured it had either no chance at all of working or was the best of all possible plans. “You ever hear of a little shithole way out in the sticks called Hopkins Bend?”

6.

The men who grabbed Daphne after she came out of the woods stuffed her in the trunk of a long blue sedan from the 70’s. She had to share the space with a beer cooler, a number of empty cans and bottles, some jumper cables, and a rotten spare tire. The trunk’s interior smelled putrid, as if something had died and rotted inside it not very long ago. The clear implication sent her into an uncontrollable fit of screaming terror. She flailed and beat her fists against the lid of the trunk. Bottles shattered and shards of glass nicked her bare flesh as she kicked her feet. Someone in the car eventually turned on the radio and tuned it to a station broadcasting old school country and western, turning up the volume on a Johnny Paycheck song to mask the sounds of her distress.