The Bounty Hunters: The Marino Bros.: Box Set (23 page)

She peeked out from her hoodie, looking up at the trees whizzing by, the pine, the evergreen, the white oaks, and the fir trees. Yes, it was good to be home. She loved Maine. She loved these woods. It smelled like home, she thought as she got comfortable for the long ride ahead.

“Hey, Miss. We are almost there.” Ronnie heard the strange voice deep inside her dream, and it took her a moment to realize where she was. Crap. She had fallen asleep after all, and to make matters worse, she had a crick in her neck. At least he’d been true to his word and the radio was still off.

Ronnie sat up, and looked around recognizing the area immediately. She was minutes from her grandfather’s. Another brief panic hit her. She didn’t know if there would be police there or not. She asked the driver if he could pull over here. He looked startled for a moment. Confused. “But the house is still a mile or two off.”

“I’d like to walk and stretch my legs a bit. See the old place,” she trailed off softly, adding, “Before I have to go in and you know . . .,” the tissue came out. She was trying to think of something logical to say. She couldn’t tell him there might be police cars, and she didn’t want her grandparents to see a taxi pulling up at eight o’clock in the morning.

“Oh, oh, I understand,” he stated fatherly. “Before you have to face everyone and all the people trying to offer their condolences.”

“Yes, exactly,” she breathed a sigh of relief. Mainers were wise and always made astute assumptions. They were usually right too. But she had been lying to the cabbie anyway, and so she was perfectly happy to agree with his presumption. “I’ve got a lot of good memories of my dad walking me down this road to the school bus,” she added to make the story more believable.

The car was stopped now, and she pulled out her wallet. Her ID slipped out, and she quickly made a grab for it on the floor of the cab. “How much, sir?” she asked as she fumbled to put it away her hands shaking suddenly.

“Um, it’s 175.76 here on the meter, sweetie. Sorry.” He gave her a sad smile.

She returned it. “It’s okay. I expected it would be a lot. Here,” she said handing him two one hundred dollar bills. “Keep the change.”

“You don’t have to do that, honey,” he replied.

“No, you let me sleep, and were so kind. Really, it’s no problem.” She wanted him to have it. He was a kind soul. He reminded her of her granddad a lot.

“Well, thank you kindly. You’re a beautiful sweet girl, and I’m sure your dad is looking down from heaven right proud of the girl he raised.”

She nodded, hating the lie and the pretense, but she had no choice. Ronnie opened the door, swung her legs out. “Thanks Mister. It means a lot.” Frankly, she had no clue where her dad was these days. She’d met the man once in her entire life. It had been in her first year of college, and she hadn’t been impressed. But, this man thought she was coming to bury him, so she carried on with the façade.

The driver began to make a U-turn in the road, and she waved at him as he began to pick up speed. She began to walk towards her grandparents’ house. It was about a mile and half away, and she wanted to get off the road soon in case other cars passed by, but made herself walk slowly, for one minute until she was sure the taxi was out of sight on this long straight stretch of road. She took one peek back, assured herself the taxi was gone, and then ducked into the woods along the side of the road. She walked in perhaps ten feet, before stopping. She was hidden from the road by a large pine, and dropped her bag. She unzipped it, and pulled out her hiking boots. These sneakers were no good for riding her motorcycle, and no good for this terrain. Lots of soft spots in the soil, and rocks could cause her to stumble and sprain an ankle. She couldn’t afford to get injured now. She needed her hiking boots in order to get a good solid grip on gnarled tree roots, and branches too. She also knew going this way, around the back side of her granddad’s property, there would be a stream she would need to cross.

Once her sneakers were in her bag, the wig was also removed, and she left it on the grass. She wouldn’t be needing that again. Her helmet when she was driving would hide her features and her hair. She wouldn’t be spending much time out and about anyway. Except for her trip to radio shack. Crap! She still needed the damn wig. Shaking out the dirt, she stuffed it into her bag and zipped it shut.

The only part of her plan that was going to be a problem was getting to her bike without her grandfather noticing her. He was an early riser, and he was always puttering around outside doing something. She would have to bide her time, stay hidden, and wait until he went indoors for lunch, then get into the shed. She knew where he hid the key. She’d make sure her tank had fuel. He always had gas canisters on hand this far out, so that shouldn’t be an issue, and then walk the bike out hoping he wasn’t looking out the back window until she was far enough away to get on and ride off. Simple right? Not really. Her granddad, Roland, was as sharp as they came. A former marine from Vietnam, he was crafty, and she learned from him. She knew how to be quiet, where to step, and where not to in these woods. But again, all those skills she had gotten at his heels.

Walking through these woods put her at ease. It was those special times as a child with her grandfather that made her decide to become a forest ranger in the first place. She breathed in the woodsy scents of pine and other fir trees. She listened to the birds and animals of the forest getting quieter at her approach, remaining silent until she passed. God, she loved it. The serenity. The peace. It was her true home.

Time was passing, and from the looks of the sun, nearing nine. She was getting close. She could see the end of the tree line that wound around her grandfather’s property. And sure enough, she caught sight of his faded blue Red Sox cap through the branches. She stopped and popped a squat. Make yourself small, he told her many times. The smaller you are and the lower you are to the ground, the less likely you are to be seen. It’s why the animals crouched to reduce their size and possibly their chances of detection. Her heart ached to run to him though, call out, “Pepere, I’m home.”

But, he’d try to stop her. She needed to do this. Clear up this mess so they could all move on. Her grandpa was heading to the shed, but he stopped mid-stride, and just smiled. Turning around, he gazed at the woods. She ached to be held by the man she regarded as a father. He loved these woods as much as she. He stooped to pick up a rock, and tossed it into the air, catching it. He began to whistle and to move again. Slow measured steps until he reached the shed. He slipped the rock into his pocket, and approached the door to the shed. He unlocked it with the key he hunched down to retrieve from underneath the flower pot beside the wood pile. He went in, and Ronnie moved just a bit to relieve the strain in her hamstrings. She got comfortable. She may have to wait here awhile. As she stilled, the birds picked up their usual chatter, and she occasionally heard noises from the shed where her granddad was working. But, he didn’t stay there long. Maybe twenty minutes and he began to approach the house.

Again, he stopped and surveyed his surroundings, smiling all the while. After a minute, he began to walk again. In another minute he was in the house.

Ronnie moved then. She didn’t know how much time she would have. She went the fifteen paces to the edge of the trees, looked at the house, and watched the curtains for a moment before heading to the shed. Her grandpa left the door wide open. She saw her dirt bike right away. On it was a folded sheet of paper weighted down by a rock. Her helmet sat on the seat clean as whistle.

Hands trembling, she picked up the note. She opened it.

Chipmunk,

I’ve been all up morning sweets, and gave her a really good tune up for you. The gas tank is full. Your mom called me this morning and told me to be on the lookout for you, and to try and stop you if you showed up here. So, anyhow, my little chipmunk, you know how well I listen to your grandma and your mother, which is not very well. l love you girl. Be careful. I taught you everything I know so I am not too worried. But a little worried. I know you’re innocent and if you need anything at all just call me.

Love, Gramps.

PS Give him hell. I never liked him for you anyway. And Grandma went shopping, so let me hear that engine roar.

Tears sprang to Ronnie’s eyes. She loved that man. She grabbed the pen he left on his work table, and tore the bottom of the sheet of paper off. She wanted to keep his note and the rock. She slipped them into her pocket.

Gramps,

I love you. Soooo much. You are the best. Mom is pregnant by the way.

Love always, your chipmunk

PS I’ll give him more than hell. I’ll kick him in the arse.

Ronnie put the note on his table, picked up his small whittling knife, and stabbed it into the paper and into the wood.

Picking up her helmet, the one he lovingly cleaned for her that morning, she put it on over her head, and pulled her bike out of the shed. Her grandpa was in the window watching her. She waved. He waved back, and then gave her a thumbs up sign. Getting on her bike before she lost her nerve, she kicked started it, and the engine started right up. The man was a blessing. One more wave, tears in her eyes, she floored it, giving the bike a full three hundred and sixty degree spin in the yard before she headed to the trails just beyond the rear edge of her grandfather’s property. She rode into the trees knowing her grandfather was watching her the entire time. Yes, that man always had her back. She had always been able to count on him.

*     *     *

Ronnie settled into
the hotel room in Spragueville which wasn’t far from Quaggy Joe Mountain and Echo Lake. Spragueville was a sleepy town for half the year, but come summer the lake and Aroostook State Park attracted many tourists, and during the winter the ski trails were quite popular for both cross country and downhill. Luckily the town was pretty busy right now with the campers and she could easily blend in and become lost in the crowd so to speak. She’d been here a couple of times before with Gary and some friends on small vacations, but she needed to be safe and keep her wits about her. She didn’t want to be recognized by the locals, so she would steer clear of the most obvious places, and the local hangouts she had been in before.

For her hotel she chose one of the larger establishments figuring the workers would turn over more quickly and she wouldn’t be recognized. She’d stay away from the quaint restaurants and the bars, places she went with Gary and their friends just in case. After arriving here, she hid her bike in a deer blind she and her grandfather used once in the Aroostook Forrest that would not be used since it was not hunting season.

She walked the three miles into town, and went to the local radio shack located in a strip mall. It was a small town, far enough from Bangor, but still when Maine people made news, it made the news. So she wore her disguise hoping it would be the last time. She picked up a throw away cell phone, one with voice and video recording capabilities. She also got an external microphone so she could put the phone in an isolated location, but record good quality voice without risk if she had to block the device or move away from it.

She also needed to call Gary on it, stroke his ego a little, and then maybe her mom too, so she didn’t worry. Her grandfather had probably informed her mother she arrived safely and took her bike, but she felt confidant her mom wouldn’t report her missing to anyone just yet. Her mom was probably worried, but would give her the time she asked for to try to get Gary to confess his role in this entire mess. The phone was necessary too because she couldn’t use her own as it could easily be traced. Even the one she purchased could be traced if they figured out she was using it. She didn’t want to think about the fact that the police might be tracing Gary’s phone now that they were looking into his whereabouts. But she had to end this. She needed to move on from under this dark cloud. She needed to get on with her life without Gary, without these charges, and without Nikko too. The first two thoughts made her angry. The third made her sad.

After radio shack, she went to a convenience store to purchase a few food items. She was hungry, but didn’t want to risk a restaurant or grocery store where people tended to be more watchful and observant. In and out was her plan. These stores, like the Seven-Eleven she chose, saw numerous tourists all day long, as people came in to purchase their gas and head back on the road. The attendants and cashiers wouldn’t be looking as closely, she hoped. She had to be careful. She couldn’t afford a misstep now. She was so close.

She was back in her hotel by four PM. She made herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, watched the local news, and drank the milk she purchased. She was relieved to see no news reporting anything about her charges and or disappearance. She took that as a good sign.

Her motel room was pretty nice, but it wasn’t equipped with a refrigerator. She finished her sandwich and tidied up. She was glad she hadn’t purchased much, just some bags of nuts, granola bars packed with protein, and more water, all light and easy to carry. The loaf of bread, and small jars would stay here in the room. A local paper and a charger for her phone rounded out her shopping.