On the Run by Paul Westwood Page B

gave Carmen the
pictures, I was visited at my office by two hoods. They worked for
Adrian. They tried to kidnap me. I had to shoot one of them to make
my escape. I managed to get to my car and run for it, packing
whatever I could from what was in the office. I didn’t even stop
home to pick anything up, I just started driving, trying to put as
much distance between myself and Miami as I could.”
    “You’ve put on a lot of miles. How are they
keeping track of where you are?”
    I shrugged. “I gave it some thought. The mob
in Miami must have someone working for them in law enforcement
since every time I used a credit card, I ended up being picked up
by someone. I had to stop using the plastic, relying on what little
cash I had. As you can see, I eventually ran of gas. I was hoping
to make it to Vegas and get lost in the crowd.”
    Cat took her eyes off the road long enough to
raise a skeptical eyebrow in my direction. She said, “I’ve heard
lots of stories in my time, but yours takes the cake. You’re trying
to con me, aren’t you? Look, I don’t have much money myself. I mean
take a look at this van. Do you think I’m rolling in the green
stuff?”
    In aggravation, I fumbled for the wallet
resting in my back pocket. “Look, I can prove that I’m a detective.
I have a license.”
    She shook her head. “You could show me
anything, but it could be a forgery or who knows what. Look, I’ll
drive you to the next town, okay? Just don’t go asking me for
money.”
    “Fine,” I shot back, trying to keep my voice
cold and level. No one likes being called a liar. For the next few
minutes there was an uneasy feeling in the air as if a wall had
been built in between us.
    When she next spoke, the tone of her voice
was conciliatory, as if offering a truce. “James, I’m sorry if I
seem so jaded. Working with a bunch of theater types in New York
City makes you suspicious. I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve
heard someone go on about their big plans for a show, or try to get
me into bed on the promise of giving me a lead in their
production.” She smiled to herself, perhaps reliving some old
memory. “I’ve heard it all.”
    “Well I’m not making it up. Whoever is
driving that Lincoln is after me. I would prefer it if you could
drop me off in big enough town where I could lose him.”
    She made a face, sticking her tongue out just
enough so it brushed against her upper lip. “It’s a small detour,
but would Vegas work?”
    I thought about this. Las Vegas was my
original destination since it had an ever moving population of
tourists, hucksters, and conmen. It would be easy to get lost in
the crowd. I could draw out some more money from my account and
disappear before the Mafia had a chance to get me. From there I
could get to California or maybe catch a flight to Europe. It
wasn’t the best plan, but it was better than walking on the side of
the road.
    “I’ll take your offer,” I said. What other
choice did I have?
    We zipped by a gas station that was lit up
with neon. The sun was almost gone now; just a faint smear of
orange along the horizon. Cat turned on the headlights. The beams
broke across the road, leaving temporary imprints along the black
asphalt. The previous colors and rolling terrain of the desert
disappeared into a black empty void. We could have been travelers
on some alien planet; the only humans for millions of miles.
    Covering her mouth with the back of her hand,
Cat let out a yawn. “Look, James, I’ve been traveling all day. I
need to get some sleep.”
    “I can take over driving,” I suggested.
    She said uneasily, “It’s not that I don’t
trust you, but I would hate to fall asleep and wake up somewhere I
don’t want to be. I’ll find a place to pull over and I can sleep in
the back. You can take the front here. Since I will have the keys,
and can lock myself inside, you won’t be able to get to me. How
does that sound?”
    “Do I have any choice?” I asked,