Ethan put the truck in drive and gunned it down the street.
He could tell right off that the truck ran smoothly and that it would get him where he needed to go. Fifteen hundred miles was all he asked of it for now, with another fifteen hundred to get itself back home.
Ethan turned on the radio, and Maren Morris was singing “My Church.” He tapped his fingers on the wheel.
Soon traffic thinned and he’d made it into the desert. Desolate and brown, under an empty blue sky, it made him think of Afghanistan—a place he tried hard not to remember. Ethan Blake set his jaw and practiced box breathing. It was twenty-odd hours to Arkansas. He watched the speedometer climb up to seventy-eight miles per hour, and then he put the Ram in cruise control.
Chapter
81
It was five o’clock in the morning when AnnieLee walked up to the bright-yellow Freightliner parked at a rest stop outside Albuquerque and knocked on the window. She’d spent the night at a Roadside Inn a few miles down the highway—it was a major step down from the Aquitaine—and now it was time to get moving. She waited for a little while, shivering, and then she knocked again. A minute or two later, a sleepy, angry face appeared.
The man it belonged to motioned her away. “I don’t want no company,” he said, his voice muffled through the glass. “I don’t do that kind of thing.” He held up a ring finger. “Married, okay?”
This was exactly the information that AnnieLee was looking for. “I’m not a lot lizard, or commercial company, or whatever the heck you want to call it,” she said. “I’m just asking for a ride.” She gestured to the horizon, where it was just beginning to go a paler gray. “You’re supposed to be driving pretty soon, I bet. If you let me ride along, I’ll buy you all the Egg McMuffins you can eat and the biggest coffee they got.”
The man turned away and stared out his windshield. Out on the highway, only a few sets of headlights stabbed through the predawn dark. AnnieLee couldn’t hear the man sigh, but she could see him do it, the way his shoulders lifted up and then fell back down.
“Fine,” he said, and she was already up on the step when the passenger door swung open.
“Thank you so much,” AnnieLee said, climbing in. “My name’s Katie.”
He told her that his name was Foster Barnes, and he was headed to Oklahoma City. Gruff and quiet at first, he warmed up after she bought him the promised breakfast at a McDonald’s thirty miles down the highway. And once Foster got a few ounces of coffee in his belly, AnnieLee barely had to say a word; she just listened to him talk about his job, about fishing with his wife, and about the boat they were building in his garage whenever he wasn’t on the road. After a solid hour of monologue, Foster turned to AnnieLee. “Well, I’ve sure talked a lot,” he said. “What’s your story?”
“I don’t have one, really,” AnnieLee said lightly, shoving her hands into the pocket of her pink VEGAS, BABY sweatshirt. “I’m just a girl without a car.”
“Huh,” Foster said after a moment. “Well, I hope you’re being real careful out there.”
“Oh, I am,” AnnieLee said. Her fingers found the can of pepper spray she’d bought back in the Vegas shop. Small and hot pink, it looked just like a tube of lipstick.
Foster looked over at her, his expression serious. “I mean it, Katie!” Then he said, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to speak sharply like that. It’s just that a lot of people aren’t as nice as you want ’em to be.”
No shit, AnnieLee thought. You want a list?
But she pulled her hands out of the pocket of her hoodie. “You seem nice, though,” she said, and she could see the blush that crept up Foster’s neck to his cheeks. She’d been right—he was one of the good ones.
“You seem pretty nice, too,” he managed.
AnnieLee thanked him, though she wasn’t nice at all. She’d kept too many secrets and abandoned too many people, and that wasn’t even the worst of it.
“You got someone waiting for you on the other end?” Foster asked.
“I sure do,” AnnieLee said. “All I got to do is find him.”
And when I do, she thought, I’m going to kill him.
She didn’t think Foster would want to hear about that.
They parted ways in Oklahoma City, a few miles away from the electronics distribution center that was Foster’s final destination. Right before she hopped out of the cab, he held out a fifty-dollar bill. AnnieLee said, “Oh, no, I couldn’t,” but Foster Barnes shook it at her.