I looked around wildly. Darkness was falling fast. Nobody was out. There were small houses on either side of the street, on the way into town. Only a random few looked occupied, with cars parked out front or in driveways.
I looked ahead at the line of traffic.
And something caught my eye.
Chapter Fifty-Six
I pulled over to the closest house and parked in front. I hopped out of the Tahoe and walked down the sidewalk. I kept my head down, hiding my bruises. I brushed mud from my arms. My wet pants clung to my legs.
I hurried along the sidewalk, passing one, two, then finally three cars until I reached a long container truck that read collins consolidated, with the large CC logo inside the truck outline. I hustled into the street, crossed in front of the rattling truck grille, and waved to get the driver’s attention. I spotted a return wave but couldn’t see the trucker through the windshield glare.
I hurried around the driver’s side to find a skinny, middle-aged woman with bright blue eyes, long hot-pink hair, and a friendly smile that faded when she gave me a once-over. I said to her, “Excuse me, my name is Jason Bennett—”
“You need to step away, sir.” The trucker eyed me hard, and a tan Chihuahua popped into view and started barking. “Quiet!” the trucker snapped at the Chihuahua, and the little dog quieted instantly.
“I know this sounds crazy, but I’m trying to get away from a man named John Milo, who shot Jaybird, one of your fellow drivers. Do you know Jaybird?”
“What? Hold on a sec.” The trucker lowered an audiobook that had been playing in the background. She had on a pink T-shirt and jeans. The Chihuahua sat in her lap, his eyes round as black marbles. “Now, did you say Jaybird?”
“Yes, do you know Jaybird? Did you know he was shot? He’s in the hospital. It happened last night, outside of Avondale, Pennsylvania. I was at a diner with two other Collins truckers, one had a red beard like a Viking and the other had an Iron Man tattoo on his neck.”
“You mean Tony?” The trucker broke into a smile, her forehead relaxing. “You know him?”
“Yes, I know Tony!”
“What did you say your name was?”
I repeated it. “And you are?”
“Flossie Bergstrom.”
“Flossie, please call Tony. He’ll vouch for me. We talked at breakfast.” I checked the line of cars behind us, which was lengthening. Somebody honked. “Please, I need a ride to Philly.”
Flossie paused. “I don’t take riders.”
“Couldn’t you, this one time? For Tony? For Jaybird? I can explain.”
Flossie blinked, thinking it over. “You like dogs?”
“Love ’em!” I answered, my heart lifting.
* * *
—
Inside the cab was comfy, with tan cushioned seats. The steering wheel was of polished wood, and the dashboard had a touchscreen next to a bewildering series of gauges. Atop the dash was an E-ZPass transponder and a radar detector, with a CB radio mounted at the ceiling, its microphone in a holster.
But now that I had a higher vantage point, I could see we were closer to the roadblock than I’d thought. I felt a bolt of alarm. Six Delaware State Police cruisers were parked on the shoulder, their rooftop light bars flashing silently. Three teams of two troopers stopped each car and talked to its driver in a smoothly coordinated operation. I would have to explain to Flossie quickly.
“Your dogs are so well-behaved,” I said, trying to break the ice. It turned out Flossie had three Chihuahuas; one in her lap, one in the driver’s seat next to her, and one sitting neatly on the console. The one on the console was missing an eye, his right lid sewn shut. The dogs sat preternaturally calm, their gazes fixed on me with an intelligent curiosity.
“They’re rig dogs. They know how to act. Manny is my baby, and that one’s Moe and the one-eyed one is Jack. They’re good company.”
“I didn’t know you could drive around with pets.”
“Nobody tells me what to do.” Flossie petted Manny’s smooth head. “Now, what’s going on, Jason?”
“I’m trying to get away from a man named John Milo, who shot Jaybird. Milo wants to kill me.”
“Why don’t you call the police?”
I hesitated, unsure how much to tell her. “I can’t trust them, and the lives of my wife and son are on the line. They’re in hiding, and I have to get them before Milo does.”
Flossie recoiled. “You mean this Milo guy wants to kill your wife and kid?”
“Or kidnap them, to use them as leverage against me.”
“Why?”
“To keep me quiet about what I know.”
Flossie’s expression fell into deep lines. “I got a feeling I don’t want to know what you know.”
“You don’t.” I checked the roadblock. One of the troopers was motioning the line forward. I was running out of time. “Please get me through this roadblock. You can drop me off right after, anywhere. They’re looking for me.”
Flossie grimaced. “This is for you?”
“Yes. They think I killed somebody, but Milo framed me for it.”
“Dude, you’re a lot.”
“Tell me about it.” I tried to smile, but it came out shakier than I hoped.
“You okay?” Flossie softened, cocking her head, and I didn’t know how to answer.
“Will you just hide me, please? I’m begging you. Call Tony. He’ll remember me. We talked at the diner.”
“I don’t have his cell.”
“What about the CB?” I gestured to the CB radio.
“The range is only ten miles. Tony drives the middle of the state. I won’t get an answer fast enough. There’s an app, but I’m old school.”
“Then please, trust me. Get me through this roadblock.”
Flossie thought it over, patting Manny. “How are you going to get to Philly?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“That where your wife and kid is?”
“I think so.”
Flossie hesitated, her gaze searching mine.
“Please, help me. I swear, I’m just a dad, trying to keep my family alive.”
Flossie gestured behind her. “Okay, get in back. You’ll see my bed. Keep quiet.”
“Thank you.” I scrambled between the seats and climbed into the back, which was roomy enough for a single mattress with flowered sheets, a pink coverlet, and two pillows. At the head and foot of the bed were cubbyholes that held a laptop, a row of paperback books, and a phone charger. A second bed, also cushioned, was folded flush with the back wall.
Flossie put the truck into gear, and I got under the covers and pulled them over my head. We lurched forward, the massive engine rumbling loudly. In the next minute, I felt little footsteps walking on my arm and opened the covers.
Jack slipped under the coverlet, made a circle, and curled up next to my body, placing one paw over the other daintily. I didn’t know what to do but cuddle the dog, which soothed my nerves.
The truck stopped, its brakes squeaking. I heard troopers talking outside. Flossie gave the truck gas, then braked.
We were getting closer. The troopers sounded louder, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. We inched forward, stop and go. I tried to stay calm. It felt like forever.