Highwayman by MJ Preston

Author:MJ Preston [Preston, M.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781948239080
Publisher: WildBlue Press
Published: 2019-04-01T00:00:00+00:00

2

They reached Frankfort and pulled the vehicle behind a building that was part of an abandoned strip mall. They were out of sight. Norris was mute, stealing glances at the driver trying to decide if this was Highwayman or Devon. Meanwhile, the stranger held the wheel with both hands staring out into the vacant lot. He stayed that way for a long time, letting out an exhausted sigh, and turned to face Norris.

“You have to stay here, Norris. I am going to get us another ride, but I need you to keep an eye on things.” He smiled when he said this. Devon had returned.

“Okay,” Norris mumbled.

“I won’t be long. I have another vehicle a few blocks away. You stay here and gather up everything: the gear, the tools, and the coveralls. Put it all at the tailgate and have it ready. Use a rag to wipe the inside of the truck. Handles, seats, anything we might have touched.”

“Devon?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not going to leave me, are you?”

“No, I wouldn’t have brought you this far if that was my intention.” He opened the driver’s door. “I’ll be fifteen minutes, tops. Then we’re heading east, and I am going to let you in on a secret.” He reached out and took the little man softly by the shoulder. “Gather up our gear, and be ready to go in fifteen minutes.” Then he got out of the car, walking away at a brisk pace across the dusty lot.

Norris did as he was told. He gathered the clothes, the tools, and everything that he thought might be incriminating. He used a rag to wipe down the inside of the truck, and though he tried not to think about it, the wait was an eternity. He anticipated a police car to roll into the dusty lot. The first thing they’d do was run the plate and ask for identification. He didn’t even have a license to show them.

By the fourteenth minute, the combustion of anxiety was kindled by the summer heat. Norris could feel the sweat running down the small of his back, between his butt cheeks, causing an uncomfortable itch that was begging to be scratched. He ignored the temptation, knowing it would only be worsened by probing fingers.

By the sixteenth minute, he was going out of his mind, and he had begun rehearsing his confession to the police on the matter. “I didn’t mean it. I am sick,” he mumbled aloud. He was holding his duffle with his left hand, the right digging into his nostril for a dried kernel of snot.

The car, a gray-blue Cavalier, rolled into the lot just as he was eating the newfound treasure. The window lowered and revealed Devon smiling. The trunk popped and he said, “Need a ride?”

Norris swallowed the nugget and grinned. “Yes.”

Devon got out, took Norris’ bag, and left the other items.

Once they had everything, he took a container of lighter fluid and doused the carpet and seats. Norris didn’t ask, but wondered why he’d had him unload and wipe the truck down if he was just going to burn it up.

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