Until You Get Caught by John Koloen

Author:John Koloen [Koloen, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Watchfire Press
Published: 2020-02-23T16:00:00+00:00

Fifty-Three

Washburn was possessive about listening to the voicemail. They’d pulled into a site with electricity and water at Abilene State Park. He started listening but immediately turned the phone off.

“So, what did they say?” Bowman asked.

“You listen to it,” Washburn said, handing the phone to Bowman, who set the phone to speaker. Washburn covered his ears and when the brief message had ended asked Bowman what had been said.

“Just that they want to talk to you. They didn’t really say why except that they think you may have seen or heard something.”

“They think I’m like a witness?”

Bowman shrugged. “Can’t tell.”

“Did they say I’m a person of interest?”

“Nope. Not that I heard. I could play it back if you want.”

Washburn shook his head. “No. Don’t need to hear it. I don’t trust the bastards.”

“So what’re you gonna do?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. I’m afraid if I go back they’ll put me in jail.”

“Why would they do that?”

Washburn sighed and lit a cigarette. They were sitting at their campsite’s picnic table under a canopy of live oaks, not far from the park’s six-hundred-acre lake. Hours remained before sunset and Bowman wanted to check out the lake, maybe rent a canoe at the park’s headquarters if it was cheap enough, but Washburn had become sullen and uncommunicative. Bowman asked several times what was bothering him but Washburn just shook his head. It was obvious what was bothering him but Bowman wanted him to admit it.

“We can rent a canoe here,” Bowman said hopefully. “Get out on the lake, maybe go swimming.”

“I can’t swim.”

“We don’t hafta. Just paddle around.”

“I just told you I can’t swim.”

“We’ll be in a boat,” Bowman said. “You can wear a life jacket. I’m sure they rent them along with the boats.”

“I’ve never been in a canoe.”

“I have, when I was a Boy Scout. I’ll show you how. It’s easy.”

Washburn got up without saying anything, went into the trailer and returned with a baggie and rolling papers. Looking over his shoulder as if to make sure nearby campers weren’t watching, he expertly rolled a joint and inhaled deeply after lighting up. Leaning back, his eyes closed, he exhaled, took a second drag and handed it to Bowman who held it but didn’t inhale.

“What’s with you?” Washburn said as he took the joint.

“I don’t wanna be high if I’m gonna rent a canoe. Besides, they might be able to smell it on me.”

“You go ahead,” Washburn said, holding the smoke in, his words pinched and indistinct. “I’m not interested.”

“C’mon, man. This a chance to do something different. We come all this way and all you wanna do is smoke a joint?” Bowman chided.

Washburn blew the smoke from his final drag across the table at Bowman.

“Hey, man. What’re you doing?”

“Now they’ll smell it on you for sure,” Washburn said, smiling crookedly, emptying the remnants of the joint into the baggie.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” Bowman said, rising and stepping away from the table.

“Fuck you,” Washburn said softly, his head lowered, not looking at his companion.

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