Snaggle Tooth: A Patrick Flint Novel by Pamela Fagan Hutchins

Author:Pamela Fagan Hutchins [Hutchins, Pamela Fagan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Skipjack Publishing
Published: 2021-03-16T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-six: Shadow

Buffalo, Wyoming

Friday, August 12, 1977, 4:00 p.m.

Susanne

Driving east down Main Street past interspersed little hotels and storefronts in jauntily painted old houses, Susanne’s Suburban might as well have been a flashing neon light in Barb Lamkin’s rearview mirror. Barb knew the vehicle. Susanne eased off the gas to let it fall as far back from Barb as she could get and still follow her. Nearly two blocks. A tractor without its trailer—how many wheels did that make it?—turned onto Main between them. It belched out a cloud of smelly black smoke as it accelerated. Susanne couldn’t see around it, and she bit her lip. Barb could turn off on a side road and be gone in a flash.

Susanne never drove aggressively. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t capable. Her father had kept roadsters when she was a girl. She’d learned to drive in a race car, and he’d made her prove to him she could put it through all of its paces, on and off the dirt track. Mashing her accelerator, Susanne whipped around the truck, earning her angry beeps from an oncoming sedan.

“Thanks, Daddy,” she said aloud.

Adrenaline pulsed in her veins. She squinted, looking ahead for Barb. Her glasses. She didn’t have her glasses. Her far-vision was terrible. The white blob in the distance had to be her. She gave the Suburban some gas so she could get close enough to be sure. She tried to recall ever seeing Barb drive a white Chevy truck before but came up empty. In fact, Barb had totaled her brown Chevy truck the night she’d tried to kill Susanne and the kids. From there, Barb had been transported to the hospital, then to jail after she was released from medical care. She probably didn’t even own a working vehicle anymore. Had she stolen this truck? Maybe from a tourist. The plates were from out of state. White with Columbia blue lettering. Virginia, if Susanne’s eyes didn’t deceive her.

They were on the outskirts of town now, near the fairgrounds. Ahead was the junction of the interstates—90 north to Sheridan, east to Gillette, or 25 south to Casper. As the gap between their vehicles closed, Susanne’s adrenaline slowed. It was definitely the white truck ahead of her. She hadn’t lost her. Luckily, Barb was easy to follow. She was obeying the speed limit and traffic laws, obviously taking care not to attract the attention of cops. Her being a wanted fugitive and all. Anger boiled up in Susanne. She squeezed the steering wheel so hard it hurt her fingers. Barb had better drive carefully, because Will was in that truck.

Susanne didn’t trust Barb with a baby, even one she’d given birth to. She pictured the infant thrown off the seat and tumbling to the floorboard. Or being catapulted into the dash. The thought made her shudder.

Up ahead, Barb put on a left blinker, then red lights flashed on her bumper. Susanne applied her brakes. Where could Barb be going? She clearly wasn’t headed to her old house, a tiny rental near the hospital.

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