Kill Me If You Can

39

My soft bed thumped and I heard road noise in my ears. Oh, yeah. I was in the back of the car. I’d climbed over the seat before we crossed the Mackinac Bridge. The Mighty Mac, Gram called it. She said it wasn’t even built when she was young. Back then, they had to drive their car onto a ferryboat to get downstate.

I didn’t want to wake up yet. The sun had just been coming up when we crossed the bridge awhile ago. It had looked really pretty over the lake and made the water pink and gold. Looking at it made me feel better, like things weren’t going to be so bad after all. But then I had started thinking about the stuff I’d never see again. Like Puppa. And Jellybean. And the horses. And my cat Peanut Butter. And my friend Anne. Probably my dad. And for sure my mom. Every time we passed one of the big wires holding up the bridge, I’d think of something else that I could never have back. And I wondered what would happen if the big wires broke and we fell into the water so far down, like what happened with my mom when she drove into that big pit.

Then I’d started to cry. Grandma didn’t yell at me for sniffling this time. And before we made it all the way across the bridge, I had lain down on the seat and looked up at the pink sky through the back window.

I must have fallen asleep, because here I was in the backseat, just opening my eyes. Only this time there were stars shining out the window. How long had we been driving, anyway?

I sat up. There were people in the seats in front of me, but it wasn’t Grandma and Grandpa Amble. I rubbed my head. The years rushed past and then there I was, in the backseat of Brad’s SUV with him and Sam up front.

“Wow. Was I ever sleeping. Where are we, anyway?” I asked. The highway rolled past with nothing but pine trees as landmarks.

“About halfway home,” Brad said.

“What a horrible night. I can’t believe that truck tried to kill me. I don’t even want to picture the shape my Explorer’s in.”

“It’ll be fine,” Brad said. “I had it towed to a body shop. The other vehicle wasn’t so lucky. The driver was dead at the scene. The passenger is in critical condition and on his way to Marquette.”

It seemed unfair that one of the men who tried to kill me should survive the plunge to the bottom of the quarry. My mother hadn’t survived. And she’d deserved to. At least I knew for sure now. Her death was no suicide. It was murder.

Brad glanced back at me. “I talked the officers at the scene into questioning you later. I hope you’re up for it when we’re in town this afternoon.”

I sighed and nodded. A few more hours of sleep would help take the edge off my latest trauma before I had to cough up the play-by-play.

I leaned forward between the front seats. “Are Puppa and Candice going to be okay?”

Sam and Brad looked at each other, but neither answered.

“Hey. What’s going on?”

Brad kept his hands at ten and two on the steering wheel. White knuckles shone in the glow from the dash. He cleared his throat. “We searched the vicinity of the Watering Hole for your grandfather and Candice. We couldn’t find them.”

“What?” I gripped the seat backs. “Where could they be?”

How had I slept through all the drama? I looked at the clock on the console. 3:36 a.m.

Brad’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Hopefully it means your grandfather got away.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. “What’s happening, Brad?”

He sighed. “Near as I can tell, your grandfather has been working to pinpoint a major drug connection in this area. He’s set a few snares, but none have been successful. Until now. I don’t know how to tell you this, but everything points to your friend Candice being a main drug pin around here.”

I stared at the blur of yellow lines flashing past on the highway. Assorted conversations ran through my mind. Candice’s condemnation of the entire peninsula, her avoidance of my grandfather, the confession that she’d killed Paul and Sid and Drake—all seemed to uphold Brad’s accusation. But what about her reminiscences of our time with my mother, her love of horses, her gracious hospitality, her parting kiss? How did that fit in with a lifetime of drug distribution? She had admitted that she’d taken over for Paul while he was in jail, but she’d also implied that she’d gone straight somewhere along the way, hadn’t she? And yet, how did one get a box full of photos of drug manufacturing locations and dealer faces if one wasn’t on the inside of the trade?

It was depressing to think the accusation was true.

“Brad.” Samantha said his name low and urgent. “What is this guy doing?” Her eyes were glued to the side mirror.

Brad looked in his rearview. “Hang on.”

I turned around. Headlights glared through the back window, close to our rear bumper. I held up a hand to shield my eyes. Brad sped up. The vehicle stuck with us.

“Here we go again.” I sat back and tightened my safety belt.

Brad switched lanes, so did the other car. Brad slowed, the other car slowed. Brad floored it, the other driver mimicked him.

“Oh, I don’t believe it,” Samantha said, bracing herself against the dash.

“What?” Brad asked.

“It’s Gill. I’m pretty sure it’s Gill.”

Sam’s ex-husband drove a white, rusted-out Suburban, the one I’d seen leaving my driveway awhile back. As we passed the yard light of a rural home, the vehicle behind us shone pearly white.

“What are we going to do?” My heart raced with this latest threat.

“Like I said, hang on.” Brad stepped on the gas, kicking his new-model SUV into overdrive. He floored it down the highway. The white Suburban fell behind, but stayed in sight. We flew past Hilltop Grocery and a few minutes later, Ed’s Bar.

“Brad, I can’t take this.” I hadn’t yet recovered from the high-speed chase earlier that evening. “Please slow down.” I held my stomach, sure that the next jolt of the car would force me to stick my head out the window.

“It’s okay, Brad,” Samantha kicked in. “He’s not really going to hurt us. He just likes to put on a show.”

Brad lifted his foot a notch. The SUV slowed to just under break-neck speed. “I’d rather not take any chances where Gill’s involved.”

“Come on. You know he’s all hot air.” Samantha put her hand on the crook of Brad’s elbow.

“Would I have sent you up here if I thought Gill was just hot air?” the older of the two siblings asked.

Sam conceded by crossing her arms and giving a big sigh.

“Fine.” Brad stepped on the brakes. “You know what? Let’s just see what he’s full of. Let’s settle this once and for all.” The car slowed to fifty-five.

Behind us, Gill raced ahead, closing the gap within seconds. The Suburban pulled into the opposite lane until the passenger door was even with Brad’s. Gill rolled down his window and gestured for Brad to do the same.

Brad complied. Samantha leaned forward for a full view of her ex-husband. The two men maneuvered the vehicles to keep them from colliding.

“Samantha, baby,” Gill shouted from his vehicle. “I’m sorry. Come home.”

“It’s over, Gill. It’s been over for years. Quit following me.” Her voice was sucked out the window as she yelled.

“I want you back.” Gill’s vehicle veered toward ours. “I’ll do anything.” He jerked the wheel and took it back to a safe distance. “Let’s work things out.”

“No. It’s over. Leave me alone.”

“Had enough, sis?” Brad asked Samantha.

She nodded.

Brad braked, letting Gill get ahead of us and back in the correct lane. Gill slowed and pulled his car to the shoulder. Brad parked behind him, leaving the engine running and the headlights on high beam.

“Don’t get out. Lock the doors behind me.” Brad stepped from the vehicle.

“Are you crazy?” Samantha asked. “What if he’s got a gun?”

Brad patted under his arm. “So do I. Besides. He’s all hot air, right?”

I jumped on Sam’s bandwagon. “Let’s just call the police and let them take care of it. Don’t do anything foolish,” I pleaded.

“I am the police.” He slammed the car door and walked toward Gill’s vehicle.

My macho cop boyfriend was about to get his Achilles’ heel crushed. “Sam, do something. He’s going to get hurt.”

“Sit tight. He must know what he’s doing.” Sam didn’t sound so sure herself.

“I’m calling the police.” I flipped open my cell phone and dialed 9-1-1. NO SIGNAL, came the response. Why did Brad have to confront Gill smack in the middle of nowhere?

I watched with my heart in my throat as Brad approached Gill’s rolled-down window. They talked for a minute, then Brad gestured with his finger for Gill to get out of the car.

Trepidation washed over me as Gill stepped out, chest puffed like a fighting cock, and rolled up his flannel sleeves. Brad pointed to the grassy shoulder. The two men walked to the shallow ditch, their huge shadows blacking out the space behind them. They took up aggressive poses, paused five seconds, then lit into each other.