“This food is lousy,” Wayne said.
I stirred my bowl of oatmeal, not even bothering to look up. The motel was shady at best, but at least it had an electric kettle and a small table to eat at.
“My oatmeal is fine,” I finally replied.
“Not mine. It tastes like paste.”
I met Wayne’s gaze, his hazel eyes staring back at me. “That implies you’ve eaten paste before.”
“Come on, Joe. You know what I mean.”
I knew what he was getting at, but that didn’t mean I was going to let it slide.
“You need to learn to be more grateful,” I said.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Just what I said. This breakfast isn’t much, but it’s better than nothing.”
“That’s your opinion.”
“Maybe.” I lifted a spoonful of oatmeal to my mouth and swallowed. “I want to hit the road as soon as possible. We have a good day of driving ahead of us.”
“Even so, it’s not going to kill us to eat a decent breakfast. There’s a diner right down the road. We can be in and out in no time.”
I pondered. I didn’t like to give in to Wayne, but sometimes it had to be done.
“Fine,” I said, getting to me feet. “I’ll bring back a proper breakfast.” I walked to the door and pulled it ajar, glancing back at Wayne. “But don’t answer the door while I’m gone. There are some questionable women doing business around here, and you don’t want any part of that.”
***
Several hours later…
“Damn it,” I muttered. With a knee to the pavement, I clenched my teeth as I tightened one of the remaining lug nuts with the wrench.
“Need some help?” Wayne asked.
He’d been hovering behind me while I changed the left rear tire of the 1977 Ford Thunderbird, a car I’d inherited from my grandparents years ago. There wasn’t much of a shoulder on the lonely country road, so the left-hand side of the car was resting along the pavement.
“Just stop looking over my shoulder,” I finally said. “And that goes for the pacing, too. It makes me nervous.”
“Well, I am nervous,” Wayne admitted.
“And whose fault is that? Anyway, I’m almost done. Then we can get the hell out of here.”
I was about to tighten the final lug nut when a car engine stole my attention.
“Shit,” Wayne said.
I glanced to my left, noticing a police car approaching from the opposite direction. The car slowed as it drove past, then circled around and parked behind us.
A man stepped out of the cruiser wearing tan-colored pants and a matching buttoned-down shirt. He tossed his hat into the driver’s seat before closing the door.
“I’m assuming you’ve got a flat,” he said with a smile.
The officer looked to be in his forties with a weathered face and cropped brown hair. He wasn’t tall by any means, but the man made up for it with his stout physique.
“You guessed it,” I said. “But I’m just about done.”
“Glass?” the officer inquired.
“Pardon?”
“Did you hit a piece of glass?”
I shrugged.
“That’s usually the culprit out here,” the officer said. “Townsfolk drinking beer in the middle of the night and tossing the bottles out their car windows.”
“Isn’t that illegal?”
“Drinking and driving? Of course. If I’m witness to it, I’ll bring ‘em in. But I’m pretty short-staffed, so I can’t be everywhere all of the time.” He took a breath. “Anyway, where are my manners? I’m Sheriff Potter. I know just about everyone here in Spalding, but I don’t recognize the two of you.”
“You’re right. We’re not residents. We’re just passing through on our way to Ubbin Falls.”
“Oh, yeah. What’s there?”
“Our parents,” I answered.
Potter eyed the two of us. “You two brothers or something?”
“Yeah. I’m Joe. He’s Wayne.”
Potter glanced at each of us again. “No offence, but I don’t see the resemblance.”
It was true enough. Wayne was lanky with a narrow face and blond hair. I had darker features with more meat on my bones.
“We get that a lot,” I said.
I finished tightening the last lug nut, then moved to the rear of the car and lowered the jack. I got to my feet, holding the jack in one hand and the wrench in the other.
“Let me help you,” Potter said.
“I appreciate it, but I’ve got it.”
“I insist.”
Potter moved toward the trunk of the car, and that’s when I realized it was open. Not all of the way, but it was open a crack from when I swapped out the tire. He put a hand to the lid of the trunk, pushing it ajar even more.
I deposited the items into the trunk. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Potter bent over to get a closer look at something. “Those shoes.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What about ‘em?”
“They’re covered in mud.”
“Yeah. That’s why I changed out of them earlier. I didn’t want to dirty the car, so I threw them in the trunk.”
“Do you mind if I have a look?”
“What for?” Wayne said, breaking his silence.
Potter glimpsed Wayne, then met my gaze.
“Sure,” I said, failing to see any harm in it.
Potter grasped one of the shoes and inspected it. “Looks like clay.”
“So?” Wayne grumbled.
I shook my head at Wayne. It was my way of telling him to shut the hell up.
“How can you tell?” I asked.
“The soil is red,” Potter replied. “And you only find red clay in one part of this county. Up near the foothills. Were you recently in the area?”
I wasn’t sure what to say, but the longer I deliberated, the more suspicion I would likely draw.
“Yeah,” I confessed. “This road runs through those hills. Nature called, and there were no bathrooms around, so I had to do my business in the woods.”
“That area is off limits,” Potter said. “We have a small wildfire encroaching on those foothills, so that part of the road should have been closed off.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, Sheriff. We came straight through without any problems.”
Potter eyed me warily. “Give me a minute. And stay where you are.”
Wayne and I exchanged glances.
“Alice,” Potter said through his shoulder-mounted microphone. “Isn’t Matthews on fire patrol today?”
“Yes,” she replied, “but he hasn’t checked in since this morning.”
“Say again.”
“We haven’t heard from him, Sheriff.”
“And I’m just now finding out about this?”
A pause followed.
“Comms have been wonky all day,” Alice finally said, “so we just attributed Matthews’ radio silence to that.”
Potter exhaled. “I’m out on Farmer’s Road, near the Chambers Plantation. I need you to send a patrol car. If they’re available, send Stevenson and Wu. And have someone check on Matthews.”
“Yes, sir.”
Potter ended the call. Before I could blink, he drew his gun and aimed it at me. “I need you two to put your hands on your head.”
“What’s the problem?” I said.
“I’m not going to repeat myself.”
I did as Potter ordered and nodded for Wayne to do the same. He ultimately obliged.
“On your knees, too,” Potter barked.
Once again, we obliged.
“I don’t know what this is about, Sheriff,” I said.
“Maybe it’s nothing,” Potter replied, “but I’m not taking any chances. If this isn’t related to you, I’ll happily send you on your way. In the meantime, don’t move and be quiet unless you’re spoken to.” Potter looked at me. “Do you have any weapons on you?”
“No, sir,” I answered.
“Stand up but keep your hands on your head.”
I did as commanded, and Potter approached me. He frisked me, holding the gun in one hand while patting me down with the other.
“Back on your knees,” he ordered.
I lowered my knees to the pavement. Content, Potter moved on to Wayne, giving him the same order to stand. As Wayne got to his feet, I noticed the bulge in the back of his waistband. I thought he’d ditched the gun earlier, but I was obviously mistaken.
My heart fluttered up into my throat. I watched as Potter patted down Wayne, his hand nearing the gun. Just as Potter got to it, Wayne dropped his hands, Potter’s eyes going wide. It was a natural instinct. Fight or flight. But who was going to win?
Potter didn’t hesitate. He squeezed the trigger, and a bullet tore through Wayne’s shoulder. Wayne let out a grunt and fell to the ground, his gun bouncing off the pavement. Potter kicked it aside and turned Wayne on his stomach, putting a knee to his back.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Potter shouted, looking my way. Then he grabbed a pair of handcuffs from his utility belt and bound Wayne’s hands behind his back. “Stay down.”
Potter got to his feet and opened one of the pouches on his utility belt. He pulled a latex glove from it, crouched down, and grasped Wayne’s gun. “You’re not going to be stupid like him, are you?” he asked me.
I shook my head. “No. I’ll play nice, Sheriff.”
The cavalry arrived shortly after. Stevenson, a burly guy with a crew cut, and Wu, a petite woman with her dark hair tied in a bun, were the two officers on the scene.
Potter called for an ambulance, too. Wayne was attended to by EMS personnel and eventually transported to the local hospital with Stevenson in tow.
With my hands cuffed, Wu escorted me to her police cruiser. I was deposited in the back seat and left to ponder.
It had definitely been a shitty day, and just about all of it could be attributed to Wayne’s actions. When I returned to our motel room that morning after getting breakfast, I found a dead prostitute in Wayne’s bed. He admitted to strangling her after she had the nerve of requesting payment.
In a rush to dispose of the body, we put her in the trunk of my car and headed for the foothills. I knew a fire was brewing nearby, so if we dumped the body in its path, she would just be another victim of Mother Nature.
It was a decent plan until Matthews stumbled upon us. And Wayne, with his itchy trigger finger, only made matters worse. He shot the cop, leaving him for dead.
If Matthews lived and made a full recovery, he’d have no problem identifying us. But regardless of whether he lived or not, Wayne’s gun, which was now in Potter’s possession, would undoubtedly be traced to the shooting.
Either way, we were screwed. The only unknown was just how much. The slaying of a cop would obviously carry a much harsher sentence.
After our run-in with Matthews, we were briefly delayed by the closed-off section of the road, but the blockades were easy enough to move. I thought we were finally home free, but fate had other plans.
The flat tire ended up being the final nail in the coffin. If Wayne had gotten rid of the gun and things didn’t play out the way they did, maybe Potter would have let us go. But I’ll never know.
As much as I’d like to blame my brother for what transpired, that guilt ultimately falls on me. If I hadn’t yielded to Wayne during breakfast that morning, we could have avoided the shitstorm that followed. I knew better than to leave him alone. And now I’ll have plenty of time to think about my mistake behind bars.
[Image Credit : Photo by Jericho Cose on Unsplash ]
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