And Then She Was Gone(85)
“I’ve got this.”
The little car shook as it strained to go faster.
Chandler looked around. “I think the wheels are going to come off this thing.”
“Trust me.” Jack looked in the rearview mirror. Michael was still in the far right lane, and the middle lane was clear. Jack slowed down.
A minivan behind him flashed its lights to signal Jack to move out of the left lane. Jack just slowed even more. The minivan pulled into the middle lane to pass them. As it did, Jack continued to slow and used the minivan to block their car from the view of the Toyota. He then switched over to the far right lane, a couple of cars behind Michael.
“See.” Jack held his hand out as if he had just served up the Toyota on a platter.
“Sweet, but don’t get us jammed up.”
“I won’t.”
“One call to the cops and we’re screwed. The Army doesn’t want troublemakers.”
“You sound like Aunt Haddie.”
Chandler smacked his arm. “Yeah, just this morning she said that to me.” He cleared his throat and broke into his best Aunt Haddie impression: “Now, Chandler, you need to stay out of trouble or you’re screwed.” He stretched the word out.
Jack laughed. Aunt Haddie would never use that word. “I meant you sounded like Aunt Haddie when you said troublemaker. But fine, you sound like my mom. Better?”
“Like your mom has ever said ‘screwed’ either.” Chandler held up his index finger. “Listen, I’m one hundred and ten percent as serious as a heart attack. I cannot, and will not, get jacked up in this. The Army’s my ticket to college.”
“You won’t.”
They followed the Toyota for the next ten miles. Jack wondered whether he was wasting valuable time following this guy around.
When at last the Toyota’s right turn signal started blinking, Chandler pointed. “He’s getting off in Darrington.”
The Toyota took the off ramp and Jack followed, with a van in between them. At the stop sign at the end of the ramp, both the Toyota and the van took a right. Jack rolled through after them.
“Can you see him?” Jack craned his neck and drifted toward the middle of the road.
The Toyota and the van both took a right.
“The stupid van is going everywhere Michael is,” Chandler said.
The Toyota took a hard left. So did the van.
Suddenly, the Toyota slammed on its brakes. The van skidded to a stop right behind it, and Jack had to jam both feet down on the brake pedal to keep from running into its rear bumper. Everything on the front seat shot forward and onto the floor, while Chandler braced himself against the dashboard.
A car door slammed shut. “What the hell!” Michael yelled.
“Crap, he got out of the car,” Chandler whispered fiercely.
Jack leaned over and looked out the window.
Michael stormed over to the driver’s side of the van. “Are you following me?” he yelled.
“What? You just stop,” the van driver said in a thick Spanish accent.
“What’s your problem?” Michael’s feet were set wide apart and he stuck his chest out. “Why are you following me?”
“No. I no follow. We working there.”
“What’s he doing?” Chandler whispered.
“He’s screaming at the van driver.”
Michael stomped back to his car.
Chandler craned his neck, but he couldn’t see. “What’s he doing?”
“He’s getting back in his car.”
Michael yanked the door open and jumped in. As he drove away, the van didn’t move.
Jack laid on the horn.
“Don’t beep!” Chandler clamped his hands on the sides of his head. “Michael will see us.”
“We’re losing him.”
The van driver flipped Jack off and drove away.
“Now Michael knows we’re following him!” Chandler said.
“No, he doesn’t. You need to act normal if you’re undercover. And blowing your horn at someone stopped in the road is normal.”
“Normal people cut someone slack after a crazy guy gives them a brake job then gets out of the car all psycho on them. That’s what normal people do. They don’t blast their horn.”
“Whatever. But you’re right, Michael did look psycho.”
“He sure has got a temper.”
Now that the van was nowhere to be seen, Jack followed Michael at a distance. It was past noon and the traffic was heavy as the two cars wound closer to downtown Darrington. Jack’s knuckles were white and sweat ran down his back as he tried to keep Michael’s car in sight, but not too close, while at the same time navigating through traffic.
Finally, the Toyota pulled onto a side street and stopped in a parking lot behind a white two-story colonial.