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“If you poison us, do we not die?” He tapped the needle against Mr. Freeman’s leg. “Meditate on
that while you get our drinks.”
14
He watched closely as she operated the machine. This gas stop was on the wooded outskirts of some
little town, and there was always a chance she might decide to hell with the geezer and run for the
trees. He thought of the gun, but left it where it was. Chasing her down would be no great task, given
her current soupy condition. But she didn’t even look in that direction. She slid the five-spot into the
machine and got the drinks, one after the other, pausing only to drink deeply from the water. She
came back and gave him his Fanta, but didn’t get in. Instead she pointed farther down the side of the
building.
“I need to pee.”
Crow was flummoxed. This was something he hadn’t foreseen, although he should have. She had
been drugged, and her body needed to purge itself of toxins. “Can’t you hold it awhile?” He was
thinking that a few more miles down the road, he could find a turnout and pull in. Let her go behind a
bush. As long as he could see the top of her head, they’d be fine.
But she shook her head. Of course she did.
He thought it over. “Okay, listen up. You can use the ladies’ toilet if the door’s unlocked. If it’s
not, you’ll have to take your leak around back. There’s no way I’m letting you go inside and ask the
counterboy for the key.”
“And if I have to go in back, you’ll watch me, I suppose. Pervo.”
“There’ll be a Dumpster or something you can squat behind. It would break my heart not to get a
look at your precious little buns, but I’d try to survive. Now get in the truck.”
“But you said—”
“Get in, or I’ll start calling you Goldilocks again.”
She got in, and he pulled the truck up next to the bathroom doors, not quite blocking them. “Now
hold out your hand.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
Very reluctantly, she held out her hand. He took it. When she saw the needle, she tried to pull
back.
“Don’t worry, just a drop. We can’t have you thinking bad thoughts, now can we? Or broadcasting
them. This is going to happen one way or the other, so why make a production of it?”
She stopped trying to pull away. It was easier just to let it happen. There was a brief sting on the
back of her hand, then he released her. “Go on, now. Make wee-wee and make it quick. As the old song
says, sand is a-runnin through the hourglass back home.”
“I don’t know any song like that.”
“Not surprised. You don’t even know The Merchant of Venice from Romeo and Juliet.”
“You’re mean.”
“I don’t have to be,” he said.
She got out and just stood beside the truck for a moment, taking deep breaths.
“Abra?”
She looked at him.
“Don’t try locking yourself in. You know who’d pay for that, don’t you?” He patted Billy Freeman’s
leg.