I yawned again. Not. The. Time. To.
My eyes opened, heavier than if someone had weighed them down with copper pennies. Not the best of images when I was determined to stay alive. I blinked to clear away the sand of sleep. My eyes focused, and every hair on my body rose. There, pressed against the driver’s window, was Frank Fillmore’s face.
I knew the windows were tinted, and thank God it was dark outside. But the previously shy moon was showing not just a sliver of her face but a frighteningly bright half-moon of clear, silvery light. How could Frank not see me and Lenny with all that moonlight and the outside light on the metal building?
His gaze moved back and forth, landing first on the dash and then the headrests of both seats, where he supposed someone might be sitting. For a second he stared straight at me, where I lay, half-crouched, in the floorboard. If I moved farther down he might see me, like that dinosaur and those kids in that Jurassic Park movie. I slowed my breathing and cleared my mind, willing myself to disappear, to blend into the seat cushion so that he could find no trace of my body, mind, or spirit. After endless moments, he moved to the passenger window and again pressed his face to the window, desperately looking for what?
Lenny growled low.
“Shh,” I uttered as lightly as I could, a mere hiss of air escaping from a bicycle tire. “Shh.”
Fillmore straightened. I could no longer see him without sitting up. Slowly, I moved my chin to get a better view out the driver’s window. I could just make him out as he walked away from the cruiser. I raised my head to follow his movements.
“Josie,” Lightfoot whispered in a crackle over the radio.
I inched out my arm and grabbed the radio. “Shh,” I whispered, quiet as breath. “He’s right here.”
“Watch out! He admitted he killed Lucky Straw.” Lightfoot’s voice was faint.
I whispered back, “Why the confession?” Nervous butterflies rumbled in my stomach. “You stay low. He’s crazier than a dog in a hubcap factory.”
“Said he wants to rid the world of evil.”
Slowly, I raised my head a fraction of an inch and peered out the window. “Oh, shoot the moon!” I hissed.
“What?”
“He’s back in the Prius.”
He groaned softly. “You’re going to have to come get me.”
“How? You’ve got the keys.”
“There’s an extra key hidden under the driver’s seat.”
I watched as Frank opened the trunk of the Prius and removed a box of rockets, like the ones I’d seen on his launching platform. He bent over the box and his mouth moved as if he were crooning to his babies.
“It’s not here. Someone must have taken it.” I admit it—when I can’t find something I always blame it on someone else. “Nothing’s here.”
“A small metal box connected to the spring by a magnet.”
I felt around again, finally dropping my head to the floorboard so that my arm could reach farther.
“You got it?”
“No.” I flung my braid out of my eyes, banging the back of my head on the steering wheel. I reached farther though I was seeing spots in front of my eyes. “Yes!” I shouted. Quickly I sat up and unscrewed the box. Inside was the key just as he had promised. “Where are you exactly? I don’t want to run you over.”
“Head east,” Lightfoot said through gritted teeth, his voice filled with pain.
“Which way is that?”
Fillmore continued to run his gaze over the brush and grass, searching for Lightfoot. Or for me. “He’s standing next to the Prius. You think he’s going to let me just drive by?”
There was silence on the other end.
I stuck the key in the ignition, started the engine, and hoped Frank wouldn’t hear me. No lights to warn him of my approach.
With a jerk and a roar of its four-cylinder engine, the Prius started around the metal building, headed for the dirt road and escape.
“One, two, three!” With a gulp, I threw the SUV in gear, stomped the gas, and barreled into the passenger door of my Prius, crushing the rear driver’s side door of my car, miraculously missing Frank Fillmore. I didn’t have time to mourn my beloved car. My brain was rattling in my skull. Miracle or not, I’d aimed and taken Frank Fillmore down.
Frank’s head rocked back and forth against the headrest as the night filled with sirens. The cavalry had arrived. Slowly he opened his door and swung his legs to the ground.
“Yip, yip, yip, yip.” Lenny jumped in my lap, licking my face repeatedly, showing over and over how excited he was to have caught the man who held him hostage.
I laughed and banged the dash until my palms hurt. “We did it, Lenster! We did it.”
Two deputy cruisers squealed in, neatly blocking in the Prius. Deputies Barnes and Pleasant jumped out, guns drawn. “Hold it right there,” Pleasant ordered, eyes narrowed, her stance wide.
Barnes gave her a look of disbelief. “I don’t think he’s fit to walk as far as his toenails.” He aimed at Fillmore. “Come out with your hands up.”
“Lightfoot needs our help.” I pointed to the stand of mesquite trees barely visible in the distance. “He’s out that way, and he’s hurt.”
“Yip,” Lenny said.
Staggering to his feet, Fillmore slowly raised his hands. “What’s going on, Officers?”
“We understand you murdered Lucky Straw.” Pleasant stepped closer, aiming at his heart.
“Shut it, would you?” Barnes glared at his partner.
I could see his point. If they wanted the guy to start monologuing about his crime, they had to give him some rope.
Fillmore shook his head in feigned bewilderment. “Officers, there has been some kind of misunderstanding.”
“I’m going after Lightfoot while you two stay with the prisoner.” I placed Lenny in a football hold and ran back to the cruiser. “I’ll be right back.”
“Miss Callahan, you’ve done enough damage.”
Before they could argue, I slid under the wheel, tossing Lenny lightly into the passenger seat. “That
