Charlie’s mistake could be forgiven, as Jenny could easily pass for an eighteen or nineteen-year-old. Her youthful face, freckles and tan from swimming in the large above-ground pool at the ranch, belied her twenty-three years.
All were seated by now. Hugh was relieved the awkward part was over.
“Are we eating?” Charlie asked. “I’m starved. What’s good here?”
Hugh signaled a waitress.
Hugh’s first impression of Charlie was of a self-assured and take-charge kind of person. He sensed also she would be good at her job as a reporter. All business.
He wished he and Jenny had spent time going over how they would answer the reporter’s questions. Neither of them wanted to make publicly known some aspects, actually many aspects, of their past involvement with the hijackers.
Hugh managed to parry Charlie’s casual inquiries about, “How did you guys meet?” He couldn’t think of a way to get into it that wouldn’t lead to other, more probing, questions.
Perhaps this interview was a bad idea.
Hugh filled in the conversational void during breakfast by explaining to Charlie about the company he drove for as an independent contractor.
“I own my own truck,” he began. “I contract to WestAm Trucking, full name Western America Trucking, Inc., and get all my loads through them. Their load planners and dispatchers handle everything for me, and they pay me a rate per load.”
Hugh explained he was on the Western fleet, with his home terminal being in Phoenix. WestAm had three fleets. The Pacific fleet ran from Seattle to Los Angeles, with stops in between. Hugh’s carrier “owned” the I-5 corridor, which was the major Interstate freeway connecting the Canadian and Mexican borders through Washington, Oregon and California.
Drivers on that fleet were primarily on dedicated routes for major clients like Georgia Pacific, Proctor and Gamble, and Color Graphics among others … primarily moving bulk paper rolls out of the Pacific Northwest, and finished paper products out of the California manufacturing plants.
Home terminal for the Pacific fleet was in Fortuna, California, headquarters or major terminals for many of the country’s largest carriers.
Hugh’s fleet, the Western fleet, with its home terminal in Phoenix, covered the eleven Western states, the ones considered to be the mountain states, which included the states in the Pacific fleet. Drivers like Hugh who were in the Western fleet did overlap with drivers in the Pacific fleet, but rarely handled the dedicated business the Pacific fleet drivers did. The fleet designation was based more on the type of freight, rather than geography.
The Inland fleet, with its home terminal in Dallas, Texas, primarily covered states east of the Rockies. States like the Dakotas, Nebraska, Kansas, Oklahoma and, of course, Texas. The fleet extended to parts east, but had no presence in the states beyond the Appalachians.
“You probably would recognize WestAm’s trucks. They’re the beautiful blue newer Freightliner Cascadias. The trailers are distinctive with a large swoosh logo. I pull their trailers, but my truck is white with only a small version of the company’s logo decaled to the doors of my cab, representing my affiliation with the company.”
Hugh could see Charlie’s eyes had begun to glaze over. Mission accomplished. He was pleased his long explanation going on and on about WestAm had served its purpose of preventing her from asking him or Jenny probing questions during breakfast.
Breakfast out of the way, Charlie said, “Tell you what. This is going to take awhile. How about if we move this to my hotel suite?”
Hugh looked at Jenny. She nodded.
“Which hotel is it?” Hugh asked.
“It’s hard to explain, I’ll show you.”
“OK. We’ll follow you.”
Charlie dug inside her large bag Hugh assumed held all her interview materials and equipment. It was an expensive-looking pebbled leather bag, with snakeskin details. Not fake snakeskin. It looked like a real deal genuine snake’s skin. She pulled out a corporate credit card, and signaled the waitress to bring the check.
While Charlie was distracted taking care of the bill, Jenny tapped Hugh on the leg. “That’s a Coach bag,” she said leaning in close to Hugh so she could whisper. “It’s got to be up in the thirteen hundred dollar range.” Hugh saw her making the gesture under the table of rubbing her thumb and forefinger together.
The first thing Hugh said when he and Jenny were in their car following Charlie out of the restaurant parking lot was, “Sandpoint has hotel suites?”
“Got me. I’ve never been here before I met you.”
As they headed south on Highway 95 they passed several of the middle range kind of hotels, the kind with Quality and Western in their names. But that was it for Sandpoint. By the time they hit the approach to The Long Bridge, which took them over the lake heading south, they realized they must be leaving town.
If Hugh still had his cell phone he might have called Charlie to ask her where they were going. But he had lost it in the last hijacking episode. So, all they could do was continue to follow her.
“How do you feel about Charlie so far?” Hugh asked.
“She gives me the creeps, too beautiful by far, and I don’t trust her one bit.”
“No. Tell me how you really feel.” Hugh was making a joke.
“But yeah, I know what you mean. I have a feeling we’d better be careful what we say to her.”
“Why are we going through with this? Can’t we turn around and go back?”
“That wouldn’t be right. She’s gone through a lot of trouble to set this up, and we agreed to it. Besides, if we get this over with now, and it’s exclusive to the Times, the others will quit hounding us.”
As they continued south on 95 all the roadside hotels had dropped out of sight in Hugh’s rear view. They were clearly driving toward the
