“Got it boss.”
“Do what you have to do to get the girl, but the trucker needs to be able to drive on down and to testify at the deposition.”
Hugh drove into the Costco DC entrance for the second time that day. Instead of checking in at the guard shack as he had done in the morning, he drove on through to the other side of the giant complex, rounded a corner around the reefer building, drove down and then up a swale, and then cruised slowly along a line of trailers to look for the one assigned to him.
Because it was later in the morning, the choreographed chaos from their early morning delivery had already subsided, and few other truckers were still around.
“There it is,” he said, and backed his truck to hitch up. It was a spread axle, designed to carry weight spread more evenly across the axles. Costco loads were notoriously heavy.
As Hugh was hooking up the glad hands for air, and the electricals, Jenny poked her head out his driver’s side window.
“What on earth is that delicious smell?”
“We’re parked right next to where Costco makes their kosher dogs, the ones they sell in the stores and serve in the Costco food courts. I know what you mean. It gets me every time.”
Once hooked up, Hugh drove all the way around the hot dog building, down and up the swale again, and went straight for the truck scale.
As had happened before, he was dangerously close to the maximum weight limit of eighty-thousand pounds. There were times he had been just ten pounds under.
Hugh was grateful that because of the spread axles and the careful loading, none of the axles were overweight. He was also grateful the weight included the fuel he had put on at the terminal before he left. There had been times when he had been close to the weight limit and couldn’t fuel up without first burning a lot of fuel to get rid of some of the weight.
This Costco DC was off of I-5, so it was a quick hop on, and they were headed south. Parking tonight in Kingman.
At Lost Hills, Hugh took Highway 46 to cross over to Highway 99, then connected with Highway 58 in Bakersfield to continue east into the desert.
“Speaking of the Bakers Town Bad Asses,” Hugh said, and Jenny broke out laughing. He did it again. He had made the association between Bakersfield and their encounter with Jenny’s motorcycle gang friends the last time they had come through there.
“Do you remember when Huey put his phone number in the contacts of your other phone? That didn’t get transferred over to the new phone did it?”
“No. I guess it didn’t.”
“How about seeing if you can find his number, and add it to each of our phone’s contacts.”
Hugh would need it for one of the projects he was planning with his mom.
Jenny tapped on her phone and got the number for the Harley dealership where she used to work. She put it on speaker.
“Hey, is this Ben?” she asked.
“Yeah, who’s asking?”
“Ben, it’s me, Jenny.”
“Sweet Jenny. It’s so good to hear your voice. What have you been up to?”
“So much to tell,” Jenny said. “But the main thing is, can you give me Huey’s – Roc’s – phone number?”
“Sure. No problem.” He read it out to her.
“Thanks. I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later,” she said.
“By the way, Hugh, can we do something while we are driving through Bakersfield?”
“Sure, honey. What is it?”
“Can we go to the house where Jimmy and I used to live with my uncle? I’d like to pick up a few personal things.”
“No problem, as long as I can park this thing nearby.”
Jenny directed Hugh to a neighborhood that might have been up-and-coming fifty or sixty years ago, but that no longer showed pride of ownership. The feature of the older neighborhood that Hugh did appreciate was its wide street connecting two major thoroughfares.
“Here,” Jenny said, as she pointed to a run-down-looking house with weedy growth in the front yard, and overgrown bushes hiding most of the front of the house.
Hugh was able to park against the curb in front of the home.
“Can you get in?” Hugh asked. He assumed any key she might have had would have been long lost.
“I think so,” Jenny replied. She walked toward the front entrance, then stepped off of the sidewalk and dug a rock out of the weed patch. Snug in a little cavity in the bottom of the rock was the house key.
A musty smell greeted Hugh and Jenny as they crossed the threshold. A layer of dust covered every surface, and the house had the feel of a home long-abandoned.
“How do you feel about seeing this?” Hugh asked.
“I don’t feel much, actually. This was never a happy home for me. I only came to live here after my dad was killed, and my uncle was either gone or drunk most of the time.”
Hugh was silent at the mention of her dad being killed.
He followed her into her bedroom, and watched as she walked around the room. She would occasionally pause as a memento from her teenage and young adult life caught her eye.
She found a bag and packed it with a few keepsakes – photos of her with her mom and dad, and with her little brother Jimmy, some cheap jewelry, a few items of clothing. In a drawer she found her Social Security card and her birth certificate.
Jenny took a tour around the rest of the house.
“Whoa, look at this,” she said when she opened a drawer to a credenza in
