She’s sincere with her offer to leave, but I look out at the roaring two-story tall fire and shake my head. “We can stay.”
She eyes the bonfire and looks back to me. “Nah, I’ve got a better idea.” Briefly scanning the parking lot, she pulls up her phone, flipping through a few notebook apps before skimming a list of pictures. Seeming satisfied, she releases the parking brake and we start a slow creep through the endless lines of cars.
“Laney?”
“Yes?”
“What are you doing?”
“We,” she motions between us, “we’re in this one together.”
“And this is?”
“Shhhh, I’m trying to concentrate.”
After a few minutes, she comes to a slow stop in front of a Volvo.
“Bingo.”
“What are you doing?”
She holds up a finger and is already dialing. “Hey, Greg. I’m at the bonfire on County Road. You busy? Okay, cool, bring your truck, hell, bring three. We’re about to clean up.”
She ends the call and hops out with her phone in hand before shining her flashlight through the windshield of the Volvo. She comes back to the truck wearing a satisfied grin.
“Now, we wait.”
“For?”
“Gotta leave something to mystery,” she taunts before we again start circling the sea of cars.
“What are you hoping to find?”
“Houseman, you’re getting worse than me,” she scorns while carefully circling the lot and checking her phone every few seconds. Ten minutes later, Laney looks up in her rearview and throws a finger out the window at the car we’ve been blocking for the last ten minutes. I look back to see a tow truck glide in and hook the car up.
“You got someone towed?”
She rubs her hands together with glee. “I’d like to think we’re in the business of good deeds tonig
ht. No one leaves this thing sober. We’re saving them from a worse fate.”
She continues a slow perusal of the parking lot, jumping out and shining her cell phone light into windshields before jumping back in the truck and pointing them out for the tow truck shadowing us.
“Okay, I’m lost. What in the hell is going on?”
“I told you, we’re doing a public service.”
“Uh huh.”
“Hey, a girl’s gotta make a living any way she can, and I’m so broke right now I can’t afford to pay attention.”
“And you’re making money by pointing at cars?”
“I’m a detective of sorts.” She slams on the brakes just as we pass a cherry red Toyota. “Oh my God. I’ve been looking for this one for two months! This idiot will never learn. It’s the bumper sticker that gives it away.” She turns to me. “Get in the driver’s seat, and when I punch it, you better punch it too. Don’t lose me.”
“What?”
She hops out as I yell out after her. “Laney, I can’t drive this! Where in the hell are you going?”