Mean Streak

“But he didn’t,” Grange remarked. “Most of the roads were clear yesterday.”

“I’m certain he would have if I had felt better.”

Jesus, you feel good. Sweet. Perfect.

Buying time before continuing, she reached down to reposition the ice bag on her elevated foot. “But I wasn’t up to it yesterday. Then I woke up this morning. My head was clear. I asked him to drive me here, to Drakeland, and he did.”

“Actually he dropped you outside of Drakeland,” Grange said. “Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why not drive you to the sheriff’s office?”

“I don’t know.”

“He could have collected the reward.”

“Maybe he didn’t know about the reward.”

Grange shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Knight ran his hand over his face. Grange said, “What kind of truck was he driving?”

“A pickup.”

“I mean Ford, Chevy, Ram…?”

“I didn’t notice. I don’t know much about pickups.”

“Color?”

“Blue. Sort of

silvery blue. And…tall.”

“Tall?”

“High off the ground,” she said.

“What about him? He tall, too?” Knight asked.

“I described him to you earlier.”

“Yeah, but in all the confusion, you might’ve forgot something.”

At the combo service station/convenience store, the scene had been chaotic. Her reunion with Jeff. The excitement among the personnel running the place. Customers taking pictures of her on their cell phones. A man delivering tobacco products trying to get a selfie with her.

Amid all that, the two deputies had pressed her for an explanation as to how she’d come to be there, and, when she told them that a man had dropped her off a short distance away, they’d naturally wanted to know his name. Since she couldn’t provide them with that, they’d asked her for a general description. She’d been inordinately general: Caucasian male.

“Hell, that circus going on at the Chevron almost made me forget what Miz Knight looks like.” Knight’s broad smile did little to put her at ease. “Let’s start with the basics,” he said. “Like his age.”

“He was old. Ish. There was gray in his hair.”

“Height? Weight?”

“My perspective wasn’t good. I was lying down; he was standing.”

“Not even an estimate? Taller than me or Grange? Noticeably shorter?”

“Not shorter. Slightly taller than Sergeant Grange.”