Divine Justice (Camel Club 4)

CHAPTER 52

ANNABELLE AND CALEB had returned to the bus station and discovered that, somewhat ahead of the regular schedule, the same driver was just about to head out with a load of people on the route Stone had taken. Annabelle snagged a seat right behind the driver and peppered him with questions while Caleb followed in the van. A half hour into the ride Annabelle saw the 1924 Indian motorcycle with the rare left-hand sidecar pass the bus, drop back and then fall in behind the van.

She sighed with relief. Big Reuben Rhodes had arrived. They might very well need the man’s muscle. She’d told Reuben to bring quite a few things with him that she’d thought they might need. She noted with satisfaction that the sidecar was filled with items.

A few hours later Annabelle climbed off the bus in the middle of a curvy road bracketed by a mountain on one side and a typical sheer drop on the other. This was where Stone and his friend had gotten off, the driver told her.

Before she left the man had added, “Lot of interest in those two. What’s going on?”

“Can’t talk about it. National security.”

“National security, huh? They looked like a couple of bums.”

“If you were on the run from the feds, what would you dress like?”

“I guess I see your point.”

“And you’re sure you don’t remember anything they said about where they were actually going?”

“Kid just got up and told me to drop him off here. The older guy got off with him.” He paused. “The kid was wearing a varsity jacket. You know, for sports.”

“Did you get the name of the school? College? High school?”

“Didn’t pay that close of attention.”

Annabelle held up a sheet of paper where’d she taken notes during her conversation with the driver. “And these are the towns nearby? All of them? You’re sure?”

“Lady, there ain’t that many of them. That’s it. Happy searching.”

He closed the door and the bus pulled away.

Annabelle met up with Caleb and Reuben and filled them in on what she’d learned. “Knox is doing exactly what we are, only he has a head start,” she said.

“Yeah, but there are three of us,” Reuben said. “We can split up. I’ll take two of the four places and you guys hit the others.”

“Good idea,” said Caleb.

“And you brought everything I told you to?” asked Annabelle.

“Yeah, but I feel like I’m running a damn Hollywood prop department.”

“You just never know when something might come in handy. We can load it in the van.” After they were done she looked at the sheet. “Caleb and I will do Mize and Tazburg. Reuben, you can hit South Ridge and Divine.” She pulled maps from her bag and handed them to Reuben. “I got these from the bus station. The towns look to be anywhere from two to three hours apart. They’re not far as the crows fly, but all the roads are back roads and switch backs with chunks of mountain in between.”

“Winding roads. Perfect cruising turf for the Indian,” Reuben said, affectionately patting the motorcycle’s gas tank.

“They just make me queasy,” said Caleb. “Not that I’m complaining,” he quickly added as Annabelle shot him a look.

“We’ll keep in touch via cell phone. Whoever finds something positive, we can hook up within a few hours.” She handed a photo to Reuben. “This is a picture of Knox, just in case you run into him.”

“Thanks,” said Reuben as he climbed on his bike and put his helmet and old-fashioned goggles back on.

“What if we find Oliver at the same time that Knox does?” asked Caleb.

“Then we persuade him to let Oliver go with us,” Reuben said.

“He’s not going to do that, Reuben.”

“He will if we’re really persuasive.”

“We can’t take out a fed,” Caleb said. “Even new testosterone Caleb draws the line at that.”

“Caleb,” Annabelle said, “let’s worry about that only if we have to. Right now, all I want is to find Oliver. And the longer we stand around here the better the chances are that Knox will find him first.”

Reuben kick-started the Indian and the engine roared to life. He gave them a little salute, glanced at one of the maps and took off heading east.

Annabelle started to climb in the driver’s seat of the van but Caleb stopped her. “I’ll drive,” he said, hopping in and putting the keys in the ignition.

“Why?”

“You don’t know how to handle curves. Too herky-jerky. That’s why I was feeling sick.”

“Really? What if the time comes where we need to drive really fast, Caleb?”

“Get in!”

“What?”

Caleb fired up the van and Annabelle had to hustle around and jump in before he roared off. He accelerated so fast she tumbled into the backseat.

“What the hell are you doing?” she cried out as she struggled back up.

“When the time comes, I’m your wheelman.”

She managed to clamber into the front seat and quickly buckled up as he took one curve and then the next at almost sixty miles an hour. When she glanced over she noted how professionally he was maneuvering the steering wheel and then realized how smoothly the bulky van, which was clearly not designed for this sort of terrain, was handling the road.

“Caleb, how are you doing that?”

“I can drive, okay? You should have seen me at a guy named Tyler Reinke’s house. I took the Nova airborne.”

“I can see that you can drive. But how?”

He sighed. “Why do you think I kept that crappy Nova all these years?”

“I don’t know. I just thought you were either cheap or had no taste. Or both.”

“Well, I am cheap, but I actually do have taste. No, it was about my father.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My dad was a stock car driver.”

“No way!”

“After he retired from racing he worked on a NASCAR pit crew for Richard Petty.”

“King Richard?”

Caleb nodded. “I was his protégé.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“You were Richard Petty’s protégé? Get out of here.”

“Annabelle, I started racing Go-Karts when I was six. Then I moved up to dirt track racing, and then on to ARCA where I was the top rookie. After that I finished number one in the Late Model Sportsman Series, which is like the junior circuit for NASCAR. I was just about ready to launch my career in the big leagues with Petty’s help. I was going to be the number two driver on Billy Nelson’s Chevy team out of Charlotte. They’d won the Winston Cup three years in a row and Bobby Mallard, their number one driver and a four-time Daytona 500 winner, was going to be my mentor. It was all set up, and then it all went to hell.”

“What happened?”

“I was doing a qualifying lap at Darlington. Some call it the ‘paper clip’ because it’s shaped like one. Others refer to it as the ‘Lady in Black.’ That’s what it was for me.”

“Why, what happened?”

Caleb’s features turned somber. “The Lady in Black is very unforgiving. I came out of turn number four at 185 miles an hour, let my wheel drift and the car bumped the wall. I left half my paint on the wall, the ‘Darlington Stripe’ they call it. Then my right front tire blew and I was completely out of control. This was before the roof flaps era so my car flipped over and then went airborne. There are two interior walls at Darlington, the inside and pit walls. I cleared them both and slid right into a pit crew.”

“Oh my God.”

“My pit crew,” Caleb said solemnly. “My personal pit crew.”

Annabelle gasped. “It wasn’t your father, was it?”

Caleb turned to look at her, his eyes watery. “I walked away from the crash with a few bumps and bruises, but he was in the hospital for months before finally pulling through. But after that, I couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t shift a gear, couldn’t mash an accelerator, could

n’t even slide in the car. So I just walked away from it all. Turned my life around. Went from speed to being a librarian. As far away as I could get from that world. But I kept the Nova. It was one of the first cars I ever raced in. I painted it that shitty gray to cover up the numbers and stripes. The number twenty-two car, Double Deuces, they called me. It didn’t look like much but under the hood it had muscle, that car. Dual carbs, overhead cam, four hundred–plus horses and a gas pedal that never let me down. Whenever I needed to bring it, it was there. Years ago, late at night, I used to run it on straightaways when Centreville was still cow country. Got it up to 150 more than once. Those were the days.”

“Caleb, I’m so sorry.” She gently squeezed his shoulder.

A few moments of silence passed.

“Hey, I really got you, didn’t I?”

She glanced back over at him. He was smiling broadly.

“Come on, Richard Petty’s protégé? Me?”

“You made that all up? You shit!” She smacked him on the shoulder hard. But there was admiration in her features.

“What? You think you’re the only one who can lie really well? I’ve spent my adult life surrounded by stories at the library, Annabelle. I can ‘fiction’ with the best of them.”

“That still doesn’t explain how you can drive like this.”