Lawyer Trap

57





DAY NINE–SEPTEMBER 13

TUESDAY MORNING


With a gut full of pancakes, Draven kissed Gretchen goodbye under a cloudless Colorado sky, pulled her T-shirt up and licked her left nipple, and then pointed the front end of the Granada towards the cabin, intent on getting everything done today that he needed to get done. In a perfect world, he would have just waited at the farmhouse until Swofford called and said the coast was clear. But he figured it would be smarter to head out now and get Mia Avila the hell out of there before Gretchen started to freak out again, or came up with some wild idea to bring the woman inside and feed her.

His story was already thin.

He didn’t know how long she’d actually believe it.

Better to not press his luck.

So he headed down the road.

It was times like this that he wished he had Swofford’s number, or—better yet—actually knew who Swofford was. But the rules had been set up long ago, and the communications only went one direction, and always came to him from a mystery voice calling from a public phone.

“It’s safer for everyone that way,” Swofford said.

So far, the arrangement had been good.

Swofford always came through with the money.

How the hell did Swofford get the clients?

That was the question.

Draven could cut Swofford out of the deal altogether if he could just solve that little puzzle. And why shouldn’t he? After all, he was the one doing all the heavy work and taking all the risk.

Well, most of the risk, anyway.

He skirted around downtown Golden and headed west, winding into Clear Creek Canyon, one of the most beautiful places on the face of the earth, with its steep rock walls and frothing mountain river. The radio reception immediately went to hell.

Then, shit!

He noticed that the gas gauge read full. There was no way that could be right, not with all the miles he’d driven. The goddamn thing must be broken.

So how much gas did he have left?

Probably not much.

He could be riding on fumes for all he knew.

So, what to do?

Suddenly the bitch Mia Avila moaned and started to move.

He was just about to tell her to shut up when the engine sputtered and died.

Goddamn it!

He managed to get onto the shoulder, barely clear of the road. When the woman moaned again, something exploded in Draven’s brain and he punched her in the head so hard that his hand felt like it broke.

The moaning immediately stopped.

He wasn’t sure if he’d killed her or not.

Ten seconds later a cop car pulled behind him and turned on the light bar.

Draven waved at them, as friendly as he could, and walked over. “No problems,” he said. “I just ran out of gas. Someone’s bringing some up and should be here pretty quick.”

The driver got out.

“You’re awful close to the road,” he said.

“I’m over as far as I can get,” Draven said, which was true. “Like I said, they should be here pretty soon.”

The cop scratched his nose and surveyed the area.

“I’m just worried that someone’s going to come around the corner a little too tight and clip you.”

Draven shook his head and said, “I think I’m okay.”

The cop studied the other side of the road, which had twice the shoulder, maybe even three times. “I’d feel better if you were over there,” he said. Then to his partner: “Jake, watch the traffic for a moment, will you? I’m going to push this guy across the street.” Back to Draven: “What I need you to do is put the car in neutral and steer it into that spot over there. Can you do that?”

Draven nodded.

“Sure, no problem.”

The cop walked to the front end of the car. “Did you just buy this?” he asked.

“Yesterday,” Draven said.

“Next time, talk to me first,” the cop said. “My neighbor had one of these. Bought it new and it fell apart in about three months.”

Draven swallowed and tried to look amused.

“Now you tell me,” he said.

Then the cop started pushing.

At that exact second Mia Avila groaned.

Draven coughed to mask the sound, then punched the radio button and worked the dial until he found a station, filled with static but good enough for what he needed.

He knew the song.

“Johnny B. Goode” by Chuck Berry.

Must be an oldies station.

“Take your foot off the brake,” the cop shouted.

Draven did.

Pay attention you dumb shit.

The cop couldn’t move the vehicle by himself, so his partner came over to assist. Two minutes later, the rust-bucket of a car sat on the other side of the road, far enough from the pavement to where it wouldn’t be clipped.

Draven thanked them and said goodbye.

The woman was making noises again.

As the cops started across the road, a Hummer sped around the bend, going too fast and hugging the inside track. It clipped the rear end of the police car, only catching it by a foot or so, but crushing the metal and spinning the vehicle into the middle of the road. The cops dived for cover. The taillight shattered and the rear tire exploded.

“Goddamn it!” one of the cops shouted.

The Hummer hardly got scratched but the cop car ended up in the middle of the twisty canyon road, blocking traffic in both directions. The rear quarter-panel had bent into the tire, not only flattening it but also locking it in place so that the vehicle couldn’t be pushed.

Cars were already backing up.

Draven’s first instinct was to just calmly walk down the road until he was out of sight and then run. But he was at least five miles into the canyon. If anyone found the woman, there would be no way he could make it back to town before they caught him.

Unless he confiscated a car.

Say the last one in line.

He walked back to the Granada, slipped behind the wheel and closed the door. The woman made no sounds but he had no idea if it was because she was unconscious or she was just being careful.

“You’re not going to die,” he said. “I’m going to let you go, just like always. Unless you screw up and do something stupid. If you do that I’ll take you out. You’ll give me no choice. Do you understand?”

Silence.

Not a word.

He poked her.

She didn’t respond.

He twisted the knife in his hands. Maybe he should just stick it in her head, right here right now, and get it over with. True he’d have a body in the car with him, but at least it would be a guaranteed quiet one.

But then again, if he did get caught, a charge of kidnapping would be a whole lot better than murder.

Shit.

What to do?

Just then one of the cops walked over.

“We’re going to push you a little farther onto the shoulder,” he said. “See if we can open up a lane and get this traffic moving.”

Draven nodded.

“Good idea.”

They pushed him farther onto the shoulder while he steered and did his best to not take his knife and just start slashing everyone in sight.

Then he called a tow truck.