Dolly was telling Roger the truth. And they’d never slept together. Dolly had been holding out in hopes of making the bigger score. If the mayor would leave his wife and marry her, her life would be so much easier. But that had been before Roger had started sniffing around her, before she’d become afraid of him. Then last week, Johnny had told her Roger was bothering Billy. That had been the last straw, and Dolly gave up her dream of becoming a mayor’s wife, just like she’d given up on being a preacher’s wife, and then an actor’s wife when Johnny’s father’s big dreams of movie-stardom hadn’t included a wife and a baby.
“Ahhh, really?” Roger cooed sarcastically. “Boy, that is just swell! Well then, you and I are free to be together now, aren’t we?” He swung his right hand off the wheel and pawed at the opening of her dress, popping a button as he shoved his hand downward. Dolly gasped and pushed his hand away, lashing out with her feet and arms. She caught the wheel with her left foot, and the car swerved wildly.
Roger cried out, cursing and yelling, but quickly regained control of the wobbling car. He turned on her, viciously backhanding her across the face. Dolly’s head spun, and she lashed out again, yanking on the steering wheel and pressing both of her feet into the gas. The car swung in a wide circle, and Roger instinctively bore down on the brakes as the car continued to spin, its back fender on the passenger side colliding with a fencepost that managed to slow them down just enough to abbreviate the spinning. The car came to a dramatic rest facing exactly the same direction they had been heading.
Roger sat half-dazed from the turbulent and terrifying ride, and Dolly Kinross threw herself out the passenger door. Roger reacted a smidgeon too late, and Dolly Kinross was free and running, veering erratically as if the adrenaline coursing through her had messed with her equilibrium.
“You whore! You filthy tease!” Roger staggered out of the car, shouting and cursing, giving chase immediately.
A pair of lights turned off of the reservoir road and sliced through the field of the waist high weeds and prairie grass through which Dolly Kinross ran for her life. The lights continued toward Mayor Carlton’s abandoned car, and Roger halted abruptly, caught between his desire to hunt down his prey or return to the car. The driver’s side door hung wide open, and the lights were blazing. In fact, the car was still running. The dent on the rear passenger side was telling, though it wouldn’t be immediately visible to the oncoming car. Whoever was approaching would almost certainly stop to investigate. He had to go back.
He sprinted to the car and then waited casually by the open driver’s side door as an ancient truck approached the damaged Lincoln. The driver of the truck slowed and stopped, and the rusty heap shuddered for a full ten seconds after the driver turned it off. Roger’s blood turned to ice. He recognized the old truck. Clark Bailey rarely drove it; it usually sat in front of his little bungalow and collected bird droppings, but a fishing pole was leaning over the tailgate and the police chief wore a floppy hat with various homemade flies and lures stuck in the brim. He had apparently spent the day out at the reservoir, though everyone knew there wasn’t much to catch worth eating.
“What’s the problem, son? You havin’ car trouble?” Chief Bailey stepped out of the truck and had to slam the rickety door twice to get it to stay shut.
“No, sir. Not exactly,” Roger smiled sheepishly. “I saw a deer and swerved to miss it, but ended up hitting the fencepost instead.” Roger inwardly preened at his own genius. “It still runs, but my daddy’s gonna be none to happy when he sees the dent.”
“A deer, huh?” Clark Bailey’s eyes swept out over the fields, trying to catch the movement he had spotted when he’d stopped. “What you doin’ out here at this time a night?”
“Just driving, sir. I thought maybe I’d take a late night dip in the rez. I have to be home at midnight, so it woulda been quick, but it sure woulda felt good. It’s been so hot I can’t stand to sit still; even now it’s probably 90 degrees!” Roger jabbered conversationally as he opened his car door and slid back behind the wheel. He put the car into gear, crossing his fingers that it would still drive. He wasn’t afraid of his father; the man would yell and threaten and then give Roger whatever he wanted just like he always did. But Roger was a little afraid of Clark Bailey. That man wasn’t a fool, and he didn’t miss much. Roger would be lucky to drive away without alerting his suspicions. Roger hoped Dolly Kinross was still running.
“That’s true enough, but you shouldn’t be swimming at night, especially by yourself. You head on home now. I’ll be right behind you in case you did more damage than you think.” Chief Bailey climbed into his truck, turned on the tired beast, and waited for it to roar its discontent before backing up twenty feet to allow Roger space to swing a U-turn and head back toward town.