Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Heading northwest and away from streetlights, a star-studded black velvet sky with a nearly full moon shone over the long stretch of highway.
Indianapolis disappeared from their rearview mirror before the sound of sirens filled Michelle’s neighborhood.
Deep in thoughts she could barely navigate, she stared out the window.
Under the silver illumination, harvested cornfields appeared dark and damp with patches of snow and ice.
Fletch had taken back roads out of the city, avoiding the interstate until outside Indianapolis limits.
They traveled through a warehouse district on the west side of Indianapolis near the airport.
The city was often referred to as the crossroads of America.
Those roads brought large trucks delivering and transporting everything from pharmaceuticals to automobile parts.
Their small white Toyota Camry intertwined itself with those of shift workers arriving to and leaving their jobs.
Driving through the inky darkness of an early January morning, a large semi-truck drove past them, causing their car to shudder.
Michelle watched the dirty tailgate as it moved westward and out of reach of their headlights.
“Fletch.” she reached for his arm. “I trust you. I don’t know who else to trust. Tell me where we’re going. ”
From the light of the dashboard, she watched his Adam’s apple bob.
When he didn’t respond, Michelle retrieved her hand and turned toward the window. Staring into the dawn, she wondered if there was anyone she could call. No one. Her only phone was the burner Fletch gave her. The new phone wasn’t supposed to arrive until later today.
She was now being driven across the country to a place unknown by a man she barely knew. “This is crazy.”
Fletch turned to her. “Crazy beats dead.”
Michelle mulled that over for a moment. He was right.
But she wasn’t a spy or whatever it was that Fletch was.
When it came to survival skills, she hadn’t thought far enough ahead to grab shoes when leaving her father’s burning house in the middle of a snowstorm.
Her days were spent creating stories. While those characters came to life within her head and on the pages of her books, they weren’t real.
Fletch had said the same thing about himself.
Reality struck.
No one was real.
She turned back to him, studying his profile in the green illumination of the dashboard.
Silence prevailed as Fletch battled a war Michelle couldn’t see or comprehend.
She noticed how every now and then, Fletch would peer up into the rearview mirror and check the side mirrors.
As they approached the Indiana-Illinois border, traffic was minimal.
Finally, he sighed and turned toward her. His voice was deeper and softer than usual. “You said this was crazy and you’re right. But I know that you can do what you need to do. You have it in your genes.”
“My genes?”
“You’re smart, Shelly. And the gun. You were prepared.”
She shook her head. “I forgot to release the safety.” She exhaled. “I write stories. It’s not exactly high-tech espionage.”
He lowered his chin, his hooded dark eyes staring at her. “Your last book, Broken Promises…”
Michelle’s mind filled with the crime thriller about the abduction of two teenage girls from the same small town.
She’d loosely based the storyline off a cold case in Wisconsin.
She’d read the news stories and listened to podcasts.
Her editors helped to make sure the story was fictional, avoiding any legal questions.
Nevertheless, most stories have some basis in fact.
She blinked. “You read Broken Promises?”
Fletch nodded. “Where did you get the idea for the storyline?”
She told him what she’d done, the research and the work to fictionalize what started as real. The ending was fiction because the actual case in Wisconsin was still unsolved.
“You didn’t get any of the ideas from your parents?”
Her forehead furrowed. “No. Why would I?” Her volume increased. “How could I?”
“Did your mom leave behind notes or journals?”
The sedan again vibrated with the force of another passing semitruck.
“No.” Shelly shook her head. “Our house…like Dad’s…fire. There was nothing left.”
What had Fletch said?
The ultimate eraser.
The last sign she’d read said there was only one more exit before Illinois. “Isn’t transporting someone over state lines a crime?”
Fletch scoffed. “Blowing up a house in a residential neighborhood is illegal. Placing surveillance equipment in your house without your knowledge was illegal. I have a long list of questionable actions that could be considered outside the scope of the law. As for transporting across state lines, it’s only illegal if I’m taking you without your consent.
” He quirked a brow. “Do I have your consent?”
She shrugged. “It didn’t seem like I had a choice.” When he didn’t respond, she answered, “Yes.”
“Now, if you were underage and I was transporting you with the intention of sex, it could be illegal.”
“Could? It would be.”
“Really?” he asked. “It happens every day, and if there’s enough money, it gets covered up.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
Fletch looked her way as his lips curled. “You’re right. It doesn’t.”
Was he transporting me for sex?
The question was on the tip of Michelle’s tongue when the red and blue lights of a state police car appeared behind them. The squeal of the siren caused Michelle to stiffen.
As Fletch slowed and pulled the car over to the shoulder, he said, “Let me do the talking. If they ask your name, it’s Mindy. You’re my sister. I’m Jason. Jason Martin.”
Sister?
Jason Martin?
“Say you agree,” he growled.
Michelle nodded as her pulse kicked into overdrive. She couldn’t help wondering if she’d been wrong to trust this man.
Was anything real?
Fletch nonchalantly removed his gun from the waistband of his jeans and placed it under the seat before lowering his window. They both squinted their eyes in the beam of the trooper’s flashlight.
“Can I see your license and registration?” the policeman asked.
Fletch shielded his eyes, seeing the Indiana State Police uniform. “Yes, sir. Is there a problem?” Fletch nodded toward the glove compartment.
Michelle’s hands trembled as she reached forward, wondering how Fletch was going to get out of this. “It’s dark.” She fumbled with the papers within.
Fletch hit the dome light.
To Michelle’s amazement, the registration had the name Jason Martin. With wide eyes, she handed it to Fletch. He’d removed an ID from his wallet and handed them both to the officer.
“Looks like you’re a ways from home.”
Fletch nodded. “Visiting folks in Champaign. We got an early start.”
What state was the license plate? Michelle couldn’t recall if she’d even looked at it.
“Miss?” The flashlight’s beam was on Michelle. “What’s your name?”
Shit. She tried to remember.
“Miss, are you with this man of your own free will?”
She feigned a laugh. “He’s my brother and sometimes…but yeah, I’m here willingly. My name is Mindy, Mindy Martin.”
The deputy studied Michelle for a moment. “You look familiar. Let me see your ID.”
“You see, Officer, I don’t have it with me.
That’s what Jason’s upset about. I left my purse at home…
” She was a fictional writer. She could do this.
“If he wouldn’t have insisted we leave so early…
I’ve wanted to turn around, but Jason said it was a waste of time.
You see, our grandfather is in the hospital. ”
“What hospital?”
“He’s in Carle Foundation in Urbana,” Fletch replied. “As for the purse, Mindy would forget her head if it wasn’t attached.”
The trooper shook his head and handed Fletch back the fake ID and registration. “Listen, I pulled you over because your left rear tire looks low. Stop at the next exit and check it out. Don’t want you to have an accident out here.” He shone the beam back on Michelle.
She lifted her hand over her eyes.
“You sure you’re okay?” the trooper asked.