Chapter 18
Oliver
Islowly turned and looked over my shoulder at Crash.
She was staring right back at me, eyes wide and brows arched high.
Her facial expression said a couple of things.
Or maybe I’d just gotten to know her well enough that I knew what she was thinking.
I saw a judgment that said I told you so!
In her voice, I heard maybe next time you’ll listen echo through my head.
And I knew I’d never live it down. Anytime I wanted to go one way, and she wanted to go another, I knew she’d throw this exact moment in my face, and I’d give in out of guilt.
How was I supposed to know the guy was a murderer?
I had seen enough crime documentaries to know that when you find yourself in the presence of a murderer, you have to use their craziness against them.
You didn’t want to upset them by forcing your world of reason on them because they lived in their own little world of crazy.
I didn’t want to upset him or make him mad in any way.
“I’m sorry to hear that about your brother, Marv. Were you two close?” I asked.
“We were. Until he went to prison. He came out different. We didn’t get along so well then, but that place changes people, ya know?” He glanced over at me. “You probably are too pretty to last long in prison,” he agreed with Crash’s earlier statement.
I clenched my jaw and glared at her from over my shoulder. For the first time since we left that shower house, she wore a wide, shit-eating grin.
“Look, Marv… We really appreciate the ride and all, but if you got something illegal in here, I’m sure you can understand why we don’t want to be any part of that. So, why don’t you just pull over? We’ll get out, you can keep on your way, and we’ll pretend that none of this ever happened,” I tried.
“I can’t just leave ya’ll on the side of the road like that. I’ll get ya to town.”
“It’s really not that big of a deal. We’ve walked further, I’m sure,” I said.
Marv took a slow, deep breath, letting it out quickly. “OK, what about this: what if I let you see what’s in the tackle box? Would that make you feel better?”
Suddenly, I couldn’t stop thinking about what could be in that box. Was it drugs? Illegal weapons? As big a creep as he was with Crash, was it something worse, like pictures of his victims after he assaulted them?
No matter what I envisioned, all of it raised my blood pressure and made me want to beat the guy within an inch of his life. And I talked Amelia into letting him sniff her fucking hair. The guilt was filling me quickly, tightening my stomach.
“Yeah, alright, Marv. Why don’t you pull over and show me what you have in that tackle box? Then I will decide whether to let you give us a ride to town or walk. Deal?”
“Alright,” he agreed, slowing the car and pulling to the side of the road.
He killed the engine, and we all climbed out. He led the way to the back of the car, using the keys to unlock the trunk. The moment it was open, the smell of musty carpet, gasoline, and dirt washed over us. Inside was a shovel, jumper cables, a tarp, a rope, and the tackle box.
Marv turned toward us.
“Are you sure you want to see what’s in here? If you don’t know it is, you don’t have to lie when asked.”
“Just open the fucking tackle box, Marv,” I snapped.
He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine.”
He turned back toward the trunk and reached for the small plastic box. He flipped the latch and popped the top. I found myself holding my breath… until the box was open and I was looking at a container of…
Fucking mushrooms?
Crash chuckled and looked up at me. I leaned a little closer, confused as to why he would act so shady over fucking mushrooms.
“It’s mushrooms?” I asked him.
He pressed his lips together and hung his head. “Yep.”
“Are they magic mushrooms, at least?” Crash asked him.
His head popped up, and he frowned. “What? No, of course not.”
“Then why all the secrecy? What’s the big deal about mushrooms?”
His eyes doubled in size as a look of pure surprise covered his face.
“Are you guys serious?” His eyes bounced from me to Amelia and back. “These are morel mushrooms. People will pay a pretty penny for these babies. They’re a delicacy and extremely hard to come by if you don’t know where to look.”
I shrugged. “Okay, but how are they illegal?”
“It’s illegal to harvest anything from National Parks. If I get caught with these, here…” He pointed toward the ground and shook his head. “I’d be going away for a long time. I’ve had too many warnings already.”
“So… you sell them?” Crash asked.
He shook his head. “No.”
“What do you do with them then?”
“I cook them. Eat them.”
“You mean you’re risking jail time to eat some mushrooms that don’t even get you high?” I asked.
“You couldn’t understand unless you’ve eaten them before.”
Crash looked up at me. “I told you this was a bad idea.”
“Alright. Close it up, Marv. Let’s get out of here before that cop rolls up on us.”
He smiled widely. “You mean, you’re going to get back in the car?”
“Yeah, you’re not dangerous, so we may as well make good time,” I replied, nearly dragging Crash back around the car.
The three of us loaded back into the car and finished our ride to town. The second part of the ride was much smoother than the first half, since we knew that we weren’t trapped in a car with some psycho killer.
It wasn’t exactly a fun ride, though. The entire drive to town, Marv talked about nothing but morel mushrooms. How to find them, how to clean them, how to cook them, and what they pair best with.
I never in my life wanted to know so much about mushrooms. But it seemed to make him happy to have someone to talk to, and it gave us a free ride into town since we’d lost ours.
We stopped at the first gas station we came to, and all climbed out. Marv moved around the car to pump gas, and we stood not far away, preparing to take off.
“Thanks for the ride, Marv. I hope your dinner turns out as good as you’re expecting,” I told the guy.
He smiled as he put the pump into the tank. Once he had the gas flowing, he looked our way. “Thanks, and take care, guys.”
Even Crash waved and offered up a smile. “Thanks, and sorry to hear about your brother.”
He waved his hand through the air. “Don’t worry about it.
He got what he had coming to him. I told him he’d regret picking on me one day.
And now look, here I am about to have the best dinner in the world, and he’s in the ground with a shovel indentation in his skull.
” He let out a laugh that sucked the air from my lungs.
I casually grabbed Amelia’s shoulder and started pushing her backward.
“See ya, buddy.” I waved and turned, pushing Crash to walk away as fast as she possibly could.
We were already moving down the sidewalk when she turned to look up at me. “What the hell did that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think he killed his brother?”
“I don’t know,” I answered, walking as fast as I could.
She kept pace beside me. “Do you think he used the shovel that was in the trunk of his car?”
“I don’t know. Let’s just pretend we never even met that guy, alright?”
“Easy for you to say. He wasn’t running his fingers through your hair, now was he?”
I kept my head down as I walked, refusing to look anywhere but at the sidewalk. “I’m sorry. I owe you one, OK?”
“One? Try six.”
My stomach growled, reminding me that we hadn’t eaten yet with everything that had happened that morning.
“Let’s get some breakfast and regroup, alright?”
“Fine,” she agreed, and we walked to the closest restaurant, which happened to be another McDonald’s.
We both ordered breakfast sandwiches and sat as far away from everyone else as we could, eating and planning the next leg of our trip.
We’d been on the run for days at this point, and we’d seen nothing but small cities and even smaller towns.
We’d found nothing but average cars, nothing that would get me out of the deal.
If I wanted out of my deal, I knew we needed to go somewhere big and flashy.
“Beverly Hills, Vegas, L.A., Miami, places like that are going to give us better options,” I said, sipping my coffee.
“OK. I’m down. Let’s go.” She took a big bite of her sandwich.
“I’m thinking L.A. would be easier because all the rich fucks are there. We can just start making our way south. When we get there, we can get set up, and once a plan is in place, I’ll reach out to arrange the deal.”
She nodded.
“Really, the only problem is that my phone is busted. I don’t know how to get a hold of him any other way.”
Her brows arched. “Looks like we’d better get that phone fixed then.”
I nodded. “Yeah, but let’s get out of town first. Marv’s got me on edge.”
“You? He sniffed my hair.” She pointed at her mess of blonde waves.
I snorted. “He’s probably sniffing his backseat now,” I joked, and she gagged.
“That’s so gross. Don’t even…”
I laughed again and went back to eating my breakfast.
After we finished eating, we hit the road, walking toward the edge of town and throwing out a thumb every time we heard a car approaching. We didn’t have to walk long before someone was pulling up beside us.
To our luck, it wasn’t an old guy who drove at the speed of smell or another creepy-maybe murderer.
It was a guy around our age. He played good music and drove at normal speed without asking us four hundred questions.
He drove us as far as he was going, then we parted ways.
We hitched another ride, and then another, and then another.
By sunset, we’d managed to make it over one-hundred and fifty miles south of where we started our morning.
We found a cell phone repair shop and dropped my phone off for repair. After we were told it would be ready for pickup the following morning, we grabbed some food and rented a cheap motel room for the night.
“I really think he killed his brother,” Crash said, stealing my attention from my chicken sandwich.
I looked up at her with my brows drawn together. “Rent free, huh?”
“Probably for the rest of my life! Are you kidding me?”
I chuckled. “Yeah, that dude was pretty weird. I mean, who would risk jail time just for some mushrooms?”
“I’m so glad it was just mushrooms, though. I was expecting a severed hand or a bloody knife.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t think he was a killer. I thought if anything, he’d be a drug dealer. Dude was squirrely as fuck. Did you see how cashed out his eyes were?”
She tilted her head as she chewed her fry. “Did I see them? Yes, of course I saw them. Did you look at the guy after he sniffed my hair? Pretty sure he was hard.” Her cheeks flushed pink.
I laughed and shook my head in disgust. “Well, I’m sorry I asked you to let him do that.”
“You should be. I’m going to shower, and I’m going to scrub my hair until it’s falling out.” She shivered. “I’ll never feel clean again.”
“Here, maybe this will help you forget about it,” I said, pulling out the bottle of vodka that I grabbed from the gas station before we walked to the motel. I set the bottle on the table between us.
“I can not deal with life if I have a hangover tomorrow.”
I rolled my eyes. “Suit yourself.”
I picked up the bottle and twisted off the cap before taking a sip.
She held her hand out. “Give it to me.”
I passed it over and watched as she brought the bottle to her lips. She choked it down.
“Smooth,” she gasped, passing it back.
I took it with a chuckle.
“That reminds me of my dad.”
I was taking a sip when she spoke, so I swallowed and looked at the bottle. “What does? Vodka?”
She nodded.
“Yeah,” she answered, taking it back.
Instead of taking another drink, she examined the bottle.
“He always said that different drinks provided a different kind of drunk. He said when he had beer, it was just a normal drunk. You know, he and the guys are having fun bowling or something. Nothing exciting, but easy-going and fun. He said when he’d drink brown whiskey, he’d get depressed—end up crying and passing out as his mind seemed to be transported to the past where he would just think about my mom.
” She took a drink and passed it back. “Wine made him happy and sloppy. He’d fall down a flight of steps and laugh about it.
But vodka, the only time he’d drink it was at family parties—we didn’t have family, so we’d spend most holidays with my dad’s friends that we called family.
I don’t know what it was about Thanksgiving, but every year he’d get shit face drunk off vodka, and he’d either get into a fist fight with someone, or he’d pull out a gun on them. ”
My back straightened, and I raised my brows. “Did he ever actually shoot anyone?”
She laughed. “Only once.”
She reached for the bottle, and for the first time, I had second thoughts about giving it to her. After I realized that she didn’t have a gun, I passed it over.
“It wasn’t that bad, though. He just shot his business partner in the thigh. He was fine.” She waved her hand through the air.
My mouth fell open. “Why did he shoot him?”
She shrugged. “They were having a good time, drinking and talking about the past. They started talking about this job they did together, and Craig, my dad’s partner, admitted to pocketing some extra cash that my dad knew nothing about.
It caused an argument, and of course, Dad pulled a gun.
Nobody thought he’d use it, because he’d done this every year.
Nobody raced to stop him, and before anyone knew what was happening, he was shooting Craig in the thigh to teach him a lesson. ”
“Didn’t the hospital ask about what happened?”
She snorted. “We didn’t go to the hospital. They used the bottle of vodka to sanitize their tools, then they removed the bullet and stitched him up themselves, right there on the table next to the turkey and stuffing.” She shrugged and took another pull from the bottle.
That was definitely way different from my Thanksgiving.