Chapter 9
Wyatt’s mind raced through the contents of his truck, desperate for a way to disguise Teslyn and Ivy.
Custom-made storage compartments along the sides of the truck bed carried his weapons and body armor, along with survival supplies in case of emergency.
He thought Ivy would fit in one of the compartments, but he’d be highly visible to people in other cars while he got her set up.
Not a good idea.
There was an underseat storage system beneath the back bench where she slept, but he wasn’t sure it was big enough to fit the girl. Then again, she was tiny, and anything was worth a try. “There’s a compartment beneath the seat where she’s sleeping. She may be able to fit in it.”
Teslyn did as he asked, unbuckling her seat belt and climbing into the back seat to wake her sister as he considered what they were up against. There appeared to be four emergency vehicles, likely state or local police.
He could see flashlights shining through windows, and knew the cops were doing all they could to look for Teslyn and her sister.
Still, they needed probable cause to search a vehicle, and having a missing kid in the vicinity wasn’t going to cut it—not alone, anyway.
They could shine their flashlights all they wanted.
They still couldn’t open the doors of his cab and search the compartment beneath the seat.
That was a violation of his constitutional rights, and at the moment, he was exceptionally glad to have them.
“How do I lift the bench seat?” Teslyn asked, and he passed her the key fob for the truck, which also held the key to the storage compartment, then walked her through the process. She gasped. “Oh my God, there are guns in here.”
“They’re just handguns, unloaded.” All his ammunition was in the truck bed. “Leave them by Ivy’s feet and put her in there.”
“I don’t want to,” the girl whined.
Teslyn kept her cool, speaking in a calm, teacher-like voice. “We’re going to be right here. We’re not going anywhere.”
“But it’s dark in there.”
“It’s only for a few minutes, sweetie, and it will keep you safe.”
“I want my dolly.”
“I don’t have your dolly, honey. Come on, it’s time. You need to lay down in here for me.”
Ivy’s exhausted whimpers made his heart squeeze, and he reached for the soft, thin blanket he’d given to Teslyn, then passed it back. “Try this.”
“Oh, look at that nice soft blanket Wyatt got for you.” The sniveling died down. “Now come on, it’s almost our turn. Can you get in there for me? Good girl…”
“There’s a latch inside that opens it. Find it and show it to her, just in case.” He didn’t want to say just in case we don’t make it through. Teslyn knew what was at stake.
Sweat broke out on Wyatt’s forehead as his truck inched one car-length closer to the roadblock.
They had three minutes, maybe five, and he had to believe Teslyn still looked every bit like she had in the surveillance video taken at the truck stop.
Hiding Ivy was only part of the solution to this problem.
He eyed them in the rearview mirror. Teslyn was speaking calmly to Ivy, trying to make her feel better about being closed in the under-bench storage box. “You’ve got to get back up here, Tess. We still need to make you look different.”
“Okay, I’m going to close it now. You’re a big girl.”
“But I’m scared.”
“You’ve got this, right? You can do it, Ivy, I know you can.”
“Okay.”
“You ready? One, two, three…”
The storage box latched, and he held his breath, waiting for Ivy to cry out or scream. But she did not, and Teslyn climbed back over the seat. “What are we going to do about me?”
He eyed her from head to toe. She wore nondescript gray pants and a conservative pink sweater that made her look like a model for Lands End. “Is this what you were wearing at the truck stop?” he asked. The car in front of him pulled forward another spot.
“No, I had on a sleeveless turtleneck and a pair of white slacks.”
The last person he’d heard use the word slacks had been his Great Aunt Lucile, but he didn’t have enough time to poke fun at her. “Was your hair like that?”
She touched it. “Like what?”
“Up. Was your hair up?”
“Yes, I usually wear it up when I’m not going anywhere special.”
“Change it. Take your hair down.” He reached into the back seat, grabbing a red plaid flannel that had been there for weeks. “Put this on.” She threaded her arm through the sleeve. “No,” he corrected. Not over the sweater, instead of it. And keep the top couple of buttons undone. Show some skin.”
Her head whipped around and she glared at him. “Excuse me?”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to make you look like a different person. Do you have a better idea?”
She growled in frustration. “Fine. But don’t look at me.”
He turned to look out his window, the dashboard lights illuminating her body, the image reflecting off the glass.
If they’d had time for chivalry, he would have told her he could see, and she needed to find someplace else to change if she wanted privacy, but there simply wasn’t time.
She tugged her sweater up over her head, momentarily revealing a dark lace bra before pulling his plaid shirt down over her body.
“This is ridiculous,” she grumbled. “Getting changed in a car with a man I barely know.”
“Truck.”
“Whatever!”
He watched as she tugged at the buttons on the shirt. “Can I turn around now?” he asked.
“Fine.”
He checked out the change in her appearance.
Her hair looked good down, though he suspected she wouldn’t appreciate the compliment and kept it to himself.
His shirt was much too big on her, the open buttons revealing the alluring swell of her breasts above her bra cups and the smallest bit of lace, as well.
“Is this okay, or is the shirt too big to achieve the desired effect?” she asked.
“It’s the best we’re going to do right now,” he said honestly, taking his foot off the brake so they moved up another space.
“So, no.” She huffed before unbuttoning the entire strip of buttons holding the shirt together.
Before he knew what she was about, she tied the front shirt tails together in a knot, then rolled up her pants until they appeared stylish and fun.
“You don’t grow up as Marilyn Gleason’s daughter and not know how to flaunt what the good Lord gave you.
” She laced her fingers through the underside of her hair and fluffed up her wavy locks.
Wyatt was dumbstruck. The transformation was mesmerizing.
She pointed at his open mouth. “What are you doing, catching flies over there?”
He shut it. “Sorry. It’s just—”
“It’s our turn. You need to move up.”
Sure enough, he was being waved forward by a policeman. He rolled his window down and pulled up.
“License and registration, please?”
Wyatt reached for the wallet he kept atop the center console. “Evening, officer. What’s going on?”
“We’re looking for a missing child, five years old, blonde hair, blue eyes.” He took a look at Wyatt’s license, and shined a flashlight in Wyatt’s face before moving on to Teslyn. “I’ll need yours too, Miss.
“I’m sorry, officer. I didn’t bring my purse with me.”
Wyatt’s hand reached for hers. “My girlfriend and I were just out for a drive.”
The officer shined the light on Teslyn’s face, then stood. “All right. Go on through.” He shined his flashlight in the back seat as they moved, the man suddenly barking, “Stop right there!”
Wyatt winced and hit the brakes as the cop yelled to the other officers. What made the officer change his mind? He’d shone his flashlight into the back seat just as they were pulling away.
“What’s going on?” whispered Teslyn.
“Just stay calm. Did you put the hand guns back in the storage bin like I told you to?”
She was silent, the yells of the officers outside the only sound.
“Tess?”
“I didn’t want her to touch them. They’re dangerous.”
He wanted to scream. He wanted to argue and fight and place blame where blame belonged, but he did none of those things. Bright lights beamed into the cab of the truck. “Driver, get out of the vehicle with your hands up!”
Wyatt’s hands were already in the air. He didn’t turn to face her as he said, “If they recognize you, don’t fight them or try to get away.” He got out and was immediately slammed against the side of his truck by two officers who cuffed him and frisked him roughly.
Stay in the box, Ivy. Stay in the box.
If they made it through the vehicle search without them finding Ivy, they might be okay. His mind went into overdrive, looking for a way out, as Teslyn was cuffed and brought to his side. She really did look like a different person in that get-up. A person with far less class than his Teslyn.
Your Teslyn?
Where did that come from?
He frowned as the officers descended on the truck, going through each storage compartment in a methodical search.
It was just a matter of time before they got to the under-bench area where Ivy was hiding.
“Sir!” snapped one of the officers, a larger, fatter officer moving to the open door of the truck as they cataloged his weapons.
One by one, he produced the required paperwork for each of the firearms, proving he wasn’t breaking any laws.
The time came when they finally reached the back seat. An officer strode over to him, his hands on his hips and a toothpick held between his teeth. “Where’s the key to the under-seat storage box?” he asked around the toothpick.
Wyatt worked to look frustrated. “Don’t have it. Wish I did. Got a Sig Sauer in there I ain’t seen for a year and a half.”
The officer moved back to the vehicle and consulted with two other policemen for several minutes before returning to Wyatt. “We’re going to have to break that lock.”
He shrugged, feigning his best look of nonchalance.
“Suit yourself. Ex-girlfriend bought it for me, anyways.” He could feel Teslyn’s eyes on him, but didn’t face her.
No one would believe Ivy could fit inside that box.
It was a gamble, but he was guessing the best way to make them change their minds was to put up zero resistance.
The officers put their heads together again, alternately staring at Wyatt and his truck. Finally, the oldest of the bunch crossed to them and unlocked their handcuffs. “You folks are free to go. Sorry for the trouble.”
“Thank you, officer,” said Wyatt.
“You keep those firearms locked up from now on, you hear?”
“Will do, sir. Thanks again.” He took Teslyn’s hand and walked back with her toward the truck.
“Did we really just get away with that?” she said quietly.
“Ivy’s got to be scared shitless.” He released her hand as they reached the vehicle, and he climbed inside, giving the cops a respectful smirk and raising his hand to acknowledge them.
Four hundred feet down the road, Teslyn unbuckled and climbed over the seatback. “Ivy, you can come out now.” Wyatt tilted the rearview mirror to see the girl all but jump into Teslyn’s arms.
“I was so scared,” she cried.
“You were so brave, sweetie,” said Teslyn, rocking the girl. “So very brave. You did great.”
“You did,” he said, immensely proud of Ivy for dealing with her fears.
The lighted sign of a motel shone in the distance.
He was more than tired, the muscles of his back tight and knotted.
“You two want to stop for the night? We should be safe here. The cops aren’t going to think you two slipped right through their roadblock right under their noses. ”
“Yes,” Teslyn and Ivy said in unison.
He pulled into the parking lot and went into the office to register. “I’ll take a double room, please.”
“No doubles left. I’ve got a king bed, only.”
He sighed heavily. “Pull-out couch?”
“Afraid not.”
He and his knotted muscles would be sleeping on the floor tonight. “I’ll take it.”