Page 12 of In the Nick of Time
“No to turtles.”
“My aunt says Tim can’t stay here. She thinks he’s possessed. She insists he talked to her last night,” Sedgewick called over to where Doug waited. “We can take my car if that’s the issue. I’m pretty sure it will make it.”
“Pretty sure it will make it? That’s not a great endorsement. What did this turtle?—”
“Tim,” Sedgewick corrected, approaching Doug and the car. “And he is an endangered desert tortoise. Not a turtle.”
Was he going to give in and call this reptile Tim? Or was he going to stand on the sidewalk and argue with Agent Sedgewick while every second meant more traffic on the road?
“Tim,” Doug ground out.
Should they take Agent Sedgewick’s car instead of his? The Pontiac had legroom. Doug’s car was more fuel efficient. Sedgewick’s car was over twenty years old. Doug knew his way around a car’s engine. Legroom won out.
“We’ll take your car. But I’m driving.”
“What is it with you and being in charge?” Sedgewick complained.
“I like knowing someone competent is behind the wheel.”
Muttering, Sedgewick set the turtle down on the scrubby brown front lawn and dug into his suit jacket pocket, eventually pulling out his car keys. He clicked the fob at the Pontiac parked in the short driveway.
“Load up your stuff,” he told Doug. “I’ll go get my suitcase. And I’ll tell my aunt that your car will be parked on the street for a few days. How long are we going to be gone?”
“Depends on how long our assignment takes us, doesn’t it?”
Agent Sedgewick mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like asshole and disappeared back inside the house.
With his roller bag stowed safely in the back of the larger vehicle, Doug moved to the front and got in behind the wheel. He wasn’t touching the tortoise. Sedgewick re-emerged from the bungalow with a too-large suitcase, bumped it down the front steps, and threw it in the back with Doug’s. Then he carefully picked up Tim—Jesus, Doug was calling the turtle Tim now—and set it on the back seat.
“I think we’re good to go now,” Sedgewick said, brushing himself off before getting in the front passenger seat.
“Are you sure? You didn’t leave your toothbrush or stuffy behind?”
“My what?” He scowled at Doug. “You know what, never mind.”
“This article claimsthat social isolation is one of the biggest dangers facing senior citizens. It was written by several doctors, and they cite a large study of the elderly.”
Sedgewick had been quiet for too long. Doug had almost caved and asked how he was doing but had decided to enjoy the silence. Instinct or maybe a premonition told him that Sedgewick wouldn’t stay silent for the entire trip.
“Excuse me, what?” Doug was focused on the two semitrucks that were trying their best to make a Pontiac sandwich between cargo container slices. “Motherfuckers, share the fucking road.”
Ignoring Doug’s outburst, Sedgewick continued, “It says here that social isolation is dangerous. You said yesterday that youplan to move to a cabin somewhere. Your mental capacities will suffer without anyone to interact with.”
“My mental capacities are just fine.”
“But as a senior citizen, they are diminishing—or they will when you are all by yourself up on this mountain you’re talking about.”
“The good thing about being alone is I can’t kill anyone.”
Like Agent Nick Sedgewick for instance. Doug was fully aware Sedgewick was doing his best to needle him, but he wondered how far he’d take it. Two could play this game.
“I suppose,” Sedgewick responded somewhat doubtfully. “But I’m not sure that’s the upside you think it is. What happens if you fall and can’t get up?”
“What happens if I… fall and can’t get up?”
The semi on the right drifted into their lane again.
“Motherfucker.” Doug punched the gas and got nothing. The speedometer didn’t budge.
