Page 52 of Bait and Switch
“Seriously, Elton, I’m driving as fast as I can. The last thing we need is a breakdown or worse. Then we’d be the ones who’d have to call someone to come get us out of a jam.”
Since when had Gabe become the voice of reason?
“No, I hear ’em again. Sounds like Calvin has finally lost his tenuous grip on reality. Goddammit!” With his focus one hundred percent on the road, Gabe imagined Elton was pressing the phone against his ear as if that might make it easier to hear what was being said, even though Casey was already on speaker. And did they really need to hear what was being said at this point anyway?
Habit had Gabe glancing at the rearview mirror as they bounced along. Red lights flashed in and out behind them.
“Hey, I think there are cops or some kind of emergency vehicle behind us.”
Elton twisted around to peer out the back window. “Fire truck, I’d say. That glow we’re seeing must be fire.” He turned back around, his profile tense. “We’re getting close to Gordon’s place. Drive faster,” he repeated. “Old Bessie can handle it.”
Gabe pressed harder on the gas pedal and the truck lurched forward again, the Snowcap Estates sign appearing and disappearing.
“Old Bessie? Really?”
Not the time to get distracted, Chance.
“No, but I had to give her a name just now.”
It had started snowing when the road turned from county to Forest Service and thus paved to dirt and rocks. It wasn’t sticking, not yet. But it was falling faster now and the tiny blizzards in the truck’s headlights made it hard for him to see the road or anything else. Gabe’s grip on the steering wheel was tight enough that he knew his hands were going to hurt tomorrow.
They had to get to Casey in time. Ranger Man was not made of steel.
Elton pointed. “There it is, the turn.”
Slowing back down to a crawl, he wrestled the truck past a boulder and a tree stump and onto the access road. It wasn’t that late, but everything looked different in the winter’s early dark. If Elton hadn’t been there, he would’ve missed the turn.
His head hit the roof of the cab. “Fucking fuckery.”
The sense of urgency was stifling. Gabe was scared for Ranger Man—he was more than scared, he was terrified. If Casey was in trouble, or the fire was out of control, what could Gabe and an eighty-year-old man do? They weren’t firefighters or cops, and as far as Gabe knew, they had no weapons. Although he wouldn’t put it past Elton to have a gun stashed somewhere in the truck. Gabe wasn’t terribly worried about his safety, but if Elton got hurt on his watch—or worse—he’d have to move to Siberia or Mars. And even Mars might not be far enough.
But he was also painfully aware that nothing and no one was going to stop Elton from racing to Casey’s assistance. Or Gabe, for that matter. Which meant what? Casey didn’t even like him.
Really, Chance, cons shouldn’t try and con themselves.
“I see taillights,” Elton whispered.
“Why are you whispering?”
Elton ignored him. “That’s Casey’s. Pull in behind it.”
Gabe did not point out that he was perfectly aware the Wagoneer was Casey’s.
“Now what?”
“Now we figure out what the hell is going on. Leave the headlights on so we can see what we’re doing.” Twisting to reach underneath the truck’s bench seat, Elton pulled out a battered tire iron. The thing had to be an antique—just like Elton. “There’s a pipe wrench in the toolbox in back. And we have Bowie.”
At the appearance of the ancient tool, Gabe winced. Dammit, he should’ve convinced Elton to stay at home. He sighed; the attempt would’ve been unsuccessful. That was his final thought on the matter, and he was sticking to it. There was no turning back now.
Gabe turned around and eyed the dog in the back seat. He’d been quiet for most of the drive, but now that they were stopped, he’d popped up on all fours with a low whine. Bowie knew something wasn’t right. His doggy expression was serious and intense as if to sayMy person needs me. Staring back at Gabriel, he released a little huff of impatience and stomped his feet.
“Right. Okay, there arethreeof us. I stand corrected. Let’s do this. But when it’s done, we’re going to have to come up with nicknames for our crime-fighting gang. And maybe Keith wants to be a part of it too.”
He opened the door, not expecting Bowie to leap over the seat and his lap and dash into the darkness. The headlights and the flickering glow from the remains of Gordon’s shed hardly made a difference. Had Gabe ever experienced dark like this? An almost complete lack of light? He didn’t think so.
“Dammit, Ranger Man is going to kill me with his bare hands.”
And Gabe would let him if bare hands meant that Casey Lundin was alive and uninjured.
