Black Cat and the Accidental Angel (Black Cat Mysteries Book 3) (22 page)

9:50 A.M. He’d probably miss the flight at this rate. Well, stewing over it wouldn’t change anything. Might as well stop worrying and think about how to deal with another trip to Reno tomorrow. Maybe he could book flights for later in the day.

John’s truck edged forward and stopped, almost alongside the hiker.

He turned, locked eyes with John and extended his thumb. Guess he was looking for a ride, after all. The young man smiled. A nice smile. A smile that seemed to say, “Life hasn’t been so good to me lately. Can you help?”

Like me. Life hasn’t exactly done me any favors lately, either. Except for the chicks…

The young man walked toward the passenger door, an eager expression on his face.

He shielded his eyes from the sun and peered through the window.

Great. Now he’s going to ask me for a ride. John’s cheeks warmed. What could he say? Sure, I’m going your way, at two miles an hour. We’re thirty miles from the nearest town and I have an empty seat, but no, you can’t ride with me because somebody once told me it wasn’t safe to pick up strangers. ‘He could be Jack the Ripper.’

His heart did a little two-step.
This is ridiculous.
I’m a big, strong man. What harm could this kid do?
What if he has a gun?

What if he doesn’t?

Maybe the guy just needs a ride into town. Maybe a few bucks. How much money did he have with him? Not much, that’s for sure. So, if the kid was bent on robbery, he picked the wrong pick-up truck full of Emus. Murder? That’s another story.

A disarming smile crossed the young man’s face. He circled his fist in a thumbs-up gesture.

John pushed the button to roll down the passenger window.

The kid leaned into the truck. “Ride, mister?”

John hesitated, and then pushed the unlock button. “Sure. Get in.”
What have I got to lose besides my money and my life?
He smiled.

The hiker pulled off his dirty backpack, dropped it on the floor and slid into the truck. He turned and extended his hand. “Thanks a lot. My name is Peter.”

John glanced over at him. Kid needed a haircut and a shave. His jacket collar was frayed and dark with perspiration stains.

“I’m John. From the looks of this traffic, you might make better time walking.”

They shook hands.
Interesting.
The way he was dressed, Peter looked like a street person, but his hands were smooth, nails trimmed and clean, like he’d never done a lick of work in his life. He reminded John of a man he used to know who played the piano.

The line of cars lurched forward about ten feet and stopped again.

“Where you headed?” John gripped the steering wheel. His knuckles turned white and the muscles in his neck tightened.

“Down the road a piece. Not far. My uncle has a ranch just outside of Reno on the main highway. If you’ll drop me there, I’d appreciate it.”

John nodded. They sat in silence, as the cars crept forward several more feet.

Peter leaned down and picked up one of John’s business cards off the floor. He glanced at the card and shoved it in his pocket.

“I can’t believe this.” John checked his watch. I’ve got a load of chicks in back and a plane to catch at 1:00 P.M. If I miss the flight, I’m apt to lose the sales.” He whacked the steering wheel again.

“Hey! Don’t sweat it. You’ll make it.” Peter tapped the clock in the dashboard. “You’ve got plenty of time. Once we’re past the roadwork, it’s less than an hour to Reno.”

John heaved a sigh and shook his head. “You don’t understand what’s riding on the chicks making that flight today. And, now this.” He waved his hand toward the string of stopped cars moving forward at a turtle’s pace.

“What does it matter if you make the flight today? You can always ship them tomorrow.”

John huffed. “Ever heard of an Emu? They grow to be six feet tall. If they aren’t sold before they’re two weeks old, the airlines won’t take them. I’ve only got a small window of opportunity. These chicks have to go today. I could lose everything if I…”

Whoa! Hold it
. Peter hadn’t been in the truck for three minutes and here he was spilling his guts to the guy. The kid would think he was some kind of a nutcase.

John lifted his hands from the wheel and flexed his fingers, then hunched over the steering wheel. “Look. I didn’t mean to dump on you. Let’s just say, it’s important I get the chicks to the airport today and leave it at that. Okay?”

Peter leaned back in the seat and put his hands behind his head. “Fine with me. Just so you know. You’re not the only guy in this truck with troubles.”

John shrugged. “You got troubles? You’re way too young to know anything about troubles.”

Peter wiped his hand over his face. “You see a man hiking in the wilderness with nothing but a backpack and you think he don’t have troubles? Everything I own is in that pack.” He nodded toward his backpack. “I’ve got the world’s trouble on my shoulders, and that’s the truth.” He crossed his arms, his lips pressed tightly together.

John turned away and peered at the rear end of the SUV in front of his truck. The world’s troubles, indeed. Didn’t seem as if Peter wanted to talk about his troubles, and it wasn’t his place to question the kid. The cars moved a bit faster now. The clock on the dash read 10:22 A.M. He had an hour and a half to get to the airport. Maybe they’d make it, after all.

“Your birds remind me of several verses in Psalms. Do you know your Bible?”

John’s cheeks flushed. “I…I…not as well as I ought to, I guess. I’ve been—”

“It’s kind of appropriate, I think, what you said about depending so much on selling your chicks today. It goes like this. …He is my refuge and my fortress: He shall cover thee with His feathers, and under His wings shalt thou trust: His truth shall be thy shield and buckler.”

John’s fingers loosened their grip on the steering wheel.
Under his wings shalt thou trust
… That sounded pretty good. Maybe he ought to get out the Bible and read up. The way things were going haywire in his life these days, it might not be a bad idea to plug into a Higher Power.

The cars inched forward. A road worker stepped into the road holding up a SLOW sign. John’s truck crept past tractors moving dirt off the road.

“There must have been a landslide.” John eyed the tractors as they passed. No way could they let a landslide go for another day. The road crew
had
to do the work today. Once past the crew’s work site, just as Peter had predicted, the traffic picked up speed.

As the forest thinned, John and Peter became better acquainted. John told Peter about Cindy, the Emus and shared the story of how the cats came to the ranch.

“So you named her Angel? How did that happen?” Peter raised an eyebrow.

“Cindy said she looked like she was praying, the way she held up her nose, so she called her Angel. She just had a litter of kittens.”

“How’s she doing?” Peter unzipped his jacket and pulled the collar away from his face.

“Who? Cindy?”

“Angel.”

John turned toward Peter.
What a strange question.
“Fine, I guess. Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” Peter stared out the side window. “Just curious. I love animals, especially cats.”

Before long, the road dropped down into the valley. Another sign zipped by. Reno—16 miles.

John checked his wristwatch. 10:49 A.M. He was going to make it!

“Right up there.” Peter pointed to the left. “See that red marker on the side of the road? That’s my uncle’s place. You can let me off right there, if you would.” He leaned forward and zipped his jacket.

John stopped the truck at the end of a long driveway that threaded through the meadow. A white two-story house peeked through the trees.

“Here?” John peered down the driveway. “Do you want me to drive up to the house and make sure someone’s home?” He turned into the driveway.

“
Nah!
This is fine. I can walk up. I don’t want to keep you any longer.” He glanced at the clock on the dash. “Remember? You’ve got a plane to catch.”

“
Uh-oh!
What’s going on up there?” John peered down the freeway. Taillights flashed on another long line of cars, stopped about a quarter mile ahead. “Looks like there might be an accident. Just when I thought I was in the clear. I just can’t catch a break.”

Peter opened the door and stepped out. He leaned back into the truck. “See that dirt road just off to the right up ahead? It goes back about a mile and then doubles back to the freeway. It should get you past this slow-down and back on the highway past all that traffic. After that, it’s clear sailing into town.”

“You sure? I wouldn’t want to get lost back there. Maybe I should wait here and take my chances.”

“Suit yourself, but I know the area. Spent a few summers here on my uncle’s ranch when I was a kid. Anyway, thanks for the ride.”

“Thank you for the company.” John glanced back toward the road. “Hope things work out for you. Thanks for the encouragement, too. Means a lot…”

“Not a problem. Have a blessed day!” Peter closed the door, waved and started walking up the driveway.

John checked the traffic and pulled onto the road. Just as Peter said, the dirt road veered off the freeway just ahead. He glared at the red taillights strung out down the freeway. The cars hadn’t moved an inch for the past five minutes. John swung the pick-up onto the dirt road.
Sure hope Peter knows what he’s talking about
.

Peter. What a strange young man. They’d spent almost an hour together and the only thing he knew about him was that he loved kids and animals, especially cats, and that he had
troubles
. Wonder what kind of troubles? He never said a word about them. He glanced across the seat. Wait! There lay Peter’s backpack on the floor. How could he have gotten out of the truck and neither of them noticed it?
Now, what am I supposed to do?

He stopped the pickup and glanced at his wristwatch. 10:55 A.M. He had to be at the airport by noon. Just enough time to get sixteen miles and then across town, if Peter was right and the dirt road connected back to the freeway, beyond the accident. Barring any further delays.

On the other hand, it was about a half a mile back to the driveway where he’d dropped Peter. He said all he had in the world was in that backpack. But, the round trip would take ten to fifteen minutes, and that was cutting his trip mighty close.

It was the right thing to do, to go back. John turned the truck at a wide spot on the road. He stomped the gas. Dust flew up behind the truck as he bumped back down the dirt road to the driveway where he’d left Peter. The red marker was just up ahead. He’d just pull up to the house, honk and toss the backpack out.

He rumbled down the long driveway. What luck! A woman in a blue housedress stood near the front porch, watering flowers. He’d hand the pack off to her and be on his way. The truck slowed and pulled to a stop. He slammed the gears into park, jumped out, and hurried around to the passenger side. “Good morning,” he called over his shoulder.

The door squeaked open, and he hefted the backpack onto his shoulder. “I’m in a big hurry, ma’am. Could I just leave this with you? Can you give it to Peter?”

The woman turned off the nozzle on her hose. “Peter?”

“I gave him a ride. He left his backpack in my—”

“I don’t know anybody named Peter. Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested.” She tossed the hose on the ground and took a step toward her porch.

John stared at the woman, and then glanced toward the highway. “I dropped him at the end of the driveway, not ten minutes ago.”

The housewife shook her head. “Nobody’s come up my driveway.” She backed up the steps.

She must think I’m some kind of religious nut or a mad rapist.
“Thanks anyway.” John tossed the backpack into his truck and hurried around to the driver’s side. “Look, sorry to bother you. I must have taken the wrong driveway.” He called over the top of the truck.

John turned around and raced back to the highway. The woman’s face reflected in his rear view mirror, still staring after his truck.

At the end of the driveway, he checked the time. 11:05 A.M. Near the end of the driveway, the red marker flapped on the pole by the side of the road. This
was
the right driveway! What’s going on? Where did Peter go?
I don’t have time for this.

He grabbed the backpack
.
Maybe there was an address or something inside. Somebody he could call when he got home. He slid the zipper. Shoes, an undershirt, an energy bar, toothbrush. There…an address book or a small tablet. John flipped through the empty pages. A piece of paper fell from the notebook. He picked it up.

Highway 20—August 31—9:50 A.M.—Red pick-up truck

There shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling. For He shall give His Angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.