Eyes of the Predator (14 page)

Cy guided the pickup to the few
lined parking spaces for cars in front of the main building and parked at the
entrance to the diner-cafe-restaurant. It seemed like a good place to look for
a ride for the girl. Lyn, he thought, Lyn, although he didn’t want to attach a
name to her. The more anonymous she was the better for them, at least as he saw
it.

Clay pushed the creaky truck door
open and held it while Lyn climbed out. He pulled her small bag out of the bed
and walked inside with her. Cy followed. The plan was to get some coffee, scout
things out, and see if they could hook her up with a ride. Someone they could
trust. Kathy’s instructions, orders really, from the diner still rang in their
ears. She had entrusted Lyn to them, and they knew they had better make a good
faith effort to find her a ride, a safe ride, or at least as safe as they could
reasonably ensure.

Finding a table in the
restaurant, they ordered coffee, and the boys began looking around. Cy could
tell that Clay was having a hard time letting go of the idea that the girl
could stay with them, or maybe just letting go of the girl. He had never seen
his brother like this. Clay was always the stud with girls lined up, none of
them serious, and he moving through them unattached, enjoying whatever they
were willing to offer, but oblivious to their attempts to hold him to something
more. This girl…the name Lyn crept into his brain although he tried to force it
out…was different. Best to find her a ride quickly then. Let her climb into one
of the rigs headed north, and let the brothers get back to business.

The dining room was a busy
clatter of dishes and cups punctuated by the scent of eggs and bacon. Truckers
were downing coffee and huge platters of eggs in various forms and with various
other food items in the eggs or on the side. Interspersed among them were
tradesman like Cy and Clay and a few family travelers, usually older people
driving big land yachts or the ones who had been fueling their motor homes at
the pumps. Oatmeal and bran muffins were apparently not on the menu, or at
least were not being consumed. A few read newspapers, others sat in the smoking
lounge and chatted with other truckers.

The Purcell boys and Lyn waited
for their coffee and looked around. Cy was beginning to realize that the task
they had been given, while simple enough on the surface, might be a bit more
tricky than they had thought. He wasn’t sure where to start or exactly who to
talk to about getting a ride for Lyn.

He glanced over at Clay who was
intently focused on Lyn. She was going through her purse carefully. It made her
look small and vulnerable. She was counting money to herself. Cy felt something
briefly tug in his chest, but then forced it away. He saw it coming but was
powerless to stop it. Clay spoke to Lyn.

 “You want some breakfast?
I’m buying.”

“Oh, no. It’s okay. I’ve got some
money.”

“Well, you best save your money.
Long ways to Canada, you know.”

The waitress arrived with their
coffee, and Clay began ordering breakfast for the girl. Cy gave up and stirred
some sugar into his cup. How in the world did they end up here?

A reddish beam of light pierced
the dirty café window as the sun broke suddenly above the window sill. The
bright rays lit everything up from the side, making things stand out clearly in
the contrast with the dark shadows. Cy squinted at the window as a waitress
moved over to close the blinds. The higher the sun rose, the less direct the
light, and as the shadows faded, the less clear and defined things would be.
The world always appeared washed out and bland in the day sun. Without the side
lit shadows, things were less clear. And that was how it felt. Things were
becoming much less clear for the brothers.

The northbound traffic was light
this time of day. Mostly trucks trying to make some miles before the heavy
traffic crowded I-95. The old Chevy proceeded northbound keeping pace with the
trucks.

His little bit of business done,
Lylee settled back and began looking for a gas station and convenience store
where he could fill the tank up in the old car and get some coffee. Just a guy
on the road making miles. He could have been anyone.

The early morning hour made him
feel alive after the night’s activity. For much the same reason that Tom Ridley
liked relieving himself in the yard in the early morning darkness, it was his
time. Quiet and solitary time. It gave him a sense of freedom.

The lights of a gas station lit
up the horizon a couple of miles up the interstate. Pulling off at the exit, he
drove up to the regular pump and started filling the tank. There were no other
cars around. The digital numbers on the pump whirred quickly by.

Walking inside the little
convenience store, he could smell coffee brewing. He found the pot and poured
himself a cup. He was looking around for the clerk when she startled him coming
out of the drink and beer cooler. A small laugh escaped from her when she saw
him start.

“Sorry,” the little blond said.
She couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen. “I could see you through
the glass door on the cooler. Just stocking the shelves for the day.”

His ‘charming’ smile spread
across his face. It was one of the many faces he could present to the world.

“No problem. Just thought there
might be something wrong.”

She smiled back, her ‘be nice to
the customers smile’.

“Nope. No problem.”

She was still smiling. Lylee
stood there in a casual way, staying away from the cash register and sipping
his coffee, taking everything in.

“It would make me nervous working
here at night on my own,” he offered as an opener.

“Naw,” she said matter-of-factly.
“I guess I was a little nervous at first, but I been here seven months now and
never had a problem. The deputies and state patrol usually stop by a couple
times a night. Didn’t see them last night though. They must have been busy.

Lylee nodded. Yep, they were
busy. Definitely busy. They would be busier still, soon.

“And there’s always a trucker or
someone like you comin’ in,” she continued, “So I’m not alone here much.”

“Besides,” she added, “we got a
camera”. She nodded her head in the direction of the wall.

Lylee looked up with mild
interest in the direction she indicated. It wasn’t necessary. He had seen the
camera right off. He had also seen that it was focused on the cash register and
that if he didn’t get within three feet…say five feet to be safe…it would never
see him. He would just be someone off to the left talking to the pretty blond.

This was not a sign of a superior
intellect. It was just a part of his instinctive cunning. Possessing the innate
ability to react quickly to changing circumstances and his environment, the
predator in him was always calculating, figuring the odds, the probability of
success or failure, and assessing danger. He was good at it. He had the knack
of self-preservation, and of course, there was that luck that seemed to follow
him and watch over him on his runarounds.

He made these little trips every
few months or so and told his few acquaintances at work that he just went for
driving tours to some national park or historic site or city. He made sure that
he actually researched the places he was supposed to visit so that he could answer
questions for the few people who would give a shit about what he’d been up to.
It wasn’t a very large group. Still, the research was another detail he made
sure of instinctively.

The excursions kept him sane,
like a good vacation for most people. Of course, in Lylee’s case, sane was a
very relative term. If the details of the runarounds had been known to those
who were acquainted with him, it is unlikely that sane would have been an
adjective that anyone used in connection with Leyland Torkman. But then, the
details were not known. To his few acquaintances, he was a solitary man with an
occasionally surly attitude, but mostly just quiet, and vaguely intimidating.

Now his fox-like cunning was
calculating the odds of having the pretty little blond join him on this
runaround as number two. He carefully scanned outside and around the store with
his eyes, not moving his head. He wondered how she would react if she knew
about the bundle he had dropped off not ten miles from here. Would she still
have that cute little smile on her face? Maybe not, but it made
him
smile to think of it.

“What? Did I say something
silly?” the blond asked, seeing the smile.

“Huh? Oh, no, not at all. I was
just enjoying your company and sipping my coffee, thinking what an unexpected
pleasure to be able to spend a few minutes with a girl as pretty as you on a
long trip.”

This time he smiled for real. He
really could be quite charming when he wanted. It was part of the disguise;
high grass to hide what lurked below. Blend in so that they wouldn’t see the
claws and fangs until he wanted them to. It was the ability to appear to be
what others wanted him to be, at least long enough to get what he wanted.

Now she was smiling, and said
softly, “That’s nice. Men around here don’t talk like you do.”

Her Georgia drawl was a little
softer and more syrupy than it was a minute ago. A few more minutes, he
thought. She was still unsure, but soon he could invite her to breakfast or
find some other pretext to get her from behind the counter and away from the
camera.

“So where are you headed?”

“Oh, just taking a little road
trip,” he said sipping his coffee. “Thought I would go up to Maine. There’s a
place where the sun rises first in the entire United States.”

“Really? That would be fun to
see.” The customer smile was gone, replaced by her ‘I might want to know you
better’ smile. She leaned forward on the counter a bit. “I never really go
anywhere.”

“No?”

“Nope. Born and raised in Pickham
County. Been to Savannah a few times. Boyfriend took me to Atlanta one weekend
to see the Braves play.”

“That must have been fun,” he
offered, still sipping thoughtfully at his coffee while evaluating the blond
and waiting for an opening.

“Naw, not really. I’m not much
into baseball. That was a while ago anyway. He’s not my boyfriend anymore
anyway.” She dangled the statement there like an angler waiting for a bite.
Dangerously, she did not know the fish she was baiting.

Lylee smiled. “So, no boyfriend
and you like to travel. And here I am, no girlfriend and I
am
traveling.
Quite a pair, aren’t we?”

The moment was close, so close.

“I guess we are,” she said with a
slightly flirtatious giggle.

Air brakes screeched and hissed
from outside. The predatory focus on his prey had distracted him momentarily.
Awareness of his surroundings came crashing in upon him.

He had been careless, an uncommon
trait for him, and he realized that maybe she was just a little too cute. It
was only a short ten miles from this gas station to his dumpsite. He hadn’t
even left the county, not far enough for safety. Wouldn’t be good for a
stranger to be remembered talking to a pretty, young girl when his dumpsite was
discovered.

Quickly taking a bill from his
pocket, he reached out and threw a twenty on the counter. The girl started to
make change.

“Don’t bother. Keep it.” He said
already opening the door.

The two men who climbed down out
of the truck never really noticed him drive quickly, but carefully out of the
parking lot.

The little blond was surprised at
his sudden departure. She was off in an hour and thought they might have spent
some time together before he had to move on. Maybe, the thought had crossed her
mind, she might have gotten to see the sunrise from the spot in the United
States where it rose first before anywhere else. That would have been fun, or
at least different. Something different from being stuck in Pickham surrounded
by truckers and farmers and horny young boys. He was different. She liked that.

“Probably queer,” she said to
herself as the door opened and the two truckers came in.

“Hey, Beth, how you doin’?” one
of the men said.

“Doin’ good, Pete. Tommy. How
y’all been. Haven’t seen you here in a few weeks.” The customer smile was back
on her face.

“Yep. Just making a run down to
Fort Lauderdale. What you lookin’ at?”

Gazing over their shoulders, she
was surprised to see no car out by the pumps. The strange man was gone.

“Oh. Nothing,” she said and
smiled her best at the two truckers. They didn’t have the way about them that
the stranger did. They were just customers.

Lylee was a mile up the
interstate heading north. Reaching for the sunglasses in the car’s glove box,
he squinted his right eye in the bright sunlight that had just exploded above
the horizon.

She ate with determination.
Steadily forking it up and chewing it down without looking up. Other than the
toast at the I-95 Diner, it was the first food she had had since early
yesterday, long before the trouble started with her father. The Purcell boys
just watched and sipped their coffee.

Cy eyed the truckers in the cafe,
looking for one that might be trusted with the young girl. Clay eyed the young
girl.

Lyn looked up at him and smiled.

“Sorry,” she said. “I was hungry,
I guess.” She mopped up some egg yolk with a piece of toast.

“What you gonna do now?” Clay
asked, looking down at his coffee. “Offer still stands. Come stay with Mama and
us. At least until you get things sorted out.”

Cy heard but continued to eye the
truckers in the cafe. Let Clay do what he had to. He was going to make sure he
fulfilled Kathy’s instructions, while this little drama between Lyn and Clay
played itself out.