Bad Penny by John D. Brown Read Free Book Online Page B

problem,” Frank said. Except it was. But you played with the hand you were dealt, even if it was Mr. Mormon in his minivan. Frank would have to count on the Wyoming police to bring the fire power.
    The last light before the interstate turned yellow. The car in front of them started to brake. Sam did not. Instead, he put on the gas and maneuvered into the other lane, passing the car, and shooting toward the backside of the braking pickup just ahead.
    “Sam!” Frank said. He put a hand on the dash, pushed his foot to the floor, braced for impact.
    The pickup was jacked up, its big fat steel bumper just about the right height to come bursting through the windshield to crush chests and heads. Frank watched it zoom toward them.
    They were going to die.
    But then Sam yanked the Mazda back into the first lane in front of the car and sped through the intersection just as the light turned red.
    They both took a breath.
    “That was close,” Sam said.
    “You think?” Frank said, his whole body still on high alert. “Let’s not go out of this life just yet.”
    “I’m with you on that, bro.”
    “And not in this vehicle. I’m pretty sure Saint Peter will pull our man cards for having bought it in a baby blue minivan with unicorn stickers.”
    “You get special points in heaven for rainbow unicorns,” Sam said.
    “I didn’t know that.”
    “Sure. You’re totally covered in this van.”
    “I feel so much better now,” Frank said.
    They raced the last half mile to the interchange, peeled off Dewar and motored hard up the long on-ramp to the interstate. They passed Walmart. The community college was next, standing proudly in the distance amidst acres of dry blue-gray sagebrush and scorched weeds. Ahead, the freeway rolled out in front of them, and Sam merged onto it.
    I-80 was the main artery through Wyoming. The only artery. On any given day anywhere from six to ten thousand semis hauling freight rumbled past Rock Springs. There was a clog of them on the road right now coming up behind. Sam gassed the minivan, then put on his blinker and pulled into the fast lane.
    “You watch the road,” Frank said. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled for the Nova. And no more of that Mario-Andretti-Doctor-Jekyll-Mister-Hyde.”
    “Are we chasing bad guys or going out on a stroll?”
    “We’re avoiding getting hit by big hunks of speeding metal, glass, and rubber that weigh a couple tons.”
    “I had gobs of room back at the light,” Sam said. “Things were totally under control.”
    “I’m just saying.”
    Frank searched the interstate and side streets and then searched the interstate again in a clockwise pattern. He used his fingers to direct his gaze so he didn’t miss anything. Nothing but regular traffic.
    Sam said, “I still don’t see why the girl put a box cutter to his throat.”
    “She doesn’t know who we are. Ed came to my house. Which means Tony and I are just two more of Ed’s upstanding associates.”
    “Ed’s the bad guy?”
    “Ed is a soul slimy with rot. I think maybe this is a ransom kidnapping. I think she’s illegal, or part of some rival organization. I think that’s why she’s afraid of the cops.”
    Sam shook his head. “You read about the kidnappings in Arizona. You don’t ever imagine that crap coming here.”
    “Rock Springs isn’t what I’d call a pure town.”
    “It’s not gang land either.”
    “Don’t worry. That crap didn’t come here. It was just passing through and ran into a little snag called Tony.” Mr. White Hat. The one person who had written Frank faithfully all seven years. The one person who’d never given up hope. Frank had all his letters in a box. All of them. From the ones when Tony was ten that were mostly drawings of stick figure army men and dinosaurs and sharks, all the way up to the one where the boy had included a bit of poetry he’d written for his high school Language Arts class. It was about playing Call of Duty on his Xbox. Not Robert Frost by any