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“What would a man like Rodney want with that stuff?” I ask. Even though I don’t know Rodney, his humbled appearance was a dead giveaway he wasn’t like everyone else in that place.
“Exactly.”
“So you bribed his boss? With money?” I ask, needing to clarify that Quinn didn’t use his fists but money to seal the deal.
“Yes, Red. Money is the universal language, sad but true.”
“So you vouched for a total stranger? Why?” I ask, not that I’m unhappy he did so, more that I need to know why.
“Because everyone, regardless of what they have done, deserves a chance,” he replies softly, and I have a feeling we’re no longer talking about Rodney.
I let it go because I can feel Quinn tense up underneath me, not wanting to discuss this further.
I can’t help but marvel at the fact that Quinn did something incredibly kind to help out a stranger. And even though I’m pretty certain Rodney helped Quinn set up our date because they most likely became friends the day I went missing, what Quinn did for him was something not many others would have done. But whatever the reason Quinn decided to help Rodney, I’m glad because Rodney came through for us when Quinn needed him the most.
After a few moments of silence and me snuggling back into Quinn’s chest, clinging onto him like a koala, I ask, “So what are we going to do now?”
“I think we should take the back roads and keep driving. No stopping till we’re far enough to get the cops off our tails. And it’ll give us some time to figure out what the hell to do next.”
I nod. “We’ll take turns driving, then, and drive through the night, okay?”
“As long as you’re okay with that. It’ll probably mean using gas stations as our bathrooms and supermarkets for the next couple of days, but it’ll give us some breathing room to figure out what to do next.”
“Sounds good to me. What’s a road trip without excessive amounts of artificial sugar and frozen burritos?”
“Any place special you wanna go?”
“No, anywhere with you is special.”
And I mean every single word.
We drive through Louisiana, taking remote back roads that look to be used only by the locals and hopefully not patrolled by the police. Thankfully, the dirt, lonesome roads link back up to the highways, so we know which direction we’re traveling in.
We drive nonstop, only stopping for gas and the occasional bathroom break, but Quinn is right. We need to give ourselves a big head start now that the police are onto where we are.
Quinn has driven all of the way, but after nearly running us off the road because he fell asleep at the wheel, I demanded he pull over. He’s driven for way too many hours without a break. He insisted he was fine, but when I told him this wasn’t negotiable, he agreed and was out like a light.
So now it’s just me and the open road, as Lucky has also crashed, snuggled into Quinn, who is using the window as a pillow. He’ll be sore when he wakes, but I don’t have the heart to wake him up.
I’m not sure of the exact time, but judging by the coyotes and raccoons and whatever other wildlife wants to jump out in front of me, scaring the bejesus outta me, I’d say it’s well after midnight.
We’re headed for Arkansas, and I’m aching for a bed and shower and to eat something that isn’t defrosted in the microwave. But I’d never tell Quinn since he feels bad enough.
Even though we almost got caught, I’m not freaking out because I’m with Quinn. If I were doing this on my own, or with someone other than him, I doubt I would be this composed or sane. But with Quinn, I feel like I can pull through anything.
Lost in my thoughts, I fail to hear a small whimper until it becomes a steady, panicked moan. I look over, believing that it is Lucky. But the distraught whimpers come from Quinn and are becoming increasingly worse.
I try to reach out to comfort him, but he’s too far away, and even with one hand on the steering wheel, the other reaching for him, I can’t touch him.
My eyes dart between the road and Quinn, wanting nothing more than anything to comfort him, especially when his whimpers turn into spoken, hushed words.
“Mom…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Quinn cries, whipping his head from side to side.“I’m sorry I made you choose. I didn’t know…and it’s too late.”
What’s too late?
Oh God, I feel like I should wake Quinn as his face contorts in pain. And I also feel as if I’m intruding in on a private memory, one Quinn wishes to keep to himself.
“Don’t tell Tristan. Please don’t tell him. If he ever found out, he’d never forgive me.” And a guttural sob robs him of air, jerking me with its intensity.
