Larry had never been so alert in all his life, he’d drank half a thermos of strong, sweet coffee, and was staring through the windshield like the old proverbial rabbit in the headlights. Brenda had been listening to the soft music when she closed her eyes, and had, for the last thirty minutes, been sleeping. The sun was up, but had yet to peak the mountains fifty miles back, still leaving them in semi-darkness.
They were on highway 460, heading west for Linchburg when Larry felt the sudden urge to relieve himself of some of that coffee. Up ahead, about a half mile in the distance, he saw a light, just off the side of the road. Just what he needed, a truck-stop.
Thankfully, it was a truck-stop. He didn’t want to use a bush by the roadside, where a rattlesnake, or scorpion might not take too kindly to being pissed on. He pulled off the highway onto a garage forecourt, where he rolled his car to a stop among the gas pumps. After passing over a black wire on the ground, an elderly man came from inside the gas station. Larry popped the hood, and, sticking his head from the window, instructed the man to fill her up and check the oil, he then shook Brenda to wake her.
‘Are we there yet?’ she asked, trying to stretch in the confined space.
‘No, not yet, Bren. Need to use the bathroom,’ he said, unclipping his seatbelt.
‘Think I’ll join you.’
They climbed from the car and after walking the twenty or so yards to the washrooms, Brenda split right, and Larry split left.
On reaching the entrance to the men’s washroom, a tall man on his way out, who looked to be rubbing his hands on a white paper towel, bumped into Larry. Although it wasn’t Larry’s fault, he still felt the need to apologise to the man, who just carried on walking, ignorant to his apology. Larry shrugged his shoulders at the man’s rudeness and screwed his nose up at the man’s body odour. He also noticed another smell, just beneath the body odour, but couldn’t quite pin it down.
The place was about ten yards long, by five wide, with urinals running down the length of the left wall, and half a dozen doors on the right. Set back to his immediate right were the wash basins, six of them. The floor was tiled in black, and the walls were tiled in white. Well, it could have been white, but masses of graffiti concealed most of it. Though some of the artwork was in fact really that, artwork. They obviously have a much higher class of vandal this far outside Richmond.
Apart from Larry, there were four other people in the washroom, two at the urinals, another washing his hands, and a tall guy combing his hair in a grimy mirror above the basins. Three of the doors on the right were closed, and each displayed an engaged sign beside their handle.
Larry did what he came to do and felt much better for it, after which, he went to wash his hands in one of the basins. The man with the comb was still there, and Larry smelt the same body odour from him also. When he turned the tap, the sudden gush of water splashed over the rim causing the man to jump back, he pushed the comb into his back pocket, and, with an audible “Tisk” aimed at Larry, he left the washroom.
Larry finished washing his hands and turned looking for the paper towels he’d seen the other tall guy using, only there weren’t any. On the wall behind the entrance door were four electronic hand-dryers. He tried the first one, it didn’t work, neither did the second or third, he pushed the big silver button on the fourth one and managed to get a soft, weak breeze, blowing on his hands.
He used the inapt hand-dryer four or five times before he was satisfied his hands were dry. By then, two other people were stood at his rear waiting to use it after him. He smiled akwardly at them before leaving.
When he reached the gas station, Brenda hadn’t yet come out of the ladies washroom. He paid for the fuel, bought some cigarettes, and returned outside to see her walking over. He climbed in and started to fasten his seatbelt.
‘Sorry I was so long,’ she explained, getting in. ‘But it was choc-a-bloc in there.’
Larry put the car in gear and started to pull away, as he reached the end of the forecourt, another car shot across his path. Brenda hadn’t time to fasten her seatbelt before she was shunted forward, almost cracking her head against the windshield. She just managed to get a hand to the dashboard in time.
‘Asshole, you okay, Bren?’
Brenda nodded. ‘Yeah, just let me fasten this before you go chasing after him.’
‘Take your time, I ain’t chasing no one. If he wants to kill himself, that’s fine by me, I on the other hand, don’t.’
A few yards away to their left, some kind of commotion stirred, a woman stood shouting and crying hysterically.
‘I wonder what that’s all about?’ said Brenda.
‘Probably thinks she’s been overcharged for the gas. I can sympathise with her on that one, believe me.’ Larry attempted to pull away once more. ‘Can you believe the price of the stuff these days? I mean’ he stopped, feeling Brenda’s soft touch on his knee.
‘Hold on a minute, Larry, that woman and her young daughter were in the washroom.’ She climbed out asking another woman what the trouble was.
The woman she asked spoke with a deep southern accent. ‘Says her thir-teen-year-old daughter left the washroom a few secunds a‘fore she did, and when she came out the girl was gone.’
‘Has anyone called the police?’
‘Yeah, on their way right now.’
Larry heard what was said and called Brenda back to the car. ‘Come on, we’ll have a look over by the washrooms.’
He pulled the car up at the side of the gas station and they walked the short distance back. The light wasn’t great, but it was sufficient enough to see by, and it wasn’t long before Larry found something. He crouched on his haunches pinching the corner of a white rag and putting it to his nose.
‘What is it?’ asked Brenda.
‘Chloroform, they must have used it to subdue the girl.’
‘Just like they did with Alicia and the others.’
Larry nodded in response, but felt he was missing something, something at the back of his mind niggled and pricked at his thoughts, something important.
As they were about to leave, a young man rushed by whistling and holding his groin . Larry called to him. ‘Excuse me, sir, I need you here to make sure nobody touches this,’ he said, pointing to the rag.
‘But I need-’
‘What you need, sir, is to guard this, it could be evidence to a kidnapping.’
‘Really? A kidnapping?’ said the young man, soon forgetting his true needs.
‘Yes, the police will be along soon, don’t let anyone go near it before they get here.’
‘Yeah sure, I mean no ... no I won’t.’
‘Thanks,’ said Brenda.
They retuned to the garage area to find a small, but noisy crowd now surrounding the missing girl’s mother. Larry pushed his way to the centre of the Mêlée where a young security officer and his older colleague seemed to have taken over. ‘Excuse me,’ he said to the younger man.
‘Do you mind, mister? Can’t ya see?I’m kinda busy here?’
Larry looked at his name tag. ‘Mr Rowley, my name’s Larry Kessler,’ he said, handing him a card. ‘I’m a private investigator and’
‘Well I can handle this, Mr Kessler, if you don’t mind.’
‘I have no doubt of that, Mr Rowley, but there’s a young man standing over by the washrooms. He could be guarding a crucial piece of evidence. When the police get here, would you make sure they get it please?’
Mr Rowley looked put out by this revelation, he whispered something in his colleague’s ear whose badge bore the name Langhorn, Langhorn gave Larry a quick glance whilst listening to Mr Rowley, who then turned back to Larry. ‘I’ll go over there myself and protect the evidence, thank you for your help, er,’ he said, looking again at Larry’s card. ‘Mr Kessler.’
‘Fine, if they need to contact me, give them the card.’
But the young security officer had already gone.
Larry and Brenda returned to the car, and after they climbed in, Larry paused in deep thought. He’d just realised what that niggling feeling was. ‘You know something? I think we should’ve chased that car after all.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘It didn’t click until now, I’m sure it was a blue Ford.’
‘Well that would tie-in with the chloroform.’
‘Yeah, I know, and that’s what I smelt when I bumped into one of them at the washrooms. He wasn’t drying his hands, he was readying for another snatch. I won’t be a minute,’ he said, climbing out again.
Larry left the car and went to speak with the older security officer this time. ‘Mr Langhorn, I believe the car the police will be looking for is a blue Ford, and about fifteen minutes ago, it was headed west on highway 460. When they do eventually get here, would you be sure to give them that information, please?’
Mr Langhorn only nodded in reply to what Larry told him. After returning the nod, Larry went back to his car and he and Brenda were finally on their way to Lynchburg. He’d drive as fast as he could to catch up to that blue Ford, but if the turning for Lynchburg came along before he reached the car, he’d have to take it.
