Chapter 22: Things Don't Go Quite According to Plan

Auburn hoped to get at least a little sleep before her outing that evening, but slumber was not to be had.  Though she was getting to be an old hand at “kidnapping” people, each new mission seemed as fresh as the last one.  After a couple hours of tossing and turning, she finally leapt out of her bed at 11:00, slipped open the window, and darted out, ready for her newest assignment.

After two months of not seeing anything, Auburn was finally familiar with Blackwell—its two main highways, its different neighborhoods, its businesses, all its little niches.  It didn’t have a whole lot to offer, but the town was now starting to feel like home for her.  Even if all those police cars she saw cruising around were searching for her.

She reached the gas station a little before 11:45.  No lights showed, and Auburn wondered if Brittany had been able to make it back yet.  She knocked, waiting to see if—

The door flew open, revealing Brittany, bathed in the glow of a couple dim flashlights.  “Come on in!” she said.

“Did you get the car?” Auburn asked, then saw the Chrysler Three Hundred parked in the middle of the room.  The sleek, brown sedan went all the way back to the 1970s, if not the late sixties.  Its paint was a little faded, but not too many rust spots were visible.  Most signs of age came from the hardtop, where much of the white canvas had come off, revealing faded metal underneath.

“It’s not the best-looking car in the world right now,” commented Brittany, standing next to her, “but it should work.  The tank was empty when I picked it up, but I stopped off at a gas station before heading back to town, and it was still full when I got back.”

“Well, that’s a good sign,” said Auburn.  “Did you have any trouble picking it up?”

Brittany shook her head.  “Uncle Artie was relieved to see it go—said if it sat around any longer, he’d get himself caught in a restoration project he had neither the time nor the money for.  I went a little easy towing it back here, but I’ve been down that way before, and I knew the roads well enough to stay out of trouble.”

“Good,” said Auburn, pausing.  “I doubt it’s been inspected lately?”

“Not since 2001,” said Brittany, “but that won’t give us any trouble.  Take a look at the license plate.”

Auburn whistled.  “South Dakota?”

“I’m still not sure how Uncle Gene wound up with that plate myself,” commented Brittany, “but even if the police see it, they won’t know enough about the sticker to tell that the car’s overdue.”

“Better yet,” said Auburn, “they won’t know enough about the plate to tell where it’s from.  I’ve never seen one of those before; it looks like a Ohio plate.  In fact…” Auburn paused and glanced around the room.  “Do you have any masking tape?”

“There might be a roll in that desk over there.”

Auburn yanked it open, instantly finding what she was looking for.  “Now, I need a sharpie.”

Brittany pulled one out of her pocket.  “Used this at the gas station today,” she said, “but whatever do you need it for?”

Auburn applied the strip of tape over the words “South Dakota,” then wrote Ohio in big letters.  “If someone does see us speeding away,” she said, “they’ll probably say we had an Ohio plate.  We’ll take this off when we get back here.  Then, if the police see this car up close, they won’t associate it with Mrs. Grayson’s disappearance.”

“Clever,” noted Brittany.  “All the same, I’m not going to start using this a whole lot until we get Richards—”

“Naturally,” said Auburn, looking at her watch.  “11:50.  Are you ready?”

“Let’s do this!” said Brittany.  “Turn out that other flashlight on your way past.

The room went pitch dark for a minute, then brightened as Brittany yanked open the garage door.  Outside, not a soul was visible on Blackwell’s empty streets.  Hopping back in the driver’s seat, Brittany turned the key.

Errrr-Errrr-Errrr-Errrrr.

Nothing.

“Took me a couple tries this afternoon,” Brittany explained to Auburn.

Errrr-Errrr-Errrr-Errrrr.

Still nothing.

“Next time for sure,” said Brittany.  “I hope,” she muttered.

Errrr-Errrr-Errrr-Errrrr.

Still nothing.

Errrr-Errrr-Errrr-Errrrr.

Errrr-Errrr-Errrr-Errrrr.

Errrr-Errrr-Errrr-Errrrr.

Errrr-Errrr-Errrr-Errrrr!

Brittany’s face blanched.  “I’ve never worked on a car like this before,” she said.  “If it won’t start, I don’t know what I’ll—”

Errrr-Errrr-Errrr-Errrrr.

Errrr-Errrr-Errrr-VROOOOOOMMM!!!

The motor was sputtering a bit, and there was a recurring squeak that probably shouldn’t have been there.  Yet, enough of its deep, throaty growl remained to show this had once been a great car.

“Alright, hold on!” said Brittany.  She flicked on the headlights, and—one solitary beam cut through the blackness on the other side of the car.

“Nice,” said Auburn.  “Everyone who sees us will think this is a motorcycle.”

With a squeal of long-idle axles, the Chrysler Three Hundred roared out into the night.

The ride was quite bumpy.  Brittany wasn’t used to working the gears in this vehicle, and every time she had to shift, the car jerked alarmingly.  Its motor was pretty noisy, and its brakes always seemed to take a second to kick in.  By the time they reached the nursing home, though, Brittany seemed to have it down.

“I’m not shutting this thing off,” she said, as she pulled up to Mrs. Grayson’s window.  “Think you can handle Mrs. Grayson alright, Auburn?”

“Should be fine,” said Auburn.  “That’s the window, right there.  The one with the lights coming from it.”

“Curtain’s drawn,” observed Brittany.  “Was it that way earlier?”

Auburn nodded.  “Keep anyone else from seeing that it’s unlocked.  I’ll be right back.”

As Brittany came to a stop, Auburn pushed open the door and leapt out of the car.  She stepped over the mulch in the garden to the window and pushed on the bottom.  Soundlessly, the frame glided up.  Auburn was just about to put her foot in when she heard someone speak.

“So!  This is your little secret.”

Dr. Brown!  And he knew!

Mrs. Grayson snorted.  “Busybody!  Constantly going through my things—”

“How long have you been leaving these pills in your purse?” the doctor asked.  “I suppose you hide them in your hand when I see you take them, is that it?”

“You haven’t figured out my secret yet, have you?”

“Mrs. Grayson, you haven’t been sleeping well lately.  These sedatives will help you feel much more rested and relaxed in the daytime—”

“I feel rested and relaxed enough, thank you very much!” Mrs. Grayson snapped.  “Now, why don’t you go find a patient that actually needs you?”

“Mrs. Grayson, you are a hard one sometimes…” Dr. Brown’s voice trailed off.  “Do you hear something?”

“What?”

“That rumbling noise from outside.  Sounds like a motor.”

Auburn heard footsteps.  Suddenly, she realized that Brown was coming towards the window!  She pulled it nearly shut, then whirled around!

Brittany was staring at her from the car.  Auburn motioned for her to get down, then did the same, just as Dr. Brown pulled the shades.

“See anything, doctor?”

“A car out in the parking lot,” said the doctor.  “Now what could they be doing here?  Visiting hours have been over since eight.”

“Probably someone was lost and pulled into the parking lot to check a map.”

“I don’t like this,” said the doctor.  “Stay right here.  I’m going to go check on them.”

Not good! thought Auburn to herself.  Not good at all—unless…

She glanced down the line of windows to the door of the nursing home.  At least five hundred feet away.  It would take Dr. Brown a while to walk all the way too it…just long enough for…

Auburn shoved open the window and peeked through the curtain.  No sign of the doctor.  “Mrs. Grayson!”

“I thought that was your car,” said Mrs. Grayson, getting up from her chair.

“Quick!” said Auburn.  “We have to hurry!”

Taking the old woman’s hand, Auburn helped her step through the window, dropping something into the room as she did so.  Once outside, the two maneuvered their way through the mulch, over to the waiting car door.  Auburn opened it and assisted the old lady in, fearing the whole time that Dr. Brown would pop out of that door.  There was no sign of him, though, and Auburn got Mrs. Grayson buckled in.  Then, she hopped into the car.

“HEY!!!!”

There he was.

“Close that door!” shouted Brittany.  Auburn couldn’t; she was sprawled across the woman’s lap, head pointed towards the backseat.  Mrs. Grayson leaned over and closed it herself.

“Hang on!” yelled Brittany, and she gunned the engine.  The sleek Chrysler Three Hundred roared out of the parking lot, swerved onto the main road, and headed west, back towards the hotel.

Auburn flopped around helplessly, struggling to get to the backseat.

“Comfortable?” Mrs. Grayson quipped.

“Could be worse,” said Auburn, thinking of her dizzy spells.  She finally struggled through and lay flat across the rear seat, just as Brittany swerved around a corner.  Then, she jammed on the brakes, hard.  Auburn rolled off the backseat and banged into Brittany’s.

“Sorry,” said Brittany.  “I forgot this road’s closed.”  She backed the car up, then swerved around for a detour.

“Don’t speed right now,” said Auburn.  “The police won’t be looking for us yet—”

“There’s one coming on the other side!” Brittany called.  “Duck, Mrs. Grayson!”

The Blackwell Patrol car drove by in the other lane, close enough for Brittany to make out the details of Officer Porter’s face.  He appeared to be singing something, most likely a song involving Arkansas, Nebraska, Idaho, etc.  With no more acknowledgment than a wave, he drove past.

“Gone?” asked Auburn, still unable to see out the window.

“Gone,” said Brittany.  “And not suspicious, yet.”  She turned a corner.  “Just a few more blocks.”

“This is FUN!” shouted Mrs. Grayson.  “I haven’t felt this good in a long time—”

“Well, we’ll feel a lot better once you’re at the hotel,” said Brittany.  “Two blocks to go, one—”

And right then, as they approached the intersection of Main Street, the sound of sirens pierced the air.  Loud, and close.  Already, the flashing red lights could be seen, shining brighter off the windows of the businesses nearby.

Brittany jerked the car to a stop, in time to avoid being hit by what would soon plow into the intersection.  Her head sagged against the steering wheel.  “No time to hide!” she called.  “They’ll see us, for sure!”

And they did—or they would’ve, had they been paying attention.  But the six men aboard Blackwell Fire Engine No. 1 could care less about the vintage automobile waiting for the light to turn green.  They had more important things to worry about, such as a fire on the north part of town.

Auburn popped her head up from the backseat just in time to see the engine go by.  “Fire!” she said.  “Not us!”

“What?” said Brittany, sitting up.

“Keep going!” said Auburn.

They travelled the remaining few feet without incident and swung into the alley, next to the old hotel.  Brittany left the motor running again, even as she put the car in park.  “Here we are, Mrs. Grayson!”  Turning to Auburn, she said, “You’ll be wanting off here, I guess.”

“Probably,” agreed Auburn.  “I can walk back.”  As she climbed back to the front seat, she took Brittany’s hand.  “Good luck getting back to the station!”

“Thanks,” said Brittany.  She watched Auburn and Mrs. Grayson slip into the building.  Then, backing out into the alley, she disappeared into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Auburn took about an hour showing Mrs. Grayson around and getting her set up in the hotel.  Then, just after one o’clock, she slipped out of the building and started home.  At first, she worried for Brittany’s safety, knowing that by the time they’d reached the hotel, Dr. Brown would’ve had plenty of time to contact the police.  However, the constant stream of patrol cars going down the roads set her mind at ease.  The police wouldn’t still be looking if they thought they’d already found their suspect.

She grinned, wondering what they’d think about this latest disappearance.