The Gardens of Digby Green: Estimating Time
“Yes! When I arrived, well after business hours, the lights were on, the front door, cash register, and back door were wide open, and…”
“Give me the address, please.”
Ray recited it, and restrained himself from pounding on the paper-strewn desk top.
“Wait there. A detective will arrive shortly.”
The call disconnected, and Ray paced.
#
The pickup engine started, and Rose whimpered behind the vile gag. She couldn’t get rid of the gravel under her shoulder. What might have been a tool box slid, scraping against her cheek when the suspension rocked as the driver hit a pot hole on his way to the road. Outside the truck, someone else’s vehicle had its radio turned up to window-rattling levels. Exhaust combined with other stinks in the enclosed space, and her stomach roiled, but she couldn’t vomit, not with the gag in her taped mouth.
Ray, I want to go home.
Rhythmic noise from the tires gradually took hold of her focus. Her kidnapper was on a freeway, but which one? Surrounding traffic gave Rose no clues.
He was braking. The truck jounced along rougher pavement for a while, and Rose tried estimating time by counting alligators, but it was no use. The tires hit gravel, ground through what felt like an S-turn, until finally, he turned the engine off.
The driver’s door slammed with enough force to rock the truck.
“Hateful florist lady, I’ve been waiting for this all day. You have, too.”
The tailgate dropped, and his flashlight’s beam swept the bed, before he crawled in beside her. Rose shook.
He tested the chains and grunted, before sliding out of the truck bed, and grabbing a shovel. “You just wait right there, because this won’t take but a few more minutes. This spot has light soil.”
The Gardens of Digby Green is a short story in multiple parts which will post on Fridays until the story is complete.
Next week, part twelve, The Green and Yellow Jug.
Find a link to purchase Heartland Treasures anthology here.
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