The Gardens of Digby Green: Pit Stop
Off the toll road, and nearing the farther outskirts of Gary, Green slowed and pulled into the only open pump at a gas station. Ray checked the Imperial’s gauges. She could use a tank full, too, but if he used the same station as Green, he’d lose sight of the guy.
Instead, he’d pay more at the station on the opposite corner. Sighing, he drove onto the lot, and chose the pump nearest the exit. He could stare straight through Green’s windshield, if he wanted.
Should he have confronted Green at the fast food place in Roseland? Probably, but the situation hadn’t felt ideal. Ray squeezed the pump handle harder, as though that would help, and willed the pump’s digital readout to shift faster. As the cost rolled up, it reminded him, again, that the classic car’s tank was larger than the one on his newer sedan. The nozzle catch released, but Ray kept the pump running.
He glanced across the road. Green’s truck still stood at the pump, but he himself wasn’t there. Probably went in to pay.
Ray hung up the nozzle, and jogged in to settle his bill. He left the building with a submarine sandwich, two bags of his favorite chips, and a bottle of water. Stuffing the water bottle into the driver’s door map pocket, he freed one hand to shift out of Park. With the wrapped sandwich and chip bags in the passenger seat, he pulled ahead, following Digby Green down the side street toward the next state highway junction heading west.
A red light halted traffic just yards from the on-ramp. Sun glare in his eyes made Ray squint. He pulled his sun glasses from the case clipped to the Imperial’s wide visor. They helped. Ahead of him in the lane, Green leaned sideways in his seat, apparently reaching for something. Yup, a baseball-style hat, which he then tugged down.
#
Detective Marquez grabbed the phone on his desk, and read the text message screen. Jessup had followed through and informed the FBI. Marquez sighed. He wouldn’t have wanted to make that call.
Next, he’d be trying to find ways to get his work done with a federal agent leaning over his shoulder. “Come on, boys, bring this Green in.” Surely there were enough units on the road that someone would see the guy’s truck.
The Gardens of Digby Green is a serialized story that posts on Fridays.
Next week, part fifty-seven, Splotch.
Find a link to purchase Heartland Treasures anthology here.
Ruth
Heidi Kortman
Krystine Kercher
Heidi Kortman