Rumble Strip - A Blackstone Valley Mystery Novelette Read online

Chapter Two

  A strong flashlight shone into my eyes as I rolled down the window. The officer’s voice was weary. “License and registration.”

  I dug the license out of my purse, then flipped the glove compartment open to fetch the registration. I handed them up to the state trooper. He was middle-aged, pudgy, and balding. His French-and-electric-blue uniform was barely visible in the dark, although the gold from his cap’s emblem reflected from the flashlight.

  I strove to bring a smile to my face, looking up into those steel-grey eyes. “Officer, if you’d just let me –”

  He barely glanced at the items in his gloved hand. His tone brooked no disagreement. “Step out of the car, Miss Forney.”

  I sighed. I could feel my patience draining from me like water spiraling down the drain from a cooled-down bathtub. I pushed open the car door and drew to my feet. “Really, Officer, if you’d just –”

  My foot slipped on a patch of black ice and I half-fell into him. He grunted in exasperation and put me back up on my feet with a rough lift. “Like that, is it? All right, lady. Walk a straight line toward my cruiser. Heel to toe.”

  Annoyance soaked into my very bones. “It’s icy out,” I snapped, knowing while I said it that I wasn’t helping my case, but too tired to care. “Good God Almighty, it’s five in the morning in the middle of February. The highway is sheets of black ice, and we’ve had this snow on the embankments for two solid months. Surely if I slip a bit –”

  He pointed at his car, its lights still flashing that blue-white pattern. “Look, either you walk the line or you get into the back seat of the cruiser and we go for a drive.”

  I gave an exaggerated humph and turned in the direction indicated. I made sure to place my first foot in a clear spot of pavement, then attentively put the second directly in front of it. Heel to toe. Heel to toe. My years of ballet lessons as a young girl were finally being put to some practical use. I remembered those classes with a shiver. My curvaceous form had never matched well with all those anorexic girls; I had been built for belly-dancing, not pirouettes.

  I glissaded my way to his bumper and then turned, dropping into a deep curtsy. “Good enough for you?”

  His scowl spoke volumes. “And back again.”

  My lips pressed into a thin line, but I did the walk, coming all the way back to him with my heel-toe grand pas.

  I put my hands on my hips. “Satisfied?”

  His eyes were cold marbles. His cheeks shone red in the biting pre-morning wind. “Put both of your arms out to your sides.”

  I threw my hands up in exasperation. “This is ridiculous! I have not been –”

  His gaze narrowed.

  I put my hands out to the side. My tone became sharp. “And now touch my nose, right?” I brought my two fingers in to precisely land on the tip of my nose. “Like that?”

  He seemed unimpressed. “We have had multiple reports, Miss Forney, that you have been driving erratically.”

  My patience with other human beings was never one of my strong points. Running on zero sleep, I was definitely not at my best. I took a step toward him. “Now, look, Officer –” I glanced at his chest to figure out who this jerk was. “Trooper Garber, if you would –”

  I blinked in surprise. Trooper. TFC. Somehow they were related.

  The message in the rumble strip flooded back to me.

  TFC Jack Drago.

  I looked back to Officer Garber. I knew I had seen the abbreviation TFC many times before, in my research dealing with police investigations, but my muddled mind refused to make any clear connection. It was easier just to ask. “What does TFC mean?”

  He didn’t look amused. “It means Trooper First Class. It’s earned when an officer is with the state police for over five years.” He drew himself up. “And it means that I know enough to –”

  My eyes lit up. “Wait, do you know Trooper First Class Jack Drago?”

  This time his grumble was louder. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Yes.”

  A smile lit up my face. I’d figured out part of the message! “Can I talk with him, please?”

  He slowly swung his head from side to side. “So you think you’re gonna just –”

  “It’s really important,” I insisted. “He’ll want to talk to me.”

  He stared at me, then looked up and down the cold, lonely highway. At last he blew out his breath. He stalked back to his car, muttering, “I knew it was going to be one of those nights.”

  He popped open the car door and reached in for the radio. He pushed a button on it, then called in, “Car 149. Garber here. Is Drago around?”

  A squawk, and then a female voice responded, “Just saw him a few minutes ago. Hold on.”

  The seconds ticked by, and Garber held his gaze wearily on mine.

  A man’s voice came on, quiet, even, the sound of a warm fire crackling on a cold winter’s night. “Drago here.”

  Garber shook his head. “Yeah, Drago, Garber here. I know I told you to get back into dating. And, heck, I know it’s been six months since your divorce was final. But, man, you gotta choose better options. This lady might look like Gabrielle Union with some nice curves, but she’s a certified loon. You should cut her loose.”

  Drago’s voice held weary amusement. “All right, what is it now, Garb? Busting hookers on Piedmont Street again?”

  “Nah, some drunk out on 146 South in Sutton. Weaving all over the road and claiming she’s fine. Said I should call you.”

  Drago sounded intrigued. “What’s her name?”

  Garber peered at my license. “Tricia Forney. Thirty-five. No priors.”

  A pause. “Doesn’t sound familiar. If she’s really drunk, toss her in the car, and maybe –”

  I crossed my arms in front of my chest. Oh no they didn’t. There was no way I was heading down that route, not as exhausted as I was. My mind scrambled for an option.

  I called out to Garber, “Tell him Screwy loves him!”

  Garber stared at me, and I couldn’t tell if it was surprise or confusion in his eyes. “What did you –”

  Drago’s voice interrupted him, low and serious. “Have her stay put. And leave her alone, Garber. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  Garber glared at the unit in his hand, then climbed into his car, grumbling loudly as he replaced the mike in its holder. He shut the door with a slam and I could see him lean over to crank up the heat.

  I pressed my lips tightly together and leaned back against my Prius. I was sure Garber was now itching for an excuse to haul me in and I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. I just had to last long enough for Drago to get here. Once we got rid of this Feldgendarmerie maybe I’d be able to have a sane conversation and get this puzzle unraveled.

  Orion sparked high overhead in the clear night sky, and there was the barest hint of warming light from the direction of Boston. It couldn’t compete yet with the glow of city lights from Worcester, just a few miles to the north.

  Garber was poking at his smartphone, but I doggedly stayed in place, pulling my wool coat more tightly around my body. Wasn’t it supposed to get warmer as dawn approached? It felt like twenty, maybe less, and the sharp breeze wasn’t helping at all.

  At last a state trooper car came cruising down 146 toward us and pulled in behind Garber’s car. Drago’s car had barely stopped when he stepped out and strode toward me. He was perhaps six feet tall, just about my age, with short-cropped dark hair, a ruddy Italian complexion, and a steady face. His eyes were sapphire blue and glistened in the dark like pools of water.

  He opened his mouth to speak.

  Garber rolled out of his car, striding over to join us. “So here she is, just like I said, Drago. Remember her now?” He gave a snorting laugh.

  Drago barely turned. “I’ve got it from here, Garber. Thanks.”

  Garber raised his eyebrows. “Thanks? After I froze my butt out here for –”

  Drago turned to look at him.

  Garber put his hands u
p. “Fine, fine, I’m leaving. Just remember to practice safe sex. It’s a dangerous world out there.” He spit on the pavement as he climbed into his car.

  He put his car in gear, pulled around us, and streamed south.

  Drago turned to me. His attention was palpable. I could feel it through every artery in my body, through every pore in my skin. He looked as if he wanted to wrench my soul out of me and examine its very core.

  His voice was low and rough.

  “What do you know about Screwy?”