[foltgee]

Chapter 3

Guin struggled to keep her eyes open as she drove past yet another mile marker on the westbound side of the Pennsylvania Turnpike. She considered herself a night owl by nature, which was a necessity considering the line of work she was in, but three in the morning was late even by her own standards. Sensible people sleep at this hour, her mother's voice told her from inside her head. But then again, Guin Lehman was not what her mother considered to be a "sensible girl".

She looked over at her passenger. The middle-aged woman seemed to be sound asleep despite her insistence two hours ago that they hadn't a moment to spare before leaving her home in West Philadelphia. She even offered to drive for a while if Guin got tired, but Guin's pride was difficult to break, even when good sense dictated otherwise.

The highway was dark, save for a couple of all-night truckers heading in the opposite direction, and it had started to rain lightly. Guin imagined that in a few hours the highway would be packed with the rush hour commuters, but for the moment it was as though they were sole survivors of some horrible holocaust...all alone in a dark and empty world with no one to back them up if things went wrong.

To keep herself from nodding off and getting killed in the process, Guin decided to organize her thoughts by reviewing the previous day's events. This was a good mental exercise for her, and one she practiced often, usually while in the comfort of her own bed, with the soft satin sheets delicately caressing her body, warming her muscles, and inviting her to a deep and restful...

"Stop it!" she said aloud, jerking the wheel slightly and causing the tires to briefly skid. Guin's passenger didn't stir.

"Okay," said Guin and then she said, "everything's under control." After all, this was just a simple search and rescue for a guy that probably wanted to get found...wasn't it?

***

Guin's day didn't start off very well, which should have been a bad omen from the beginning, but Guin wasn't the type of person to read into signs and omens of any kind, so despite the fact that she was two-hours late, she went to work anyway. Her mother would have probably told her to stay at home until the stars could re-align themselves, but then again, Guin suspected that her mother would tell her anything in order to get her to consider a change in career. There were four messages from her mother on her machine when Guin came home the night before, and she promised herself she would return the calls tonight before she went to bed. Oh well, perhaps tomorrow night.

Her boss, Mr. Nolan Vedis was in a particularly jovial mood, and didn't seem to notice Guin as she snuck into the office, a blueberry muffin in one hand, and a super-size mocha-chino in the other. Guin didn't have time to fix her hair before she left her apartment, so it looked as though the caffeine went directly into her roots creating a tangled bird's nest on her head that would take the better part of the morning to de-tangle if she had the time. If she was lucky, Vedis would take one look at her and tell her to take the rest of the day off, but knowing him, he would probably be turned on by it.

She barely had time to turn on her computer before Mr. Vedis came a-calling.

"Nice job," he said. "You tag another one like that and I can retire."

She wanted to tell him to go away, but she held her tongue despite her better judgment.

"Was he any good?" he asked with mock confidentiality. "Did he howl like a dog when he spilled the beans about his wife and that slush fund in Barbados? I'll tell you something, girl. I thought you were good, but I had no idea you were that good."

Guin felt sick. It might have been the six whisky sours she downed last night before heading home, but she doubted it.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she said while trying hard not to look at him.

"Tell you what?"

"I don't know... How about that my mark was a key witness in the Catalfumo case?"

"Hey, Sugar," Mr. Vedis smiled broadly. "That information was on a need-to-know basis, and you didn't need to know. I don't need to tell you that knowledge like that can get you killed in the field, or worse...sloppy."

"How could you?" said Guin. "Doesn't something like that keep you up at night? In one night I undid a year's worth of work by the DA's office. Now the guy's worthless to them!"

"Listen," Mr. Vedis was suddenly very serious. "Our clients spent some serious cash to get the dirt on this guy. If it makes you feel any better, you'll be seeing some of it in your next paycheck. So what if the guy was important in some way? Nobody's a Saint. We did our job, and that's that."

"And so a very dangerous man gets back on the street, that's what!" Guin was shouting now, attracting curious glances from the other people in the office. "What the fuck are we doing here to let something like that happen?"

"Keep your voice down, okay?" said Vedis. "To tell you the truth, I really didn't know what this guys connection to the trial was. But even if I did, I wouldn't have done anything different. If you ask me, the DA had a weak case if that was the best they could do for a witness. It wasn't as if you planted the evidence on him. He spilled, and you cleaned it up. End of story."

Guin had a sudden flash of what she did to get the guy to "spill" and she suddenly felt the urge to throw up. Mr. Vedis put his hand on her shoulder and looked directly at her with what she wanted to believe was genuine concern.

"Guin," he said. "Our job ain't to catch the bad guys. That's what the police are supposed to do. If that's what you really want to do, then I suggest you go pack up your desk and go and do that."

"You know I can't do that," she said, struggling to keep her eyes on his.

"Then let's put this to rest, alright?" he said.

Guin bit her lip and nodded. Vedis smiled broadly. "Good," he said loudly enough to put any wayward ears to ease. "I've got another case for you to work on."

Guin sighed. "I've barely recovered from the last one. Can't you give this to someone else?"

"I would," said Vedis. "But this one's important to me. I'll consider it a personal favor...for your old man's sake."

"Leave my father out of this, okay?" said Guin, trying to keep the sharpness out of her voice.

"For the sake of the Agency then. Because I'd really like to see us do a little more then sneaking into bathrooms catching cheating housewives doing the nasty. You'd like to see that too, wouldn't you?"

"Go on," said Guin.

"I've got this lady in my office that I want you to see. Her father is very well connected in City Hall. He helps coordinate with the district attorney's office to set up warrants for bail jumpers. I have it on good authority that he's been getting tired of relying on part-time bounty hunters with no resources to back them up. If we do well with this, then there's a good chance we'll be seeing a lot more work coming our way from them."

"Why me?"

"Because your dad and I go way back, and for what I just put you through with this last case, I figured I owed you one. And frankly, I don't trust anyone else not to screw this up. What do you say? Can I count on you this one time?"

Guin considered for a moment. Despite his obvious greed for a more lucrative case load, Guin liked Nolan Vedis. He was always there for her when she needed him, even in the worst of times when her own mother wouldn't even return her phone calls.

"What's the case?" she asked.

"The lady's husband ran off in a rental sometime this morning while the wife was at work. Probably just a cry for attention, but for obvious reasons we need to keep a very low profile on this job."

"Domestic dispute?"

"Maybe. There isn't any record of any incidents from the Police, but then again, her old man might have easily buried the evidence under a mile of paperwork."

"What if the husband's done something illegal? Where do I draw the line?"

"That's the personal favor part I need to ask you. Unless you see a body with his hand holding the knife, the police are not to get involved. Any public record of this domestic situation might be viewed as an embarrassment to her father, and that won't do anybody any good. It probably won't come to that. Like I said, the poor guy is probably getting neglected in the sack, and decided to play 'catch me if you care'."

"I won't have to sleep with him, will I?" asked Guin.

"No," Vedis smiled fiendishly. "Not unless the wife wants you to, but if she does, you sure as Hell better get some pictures!"

Guin managed an insincere smile, which only seemed to brighten the mood of her boss as he left her cubical, presumably to fetch the woman in question. Instead of finishing her email, Guin took a moment to look at an old photograph prominently displayed on her desk. The handsome young man in a police officer's uniform stared back at her as he had always done for the three years he had been sitting there. The black-and-white squad car he was standing next to was probably long out of service except at antique dealers or classic car shows, but Guin liked to think that it would pull in front of her little suburban house in New Jersey, and the man inside would pick her up from the front yard and smother her with kisses. Of course she was nine-years-old in this scenario, but that didn't seem to diminish the fantasy at all. What would he think of his little girl now?

Vedis soon returned with a woman in her mid-to-late-forties. She had a light build and dark hair that looked as though it were recently styled at one of those expensive places down near Logan Circle where the price of the tip was almost as much as Guin's rent. Her clothes were designer, and her wedding rings were almost as big as her third finger.

"This is Guin," said Mr. Vedis. "She'll be the one who will be assisting you in locating your husband."

"Really?" said the woman, barely able to contain her confusion. "Isn't she too young?"

Vedis smiled, always the salesman. "I assure you, she's one of the best people we have. If you need something done discreetly, she's the one to do it."

"Perhaps," said the woman. "But I am in a very delicate position. If even a breath is spoken about this..."

"If Guin's on the job," said Vedis, "then no one is going to know anything. I'd put that in writing, but then again, you were never really here, were you?"

The woman stopped to consider this for a moment, and in that instant Guin hoped that she would insist on one of the other detectives in the agency. After what she had been through in the last week, she could really use a day off.

"Alright," said the woman at last. "I'll trust your assessment of her because you came highly recommended from my father."

"Then I'll leave you two to get to know each other," said Vedis. He then tossed a thin file folder onto Guin's desk and then he was gone.

"Have a seat, please," said Guin.

The woman sat on the chair, back straight, hands clasping tightly onto her handbag. Guin imagined that this was hardly the environment a woman in her class was accustomed to. She felt tempted to ask if she wanted a cup of herbal tea, but then she remembered that they only had a pot of high-test sludge in the break room. On a good day, if someone was kind enough to clean the pot, it almost tasted like coffee.

Guin examined the file for several awkward moments as they sat in silence. Inside was a standard case form that the woman started to fill out, including a photograph of a dark-haired man in his mid thirties with thinning hair and a large moon-face. She assumed that the picture was of the husband.

"I assume you're Angela Phillips?" said Guin.

"Yes?"

"It says here that you're a doctor."

"Psychiatrist."

"I see. You work here in Philadelphia?"

"Chestnut Hill."

"Okay. And you don't want anyone to know you've been here."

"I thought I made that perfectly clear already."

Guin smiled. Already she was starting to not like her very much.

"Can I get you something?" said Guin. "I think we have a fresh pot of coffee made."

"No thank you."

"Why don't you take off your coat?" said Guin. "You seem a little anxious."

"I'll thank you not to psychoanalyze me," said Dr. Phillips. "You're not very good at it."

"Alright," said Guin. Her smile was getting harder to maintain, so she focused her attention on reading the short paragraph written by Dr. Phillips. It read:

I must find my husband. I have not seen him since this morning. The last time I saw him was just before I left for work. He seemed fine. I saw him take his medication with his breakfast. When I returned home, he was not there. There was no note. According to my credit card company, he used my American Express to hire a taxi to a rental car dealer, and he used the card again presumably to rent a car. When I asked the dealer if he could tell me what kind of car he rented, he refused to help me by giving me some bogus excuse that it was against company policy, even though I am his wife! I called my father, he said I should come here.

"Did you cancel the your credit card?" asked Guin. "You know, the one your husband is using?"

"I was thinking I should, but I was afraid that he could get hurt if he had no money to pay for things."

Guin was forced to hold back a smile. If her own husband had run off with the credit card, canceling the damn thing would have been the first thing on her list. But then again, she supposed that wealthy people though differently than she did.

"Well that's good," said Guin. "If you can keep in touch with your credit card company, then we can still track him whenever he uses it."

"Alright," she said, not sounding convinced.

"Which dealer did he go to?" asked Guin.

"Pardon?" said Angela.

"The rental car dealer. Which one?"

"Don's. It's on Spring Garden near Old City."

Guin smiled. "Then we're in luck."

***

Mr. Phillips rented a brand new Dodge Ram SUV from Don's Rent-a-car. The owner, a guy named Don Favorite, rented mostly low-end sedans for insurance replacement purposes, but he kept a good supply of top-of-the-line sports cars and SUV's so he could charge luxury rates for those customer's unfortunate enough to show off their Platinum cards too soon. One thing in Don's favor, was his paranoia when it came to his "top end" vehicles.

Unknown to his customers, Don had installed GPS trackers on each of his best cars so that he could track down any deadbeats who happened to "forget" to return their vehicles or if they decided to cross state lines beyond the tri-state region. When this happened, he usually called Mr. Vedis, and Guin's boss would assign anyone who looked like they could use the work. Guin had been on two such jobs when she first started with the agency, which allowed her to earn her chops. Since then she still stopped in from time to time to see how he was doing, and to see if he had any tips on some freelance investigations she could score.

It took about an hour for Guin to get cleaned up and ready for her encounter with Don. When going to see Don, it was important to dress provocatively, but just shy of whore-like. It was the only way to get anything useful out of Don. Don's right leg, along with most of his manhood, was blown off by a land mine in Kuwait when he served in the 82nd Airborne back in '91, so to compensate, he usually went over-the-top with the sexual innuendos and the dirty jokes. Unless a woman was dressed for the brothel, he usually wouldn't give them more than the time of day. Most grease-balls like him would never get away with something like that, but one look at the motorized wheel chair with the pee-bag, and suddenly a dirty joke coming from him sounded endearing.

Guin parked her car around the side of the entrance and instructed Dr. Phillips to stay where she was until Guin came back. Guin didn't want Don to get put off just in case he recognized her from earlier that day.

"Hi Don," said Guin as she leaned on the counter just enough to show off the top of her cleavage.

Don's eyes went right for the intended target. "Hey Babe," he said. "Long time no see! How's tricks?"

"Same old, same old," said Guin.

"I don't have any freelance for you today, kid. There were a couple of A-Habs in here earlier wanting to rent a minivan. Thought they might be terrorists."

"What made you think they were terrorists?"

"Did I need a reason?" he said as though the explanation was obvious.

"I suppose not, but if you deny business based on somebody's ethnicity, you know they're gonna sue you for everything you've got."

"Listen, baby," said Don. "You look way too pretty to be giving me legal advice, okay? Besides, what are they gonna take? My other leg? God damn A-Habs are welcome to it!"

"I'm just looking out for your business, Don."

"Don't you worry about ole' Donny Boy," Don smiled, revealing teeth that hadn't been cleaned in what must have been several years. "What can I do you for? Business or pleasure?"

"Can't a girl say hi to a friend without it being about business?"

"Christ! Now I know it's business," Don grumbled. "What do ya need?"

"Well, since you asked...Did you rent one of your new Dodge SUV's to this guy today?"

She placed a picture of Mr. Phillips on the counter and slid it into Don's field of vision.

"Maybe," said Don. "Some other chick was in here asking about the same guy earlier. Lady claimed to be the guy's wife. Real bitchy. Threatened to shut me down if I didn't do what she told me to."

"What did you tell her?"

"Told her to get the fuck out of my place of business, and if she had a problem with that, she can take it up with the Chamber of Commerce."

"What then?"

"Then she left," said Don. "Nice ass, though."

"Well, I need to ask," said Guin. "What do you say you give me a hand with this?"

"Okay," said Don. "But what's in it for me?"

Guin was ready for this. She leaned over the counter again, giving Don a clear view down in between her breasts. She gently stroked the stubble on his beard and said in her most seductive voice, "Why Don...you'll have my eternal...gratitude."

The toothpick Don had been chewing on nearly fell out of his mouth. "That'll do," he said. "After all...what are friends for?"

"You're a sweetheart, Don."

***

The GPS signal indicated that they were getting close. Apparently Mr. Phillips had stopped driving, perhaps taking a nap. They were still several miles from the nearest exit, so Guin guessed that he must have pulled over in one of the turnabouts.

"Dr. Phillips," said Guin. When she didn't answer Guin gave her passenger a push on her shoulder. "Angela, get up!" Dr. Phillips moaned but seemed to be regaining consciousness.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"We're getting close," said Guin. "He probably stopped to take a nap. We're catching up to him really quick now. We're less than a couple of miles away."

"Slow down," said Angela. "I don't want to frighten him."

She reached into the back seat and pulled out a black bag that reminded Guin of those bags that doctors used to bring with them on house calls, back when they used to do things like that. She opened the bag and pulled out a large hypodermic syringe and several small bottles of clear liquid.

"What's that?" asked Guin.

"Just a precaution," said Angela. "He might not recognize me if he gets startled. You may need to hold him while I calm him down."

"Why wouldn't he recognize you?" asked Guin. "I thought you two were married."

"We are," said Angela. "It's complicated. Just be ready do help me if I tell you to."

Guin didn't like the tone of her answer, but decided not to push the subject. The particulars of their marriage was none of her business anyway. Her job was just to find the guy and help get him home. She didn't need or want to know anything else, but one look at that needle and she was already beginning to wonder who the crazy one was in that relationship.

Mr. Phillip's SUV was sitting in the turnabout parked with its rear end pointing to a fifty-foot rock face. It was very dark as the light over the small picnic table looked as though it had been out for quite some time.

"I don't see him," said Angela.

"He could be sleeping in the back seat," Guin suggested, but she doubted that was true since the windows were clear of any fog from his breathing.

Guin cut the engine of her car, but kept the headlights on.

"Where could he be?" asked Angela, but Guin assumed the question was mostly directed at herself.

"He might be in the john," said Guin. "But I doubt it."

"Why do you say that?"

"The engine's cold. There's no steam coming up from the hood. That car's been sitting here for at least an hour. Maybe he ran out of gas and hitched a ride."

"Impossible," said Angela. "Mike never talks to strangers, let alone get into a car with one."

"Yesterday you thought he'd never run away either. Things can change."

"What do we do now?"

"Stay here. I'll check out the vehicle and make sure he's not here. Then we'll see if he left us any clues as to what his next move was. Do you think you can drive that thing?"

"I suppose...why?"

"Don's going to want his vehicle returned to him, and I can't drive both cars at once."

"What if my husband comes back?"

"If he's not here, I don't think he will," said Guin. "His pattern so far has been to keep running in one direction. If he keeps with that pattern, he would have hitched a ride with somebody, and then he'd rent another car in the morning in the next town. If the rental's broken down or out of gas, that'll confirm it. Stay here. I'll be back in a minute."

Guin got out of her car and after grabbing a flashlight from her trunk, she started walking toward the abandoned SUV. She pulled the spare key that Don gave her from her pocket and compared the license plate number with the one on the key-chain. Satisfied, she shined her light inside the vehicle. The car appeared clean. She couldn't see any luggage in the back seat or the back deck, no used coffee cups or even an old gum wrapper. The keys weren't in the ignition and the front door was locked.

She was about to unlock the door when something around the other side of the car caught her eye. She moved her flashlight toward what she saw. Her heart nearly skipped a beat when the light settled onto a pair of booted feet lying down in the gravel. She reached for her 9mm handgun from the holster inside her jacket, and fixed the sight on the prone figure, but she dropped her flashlight in the exchange, and it went out the moment it hit the dirt.
Guin kept her gun trained onto the feet looking for any movement, but couldn't see any in the darkness. She then started to inch her way forward, trying very hard to make as little noise as possible. From behind her the car door slammed, which nearly made her jump out of her shoes.

"What the hell are you doing?" shouted Angela. "Don't shoot him!"

Guin turned around to tell her traveling companion to shut the hell up, but Dr. Phillips, doctor bag in hand, was already running around the opposite side of the SUV, apparently intending to use herself as a human shield if necessary. Guin rounded the front of the car at the same time Angela rounded from the back, and they both stopped, stunned by the man lying on the gravel.

The man looked like he was in his late twenties or early thirties, unshaven, and quite thin. He had on a pair of blue jeans and a black leather motorcycle jacket, which was opened to reveal a red flannel shirt. His hands were black with dirt and grease.

"Who's that?" asked Angela.

"How the hell should I know?" said Guin, still keeping her weapon trained on the man.

"He looks unconscious."

"No shit."

"Can I please examine him?" said Angela. "I am a doctor."

"Have you ever seen this man before?" asked Guin. "Did your husband know him?"

"I've never seen this man before in my life," she insisted. "But he might be injured, so please put that thing away."

Guin kicked the man's feet with her shoe. The man didn't move, but he appeared to be still breathing. She lowered her gun, but kept it safely in her hand, just in case the guy was simply waiting for her to take her guard down. Dr. Phillips knelt down next to the man's face and opened her doctor's bag. She produced a small flashlight and proceeded to examine the man's eyes. She then pressed her fingers onto the man's neck for about thirty seconds and then nodded to herself.

"We need to get him out of here," said Angela.

"Is that a good idea?" asked Guin.

"He'll be fine. He doesn't have any apparent head trauma, and his pulse is still strong, but he's soaked to the bone. If we don't get him warmed up, he might catch pneumonia."

"That's not what I mean," said Guin. "Did your husband do this?"

Dr. Phillips looked flustered. "Maybe...probably. It seems to be the most logical conclusion at this point, but if you're thinking about calling the police, you can forget it. I hired you to help me find my husband discretely, so there will be no talking about calling the police, understood?"

"How about I put something in perspective here," said Guin. "Your husband may not have killed this guy, but it looks like he might have attacked him and stole his car. I don't know what they call it in your world, but in the real world they call that a crime!"

"Then give me the keys to the rental," said Angela. "I should have known better than to hire a little girl to do the job of a grown up!"

Guin reached into her pocket, produced the keys to the SUV. She was about to throw them into the dirt, but then remembered what Mr. Vedis said about how important this job was to him, so she put the keys back into her pocket.

"Doctor," said Guin. "I need a straight answer from you right now, and if you lie to me, I swear I'll leave you here and now to do this on your own, and I don't give a damn who your daddy is, okay?"

Angela was stunned at Guin's bluntness, but remained stoic. She could see where this was going, and for all her boasting, Angela clearly needed an ally at this point in her life. She nodded.

"Is you husband a dangerous man?" asked Guin. "Is capable of worse than this?" Guin pointed at the unconscious man for emphasis.

"To tell you the God's honest truth," said Angela. "I don't think so, but I can't be sure of anything at this point. Up to a few minutes ago, I would have told you he wasn't even capable of this, but now I have no idea. Listen...I'll tell you everything you want to know if you can just help me get this man somewhere safe before the police get here."

Guin got down on one knee so that she was within inches of her client's face. "Just for the record," she said. "I think the best course of action is to contact the police. If your husband is dangerous, then he'll be a lot more than the two of us can handle. Contrary to what you may believe, I didn't sign on for a case like this."

Angela appeared on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry," she said. "If you give me a little time, I'll explain everything, but right now we simply have to do this on our own."

Guin sighed. This is not at all what she bargained for when she agreed to take this job. True, there was no dead body, but the man at their feet was close enough for Guin's taste. Mr. Vedis, on the other hand, probably wouldn't see it that way.

"Alright," said Guin. "Help me get him into the SUV. We'll cover him with some blankets I have in my trunk. Then we'll get off on the next exit and find a motel where we can see if we can help this guy tell us where your husband might be."

"What if he wants us to call the police?" asked Angela.

"You may need to pull a few strings with your daddy to keep him quiet about that."

Angela looked doubtful.

"We're not gonna whack him, if that's what you're thinking!" said Guin, perhaps a bit louder than she intended.

"God, no!" said Angela.

"Then you'll make it worth his while to keep his mouth shut," said Guin. "That's just the end of it, okay? Let's not worry about that for now. Let's just get going."

Angela nodded again, this time with a bit more confidence.

"Alright," said Guin. "I'm getting soaked."

[Epsilonist]

This is great. Keep it coming