Somewhere- on the road

  Cole glances over at Detective Mackey with a knowing smirk. He shakes his head and laughs.

  "You do realize I have a GPS right there on the dash, Cowboy?" Cole teases, returning his attention to the road.

  "A GPS is only good if you know exactly where you're going. We don't," Mackey says.

  "No kidding," Cole agrees. "And that's my point. I'm driving around here...Following all these backroads...When the cops probably already have your kidnapper friends in custody. We should go back to my place and wait. Eventually, I'm gonna need to stop for gas. And someone is bound to recognize you. Your face is all over the television every few minutes. Right now...People think you're a cop killer and a baby stealer. They're not gonna ask questions. They're either gonna call in the blues or they'll try to detain you. Maybe even shoot you. Your best bet is to lay low, Cowboy. And this ain't it. Someone in a passing vehicle might even clock you."

  "I don't care!" Mackey says, going back to studying the gas station road map spread open against the dashboard.

  "You should! I can't afford a rap for aiding and abetting a fugitive. My life is finally looking up again. If you're innocent...Like you say you are...Running ain't gonna help you. I'm about to turn this truck around."

  "No, Cole!" Mackey exclaims, meeting the gaze of his travelling companion. "Please. Just a little while longer. I'm sure I can figure out where they are. Just...Please. A little while longer. I need to find my son. I need to know he's alright. It's killing me...Not knowing. I need to do this."

  Cole scratches his chin stubble with one hand. A deflated sigh escapes his pursed lips.

  "Okay. Fine," Cole finally says. "I'll give this little joy ride thirty more minutes. But..."

  Cole motions behind his seat with his right hand. He points at a large duffle bag sitting on the long seat.

  "Grab the beanie out of my bag. The big pocket on the right side. Put that on. Like I said...I'm gonna have to fill this baby up. Haven't filled her up since I parked her...And she's running low. Should've used the Camaro. But I figured that would draw way too much attention. Come on, Cowboy. Hurry up."

  -

  -

  Flying J

  Merrville County

  Cole presses a lever and the souped-up Tacoma's driver's seat reclines backward. Mackey and Cole make eye contact, as the paraplegic man pulls himself over the seat--towards the truck's back window.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  "I'm just gonna pump a few gallons of gas. And maybe grab you a ball cap to put under that beanie. Add some shadow to your face. It'll distort your features and make you harder to recognize."

  "You seem to have an awful lot of experience with disguises, Cole?" Mackey inquires with a friendly grin.

  "Maybe a little," comes the answer.

  By now, Cole is halfway through the back window of the pickup. He crawls into the truck bed and maneuvers into his stored wheelchair. Pressing the button on his chair, which lowers the truck bed's door and activates the ramp, Cole peers over one shoulder.

  "What's it to you, Cowboy?" Cole asks, his voice calm but also full of indignation. "You offended being in the company or a hardened criminal? Well, get over it. All of your clean as a whistle buddies think you're just like me. Funny how that works...Isn't it? Sit tight. I'll be back."

  Mackey watches Cole roll across the parking lot, between the gas pumps, and into the gas station. The wheelchair-bound man's words settle uneasily on James' heart. But the man isn't lying. When everyone else in the world seems to have abandoned him, it was a not so squeaky clean guy who believed him--and helped him. On any other day, he and Cole might never have spoken a word to each other. Yet, his very future now depends on Cole Ethridge, and Rachel Corbin. Funny...How that works.

  -

  -

  Inside the station

  Cole wheels his chair towards the back of the gas station, heading straight for the freezer. And a beer. An old man ambles from the bathroom and waves in Cole's direction.

  "Howdy, Friend!" the old man hollers. "How you doin'?"

  "Good, Sir. I'm real good," Cole says, offering the old man his own wave. "Got any Coors in the back?"

  "Afraid not. Not until later this afternoon. Truck should be by about one. Maybe two o'clock," the old man explains apologetically. "Sorry, Buddy!"

  "No problem. I really shouldn't be drinking anyway. I'm driving. Haha. Just thought I might need a pick me up later. You've got a bunch of Miller though. Not really a fan. I think I'll wait. Hey...Uh...Let me get $30 on pump four? Regular unleaded."

  "Okay, Son."

  Cole turns his wheelchair away from the freezers and nearly rolls into Detective Mackey. The detective has the beanie cap pulled as far down on his head as possible. However, the bandages on his head are still visible underneath. Cole drops his voice to a hoarse whisper.

  "What the hell are you doing in here, Mackey? I thought we agreed you were gonna stay in the truck?"

  "Yeah...Well, a group of college girls pulled up beside your Toyota. A couple of the young women were eyeballing me...Quite a bit. I wasn't sure if they were checking me out or trying to place my face. Rather than find out...I decided I'd better join you inside the station."

  "Hmm. Well, try to act normal," Cole hisses, looking James up and down. "I can already see that's gonna be a problem. I'm betting you've never been inconvenienced a day in your life."

  "And you'd be wrong," James counters.

  "Uh-huh," to the station owner, Cole says, "Hey, Mister. You sell ball caps? I've been looking for a forty-niners hat for my kid brother. Got any?"

  "I have a few hats on the black metal rack in the back. Over near the women's restroom. Beside the shelf with the cleaners and the contraceptives."

  "Good to know," Cole states, shuffling his eyebrows. "I might be needing some later."

  "Which one?" Detective Mackey sarcastically says out of one side of his mouth.

  "Both."

  Moments later, Cole is in front of the counter--paying for his items. Detective Mackey hangs back, making sure to keep his face and features hidden as much as possible. The old man glances up as he is bagging Cole's stuff.

  "What happened to you, Son?" the proprietor inquires, motioning to the portion of bandage visible around Mackey's neck and chin.

  "Motorcycle accident," Cole interjects, before Detective Mackey can blow their cover. "He was luckier than I was. Thanks for everything, Friend. See you around."

  Cole and James exit the store. James at least offers the gentle proprietor a polite chin cant before leaving.