The Alphabet of Love Ch. 11

Chapter Eleven

Derek woke me early the next morning. I'd been dreaming about him and me having sex (it was a repeat of the previous night's antics), but part of the time it was Derek, and part of the time it was Trevor. And every time it switched from one to the other, I got more turned on. Pretty sure I orgasmed in my sleep, but I wasn't sure with whom.

"You okay?" he asked, leaning over me.

"Yeah," I said, my mouth dry.

"You were groaning in your sleep," he told me. "Bad dream?"

"I don't remember," I lied.

"Well, I think I've found the perfect place for us to go today. Let's get some breakfast and head out."

"Sure," I agreed. My head still felt fuzzy, my genitals damp.

He was already dressed in jeans, a couple of layers of clothes, and his new boots. I quickly followed suit, packed my things, and we drove a few blocks to one of those ubiquitous local diners. It was full and loud, the smell of coffee, bacon, and maple syrup in the air. Suddenly I was ravenous.

I slid into a booth beside him and began drinking coffee, black. Derek tapped on his phone after we ordered, showing me a GPS map that meant nothing to me.

"It's not that far," he said. "About forty miles. We'll gas up, grab some supplies, and be out there in no time. I'm hoping to find some jasper, agate, maybe even some geodes."

I nodded, still not awake. "Sounds cool," I murmured.

"I'll mostly take photos, though," he said with a sigh, setting his phone on the table. "I can't lug a lot back on the plane, and I don't want to be adding to my collection just yet when I'm not sure where I or it will end up."

"Why?" I looked at him.

"I don't know what'll happen with the house. Brenda said she didn't want it, but I'm pretty sure when she gets dumped she'll change her tune."

"So what does that mean? You'll have to sell and split the money?"

"Probably. It's too much house for me on my own. Hell, it was too much for just the two of us once the kids left. I'd be just as happy in a nice apartment or a condo."

Well that spoiled my fantasy of living in the beautiful old colonial mansion I'd seen in his photos. And he could at least consider that if we got married and had kids, the house would be the perfect size. I pouted about that a little, drank more coffee, and tuned him out for a few minutes.

"Don't you think?" he asked me.

"Huh?" I asked.

"Don't you think we should see a show before we leave Vegas?"

Damn. He'd gone from rocks to shows. "Uh, sure, yes, that'd be fun," I nodded.

"You okay?" he asked me just as the waitress arrived with our food.

"I am. Sorry, still a little rummy," I explained. "I'll be better after I eat."

And I was. By the time we'd got gas and bought food, water, gloves, and a few simple tools for extracting unwilling rocks from the soil, I was raring to go. The cool morning was giving way to sunshine; I was glad we'd picked up cheap canvas hats. Derek set the GPS on the SUV and off we went. He almost missed the turnoff to the hiking trail, but we backed up and made it. A few miles down a dusty road we came to the small parking area, where one other vehicle sat. We saw no one, and heard nothing but a few birds and the far-off sounds from the highway.

"It's so quiet," I mused, propping the hat on my head, and slathering sunscreen on my neck. The long-sleeved shirt would protect my arms.

"Sure is," Derek agreed. He'd bought a fanny pack at the convenience store and I'd made fun of him, told him he should wear it with his track suit. Now I was seeing the wisdom of his purchase. He filled it with little tools, the keys, and his phone. I had to use the pockets of my denim shirt, making it sag on one side. I lugged a plastic bag with two bottles of water and a few granola bars.

He set his FitBit and off we went. The trail was pretty good; a little rocky but well-marked. The rock hunting areas were clearly delineated. We stopped at a couple of spots, dug around, he took a few pictures. He used a water bottle to clear off some samples to better identify them. The further we went, the more challenging the trail became. Narrow, with a six-foot drop to a gully on one side. A fall wouldn't be fatal, only an inconvenience. Still, I tried to be careful with my footing. A sprain or even a broken leg could happen easily out here.

We came around a sharp bend in the trail, Derek ahead of me. I stepped a little too far to the edge of the trail and next thing I knew I was sliding down into the little gully alongside. I stirred up a small cloud of dust and a long string of profanities.

"You okay?" Derek was there immediately, squatting at the edge of the trail where I'd gone off.

"Yeah," I said, standing up, wiping my ass.

"Hurt anything?"

"I don't think so."

It was then we both heard voices. I squinted through a stand of ocotillo. Maybe a hundred yards away I saw three people in a wash, standing in a circle talking. They must be rockhounding like us, I thought. Derek had said the washes were good places to hunt. From where he was above me, I didn't think he could see the people. I started to explain to him where they were, when we heard shouting.

I grabbed Derek's hand and pointed with my other one, and whispered, "Down there."

He tried to get lower on his haunches to see, but shook his head.

"Help me up," I said.

"No! Don't shoot me!" a man's voice yelled, sounding desperate.

Derek grabbed hold of my arms and I scrambled up to the trail faster than I would have ever believed I could.

"What the fuck!" I whispered loudly.

We heard more arguing, but could only make out a few words here and there. Most of them were profanities.

"Maybe we'd better get out of here," I suggested.

Derek put a finger over his lips. We waited.

"NO! Don't --" a gunshot rang out. I had to cover my mouth to keep from screaming.

"Go! Go!" Derek said, pushing me.

We heard shouting. Oh shit. They'd seen us.

We started back down the trail as quickly as we could go. Or should I say, as quickly as I could go. Derek was in better shape than me, and had a much longer stride.

"What are we going to do?" I was barely able to speak as he kept a firm grip on my hand, practically dragging me along.

"Get the hell out of here," was his response.

We'd walked this distance but even though we were running now, it seemed to take much longer to get back to the parking area. Finally it came into view.

"Get in and hang on," he said, releasing my hand so I could run to the passenger side, while he unlocked the doors with the fob.

We jumped in at the same time. He gunned the engine just as we saw two men coming from another direction; apparently they'd gone off-trail to do their dirty deed. Derek had just steered around to start down the dirt road when pistol shots rang out. One pinged off the roof of the SUV.

"Oh shit!" I yelled, ducking.

Derek didn't flinch. He floored it, and the SUV jumped, and bounced down the dirt road so hard I could hardly hold on. I'd sat up by now and struggled to hook my seatbelt. I helped him with his while he kept his eyes on the road, much more treacherous now that we were doing at least forty on a road that should really be navigated at about twenty-five. I thanked whatever providence had urged me to rent an SUV instead of a car. How was I going to explain that bullet hole when I returned it at the airport?

"Fuck, they're following us," he said, speeding up.

"Jesus, Derek, you're going to bounce us off the road!" I cried.

"Dead one way or the other," he said severely. "Can you get a phone signal out here?"

Miraculously, my phone hadn't fallen out of my pocket when I'd had my mishap on the trail. I tapped it but those two words, "No Service" glared at me like a big middle finger.

"Dammit!" I cried.

"We'll just have to outrun them, then," he said, his jaw set.

"How far back to Boulder City?"

"About forty miles, I think. We should be able to pick up a cell tower before we get there. Keep checking."

I could barely hold onto the phone for the rocking vehicle and my own shaking hands. I tried not to think of what could happen. If they caught up with us, they'd shoot us. We'd witnessed them committing murder. They could bury us out here and we'd never be found.

We hit the highway doing fifty. Derek nearly lost control of the SUV but straightened it out just in time. Now that we were on pavement, he pushed it up to seventy, taking corners and risks that scared the shit out of me.

"Did I ever tell you I spent a weekend at the Bob Bondurant driving school?" he asked me, a cold smile on his face.

"The what?" I started at him.

"The Bob Bondurant School of High Performance Driving," he said. "I paid five thousand dollars to learn how to drive like a bat out of hell. It was in a Viper, but I'm still applying some of what I learned here."

"That's nice," I said, numbly. Whatever works, I thought. If he had mad driving skills, all the better.

"Uh oh," he said, glancing in the rearview mirror. "Someone's coming up awfully fast. It's either them or a cop."

"I hope it's a cop!"

"I'm not taking a chance," he said, pushing the SUV to eighty-five.

This road was not built for eighty-five in any vehicle, and we both knew it. I glanced to see if there were side air bags as well as front. As if it mattered. If we crashed, those murderers would finish us off if we weren't dead.

I looked behind us. "I see lights! Cop car lights! Behind them!"

"They're getting pulled over," he said, letting up on the gas. "They've slowed way down. Wait," he sped up again. "Something's wrong."

I looked behind us again. A plume of smoke and dust rose from the side of the road a mile or so back. And here came the car again.

"Oh my god!" I cried.

"They must have run the cop off the road," he said, "or shot the tires out."

"These aren't just guys who had a falling out with their buddy," I surmised.

"It had to be a professional hit, if they're willing to take out a cop."

I shivered. I'd never been so afraid in my life.

"Check your phone," he said.

"I've got bars!" I shouted, and managed to punch 9-1-1.

"There's the highway info, right there," he pointed to a sign we were fast approaching, with the number, and the mile marker. I burned it in my memory as I waited for someone to pick up.

"Nine One One, what is your emergency?"

The first thing I did was tell her our location and the direction we were heading. "We're being chased by two guys who killed a man in the desert. We saw and heard it, and now they're chasing us. They just ran a police car off the road. They're right behind us!" I turned to look, and, yes, our pursuers had gained on us.

"Calm down, ma'am," said the operator, incensing me.

"You calm down!" I shouted. "They shot at us!"

I heard her talking to someone else. "Are you safe right now?" she asked.

"My -- friend and I are driving as fast as we can to get back to Boulder City," I told her.

"We're dispatching officers right now. Is there anywhere you can hide?"

"Hide?" I asked, dumbfounded. "We're in a vehicle on the highway! What do you want us to do, pull off the road behind a bush and hope they don't see us?" I was practically screaming.

"Ma'am! You've got to calm down! Can I have your name, please?"

"Shiloh Westland," I said.

"And you're with someone else? Who's driving?"

"He is. Derek Wiley."

"Can you describe the vehicle pursuing you?"

Derek sped up and the SUV roared around a curve. I was glad the seat belt caught me. "It's -- ah, a car," I said. "Blue or green. Do you remember?" I asked Derek.

"It's blue," he said. "A blue Nissan, not sure what model. Maxima, maybe."

"Did you hear that?" I asked the operator.

"Yes. No license number?"

"We were being shot at," I said impatiently, "I didn't stop to get it!"

"I understand that, ma'am. Please calm down."

"Have you ever been shot at?" I snapped. "I won't calm down! Jesus!"

"You said there were two men? Can you describe them?"

"Not really," I said, looking at Derek, who shook his head. "When we first saw them they were out in the desert quite a distance from us, but we saw them and heard some guy begging not to be shot, and then the gun shot, and when we started to run back on the trail, they came after us. We were just getting in our car when they made it to the parking area and started shooting at us. If I had to guess I'd say they were both white but other than that, I've got nothing."

"All right," she said, and spoke again to someone else. Then to me: "Do you know where the police station is in Boulder City?"

"No."

She proceeded to give directions, so that when Derek and I got back, we could go straight there. "How far out are you?" she asked.

Derek answered, "I'm guessing about fifteen miles."

"You should be seeing police and sheriff's vehicles anytime," she told us.

Sure enough, in the distance we saw flashing lights coming toward us, and the faint wail of sirens. "Oh thank god," I said.

"Hey," Derek said, glancing in the rearview mirror. "They're gone."

"What do you mean, they're gone?" I turned to look. The road behind us was empty. "What the fuck?"

He slowed the SUV and spoke into my phone. "The car following us has disappeared. They must have turned off somewhere."

"I'll alert police," she said, just as the first law enforcement vehicle blew past us.

"So somewhere between that mile marker and now, they turned off somewhere," Derek surmised. He drove to a stop at a wide spot on the shoulder. "Operator, we're stopping."

"You need to continue in to Boulder City," she told him.

"No, we need to take the police out and show them where that man was shot," Derek said firmly.

"Sir? Please do as I say. Return to town. Officers will follow up."

Derek and I looked at each other. Suddenly I was overcome with nausea; I flung open the door and managed to jump out in time. I vomited in some gravel, shaking and sweaty. I wobbled back to the SUV and held onto the door.

"You okay?" Derek asked me.

"No," I said, climbing back inside. I reached in the bag from the convenience store for a bottle of water.

"Are you on your way to the police department?" the operator asked. Derek held my phone in his hand.

"All right," he sighed. "We'll be there shortly."

He tapped 'end call,' handed the phone to me, and pulled back onto the highway. Three other police cars had passed us while we'd sat there.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered. "We'll be coming right back out here. Should have just done it now. They'd better catch those assholes."

My head throbbed. Right now I wanted to lie down somewhere, close my eyes, and pretend this had never happened.

A few minutes later we reached Boulder City. Derek drove to the police station and helped me inside. He told the desk officer who we were, and a deputy came over to take us to a private room. It smelled like coffee and naugahyde. A wave of nausea came over me again but I was able to control it.

"If you don't mind, my girlfriend here isn't feeling well," Derek told the officer. "She needs some cold water and probably something to eat, crackers or a sandwich."

"We aren't running a restaurant here," the deputy put his hands on his hips and looked at us.

"Fine, then, you won't mind if she pukes on your table."

He stalked out and returned a few minutes later with a cold bottle of water and a package of saltines.

"Thank you," I said, tearing open the crackers. I nibbled on one and leaned against Derek.

Another policeman came in. He shut the door behind him and asked us to tell him exactly what had happened. So we did. When we finished, he told us that responding officers had been unable to find a vehicle matching the description we'd given of the Nissan. He said with no evidence of a crime, there was nothing else they could do.

"We'll show you where the man is that they shot," Derek told him. "Will that suffice for evidence?"

"What about the bullet hole in the SUV?" I added. "And the police car they ran off the road?"

"Tell me where this happened."

I let Derek explain it, as he was the one who'd chosen the hiking area and knew how to get there better than I did.

"So you were rockhounding," the deputy said, almost sounding as if we'd made it up.

"Yes, it's a hobby of mine."

"I see. Where are you from, uh, Mr. Wiley?"

"It's Doctor Wiley. I live in Boston."

"How about you?" the deputy nodded at me.

"Doctor Westland," I told him. "I live in Seattle."

He eyed us for a moment. "So you don't live in the same town, but you're here together hunting for rocks in the Nevada desert."

"Yes," Derek said, not liking the tone of the man's voice. "What are you getting at?"

"We met in Las Vegas for Christmas," I said, exasperated. "Derek's interested in geology so we thought it'd be fun to hike out and see what we could find."

"May I see your identification, please?"

So Derek and I produced our driver's licenses. He looked them over and up at us, then handed them back. "Doctors, huh? Doctors of geology? Or what?"

"We're both nephrologists," Derek said. "Kidney doctors."

"Really," he leaned back in his chair.

Someone knocked on the door. The deputy went out, leaving us alone.

"Do you suppose this room is bugged?" I asked Derek.

"Probably. Not that we have anything to hide. But I'm getting a little pissed off at the Little Dictator's attitude. As if we're criminals. Why would we make this up? Shit, I wanted to play blackjack tonight before I take you in the Jacuzzi and do nasty things to you."

"Sh!" I made a face at him.

He smiled.

"Aren't you worried that those killers got away?" I asked him. "What if they come looking for us?"

"They don't know who we are, and they have no way of finding us."

"Are you absolutely sure of that?"

He nodded. "We got there after they did. They never saw our license plate, and even if they did, it's a rental. Unless they can hack into the rental car records they have no way to trace it to you."

I bit my lip.

"It's all right," he pulled me close. "We just need to set this idiot straight, then we can get out of here and back to the Bellagio."

The deputy came back in. "We've found a sheriff's vehicle crashed a few miles back from where you reported your first location," he said. "The deputy was shot through the windshield."

"Oh no!" I covered my face and fell against Derek.

"We've sent officers to the location you reported as where the murder took place in the desert," he went on. "We should know shortly whether or not they've found any remains."

"I don't think he walked away after they shot him," Derek smarted off.

"So you two were in the wrong place at the wrong time?" he asked us.

"Of course we were," Derek said, testy.

The policeman nodded. "Seems lucky for us that you were there, or we'd have no leads at all. Appears there is a turnoff from the highway about where you stated you lost the pursuers. Leads to an old mining claim. Road's pretty bad. You said they were driving a car?"

Derek and I nodded.

"They can't have got far, then. Hopefully we'll hear something soon. Can I get you anything?"

His tone had changed from night to day.

"I could use a Coke," Derek said.

"Be right back."

"Maybe we're not going to be lynched at dawn after all," Derek said, kissing my forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, I guess," I said. "I just want a shower and a bed. I'm exhausted."

"I have a feeling we're going to be here for awhile," he said with a sigh.

And he was right.

As the day wore on, we were allowed to walk down the street to a restaurant, but then we spent an hour or more, separately, having our statements recorded. News came that the body had been found, and the CSI crew had secured the scene to photograph and search for evidence. The murderers, however, had apparently escaped on foot into the desert after abandoning their car. They'd left behind plenty of evidence in the car, but had stripped it of its license plates and the registration, and even attempted to deface the VIN number. These guys were pros, according to the deputies. And now they were on the run. The guess was that they had survival skills, possibly even supplies and gear to hide out in the desert. After all, it was winter, the weather was mild, there was no chance of them freezing to death. There was also the possibility that, upon abandoning the car, they'd hiked to a rendezvous spot with an accomplice who picked them up. Little desert roads wound through the area, and if you knew where you were going, it was possible that they'd escaped before the police were able to secure the area.