The Man Who Wasn't All There by David Handler (book recommendations website TXT) 📕

eyes bulging at me. ‘What do I say?’ He jumped to his feet so abruptly that he kicked over his chair. ‘I shot someone! If I tell her where I am she’ll notify the state police and they’ll lock me away for the rest of my life. That’s what Michael wants. That’s what Michael’s always wanted. But it’s not going to happen, hear me? I’ve got one chance – head for my family’s mountain and make damned sure they won’t dare come after me.’

‘Why won’t they?’

‘Because I’ll have hostages.’

‘By hostages you mean …?’

‘You and your little dog.’

‘She’s not little. She’s short.’

‘Shut up!’ He reached for his gun on the table and pointed it at me. ‘I want you outside right now. You and your dog. Let’s go!’

I stayed put, crossing my arms in front of my chest. ‘We’re not going anywhere, Austin. Not going to happen. So just put that idea out of your head.’

Austin responded by shooting a hole in the kitchen wall about two feet over my head. The gunshot was so incredibly loud that I wondered if Mr MacGowan had heard it in the country quiet. Wondered if he was home. Hoped and prayed he was home.

After a brief deliberation, my ears ringing, I said, ‘Well, OK. We’ll join you if you feel that strongly about it.’

I got up and started toward the mudroom door. Lulu joined me, making low, unhappy noises. Austin followed me closely, prodding me in my back with his gun as we went outside.

‘You don’t have to keep doing that. I get the idea.’

‘Shut up!’ he snarled. When we reached his Crown Vic he popped the trunk. ‘Get in there. Both of you.’

‘What on earth for?’

‘Because I say so! Get in the trunk!’

Lulu needed an assist, which is to say I had to pick her up and hoist her in before I climbed in after her, curling myself into a fetal position. Austin immediately slammed the trunk shut on us.

Total blackness.

It also didn’t smell particularly fresh in there. He started up the engine with a roar and took off. The ride was jarringly bumpy as he sped down the gravel drive and on to Joshua Town Road, tossing us this way and that as he screeched his way along the narrow, twisting country road. Lulu was whimpering in fear. I fished Grandfather’s Varaflame lighter from my jeans pocket and fired it up. Being able to see calmed her a bit. She huddled close to me, her nose nuzzling my neck. I put my arm around her, glancing about for a tire jack or some other form of weapon. I found nothing except for a heap of dirty laundry, hence the non-fresh smell. Before I flicked off the lighter I hid my wallet underneath the laundry for the state police to find should they locate Austin’s car.

After a stomach-churning drive that seemed to go on forever and made me sorry I’d finished my sandwich, Austin finally came to a stop, backed up, moved forward and then backed up again before he finally turned off the engine, got out and popped the trunk.

I glanced around us, blinking at the bright autumn sunlight. He’d hidden the Crown Vic behind a tangle of tall, wild brush near the parking lot to Talmadge State Park. Or so he seemed to believe. My guess? It would take the troopers a tidy thirty seconds to locate the car once they came looking for it. But, as you may have figured out, Austin wasn’t thinking super clearly.

I climbed out, arching my aching back before I hoisted Lulu out. ‘Now what?’

He slammed the trunk shut. ‘Now we hike,’ he responded, grabbing a black canvas duffel bag from the back seat.

‘What’s in the bag, Austin?’

‘Cheetos, Doritos, Slim Jims, Baby Ruth bars, some three-liter bottles of Coke. I always keep supplied. I come up here a lot and I don’t like to get hungry or thirsty.’

‘Yes, I can see that.’

He flared at me. ‘I’m warning you. Don’t push me with your wise-guy attitude.’

‘What are you going to do, shoot me?’

‘No, I’ll shoot your dog.’

Lulu immediately let out a yowl of protest.

He gaped at her. ‘Am I crazy or does she understand English?’

‘English and Spanish. Forget French. Her French is terrible. But, since you ask, you are crazy.’

Austin narrowed his close-set eyes at me. ‘I don’t like you.’

‘I’m sensing that, and I’m real broken up about it. Maybe we should try couples counseling instead of this kooky hostage scheme of yours.’

He drew his gun and pointed it at me again. ‘Move, asshole.’

We started into the park, where we immediately encountered a huge map behind glass of the park’s color-coded trails. There were five trails in all. I didn’t need to ask which one we’d be taking. It was the green trail – the steep, seven-mile climb that led all of the way up the mountain to the ruins of the historic Talmadge family farm. Mr MacGowan hadn’t been exaggerating. The original Talmadge settlers must have been quite a peculiar, stand-offish clan to choose to live in such a remote locale instead of at the mouth of the Connecticut River with the other founding families.

We started our way up the leaf-strewn trail with Austin bringing up the rear, muttering under his breath but saying nothing. Or at least nothing that I could comprehend. We’d been hiking for about a half-hour when Lulu came to an abrupt halt, raised her head and sniffed at the air several times. Then she tilted her head slightly, listening. She can smell and hear things that I can’t. Her nose and ears are extremely valuable assets when I get myself into the messes like, well, this one. They’re the main reason I kept Her Earness around. That and the whole glam thing.

‘Why’s she standing there like that?’ Austin demanded, gasping for breath.

‘She smells someone. Hears them, too. We’re not alone.’

Austin turned and looked back down the trail, listening for a long moment before he said, ‘She’s imagining things.’

‘She’s a dog, Austin.