Voices

| April 11, 2005

“Sounds like you are doing just that. How often do you take her with you now?”

Red waited for the man to answer, watching the mile markers fly by. They were going 70 miles per hour. He really wanted to slow the man down before he hit those spikes.

“How about I treat you and your little girl to a snack at that little restaurant just north of the next exit here. I have a little girl just about Melissa’s age, and I know they like ice cream. You can get some coffee to help you stay awake. Where are you planning to stop for the night?”

The Blue Buick eased up a little as he answered. “Don’t think we’ll have time for a snack, but I appreciate your asking. Melissa does like ice cream – chocolate, right honey? Oh, she’s crying. It’s been a long day. Me and her aunt had a fight before we left.”

As the trailing police cruiser passed them, Big Dog pulled up by Red. They were nearing mile marker 15. Just three miles with the sun at ground level. The Blue Buick was less than a mile ahead. As Red started to ascend the last hill, he whispered a prayer for protection for Karey and the man in the Blue Buick.

The semis slowed down as they reached the top of the hill. They didn’t see anything unusual ahead, but they knew the trap was set and the police were close by. They heard the sound of tires popping as the Blue Buick swerved. Police appeared out of nowhere, yanking both doors of the car open simultaneously. One grabbed the girl and another the man.

Fifty miles down the road, Red’s CB crackled. “Hey, Red, you O.K.?” Farmer called.

“Yeah,” said Red pensively.

“Just got off the phone with the State Patrol. They said the little girl is fine and back with her mother. The kidnapper is in protective custody until they can get a psychological review. It seems his daughter died three months after the accident

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