Randall On The Run

She gave him an appalled look. “Yes, I do. It may not look organized to you, but I very carefully loaded my things so that nothing would get broken. I don’t want you stirring things up. Anyway, it’s not as if I could hide a—what did you call him, a perp?—in there.”

“Okay, I guess not. Where are you headed?”

Jessica did some quick thinking. She hadn’t turned off yet to head north, and she didn’t think she wanted this man to know where she was going. “Dallas. I thought the best route would be to hit Highway 10 and go straight across.”

“Yeah, that’d be best.” One more look, then the officer tipped his hat, thanked her for being so patient and strode back to his vehicle.

She closed her eyes for a moment of thanksgiving after he eased his patrol car back onto the freeway.

Could her passenger have been telling the truth? She was beginning to think so. She drove cautiously for several exits, then pulled off to stop at a drive-in grocery. She went inside and bought some bottled water and a couple of snacks, the latter of which she shared with Murphy. Then she returned to the car and found her tool kit, another item her father had insisted on, and something else she’d saved. Her Wyoming license plates.

Quickly, she replaced the California license plates on her vehicle. Her shaking fingers slowed her, but it didn’t take long. Then she got in and drove away from Highway 10. If her passenger had been telling the truth, she might be stopped again if she kept the same plates. Or if she stayed on the highway she’d told the officer she would be on.

Now she was headed for Nevada, Utah and then Wyoming, her home. Whenever the guy woke up and wanted out, she’d set him free. But she was heading home.

The last thing she did before she got back on the road was to give him some aspirin to control the fever she felt sure would follow.

ABOUT 3:00 A.M., Jessica pulled into a rest area, cracked her windows enough to let in air but not enough to let anyone have access to her car while she slept. She reached for another pillow for herself, and gave a blanket to Murphy. After checking on her still-sleeping passenger, she curled up and fell asleep.

When Murphy wanted out the next morning, he woofed gently, and she opened one eye. “Murphy, are you sure? I’d like to sleep longer.”

He woofed again.

“Okay, okay.” She sat up and rubbed her eyes. Then she remembered her passenger. She scooted over so she could reach his face. He was still asleep, but the fever was raging. She left him alone while she opened her door and got out with Murphy.

After her dog had relieved himself, she brought him back to the vehicle and got out more aspirin and a bottle of water. “Wake up,” she whispered to the man, who didn’t appear interested in waking at all. She finally got him awake enough to take more aspirin and a small sip of water. Then she left him alone again.

“Murphy, I’m going to the restroom. Keep guard of our friend, okay?”

She patted him on the head and slipped out of the vehicle, locking the door behind her.

When she came outside again, she eyed the pay phone. If she was going to call her cousin Caroline, now would be a good time, and no one would pick up her conversation, as they could on a cell phone.

She dialed the number for a collect call. When someone answered, she was afraid they wouldn’t accept the charges, but she used her full name and the Randall part of it did the trick.

“Oh! Oh, yes, just a minute.”

The operator said, “Hello, ma’am, will you accept the charges?”

When there was no answer, the operator said to Jessica, “Ma’am, I’m sorry, they won’t—”

She was interrupted by a voice Jessica recognized. “Hello? Yes, we’ll accept the charges.”

“Go ahead, please,” the operator said and clicked off.

“Caroline?”

“Yes, Jess. Where are you?”

“Some place in Utah.”

“You’re coming home?” Caroline’s voice rose in excitement.

“Yes, but that’s not why I called. Listen, Caroline, I have a—a person who’s been shot.”

“What? Jessica, what are you up to?”

“I’ll explain later. I bound the wound tightly to stop the bleeding, and I’ve given him aspirin. I don’t know if the bullet is out or not. Is there anything else I need to do?”

Since Caroline was one of two practicing doctors in Rawhide, Wyoming, her family’s hometown, she knew Caroline could advise her.

“No, nothing else, except to take him to a doctor.”

“He refuses.”

“Why?”

“It’s a long story. And I don’t know how long I’ll have him around. If he comes to, I’ll probably drop him somewhere.”

“This doesn’t sound smart, Jess. He could hurt you.”

“Not as long as he’s passed out. But don’t worry. I’ll be careful. If I have to bring him home, will Mike have to report him being shot?”

“That’s the law,” Caroline said, her voice sounding ominous. “I’m going to call Uncle Brett right now if you don’t explain yourself.”

She immediately begged her cousin not to worry her father, Brett Randall. “I’m being careful, I promise, Caro, but I have to get back on the road and there are reasons I can’t talk about him on the cell phone. Someone might pick up the call.”

“This is sounding worse, Jess, not better!”

“I know, but I promise I’ll explain when I get there. Just trust me for a couple of days.”

“All right, but no longer. And call back.”

“I will. I’m going to call Mom and Dad to let them know I’m coming.” Jessica breathed a sigh after she hung up. She’d been afraid of Caroline’s answer. She knew the man needed a doctor, but she wouldn’t take him to one against his will.

Unless he worsened, of course.

She hurried to her SUV as if her thinking such thoughts would make them come true. She opened the door on Murphy’s side and pushed her dog to the driver’s seat so she could lift the hat and clearly see the man’s face.

He was handsome, in a rough way. He needed a haircut and a shave, but nothing could hide his sculpted features. No wonder he was in Hollywood, home of the beautiful people.

Luckily it appeared the bleeding had stopped. She got out the first-aid kit again. If she rebandaged him, she could use the antibiotic cream, which might stave off an infection.

The ugly sight of his wound reminded Jessica why she hadn’t gone into medicine, like Caroline had. And her checkbook always taunted her for not going into accounting, like her sister, Tori, had.

In fact, in addition to her flair for the dramatic, it was because she had no other skills that she’d turned to acting. But at least she’d proved herself. She’d stayed in Hollywood until she got a role in a major film. That way her family wouldn’t think she was a failure when she came home.

Just as she was finishing binding the wound again, the man moaned.