Serial Uncut - J. A. Konrath [20]
“Mapquest lies. And don’t call me Jackie. You know I hate it when people call me Jackie.”
“And I hate it when you say you’d be here three hours ago, and you’re still not here. You could have left at a reasonable hour, Jack.”
He had a point. This was my first real vacation—and by that I mean one that involved actually travelling somewhere—in a few years. Latham had rented a cabin on Rice Lake, and he had driven there yesterday from Chicago to meet the rental owners and get the keys. I was supposed to go with him, and we’d been planning this for weeks, but the murder trial I’d been testifying at had gone longer than expected, and since I was the arresting officer I needed to be there. As much as I loved Latham, and as much as I needed some time away from work, my duty to put criminals away ranked slightly higher.
“Your told-you-so tone isn’t going to get you laid later,” I said. “Just help me figure out where I am.”
Another sigh. I shrugged it off. My long-suffering boyfriend had suffered a lot worse than this in order to be with me. I figured he had to be incredibly desperate, or a closet masochist. Either way, he was a cutie, and I loved him.
“Do you see the mile markers alongside the road?”
I didn’t see any such thing. The highway was dark, and I hadn’t noticed any signs, off-ramps, exits, or mile markers since I’d left Illinois. But I hadn’t exactly been paying much attention, either. I was pretty damn tired, and had been zoning out to AM radio for the last hour. FM didn’t work. Sometimes I wish someone would shoot my car, put it out of my misery.
“No. There’s nothing out here, Latham. Except Murray’s.”
“What’s Murray’s?”
“I have no idea. I just saw the sign. Could be a gas station. Could be a waterpark.”
“I don’t remember passing anything called Murray’s. Did the sign have the exit number?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
I made a face. “The defense attorney never asked me if I was sure. The defense attorney took me at my word.”
“He should have also made you take my GPS. You see those posts alongside the road with the reflectors on them?”
“Yeah.”
“Keep watching them.”
“Why should—” The next reflector had a number on top. “Oh. Okay, I’m at mile marker 231.”
“I don’t have Internet access here at the cabin. I’ll call you back when I find out where you are. You’re okay, right? Not going to fall asleep while driving?”
I yawned. “I’m fine, hon. Just a little hungry.”
“Stop for something if it will keep you awake.”
“Sure. I’ll just pull over and grab the nearest cow.”
“If you do, bring me a tenderloin.”
“Really? Is your appetite back?” Latham was still recovering from a bad case of food poisoning.
“It’s getting there.”
“Aren’t you tired? You should rest, honey.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I’ll call soon with your location.”
My human GPS unit hung up. I yawned again, and gave my head a little shake.
On the plus side, my testimony had gone well, and all signs pointed to a conviction.
On the minus side, I’d been driving for six straight hours, and I was hungry, tired, and needed to pee. I also needed gas, according to my gauge.
Maybe Murray could take care of all my needs. Assuming I could find Murray’s before falling asleep, running out of fuel, starving to death, and wetting my pants.
The road stretched onward into the never-ending darkness. I hadn’t seen another car in a while. Even though this was a major highway (as far as I knew), traffic was pretty light. Who would have thought that Northern Wisconsin at two in the morning on a Wednesday night was so deserted?
I heard my cell phone ring. My hero, to the rescue.
“You’re not on I-94,” he said. “You’re on 39.”
“You sound annoyed.”
“You went the wrong way when the Interstate split.”
“Which means?”
“You drove three hours out of the way.”
Shit.
I yawned. “So where do I go to get to you?”
“You need some sleep, Jack. You can get here in the morning.”
“Three hours is nothing. I can be there in time for an early breakfast.”
“You sound exhausted.”
“I’ll be fine. Lemme just close my eyes for a second.