All of Erin Rose's hard work is finally paying dividends, Roman and Angie are barely one step ahead of the law... and her father's head of security goon.
All of Erin Rose's hard work is finally paying dividends, Roman and Angie are barely one step ahead of the law... and her father's head of security goon.
“TURN THE PAGE”
Erin Rose cleared the excess spit from the French horns mouthpiece with a quick snap of her wrist, onto the towel at her feet and after placing it back into position made another run on the melodic string of notes from Neil Youngs After the Gold Rush… one of her favorite horn solos that he’d written… and even more unbelievable… she had swiped that album from her little brother, Roman’s music collection. Who knew the little twirp had such good taste.
She looked around the small, cramped apartment and gazed on the posters that she had recently put up to cover the old water stains on the walls as much as for their aesthetic appeal.
Beethoven… John Denver’s Rocky Mountain Tour… Grateful Dead and the famed physicist, Albert Einstein with his wildly unkempt hair sticking his tongue out… that always made her smile.
It was just a little piece of shit place… but it was all hers.
After living with Robb since his coming out and subsequent divorce she focused entirely on her music, i.e. playing the French horn and her school work… of which she made quick work of both. After graduating early with a 4.0 gpa and a full-ride music scholarship to Indiana University and a shot at second chair in the City Philharmonic Orchestra she was the youngest person to have ever been considered. Such an honor she had been told… by Robb, her teachers… everybody.
She was elated for sure. She couldn’t wait to move out onto her own, screw those cliquish dorms… she had saved her money from all of those part-time jobs and plus the scholarship… well, she wanted a place of her own. No roomates. No distractions. No fighting between gay lovers. Just her and her music… a little weed… a hit of speed every now and then to help her focus and that’s all she needed.
Oh the gay lovers comment? The last few months living with Robb had been upended when Charles, Robb’s friend, moved in. At first it was all very copasetic but then being the third wheel in any relationship is never easy.
God… sometimes the yelling got so loud she could even hear them through her headphones! I mean seriously. When she broached the subject one afternoon to Robb… Charles being out… why all the fighting? I mean, she didn’t recall that much yelling when he had been married to Mora and that was like seventeen years.
I guess it’s due to the passion, Robb replied. Charles and I have a tumultuous relationship I’ll admit, but we’re very passionate in our feelings in a way that well frankly just wasn’t present in my marriage with Mora… hence… and Rob made a flippant gesture with his hand and just smiled wanly.
Three days later Rob came home and found Charles had hung himself in the foyer closet. Passion indeed, Erin Rose thought. Is everyone crazy she wondered? Sometimes it certainly felt that way.
Her mind darted to her little brother and his current situation… she was completely taken by surprise by what he had done. Holding up a gas station? Beaten the owner with a pistol? Now in a rehab facility for young offenders? Good lord, never in her wildest imagination… what is going on with you Roman she wondered.
Her last phone call to Mora did little to shed any light on things… all Mora wanted to talk about was her going to college, music school she’d say… and how happy she was now with John. Erin ought to call her she knew but it always got pushed to the back of her mind somehow. She honestly did want to try and keep tabs on her brother… knowing she shouldn’t rely on Mora to do so… and after the death of Charles, Rob had decided to move out to California for a fresh start he had said.
I bet… Erin thought. She turned the music sheet to a new page and began playing a flawless rendition of The Rolling Stone’s You can’t always get what you want just to get the juices flowing in preparation for her upcoming performance.
Roman and Angie had broken into a vacant cabin outside the small town of French Lick on the edge of the Hoosier National Forrest… no doubt someone’s little vacation hideaway that at the present was their temporary hideout.
Roman might be an idiot, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that Angie’s father would be coming for her, or rather Bert, the goon would be… especially after Roman knocked the guy off his feet and crashed to the floor. The air was heavy with the weight of retaliation and Roman thought he’d be lucky to escape it. Angie didn’t seem at all concerned, which worried him a little. But maybe that’s just the mindset of the rich he thought… they don’t worry about the same shit as the rest of us do. Roman had flatout asked Ang if she was still using, and she said no. Almost too quickly he thought. Roman had the feeling she wasn’t being one hundred percent honest with him but to be fair, he had never seen her shootup or anything… so ignorance is bliss.
The little cabin was pretty cool Roman thought, sure there wasn’t a tv or anything but there was a bed and clean sheets… and for two dumbstruck lovebirds what else did one really need? They had raided a nearby Stop ‘ n Shop convenience store for all the essentials like bread, peanut butter and jelly, chips, sodas and cigarettes… soap and shampoo etc. so they felt like they were pretty set to hang out for a few days and let the dust settle while they did their level best to screw each others brains out.
Being somewhat of a novice in this new world of sexual gratification, Roman had no idea one could screw themselves raw… but after another round of non-stop fucking… he waved the white flag of surrender and told Angie he had to take a break.
Thank god, she exclaimed. And confided in Roman she felt the same. They rolled on the floor laughing.
The following morning Roman got up early to walk down by the lake and look around for a boat so they could go out on the water. It was so peaceful here he could have stayed forever but knowing he couldn’t. Unable to locate a row boat, skiff or canoe he set back on the trail and decided to walk down to the Stop ‘n Shop to buy some more cigarettes as he was down to his last pack.
On the counter next to the cash register taped to the side was a local police bulletin describing the make and model of a Ford Mustang just like Angie’s and said to be on the lookout for missing girls that fit her description.
Holy shit.
Roman paid for the smokes and glanced at the clerk who paid him no mind as he was engrossed in a paperback book with alien spaceships on the cover.
Shit, shit, shit… Roman ‘s mind was reelin’ with so many different scenarios he felt dizzy.
One thing for sure… they had to get outta there now.
Was it even safe to keep driving the Mustang? Probably not, but what choice did they have. All these questions keep percolating up inside his poor little brain it was giving him a headache.
When he got back to the cabin he told Angie about the police bulletin.
Goddamn him she yelled. You know, it’s my father, right. I bet that sonofabitch called the police, in fact I know he did.
Are you really surprised? Roman asked… I mean, come on, what did you think? That he was just gonna let you drive off with me and that would be it? Not likely.
When need to switch cars, Roman said. That’ll put an end to tracking us down… at least for the time being.
Where are we going to get another car, Ang asked.
I don’t know… we got to go into the city… there’s bound to be a unattended car somewhere where’s theres a lot of people, like a shopping center or grocery store.
You seem to know a lot about this sort of thing Angie said with a wry smile
Roman shrugged, when in Rome and all that, right. Do what ya gotta do in order to survive.
And we need some new wheels.
I got it. Roman said loudly, I know where we can swap out your car and throw them off our trail.
Where?
We need to get to a phone… I’m gonna call my sister. She doesn’t live very far from here and I know I can talk her into helping us out.
The following day…
“You want me to what?” Erin Rose said to Roman.
I haven’t heard a word from you in…. how long? And you just pop in like hey sis can I take your car? I don’t think so.
Roman laid it all out for her… it was the only way… if he tried to pull one over on her and make up some bullshit lie… she’d smell it a mile away. It must run in the family, he thought… their bullshit detector.
So he told her everything.
It worked. Roman couldn’t believe it, that she was actually willing to help him… but she abhorred control freaks like Angie’s father that thought just because they had money they could do whatever they wanted to whomever they wanted… just because she was a bonafide genius and musical prodigy didn’t mean she didn’t have a little rebellious streak in her as well.
When Erin had told him that Rob was moving to Calif. Mostly because of what had happened with Charles… Roman thought that was probably a good idea.
Man, what a fucked up thing to do… Roman said to Erin. She nodded and hugged her little brother for the first time in what felt like ages.
You take care of yourself ok? Erin said. Hey, where’s that girlfriend of yours anyways?
She at that diner on the corner, roman replied. We parked her car in the parking lot round back. Here’s the keys and handed them to erin. Where Erin then gave Roman the spare key to her pride and joy.
Perfect. Well Im hungry, what about you she asked? How about You outlaws buy me some dinner? And I can check this chick out for myself.
Deal, Roman replied.
After the trio gobbled up some cheeseburgers with fries, Erin walked them over to the side of the street where her car was parked.
There you go… Erin said, please take good care of her that’s my baby… you break it, you fix it! And held her arm out like Vanna White turning the numbers on Jeopardy.
Holy Cow! Angie squealed with delight… I love it!
Roman’s mouth dropped open in complete surprise… are you serious? He said.
Parked along the curb was the car Erin Rose had always wanted… a 1968 Cadillac Coup Deville in faded Canary Yellow.
It’s only got about a quarter tank of gas so I’d stop somewhere soon and fill her up… Erin Rose said warningly. She’s a gas guzzling beast!
Bert Goodwin pulled up next to the sheriff’s deputy out front of cabin in French Lick… even though he wasn’t a cop any more he still flashed his badge and ID as if he were… it helped move things along with these small local yokels.
So y’all think the suspect was here? Bert asked. I got a phone call from one of your guys… said this cabin had been broken into? Looked like somebody had been camped out here a few days?
Check it out for yerself, the deputy quipped back somewhat bristled over the fact that his boss told him to stay there and wait on this out of towner law enforcement to arrive… shit, he’d been sitting on the place for most of the day waiting on this fella… while he should have been already out on the lake with his buddies guzzlin’ a ice cold beer and wetting a line. already.
Bert Goodwin stepped inside the small cabin and surveyed the scene of strewn about items all over the place… dirty dishes in the sink, clothes lying on the floor, opened jar of peanut butter left on the table… not sure what constituted they had been here… except for the phone call from the clerk at the Stop ‘n Shop that identified Roman and Angie as two teenagers in there on a shopping spree. Dump little shits Bert thought… they didn’t even get out of the county before crashing in the first spot they saw.
After slipping on his gloves he gingerly stepped around the discarded items and made his way over to the far side of the room where a doorway opened up to the bedroom and bathroom.
Bert saw all he needed immediately… he bent down and with a pen from his pocket held up a pair of girl’s underwear… no bargain basement six for a dollar pair either… he recognized the Victoria’s Secret logo stitched into the lace... and then as the coup de gras… saw the navy blue initials embroidered on the waistband… AMH… Angelica Marie Hibbens. He dropped the undergarment into the little baggie he had and straightened up. Well, I guess that’s that. He walked over to the toilet and began to unzip his trousers… he’d been holding it since that morning and his teeth were floating he had to piss so bad.
As the stream of urine hit the back of the bowl he glanced over and noticed a burnt smudge of a stain on the counter. No more than three shakes or your playing with yerself his older brother would always say… or use to… before ‘Nam anyways… fuckin little yellow bastards Bert muttered under his breath for the thousandth time… as he recalled the flag draped box his brother came back home in. He zipped up and then touched the smudge with his forefinger… held it to his nose and grinned.
She’s still using… well wont the old man flip a switch when he finds out… maybe this time… maybe she rides off on that white horse and never returns, he mused. Would that be the worst thing in the world? He was getting tired of babysitting that little bitch, always prancing around like she was better than him, prickteasing little cunt was more like it… yeah maybe this roadtrip would be her last Bert surmised… as he toyed with the idea of getting’ a little taste of that prime grade A for himself… then sending her off on the ride of her life. He grinned at the thought and walked out of the cabin with a pep in his step.
Angie loved the Caddy… the big bench seats… she could lay out in the back and her head nor her toes touched the doors. It’s bigger than my bed she giggled. Roman felt as if he were driving a boat compared to Angie’s Mustang… but what a smooth ride it was. With the windows down and the wind blowing through her hair, the radio blaring out the latest hit songs, a freshly rolled joint between his fingers and his girl by his side… Roman was on top of the world.
So was Angie… she had shot up back at the gas station restroom when they stopped to fill up the caddy. Just a little bump… keep the feel good feelin’s flowin’… she tried not to think about lying to Roman and using still… but pushed it from her mind for now. Once they got to Florida and got settled she’d quit for good… but now… she just sighed. She knew he had checked her arms for needle marks to see if she was being straight with him… silly boy… she wasn’t stupid. She pushed the luscious serum in between her toes like any other respectable junkie.
Ang squeezed Roman’s hand and leaned her head back as the wind blew her hair all around, she closed her eyes as Bob Seeger’s Silver Bullit Band saxophone wailed “Turn the Page” over the caddy’s radio. This day couldn’t get any better she thought and drifted away.
As the country highway cut in and out of hills and forest… south of the mason Dixon line and the powerful Cadillac ate up the miles one after another, with it’s naturally aspirated 7.7 liter overhead valve 8 cylinder engine producing 375 horsepower at 4,400 RPM’s, the three speed gearbox hardly strained at all, as the oil pressure dropped into the red zone and snapped the piston into two.
When gasoline explodes in a cylinder, the violent force of that explosion pushes the piston down. The motion of that piston is what makes the crankshaft turn--and ultimately what makes the car move. The metal part that connects the piston to the crankshaft is called a "connecting rod."
Roman momentarily lost control of the caddy when what sounded like a gunshot… exploded under the hood… the big automobile careened off the highway doing seventy seven mph and began fish-tailin’ as it s momentum wanted to take it sideways and spin out. Roman held firmly on the wheel and brought it back onto the road at the slightest angle he could manage to keep the caddy from flipping over once the tires found some traction….
Slowly the wounded beast came to a stop on the side of the road and Roman looked at Angie’s face that no doubt mirrored his own. Holy shit, they both shouted.
That was crazy… Angie said and lit up a cigarette then passed it to Roman.
What the hell just happened she asked him.
I’m not sure but I think it’s bad… it might have thrown a rod.
What the hell is a rod? It sounded more like someone took a shot at us she commented.
As smoke drifted up from the hood of the engine… Roman and Ang flagged down a pickup truck and got a ride into the next town.
“Looks like you havin’ some car trouble eh?” the old timer said. As Angie slid in next to him and Roman closed the door.
Yep, looks it huh?” Roman replied. And smiled at Ang.
There’s a garage up here that can fix it up… Old Al can fix practically anything with a motor I reckon… the old timer went on and on about Al the mechanic’s skills as the town fixer upper…
As the truck came over a little hill they saw the town sign… Welcome to Good Hope… Angie squeezed Roman’s hand and whispered… it’s a sign… Roman nodded… yeah I see that he replied…. No I mean it’s a sign like it’s a premonition… a good omen…. Oh OK, well then Roman grinned but was starting to get a feeling in his gut that said otherwise.
Al the Mechanic: When you "throw a rod," it means that one of these rods has literally broken off. He held out what Roman and Angie assumed was a old rod …. When that happens, one of two things occurs. If the rod breaks while the piston is on its way up, the piston keeps going up until it jams itself permanently into the cylinder head.
If the rod breaks while the piston is coming down, the broken rod can pierce a hole right through the engine block (like a compound bone fracture breaking through the skin). Either way, the engine is instantly ruined, and you'll have to "blow a wad" to get the car back on the road, he said with a little laugh.
Angie nudged Roman in the side and whispered… Who does he look like? She asked.
I dunno…. Who?
Come on, are you serious? Can’t you see it? She said.
Roman squinted his eyes and contemplated the old geezers face again.
With a big grin, Roman exclaimed… Albert Einstein! And Angie nodded her head up and down pleased that Roman saw it too.
Old Albert went on… There are two theories (Roman had to bite his lip from laughing) about why connecting rods break. The first is divine revenge. This theory states that people who rev the heck out of their cars get what they deserve. We call that the "divining rod theory." Mechanical Atheists, on the other hand, argue that thrown rods have more to do with the age of the car and low oil pressure. Since there is a divine element involved, it’s best to play it safe by subscribing to both theories said Albert The mechanic as he wiped grease off his hands with a rag, adjusted his glasses and smiled at the two grinning idots before him.
Fuck… we’re screwed said Roman.
Albert the mechanic nodded.
Erin put down the book she was reading… Kurt Vonnegut’s latest titled “Jailbird” about a man that’s just been released from prison very apropos she thought regarding Roman’s latest achievement and wondered who was at her door at this time of the night.
Three more knocks, each one significantly louder. It’s the police… open up.
Startled, Erin Rose opened the door to find Bert Goodwin standing there with two local cops flanking him.
We’re looking for your brother… Bert said… Roman… where is he?
How would I know? Erin shot back not liking him instantly.
I haven’t seen him months… she started but then Bert pushed his way in and slapped her across her face so hard it almost knocked her down.
Hey, one of the cops said… I thought we agreed no rough stuff?
This isn’t rough… just setting some ground rules is all… Bert replied coiled up like a snake.
Alright how about we try this one more time he said… now that you know what’s coming when you lie to me… so… where is he? And where is the girl? Bert stood there ready to deliver another blow.
There was no way for Bert to know that just because she looked like some nerdy girl late for study hall… she was one of the toughest people Roman had ever known… she had saved him countless times in fights when it looked as though he might be killed and beaten, and knocked the other guy or guys, senseless. Roman knew the whole nerdy girl façade was just an act… deep inside… Erin was a fierce fighter when cornered.
With reflexes befitting a cat, Erin Rose’s kick to Bert’s crotch was so quick the two other cops weren’t sure it had… even happened.
Bert dropped to his knees and gasped for air.
As she was about to deliver the finishing punch to Bert’s throat (a technique she had picked up from Roman…) one of the cops hit her upside her head with his baton dropping Erin instantly.
The two cops just looked back and forth from Bert on his knees gasping and the unconscious lump of the girl. For fuck’s sake.
The helped Bert stand and as soon as he got his feet under him he kicked Erin hard in the stomach.
Bitch.
Once the trio had finished getting what they needed from Erin Rose… she was a bloody mess. Bert had slapped her across the face so hard and so many times she just blacked out. She wasn’t even sure what she had told him… whatever they wanted just so long as they’d leave.
She crumbled against the door and slid down to the floor crying… not knowing how to warn Roman what was headed his way.
Roman and Angie had just finished their meal at the local diner when a State Police patrol car pulled up in the front parking lot. Two State troopers were getting out of the car and the way they looked around set off Roman’s sixth sense.
He didn’t know how he knew, but he did.
They were looking for them… “come on Ang, we gotta split” Roman hurriedly grabbed Angie as she put down a ten spot and the slipped out the back before the deputies had stepped through the front door.
“How in the world…” Angie began to protest but Roman waved her silent.
“Look, it doesn’t matter how… but I just know it ok.”
Shit, shit, shit… Roman said trying to kick start a way outta this. The caddy wouldn’t be ready for days Al had told them… so they had to lay low until it was… fuck me, Roman thought, it wouldn’t take the troopers ten minutes to figure out which end was up in this one horse town. He had to find another ride outta there.
Or would they check Al’s shop at all…? Maybe he was over-reacting he thought. How about before setting off on another crime spree they sit tight someplace where they can observe the cops and the caddy… after all, it was inside the garage, well out of sight… Angie pointed over at an old dilapidated barn across the highway… what about there, she said. We could see the garage and the diner from the hay loft… Roman just stared at her amazed. You’re something else that’s for sure he said and gave her a kiss.
Peering out from the hay loft Angie was spot on in that they had a bird’s eye view of the garage and diner… hell practically the whole town.
So they layed down on the hay and waited. So far the troopers hadn’t emerged from the diner… maybe they were just getting something to eat… paranoia wasn’t out of reach here. He hoped that was the case.
“So what’s waiting for us in Florida anyways” Angie asked him.
I’ve got an uncle… he’s got a fishing boat… I use to do some work for him while back… he said anytime I wanted… I could work for him. It’s a pretty cool place along the coast… I think you’ll like it.
Oh yeah? Fishing huh? Sounds pretty cool to me, Angie replied.
Maybe I’ll start painting… pictures of the beach… seagulls… pelicans. Or photography… I used to take some pretty decent photos when I was at St. Agnes school for girls…. Angie said.
Sure, why not… Roman said as he leaned over and kissed Angie. She pressed her body to his and Roman knew in a second that they were going to do it, right then and right there… in the hay.
Until he spotted a familiar figure walking across the road from the diner to the garage. It was Bert.
Where the hell did he come from? Roman blurted.
Who, Angie asked.
I swear to God, that’s fuckin’ Bert right there and pointed the man out to Ang…
How in the fuck… she started to say but Roman pushed her down into the hay as Bert turned his head in their direction.
I don’t believe it. The two teenage desperados looked at each other in total disbelief.
Roman closed his eyes… Erin Rose.
But why… why would she… his voiced trailed off as the realization hit him. She would never give him up… unless someone forced her to.
That motherfucker Roman vented… if he’s laid a finger on Erin…. I’lll…. I’ll….
He wouldn’t dare… Angie finished his thought. He just wants me, it’s got nothing to do with you… it’s my father… he’s behind all of this.
Roman’s mind was spinning.
Now what.
Roman only knew one way out. He had to get a car… by hook or by crook he had to find another ride outta there.
“Look… you stay here alright” Roman stared into Angie’s eyes I’m gonna find us another car… no, no, it’s the only way Ang… don’t worry and with that jumped down from the loft and out of sight.
“Wait! Roman, wait” Angie yelled but it was too late he was already gone. She stared after him and whispered… I can turn myself in… and you can keep runnin’… as the tears started to fall she knew it was over… their little slice of heaven was evaporating before her very eyes. Like dreams always seem to do… she thought and pulled out her little kit.
Bert peeled off a few bills and gave the money to the old mechanic, just like the two cops before and the troopers across the road at the diner… same ol same ol… money talks and bullshit walks. People were all the same… press some greenbacks in their grimy hands and they’ll do whatever you ask.
He took a look around and wondered where they were… not at the only motel in town, he’d already checked, dined and dashed according to the waitress and cook… the mechanic said they weren’t leaving in the caddy anytime soon… not for a few days.
Then he saw it. Just a flash out of the corner of his eye… but enough. The old barn… the open door in the hayloft… movement. He hadn’t survived fifteen years as a cop on the tough streets of Indianapolis without the sixth sense of a predator.
Angie felt the first delicious warm wave crash over her body as she leaned back and succumbed to the powerful narcotic. She felt as if she were sinking down into the soft white, Florida sand… it’s gonna be alright she kept repeating… it’s gonna be…
A tall figure appeared to hover over her… Roman she whispered, but knew it wasn’t. She could feel it wasn’t him.
The man knelt beside her and put one of his hands between her legs and the other around her mouth. Hello Princess… the man whispered as he bent over and licked her face, his breath smelled of cigarettes and booze… it was Bert.
Angie tried to scream, tried to struggle, to break free but it was too late… the white horse had already begun to run… away… all she could do was hold on for dear life… and pray that was just a nightmare.
It hadn’t taken Roman long at all to locate another ride. He was behind the wheel of a light blue chevy nova that had half a tank of gas according to the fuel gauge and that was enough to get them down the road… at least until they found something else.
Roman parked the Nova down a tractor path behind the barn and slipped into the back unnoticed from the highway.
Ang it’s me, he whispered as he climbed the ladder up to the hay loft.
Roman heard a strange sound, like little grunts, almost like a pig would make… what in the hell he thought as he crested the top of the ladder.
He saw a man with his back to him, his pants were down around his ankles and he was thrusting in between a pair of pale white legs.
Roman’s flew into a rage… like a typhoon hitting the shores of a small defenseless village, the waves crashing in demolishing everything in its path, sweeping families, houses, everything out to the angry sea… and death.
Roman knocked Bert off of Angie who seemed to be unconscious… which just set Roman off even more thinking Bert had hurt her even more.
Bert obviously at a disadvantage and struggling to get to his feet while pulling up his pants, with one hand trying to shield the blows raining down from Roman, the other desperately pulling up his trousers… he was failing miserably at both.
Before he knew it Roman had his pistol in his hands, leveled at his face, no more than a couple of feet away… a blind man wouldn’t miss Bert thought.
“Get the fuck away from her…” Roman growled.
“Look, look… it’s not what you… she came on to me…” Bert stammered trying to regain a degree of composure.
“Son… put the gun down” came a voice from behind Roman.
Roman turned to see the State Troopers standing at the end of the loft by the ladder with their service revolvers aimed at him… and Bert.
“Shoot him!” Bert screamed at the troopers, “Shoot him!” pointing at Roman.
Roman’s head swiveled back and forth from the troopers to Bert… to Angie… who had regained some consciousness, starting to move away from Bert.
“Son…” the trooper closest to Roman said, “you don’t want to do that… just drop the gun and no one gets hurt alright?”
“But what about him?” Roman yelled… “He was raping her, he was on..”
“The kid is lying… I was trying to save her… that’s all… she looked like she had overdosed… that punk sneaked up on me and grabbed my pistol while I was trying to save her life.” Bert was selling his story pointing at Roman. “He’s the one, the escaped drug addict that’s wanted for kidnapping!”
Roman turned the pistol back to Bert… “You’re an lying piece of shit” and squeezed the trigger… and nothing. Two things happened simultaneously… Roman saw that the pistols safety switch was on and the trooper tackled him.
Bert made a move to retrieve his pistol when the other trooper pointed his gun at Bert, “Hold up there… not another step.”
The trooper told Bert to back up and keep his hands in the air.
“What the hell…” Bert was dumbfounded.
“Turns out you’re not exactly what you said you were are you?” The trooper with the gun asked Bert.
As Roman was now face down in the hay with the other trooper on his back he turned his head to look at Angie… who by now had scooched against the barn wall and though groggy seemed to be back with the living.
“You haven’t been a cop for some time now… as it turns out.” The trooper stated.
“Look I can explain…” Bert started but was cut off.
“Save it for judge”
“I don’t know what these kids have gotten themselves into… but I know YOU are full of crap and preyed upon a defenseless girl, which I’m guessing is under age?”
“We’re just sixteen” Roman said.
“That’s not true! I told you what happened… I was just…” Bert tried to get his defense out but the trooper wasn’t having it.
The trooper stared at Bert taking in the hay stuck to his unzipped trousers, his shirt half tucked… and a crumbled pair of girls underwear lying by his feet.
Once the ambulance had left with Angie on the way to the nearest hospital… Bert in handcuffs sitting in the back of a patrol car and Roman being questioned by the Sheriff on what had transpired over the last few days, who this Bert fella was and why he was after them, all Roman could think about was Ang.
“Well, I’m sorry Son, but it looks like you’re gonna be our guest for a little while longer here in Good Hope. Indiana is sending a deputy to transport you back and serve out the rest of your probation there… face any new charges…” the sheriff told Roman.
“Can I see Angie?” Roman begged him.
“No sir, I’m sorry son, but that’s out of the question.”
Angie’s parents flew down to be with their daughter while she recuperated… Bert was subsequently fired from his job working for Hank Babbins… charged with rape of a minor… assault on Erin Rose… and impersonating a police officer. The sheriff told Roman before he left that Ol’ Bert was gonna be a guest of the State of Alabama for quite a while.
Roman mustered every bit of strength he had in order to keep the tears from streaming down his face… as he sat in the back of the prisoner transport van. What a fuckin’ mess he’s made of everything… Erin Rose… Angie… all because of him.
Now what? He stared out the metal grate covered windows as the countryside went by in a blur… what sort of fresh hell awaited him.