“Shit,” Lester yelled and hit the brakes again. He threw open the door and screamed. “We’re cops, you stupid son of a bitch. Get the fuck out of the way.”
I used the radio. “Willy, you out yet?”
I could hear him panting. “Almost.”
“They got into a dark blue Toyota Camry. We’re blocked in around the corner.”
“Gottcha.”
Spinney was out of the car by that point, still yelling and showing his badge. I stayed put to listen to whatever else Sammie might tell us.
“Wow,” she said. “Something’s happening back there. Lean back a little. I can’t see past you.”
“What do you care? Just a bunch of drunks.”
Spinney returned to the car. The security officer, looking grim, slammed his own door and stepped out of the way as we roared by.
“She just said we’re on the driver’s side of Peterson’s car,” I told him. “Which means she’s headed up that road.” I paused and added, “I hope.”
The radio blurted, “I’m out. I don’t see them.”
“They’ve already left, Willy. Take the other car and head up… ” I stopped and looked around.
“Summit Road,” Lester said.
“Summit Road,” I repeated.
It was dark and twisty and empty of traffic, including any taillights ahead.
“We can’t’ve lost them already.” Spinney muttered angrily.
“Doesn’t seems likely.” I said. “He implied it was nearby, though.” I leaned forward and narrowed my eyes, as if that might improve visibility. “Maybe they’re already there.”
Spinney was twisting his head back and forth, talking to himself. “We’re passing side roads here… Come on, Sammie, talk to us.”
As if she’d been eavesdropping, Sammie suddenly said, sounding distant and scratchy almost beyond comprehension, “Snowflake Circle? Where do they come up with these names?”
Suddenly, there was that sound of the microphone getting mangled.
“Hey,” she said loudly, “Hands off. What do you think you’re doing?”
Kurt Peterson burst out laughing. “You need a blueprint? Jesus, Greta, loosen the hell up. I’m getting in the mood. If you weren’t selling, you shouldn’t have advertised, wearing that sweater.”
“You’ll get what I want to give you when I want to give it. You’re the one who turned this into a business deal, Kurt. Keep your pants on.”
Careful, I thought.
“What the fuck is it with you, girl? You can’t make up your mind? I’m not sure this is worth the hassle.”
From the way Lester was driving, I could tell his frustration was building to a boil.
A small element of panic crept into Sammie’s voice, “What was that sign? I missed it.” Her transmission was now breaking up so badly, I had to guess at half her words.
“I don’t know. I don’t pay attention to the stupid signs. Why do you care, anyhow? This isn’t a tourist ride.”
She tried to laugh casually. “I just like the names-they’re so corny.”
“So call it Corny Row.”
Peterson’s tone indicated some of his previous passion was dulling.
“We must’ve missed it somehow,” Lester growled. “Shit. Can you understand a goddamn thing they’re saying?”
I held up a hand to quiet him. Sammie had picked up on the same mood change I had. Her voice soft and caressing again, she said, “I’m sorry, Kurt. One toot and I’ll be okay. I’m just a little strung out. I am looking forward to this… Ooh, what a beautiful house-a log cabin. I love those. Is that where we’re going?”
Peterson sounded slightly mollified. “Nah. That one’s nothing in comparison.”
Spinney slapped the steering wheel with his hand. “Damn. We blew it. I knew it. We haven’t passed any log cabins. We’re on the wrong road.”
I picked up the radio. “Willy. She’s off Summit Road, somewhere below… ” I flashed a light out the window at a sign, “Pine Ridge. She said she saw a large log cabin. It must be on one of the three roads we just passed.”
His answer was tightly controlled, almost deadpan. “Roger that. I’ll take Powder Lane.”
I could only imagine what he was going through. “Okay, Lester,” I said calmly, “Let’s take the next one down and see what we find.”
“Must be nice to live in one of these houses,” Sammie told us, as best as I could piece it together. “Look at that-I can see right down to the base lodge. Who owns the condo, by the way?”
Peterson laughed. “He doesn’t. He’s the caretaker. He gave me the key. It’s like a frigging palace, though. You’re really gonna love it: huge windows, master bedroom like a football stadium. It’s even got a marble bathtub with water jets in it, right next to a picture window. I thought maybe we could put that to use, too-light a few candles? That sound good?”
She poured the honey on once more. “Oh, yeah. You really know how to treat a girl.”
Spinney shook his head. “Christ, what movies does she rent? That stuff’s terrible.”
“Maybe,” I murmured, “but at least it’s coming in clearer. We must be closing in.”
“This it?” Sammie finally asked.
There was more rustling of clothes and the sound of doors opening and closing. From a slight distance, he said, “Yeah. What d’ya think?”
“It’s amazing. Cedar shingles, slate roof… and look at the porch. Number 68-it’s like Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. I could get into that.”
“Yeah, right. Don’t kid yourself, Greta. You and me, this is as close as we get to this life-stealing their keys at night and putting up with their shit the rest of the time.” He paused and added, “Maybe that’s what makes this so sweet. Ladies first.”
“Willy?” I said into the radio, “Wherever she is, it’s Number 68: huge place with slate, cedar shingles, and a porch. You seen the log cabin yet?”
“Negative.”
I looked over at Lester. We’d been driving along our road long enough to have seen the same landmark twice. “Double back,” I told him. “We must be parallel to them.”
“Willy? We’re heading for the middle road. So far, she seems fine. They just got there.”
There was no response.
“Holy cow,” Sammie’s voice said. “This is incredible.”
Peterson’s voice was husky. “You’re what’s incredible.”
“Hold it, Kurt,” she warned him, forcing a laugh. “First things first. Where’s my nose candy?”
“Give me a squeeze first.”
“I’ll give you a squeeze you won’t forget-later.”
“God, I like your tits.”
“Very romantic. You come up with that?”
Ouch, I thought. Ever since we’d turned around, reception had worsened, heightening the feeling we might lose her altogether.
His voice hardened. “Fuck you, too, bitch. What makes you so goddamn special?”
I heard Spinney murmuring, “Come on, come on, come on,” as we slithered along the snowy road, moving dangerously fast.
Of the options available to her, Sammie took what I thought was the boldest. She screamed at him. “You are such an asshole, Kurt. We have the whole fucking night ahead of us. I’m going to do things to you you’ve never even dreamed of, and you’re about to screw it all up because you won’t hold up your end of the bargain. Give me my god-damn coke.”
It worked. “All right, already. Save some of that for later, for Christ’s sake. I got it right over here.”
“There it is,” Lester suddenly said.
“We got the log cabin,” I told Willy, and gave him directions.
I heard Peterson and Sammie moving around, at last quite clearly, presumably positioning themselves so the coke could be lined up and then snorted. She made a cooing sound as Peterson tore something open.
“It’s super good shit,” he said, “hardly cut at all.”
After a slight pause, Sammie said, “Yup, tastes like the real deal.”
“Go ahead,” Kurt urged. “Let’s get this party going.”
“There’s the view of the base lodge,” Spinney announced. “Gettin’ close.”
Sammie’s voice had dropped to a familiar, stronger, more authoritative range. “The party’s not going anywhere, Kurt. You’re under arrest-”
His response cut her off. “What? You bitch. I knew it. I fucking knew it. You goddamn bitch. I knew you weren’t going to put out.”