Road Test David Wickenhauser (the top 100 crime novels of all time .TXT) 📖

Hugh glanced over at Jenny. She had an “over my dead body” kind of expression on her face, lips pursed, eyes narrowed, arms folded across her chest. Fighting mode. Hugh had been there with Jenny, done that. He didn’t envy the reporter if Jenny ever got her hands on her.

“That all makes sense now,” Hugh said.

“What?”

“Think about it. We get an email from Charlie the day before the article publishes saying, thanks for the interview, bye. Then the next day after the story is first published we get an email from Charlie trying to soften us up for another meeting for another interview. For some reason, they had changed the article to announce she’s riding along with me.”

“Sounds like a setup. That skank figured she was going to talk us into letting her ride with you in your truck. Unbelievable.”

“Ain’t gonna happen, Jenny. Get the newspaper’s phone number and dial it for me.”

Again, since Hugh wanted Jenny to be in on the phone call he had her dial the number and put it on speakerphone. One of these times he’d get to use his new Bluetooth headset.

The phone rang, and got picked up by a robot asking which department they wished to speak to. Say advertising, or say news. Like that. Jenny said “news” into her phone.

Hugh wouldn’t have been so compliant. He refused to talk to robots, and would keep hitting zero until a human answered.

“News desk,” a voice answered. Hugh and Jenny wouldn’t have known it, but it was John the news desk guy who had taken the call.

“I’d like to speak to Charlie please,” Hugh said, shouting into the speakerphone.

“Which Charlie? We’ve got a couple of Charlies here.”

Hugh looked at Jenny. She mouthed, “Shields.”

“Oh, yeah. Charlie Shields.”

“Hold, please. I’ll ring you through to her desk.”

They could hear the phone cycle through a couple of different ring tones. Then they could hear Charlie’s recorded voice saying, “I’m not at my desk right now. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“Charlie, this is Hugh Mann. We found out you think you are going to meet with us again and ride along with me in my truck. You need to know that no way, not no how is that going to happen. Don’t ever contact us again.”

With that, Hugh punched the air with his index finger toward the phone, indicating for Jenny to tap the red phone icon to hang up.

He was so angry he wasn’t sure if what he had said made sense, even to himself. But he was pretty sure he got his message across.

The problem was that unknown to Hugh and Jenny processes had already been put into motion, and fate would have it Hugh was indeed going to be sharing his sleeper cab some day soon with the hated reporter.

Chapter Thirteen

The drive down to Twin Falls was uneventful so far.

Hugh planned for them to park at a truck plaza located where I-84 crossed State Highway 93. After overnighting there, they would take the 93 all the way to their next stop at Las Vegas.

They were now south of Pendleton on the 84, and still a good five hours away from their stop. They’d be hitting Boise close to the time for commuters getting off of work, but Hugh didn’t expect major delays. Boise was Idaho’s state capital, and the state’s largest city, but I-84 largely bypassed the major part of the city.

In his mind, Hugh put an asterisk next to the term “Idaho’s largest city.” The major metropolitan area around Boise comprised three of Idaho’s largest cities, Boise, Nampa and Meridian. If you took all those cities together and included every soul in the surrounding five-county area containing the cities, the total would barely make eight hundred thousand population.

Take a major city like Phoenix or LA or Portland, and more than that population would be on the road in their cars at any given time during the day.

“I’m having a brilliant thought,” Hugh said.

Jenny had been sitting quietly in the passenger seat browsing the Internet on her new cell phone. “What’s that sweetie? Should I take notes? Or make a recording?”

Hugh ignored her sarcastic joking. “What would you think of getting your CDL and learning to drive?”

“CDL? Is that like a truck driver’s license?”

“Yeah, commercial driver’s license. It’s like a driver’s license on steroids.”

“I don’t know. Do you think I could do it?”

“Getting your license, or learning to drive? Which one?”

“Both, I guess.”

“I think you’d ace both. You’re sharp as a tack, and stronger than a lot of men your size. And there are plenty of female truck drivers. Every year we’re seeing more on the road.”

“What made you think of that?”

“I don’t know. It would give you something to do. It’s actually a lot of fun. You know how much I enjoy driving one of these things. You could relieve me occasionally at first, and maybe later come aboard as a full team driver.”

“It’s a thought. I was terrified that time I had to do the hot seat swap with you and drive while you fought off the hijacker. But it was exhilarating as well. What would I have to do?”

“There are a couple of traditional ways. You could hire on with a carrier, and take their course and training to get your CDL. Or you could go to a truck driving school, and come out with your CDL.”

“Neither of those ideas appeals to me,” Jenny said.

Hugh recalled how he had got started when James made him the same offer fifteen years earlier.

“Or you could study the CDL driver’s handbook and take a written test to get your CLP. That’s