Kitabı oku: «Married To The Mob», sayfa 3

FOUR

That bruise on Carlie’s forehead was going to drive him nuts. How long did bruises last, anyway?

Against his better judgment, he stole another glance across the width of the front seat of his Bureau car.

He had to face the truth. Her beauty exerted a pull on him. It was shallow of him, but with a woman as attractive as Carlie Papparelli, a man would have to be totally blind not to feel it.

He wasn’t blind.

The small bruise over her left eyebrow stood out from the near-perfect background of her looks and underscored her vulnerability. It made him more aware than ever that her life—literally—was in his hands. He’d never shied away from responsibility, and he wasn’t about to start now, but for some reason this assignment weighed more heavily on him than most others did.

He almost couldn’t recognize himself.

Everyone he knew commented on his easygoing nature, his lighthearted view of the world, his ability to cope in tough circumstances with ease and poise. That all changed the day he’d met the mobster’s widow.

He didn’t like it. Not one bit.

Another glance.

Carlie had closed her eyes, leaned her head against the window and appeared to nap. The slightest hint of a smile curved her lips, and her peaceful expression nearly stole Dan’s breath away. How could she stay so calm?

Mobsters wanted to make mincemeat out of her, yet she still slept with the trust of a child.

Maybe she did trust him. He hoped so, because otherwise their circumstances would be grimmer than even he thought them to be. He knew his job; he had an excellent track record with the Bureau. He’d yet to lose a single witness under his care.

One more look at her reminded him of the scale of his task.

He usually handled mousy paper-pushers who’d blown the whistle on crooked colleagues. He’d never had to worry about making the subjects of those assignments inconspicuous; they were inconspicuous. But Carlie?

He needed someone to show him how to turn a stunning Cinderella back into a frumpy maid. He didn’t have a magic slipper to take from her foot.

The thought of her footgear made him smile. Carlie struck him as a firm supporter of “the more, the merrier” approach. That is, when it came to her heels. He’d never seen anyone handle stilettos, even while wearing jeans, quite as expertly as Carlie Papparelli did. The most irritating part? She looked great while doing so.

He chuckled. She’d better hope they didn’t have to hoof it to safety any time soon, because if they did, she’d be in major trouble. Those spikes weren’t made for running.

When he realized how indulgent his thoughts were, he forced his attention to the matter at hand. He couldn’t afford to expend many warm and fuzzy thoughts on Carlie as a person. That would spell danger.

So he drove on in silence.

She slept on.

“Hey!” she said about two hours later. “How about we hit a fast food joint or something? It’s way past time for me to use the little girls’ room.”

“And here I thought you just loved the little toys.”

“Watch it, Secret Agent Man. If I get a squirt gun, you’re in trouble.”

Dan cringed when, as they walked into the burger place, every head turned their way. All its patrons stared at Carlie, who, oblivious of the attention, headed for the ladies’ room.

Yeah, he had trouble on his hands, all right. The biggest part of that trouble was to convince Carlie that something had to be done about her looks.

“Aw, come on,” she wheedled moments later. “Why can’t we eat at least one meal a day at a table? I’m really tired of squeezing stuff out of foil packets and decorating my clothes with it because you hit yet another bump.”

He almost broke. Almost.

“Be glad that’s the only kind of bump we’ve hit on the road to a long and healthy future for you. Those bombs and bullets weren’t figments of our imaginations.”

She shuddered, and an infinitesimal pang of guilt hit him. But then, in a subsequent moment of reason, he banished the pang to where it belonged: far, far away from his thoughts.

“I intend to get you to that witness stand in one piece. If that means you’re going to wear a mustard-ketchup-and-barbecue-sauce tie-dye job, then you’d better get yourself a new perspective on stains.”

She rolled her eyes, grabbed her bagged meal, turned away, and click-click-clicked her way to the door. There she paused to give him a glare. “So, Danny Boy, are you just going to stand there? If my memory serves me right, you’re the one who finished reading me the riot act about the dangers of exposure not two seconds ago.”

He shook his head and followed.

Outside, he yielded just a bit. They ate in the parked car. In silence.

When Carlie was done, she turned to face him. “How long is it going to take you to get me to Florida? All I know is that we’ve been driving for ages, and I don’t see any sand or palm trees yet.”

“That’s because it takes more than a couple of hours to drive from Pennsylvania to Florida. Especially if we want to make sure none of your family’s friends are on our tail.”

She sighed. “So how much longer do you want us to live out of your car?”

“As long as it takes.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Actually, I don’t think it’ll be more than three or four days.”

“Are you kidding?”

The horror on her face almost made him laugh. He controlled the urge. “Okay, okay. Tell you what. We’ll take the scenic, tourist route, and go through quaint little towns with well-maintained Victorian cottages. That way you’ll be able to enjoy the picturesque views.”

“How about that nice, quiet place in Florida you told me about? I’m looking forward to a regular home—at least, for a while.”

He could understand how she felt. He’d worked for the Bureau long enough that he’d come to hate the anonymity of hotel rooms. He also hated to sleep in his car during a stakeout. His nomadic lifestyle got to him at times, even though it came as a result of his chosen career. Carlie hadn’t chosen any of this.

“Look, I know you’re in a rotten situation,” he said, his tone conciliatory. “But it would be even more rotten if anything happened to you—”

“Get real! What you mean is that it would be rotten if they whacked me. You’d lose your prime witness, and your oh-so-important case would go down the toilet. There’s nothing about me in your plan.”

“It’s all about you, Carlie. I don’t want to see you dead. I joined the Bureau to protect my country and its people. Last time I checked, you were a citizen. I don’t think anything’s changed that.”

“There you go again. I’m a citizen.” She crossed her arms. “That’s garbage. I know what I’m facing, and I still have an identity. There is still life ahead of me. Spending what’s left locked inside this rolling tin can—” she pounded the car door “—is not what I’m ready to do.”

His frustration reached the boiling point. “Well then, I guess that choice is out of your hands. You may have some weird kind of death wish, but I’m not going to play. Buckle up. We’re out of here.”

She yanked the seat belt down to the latch, and once he heard it click, he turned the key in the ignition.

He pulled to the parking lot exit then waited for traffic—a single school bus full of kindergarteners.

“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me where we’re headed next,” she said.

“You suppose right. Your best plan is to get some more of that beauty sleep you’ve been catching up on. Who knows what’s going to happen even ten minutes from now.”

They drove again in that uneasy quiet he’d come to expect. How could he tell her he was winging it? That he didn’t have a plan besides making sure no one followed? That wouldn’t reassure her. It didn’t make him feel all that great either, but under the circumstances, it was the best he could do.

When he couldn’t stand the stony look on her face and her shrieking silence for another minute, he turned on the radio. Although he’d never gotten into the sports-over-the-radio deal—no visuals—he found a station that offered kick-by-kick coverage of a soccer game somewhere in the Hispanic world. Even the loud, heartbeat-like drumming in the background was better than the thick, uneasy stillness.

The hysterical cries of “Gol, gol, gol” when either team scored provided a weird kind of punctuation for the afternoon. When the game ended, he frantically searched for a classical music station.

Then the sun finally began its descent toward the horizon. That simple reality forced him to face the need to come up with another meal option and overnight choice. He couldn’t drive all night after driving all day. He’d only snagged about three hours’ sleep the night before. The way he saw it, he had no choice but to find an out-of-the-way motel, nothing like the famous chains that everyone recognized.

“Um…”

Carlie’s murmur caught his otherwise-engaged attention. “What’s up?”

“You’ve worn this fierce expression for hours now. Tell me it has something to do with my next meal and a place to take a hot shower.”

He chuckled. “Believe it or not, that’s exactly what’s been on my mind.”

“How so?”

“More than food, we need to find a safe place to stay the night. I have to catch some sleep so I can continue driving—”

“I’ve told you I’m a great driver, but you just won’t share. You could have taken a nap anytime today.”

“You’re getting over a concussion. How can you drive long distance?” He gave her an exasperated glare. “I’d rather drive till I drop than nap and find myself wrapped around the nearest lamppost. Your rattled brain could wig out on us anytime.”

“I’d rather trust my rattled brain than ride next to a guy who’s sleep deprived. Doctors have proved that a sleep-deprived brain behind the wheel is the equivalent of an intoxicated brain.”

He sighed. “We’re not going to discuss the merits of medical studies. We’re going to focus on finding a motel.”

“Fine. I know we’ve passed a couple of cute ones along the way. I just hope we haven’t run out of luck on that regard—”

“Nope. Look to your right. And the best part about it is that across the road there’s a—”

“Wow! A real diner. The kind with the shiny metal building! I didn’t know those still existed.”

He clicked on his turn signal. “You never know what you’ll find along a back road. There are still diners in Pennsylvania. I suppose North Carolina’s the same.”

“So that’s where we are.” She grinned. “You let the cat out of the bag. Uh-oh! Carlie now knows where she is!”

Dan had never rolled his eyes this much in his whole life. It was contagious—he’d caught it from her. “I’m going to trust you to keep your mouth full of food. That way you won’t blab. Then sleep should do the trick for a few hours overnight. After that, I’ll have you so lost, you won’t know what hit you.”

“I’m going to assume you think you’re being cute.”

“No. Just dealing with you the best I can.”

“Let’s eat.”

“Well, well, well,” Dan said as he parked in the diner’s lot. “We have to mark this moment. Our first agreement so far! I hope it’s a sign of more harmony to come.”

The truce of sorts lasted through dinner. Carlie oohed and aahed over meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, creamed corn, buttered peas and apple pie with vanilla ice cream. Dan had to agree that the meal came close to Mrs. Miller’s supper. And he did love comfort food.

Then they drove across the street. In the motel’s tiny lobby, they both endured the owner’s scrutiny. After all, how many couples their age asked for separate rooms in an out-of-the-way place? The discomfort, however, was nothing compared to what he’d feel if Carlie were harmed.

Once in his room, he enjoyed every second of a quick shower. And then he collapsed on the surprisingly welcoming bed.

Nothing woke him until the alarm rang. Tendrils of sunlight slipped around the blue and gold curtains on the window.

He dressed, threw his few belongings in the duffel bag he always kept in the trunk of his Bureau-issue car, and headed out. He fully intended to knock on Carlie’s door, but the sound of laughter out in the parking lot derailed his intentions.

What he saw left him stumped. Three children, all of whom appeared to be under the age of ten, two girls and a toddler boy, had drawn a chalk hopscotch on the asphalt. The oldest girl threw a round rock to one of the squares then hopped one-legged in the traditional steps of the game.

But the kids weren’t the ones who’d caught his attention. The woman cheering the girl, however, was. Carlie had pulled her long, blond mane into a ponytail, and despite her high heels, looked more like a young babysitter than the widow of a shady character.

Her eyes sparkled in the morning sunshine; her cheeks wore a soft rose tint; her voice rang with enthusiasm; her slim body looked ready to take on the game—and win.

There was something about that woman…something that drew him and scared him in equal measure. If he were a smart man, he’d listen to his fearful side. He had to constantly remind himself that they weren’t on vacation, that she had the mob on her tail, that she would have died had the Bureau not put her into the Witness Protection Program.

“Morning!”

Her radiant grin hit him square in the gut and stunned him for a moment. She took his brief silence and continued.

“Drop that bag and come join us. We’re having fun!”

Fun? They were supposed to be on the run. Once again, Carlie seemed able to find something to appreciate in even the direst situations. He didn’t know another woman who would cope as well.

“Don’t be a party-pooper!” The teasing look on her face tugged at him. “Come on, Danny Boy, be a sport.”

The three little ones stared at him in fascination. The younger girl took a step forward. “Yeah, mister. You can play with us. It’s not so hard. I’ll show you.”

A small hand reached out for him. A car drove down the road past the motel. His professionalism returned with a vengeance, but he found himself unable to deny the child…or the woman.

“One time,” he said, dropping his bag. “Only one time, okay?”

The kids clapped.

Carlie murmured, “Thanks.”

He hopped, and memories of his childhood flooded him. It had been a long time since he’d thought of things like hopscotch on a summer morning. The games he’d played recently involved expensive equipment and far-flung locales. He enjoyed golf and tennis, but the simple pleasure of tossing a rock and bounding from square to square on one leg touched a different corner of his being.

Bang!

His instincts took over at the blast. He reached behind his back and drew his pistol.

“Run!” he yelled, and aimed.

But no one moved. The kids stared at him, their eyes wide open, their mouths forming perfect Os. Carlie also stared, but her stare came full of fascinated horror.

“What are you waiting for?” he cried. “Run for cover.”

She dropped to the children’s level and opened her arms. The boy toddled to her. She held the little guy close, murmured something soothing to the girls and then gave him the glare he’d come to expect from her.

“You owe them an apology,” she said, her voice quiet. “You’ve scared them for no reason.”

“No reason?” He shook his head and pointed to the plain car with his weapon. “Get in there before they come back for another try.”

Carlie shook her head. Her look turned pitying. “Have you lost all touch with reality? Is that what your job does to you?”

“Reality, lady, is that you’ve got a bull’s eye on your back.”

“Reality, Dan, is that you overreacted to a car’s backfire.”

“What?”

“Dan…” She patted the boy then stood and approached, exasperated. “That old truck backfired when the driver pulled into the diner while we played, and it did the same thing a minute ago after the guy finished his breakfast or cup of coffee. Get real. We’re in the middle of nowhere. My family’s not about to show up here. Put that thing away, okay?”

He scanned the road, and when he saw nothing to arouse his suspicions, he realized how ridiculous he looked. Not to mention how frightening he appeared to three little kids. His outstretched arm suddenly weighed more than the average tree trunk, and his face heated up.

“Ah…well, if you’re sure that was a truck…”

“Listen up, Secret Agent Man, we’d better get out of here before the motel owners come out, see you in spook mode and call the cops. That wouldn’t help our cause any, would it?”

With one quick move, he shoved his gun into his waistband and grabbed his duffel bag. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

She grinned. “Can I have that in writing? That ‘you’re right’ thing? It’s the first time. We need to mark the event.”

He chuckled. Against his better judgment. But instead of commenting, he unlocked the car, threw his bag into the back seat, placed the gun on the console, where he always kept it while driving on assignment, and then turned to the kids.

“Sorry, guys. I figured we could maybe play ‘cops and robbers,’ but Carlie is right. We have to go. Maybe next time we’ll play some more.”

He slid behind the steering wheel and waited for Carlie to buckle up. Through the windshield, he watched the little boy run to his oldest sister and bury his face in her belly, while the younger girl reached out and patted him on the back. The air of vulnerable innocence hit him hard.

“Do you have any idea how stupid that stunt was?” he asked, barely leashing his anger.

“What stunt? All I did was play with a couple of kids.”

“Exactly. In an open parking lot, with no protection, in full view of the road. You know we’re being followed, yet you just hopped around out there.”

“But nothing happened—”

“They could’ve picked you off!”

“That could happen any time, Dan. I have to continue to live.”

“And how about innocent bystanders? Like the kids? Do you think your brother’s pals would spare that little boy? Or the girls? Not if they thought those children could identify them.”

Carlie gasped. Out the corner of his eye he caught her expression. Shock etched her face. All color drained from her cheeks, the sparkle left her eyes. She began to shake.

“Oh, Lord Jesus,” she murmured. “Forgive me.”

On the tail of her prayer, the tears began to fall. They didn’t come as a surprise. What stunned Dan was his pain at every drop that rolled down Carlie’s cheeks.

He didn’t want this.

He didn’t want to be this vulnerable—to her.

But he was.

He wanted to wrap his arms around her, hold her until the last tear dried, to promise her she’d be safe, that he’d make sure of that. But he couldn’t do that, none of it.

So instead he continued to drive, his feelings in a kind of tangle he’d never experienced before.

FIVE

Dan had never felt so incompetent in his life. Up till now, he’d always been confident in his abilities, but now, when faced with Carlie’s contrite misery, he had no idea how to proceed. Was there anything he could do? Could he offer comfort? How?

And her faith…how did he deal with that?

That faith seemed to be her greatest source of strength, of…well, yes, comfort. She’d kept her head down while she wept, and although he didn’t hear any proof of it, he knew she was deep in prayer. Any word he might offer seemed inadequate in this circumstance.

What did he know about faith?

Nothing.

All he had on which to put his trust was his training, experience and instincts. He couldn’t see the point of relying on some vague being out there somewhere.

Her words broke into his thoughts. “I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am,” she said, her voice soft and sad.

He tightened his hold on the steering wheel. “I know that. But you can’t go on beating yourself up about it. What’s done is done, and you have to look at the upside. No one was hurt.”

“Of course, I see that. What bugs me most is my thoughtless behavior. I’d rather think I’m more aware of what’s happening around me. Oblivion isn’t a good thing—at least, not in my case.”

He kept his eyes on the road, even though everything inside him urged him to look her way. “If it made you more aware of reality, then in the end, it was worth it.”

“But those kids…”

The shudder that racked her reminded him again of her extreme vulnerability. He reached out to place a hand on her forearm. “Carlie, forgive yourself. You made a mistake. You’re human. We all make mistakes.”

“That’s going to be tough,” she said. “I know God forgives me, but I’m not nearly strong or wise enough to see how I can forgive myself.”

Now what did he say? Where was J.Z. when he most needed the guy? Since nothing came to him, Dan offered a soft, wordless, hopefully sympathetic murmur, and continued to drive.

After a while, she turned toward him. “You know, I’m not afraid for myself. I’m serious, I don’t want to die, but more than what I want, I’m interested in what God wants. If He wants me to go home to His side, then I’m ready to go.”

She’d done it again. What could he say to that? He didn’t have that kind of belief.

So he just said what came to his mind. “I can’t quite get my head around that attitude of yours. Don’t get me wrong. I’m familiar with it. J.Z. and David, another agent at the Bureau, believe as you do. But I…I don’t get it.”

She stared at him for a moment, her gaze piercing and, he suspected, perceptive. He wriggled in his seat.

“I was in that place not so long ago,” she said. “And it wasn’t all that great an address. The loneliness hurt more than any other pain I’ve known.”

“But I’m not lonely,” he argued. “I’ve got friends—David and J.Z., for instance—and I’m always surrounded by people, suspects and colleagues.”

Her smile spoke of secrets. “Um-hmm, I know what you mean. But what happens when you go to bed at night, when you close the door to all those ‘friends and colleagues,’ when it’s just you in the dark?”

The question hit a private corner of his heart. He shrugged, somewhat defensive. “I’m like everyone else. We’re all alone when you strip away the outside world.”

“Oh, no. We’re not all alike.” This time she reached out, put her hand on his shoulder. “Not if we realize we don’t have to be alone.”

“If you’re suggesting marriage or a dog, you might as well forget it.”

“Don’t be so blind on purpose.” She shook her head. “You know where I’m going, and I won’t let you pull that kind of dumb act. You have Christian friends. You know they’re where I am on this. We’re not alone in the dark.”

“Now you’re going to tell me I have to come to Jesus, to be born again, to fall on my knees, a broken-down man.”

“If you would just cut out the sarcasm, maybe then we’d get somewhere.”

“Don’t you understand?” He spared her a sideways glance; her irritation made him even more uncomfortable, more resistant, more determined to get his point across. “There’s nothing out there for me to see, to cling to when the loneliness hits.”

Another shake of her head, this one accompanied with a look filled with pity. “Have you even tried? Have you ever reached out to God, to see if He did or didn’t answer?”

“Of course not. I’d feel ridiculous talking to something I couldn’t see or feel.”

She chuckled. “That, Danny Boy, is what’s called faith. We reach out and trust that something we can’t see or feel. And that’s exactly when God comes and meets us, at our most fragile moment, when we have no safety net under us.”

He shrugged. “I’m not ready to take that fall.”

“He won’t let you fall. God will catch you in the palm of His hand, and never let you go.”

“It must be nice to have that kind of image to hold on to.” Somewhere inside him, an even greater gaping hole than that of the private loneliness made its presence known. “I’ll admit I sort of wish I could believe. And I get what makes you tick these days. But I can’t join you on this. I can only count on myself.”

“And you think you can…oh, let’s say, go into the lion’s den, armed only with your self-reliance and your gun, and beat my family and all their connections? One other Daniel didn’t think that was so smart.”

He blushed. “Well, if you put it that way, it does sound kind of arrogant.”

“Yep. That’s just a teeny-tiny little bit like seeing yourself as equal to God.”

“Hey, I never said that.”

“No, but that’s the attitude that, like you said, makes you tick.”

His squirming got worse. He’d never thought of himself as arrogant, just a confident, self-sufficient man. “Look, all I know is that the federal government spent a bundle to train me. I’m an expert at what I do, and I’m highly motivated. Not only is success the goal in the job I love, but I’m personally sold out here, in your case.”

“What do you mean?”

“I owe you for what you did. You saved J.Z.’s wife—my partner’s future wife back then. That means a lot to me.”

“So you only see me as a job, a duty to repay a debt.”

“A crucial job, one that demands commitment at a higher level than most, and it’s an obligation I’ll gladly undertake, no matter how great the responsibility. After all, it’s in my hands, my alertness, my response to danger, whether you live or die.”

“Phew! Boy, am I glad I’m not you!”

“Huh?”

“Sure. That’s just a little bit pompous, you know—stuffy and stuck on yourself. You’ve set yourself up for a fall—that attitude is going to smack you right between the eyes one of these days. It’ll knock you down on your behind, too. I just hope you don’t take some innocent with you when the time comes.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Give it up, Dan.”

His eyebrows rose. He’d never heard her so serious or so persistent. All her kidding had vanished. He wished he weren’t driving; he’d love to watch the play of expression over her beautiful face.

She went on. “Whether you can see it or not, you’ve set yourself up at a level where only God can be. You don’t determine whether I or anyone else lives, not even you. God’s the One who has, not just our hairs counted, but the minutes and seconds of our life under control. I’d rather trust in Him than in a supercop who thinks so much of himself.”

What could he say to that? She’d slammed him a low blow. He didn’t have some weird complex…did he? He just knew what he knew, his job, his training. He was a self-assured man who knew himself and where he wanted to go in life.

Right?

She wasn’t right.

Was she?

There hadn’t been much more to discuss after that heavy talk about faith, so neither one had said another word. The radio had filled the car’s interior with a hodge-podge of music styles. The farther they drove, the more stations changed. Swing switched to rock to jazz to classical to political commentary. That last didn’t go on for long; either Carlie or Dan changed the channel as soon as the endless partisan arguments popped up.

At least they agreed on one thing. Actually, they also agreed on food. Dan admired the way Carlie didn’t pull the I-eat-like-a-bird routine. She had a healthy appetite, and she didn’t hide her appreciation of her meals. How she stayed slim eating that way, he didn’t know.

It was somewhere between North and South Carolina that he noticed the blue Honda behind them. He remembered spotting it the last time he took a turn. He spat out a choked sound.

How could he have let this happen? Since when did he let his mind wander? And to the point of distracting his attention.

To check things out, he slowed down and gestured out his window. “Hey, Carlie. Take a look at that old farmhouse. It doesn’t get more picturesque than that.”

The Honda slowed down.

Carlie shot him a bewildered look. “Are you trying to tell me you want me to play tourist now? What’s up, Danny Boy?”

He pressed the pedal. “You wanted more than just to get from point A to point B, didn’t you? There!” He made a major production of it as he pointed to a cow. “That’s as rustic Americana as can be.”

The Honda sped up.

Carlie stuck a finger in her ear then shook it. “I must be hearing things. You, Mr. Secret Agent Man, are blabbing about quaint Victorian houses and cud-chewing cows? It’s my life that’s supposed to be in danger here. You owe me a decent explanation.”

He sighed. “Whatever you do, don’t turn around.”

She turned around.

“Hey! I told you not to do that.”

She gave him a sheepish look. “Sorry. It’s kind of instinctive, you know? You tell someone not to look, and of course, they look. What don’t you want me to look at?”

“Did you see the blue car behind us?”

“Sure. It’s kind of frumpy with lots of dings and dangs and a whole bunch of miles under its belt.”

“Well, that frumpy old Honda has been on our tail for about an hour now.”

“Are you sure? This is a free road, you know. Anyone can travel a long way on it.”

“That’s nuts, Carlie. The car’s been there, speeding when I speed, slowing when I slow. They even made the turn back when I last tried to make my route less direct.”

She wrapped her fingers around the shoulder strap of her seat belt. Dan noted how white her knuckles turned.

“What do we do now?” she asked.

“Hang on tight,” he said, his attention on the turnoff up ahead. At just the right moment, he spun onto the narrow side road.

Carlie gasped. “Whoa! I didn’t sign up for this.”

He snorted. “You signed up for trying to stay alive. If this is what it takes—oh, great. Look at that up ahead.”

“Are those turkeys?”

Dan hit the brakes so as not to hit the back of the huge slow-moving truck. “Gobble, gobble, gobble.”

With awe in her voice, Carlie said, “Wow! I’ve never seen that many turkeys at once. Not even in the grocery store’s freezer case at Thanksgiving.”

“Forget the turkeys. The Honda just caught up with us.”

She shot a glance over her shoulder. “So pass the turkeys.”