She Tries To Forget Ch. 17

Passion in James County XVI

"I wonder where she is?" Lonnie Ames thought as he listened to Ann's phone ring and ring and ring. "She ought to be home. Why isn't she answering her phone?"

"Who are you calling, son?" his mother asked.

"A...a friend, Mom," the boy replied. He put the phone down and turned to face her. "Someone who works with me."

"Why on earth would you want to talk with anyone who works in that place?" his mother asked, sounding disgusted. "After what they did to you today, you ought to just forget them."

"Mom, it was only Mr. Lewis who did that to me today," Lonnie said. "Nobody else at the store had anything to do with it."

"Lonnie, why would he lie like that?" his mother said. "It doesn't make any sense."

"I don't know, Mom," Lonnie replied. "All I know is that I never saw any of that stuff until the police took me out and showed it to me." "Maybe I ought to go over to Ann's house and see if she's all right," he mused. "Maybe something's wrong with her, maybe that's why she's not answering her phone." He stood up and started for the front door.

"Lonnie, where are you going?" his mother asked.

"I'm going to take a ride," her son said. "I need to think."

"Just be careful," his mother said, "it's late and you've had a pretty stressful day."

"I will, Mom," Lonnie said. He got in his truck, backed out of his driveway, and headed across town toward Ann's house.

Mark Lewis sat in his car, a few doors down from Ann Wallin's house, growing more and more angry as time passed. The house was dark when he arrived and remained dark. He kept expecting Ann to come home with some man. Anticipating that made him even angrier. Then he began thinking she might have gone to some man's house and his anger began to turn to white-hot fury.

Lonnie turned onto the street where Ann lived, and drove slowly toward her house. It looked dark, as if no one was home. "I wonder if I should stop and check on her," he thought.

Just then a police car cruised by him in the opposite direction. Lonnie saw the officers looking at him and felt a twinge of fear. He'd had enough dealings with the police for one day. He pressed down on the accelerator and continued down the block.

Mark Lewis saw Lonnie's truck pass his car and when he did, the young man immediately became the focus of the rage that had been simmering inside him for hours. As the truck moved down the block, he started his car and followed it. "I'll make that little bastard pay! This is his fault as much as it is hers," he thought as he followed the young man.

Lonnie really didn't feel like going home just yet. Instead, he headed out of Jamestown, into the country. "Maybe I'll go up to the overlook for a while," he thought. The overlook was a scenic area located on a steep, winding section of Route 11. It afforded a vista of Jamestown that Lonnie had always liked. Maybe being up there and would help him settle down.

"Where's the little bastard going?" Mark Lewis wondered as he followed the taillights of Lonnie's truck out of town on Route 11. Then, he remembered how steep and winding the highway got a little farther ahead and a cold smile formed on his face. "I know exactly what I need to do now," he thought.

Lonnie drove carefully along the straightaway that led to the hill and series of sharp switchback turns. He glanced in the rear view mirror and saw a set of headlights approaching him rapidly. "That asshole's going to get himself in big trouble if he keeps driving like that on this road," the young man thought.

The car behind him swung out and whipped by him so fast he could barely make it out. He was pretty sure it was a sedan, and that it was dark-colored, but he couldn't tell much else about it.

"He has to be drunk," Lonnie thought, "I better watch for skid marks on the curves."

After he passed the young man's truck, Mark Lewis slowed down and continued up the mountain. He watched the side of the road as he continued up the hill. "There," he thought, noting a particularly sharp curve. "Right there." He drove up the road a little way, braked, turned around, and pulled to the side of the road, facing down-hill. Leaving his engine running, he shut off his car's lights.

When he started up the hill, Lonnie drove even more slowly than he usually did. He was sure he'd see skid marks where the car that passed him had gone off the road, and was driving slowly so he could watch for them. Few people traveled Route 11 this late at night, and if the driver of the speeding car had crashed, the wreck might not be found until daylight. As he approached a spot where the road curved to the left, and there was a very steep drop on the right, he concentrated on the side of the road even more intently. If the guy had gone over the edge, this would be the place.

Mark Lewis saw the approaching headlights, put his car in gear, and started down the road, swinging into the on-coming traffic lane. He left his headlights off. His eyes had become acclimated to the dark as he sat in his darkened car, so he was able to see where he was going without too much trouble. The headlights of Lonnie's truck swept around the corner and blazed into his windshield, almost blinding him. The truck kept coming toward him, as if the driver hadn't seen his darkened car.

When the two vehicles were about a hundred and fifty feet apart, Mark reached down and flipped his headlights on. They'd been on high beam when he shut them off, and bathed the truck in brilliant light. It wavered a little, then it swerved toward the side of the road. The brake lights flashed on and the tires squealed, but it didn't stop in time. It reached the edge of the road, teetered on the brink for a fraction of a second, then went over.

Mark slammed on the brakes and sat there, listening to the crashing, grinding sounds the truck made as it rolled down the steep bank.

Lonnie's gaze was fixed on the side of the road as he entered the sharp curve. "No skid marks," he thought, relaxing a little, "maybe God does look out for drunks." He turned his attention back to the road and saw a shadowy form in the road ahead of him. "Hey, is that a car?" he thought, then bright lights blasted his eyes. Unable to see, he instinctively pulled the steering wheel to the right, trying to avoid the on-coming car. He immediately realized he'd made a mistake and jammed on his brakes, but his truck wouldn't stop. He felt the truck sliding, then it hit the edge of the road and began to tip over. When the truck went over the edge, Lonnie's head slammed against something hard, then everything went black.

Grinning, Mark Lewis listened to the noise the truck made as it tumbled down the bank. Finally, he put his car in gear and headed down the mountain.