wore a red dress and she walked down Highway Nine. Her thumb was out. The wind blew her blond hair in her eyes.
A car stopped. Roan County Sheriff’s
Department was written on the side. You’ll have to come with me, he said, like
he was reading from a script.
tilted her head and told him, I didn’t do nothing wrong.
We don’t allow hitchhiking, he said. Here in Roan County. Put your hands behind
your back, he put flex cuffs on her wrists. He turned and headed
back up Highway Nine.
The station is the other way. She caught his eye in the rearview.
Petty stuff. A month ago. Some eyeshadow and some lip gloss. That snooty bitch at Harper’s
didn’t have to call the cops.
grunted. He looked hard in the rearview mirror. Dangerous out here, he said.
Pretty girl like you.
turned and left the highway, made a left on Moreland Road. He stopped where
there were logging camps some thirty years before.
tied her to a tree, said, you be good, I’ll bring you something. Leaves crunched
beneath his feet.
He made his way back to Highway Nine.
wore jeans. Her thumb was out. Her hair was short and dark. She looked like a
girl in one of the Big Eyes paintings.
car stopped. Roan County Sheriff’s
Department was written on the side. We don’t allow hitchhiking. Here in
You'll have to come with me. There was rope under the seat.
turned off Highway Nine and said, there’s someone you should meet.