The Overnight Guest(23)

Levi spat a sunflower seed out the open window. As hot as it was, the fresh air helped keep him from falling asleep while on his route. He worked the cruiser up to sixty, then seventy, then eighty miles per hour. One of the perks of working nights. Wide-open road.

Suddenly, a pickup truck, with its headlights turned off, came roaring out from a gravel road tucked between two cornfields. Levi slammed on his brakes, causing the back of his cruiser to fishtail. The scream of tires on asphalt drowned out the radio, and the smell of burning rubber filled his nose.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered as he struggled to keep the car on the road. Once he straightened out the cruiser and his heart settled back into its rightful spot, he peered through the windshield and pressed his foot on the gas. “Light ’em up,” he said to himself and flipped on his lights and siren.

The truck ahead of him briefly sped up and then slowed as if the driver realized there was no chance of outrunning the cruiser. “That’s right, motherfucker,” Levi said as he pulled off to the side of the road behind the truck.

Illuminated by his headlights, Levi could see that the driver was the only person in the truck. He tried to get a look at the license plate, but the numbers and letters were concealed by dried mud. Could be intentional, but most likely not. Farm trucks got dirty out here. The mood he was in though, Levi wasn’t planning on letting this transgression ride.

He stepped from his car and slowly approached the silver 1990 Ford Ranger with a vinyl truck bed cover. Before Levi could speak, the truck door opened.

“Hey, now, stay in your vehicle,” Levi warned, his hand drifting toward his sidearm. “Put your hands on the steering wheel.”

“I’m sorry,” a young, shaky voice came from within the truck. “I didn’t see you. I looked both ways before I turned and all of a sudden you were there. You were coming so fast.”

“So you say,” Levi said as he stopped next to the driver’s side window and directed his flashlight on a young man with shaggy blond hair clutching the steering wheel.

The inside of the truck smelled like body odor, tobacco, and fear. An overturned pop can lay on the floor, tobacco spit spilling out on the passenger side rug. Levi almost smiled. He loved scaring the shit out of knucklehead teenagers.

“You know your headlights are off? You almost killed me back there. Where you going in such a hurry?” Levi asked. “You been drinking?”

The boy squinted up at him. “No, sir. I’m just heading home. I’m late.” The boy’s face was shiny with sweat, and dark stains ringed the neck of his shirt and beneath his arms.

“Where you coming from?” Levi asked as the boy handed over his driver’s license. Levi noted that the boy’s name was Brock Cutter. There were a lot of Cutters in the county. Big family of farmers.

“I was at a movie over in Spencer,” the boy answered. “With my cousin.”

“So you’re a Cutter kid?” Levi asked, looking up from the license.

“Yes, sir,” the boy said, trying to see past the beam of light. “Brock Cutter.”

“You have a cousin named Brett?” Levi asked. The boy nodded, his eyes darting around nervously.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you since you were yay high,” Levi said, holding his hand about four feet above the ground. “I graduated with your cousin, Brett. You look just like him. How’s he doing?”

“He’s good,” Cutter said, his voice quivered. “Lives over in Perry, works at the pork plant there. He’s married and has two kids.”

“Two kids, wow, that’s wild. God, we had some good times back in the day. He coming back for our reunion next summer?” Levi asked, removing his hat and wiping the perspiration from his forehead.

“Probably,” Cutter said. “Listen, like I said, I’m really sorry. I didn’t see you. It won’t happen again. I’ll be more careful next time.”

Levi stared down at Cutter. He didn’t know why he didn’t check the kid’s driving record. Levi never gave people a break. Maybe he was nostalgic for the good old days when he and Brett Cutter drove around these back roads drinking Everclear and Dr Pepper. He knew he was at least a bit at fault, going eighty mph in a fifty-five zone. Maybe there was a part of him that didn’t want to be the one to break the quiet streak they’d had in the department.

If he had run the license plate, he would have seen that Brock Cutter had a suspended license and a bench warrant for a failure to appear for a court date related to a harassment case over in Kossuth County. He would have learned that Brock Cutter wasn’t as innocent and good-natured as his cousin, Brett.

“How about you tell that son of a bitch cousin of yours to give me a call next time he’s in town, and I’ll give you a break,” Levi said with a grin. “But you gotta promise me to be more careful. I don’t want to have to pull you over again. Got it?”

“Thank you,” Cutter said with relief, finally releasing the steering wheel and wiping his wet palms on his jeans. “I promise.”

Levi waited until Cutter pulled carefully back onto the road, drove slowly away, his taillights fading to red pinpricks in the dark. He shook his head. Brett Cutter. Damn, he hadn’t thought of him in years. Good guy.

He got back into the cruiser and turned the ignition. On the radio, country music was replaced by some talk show program.