I huge truck was stopped in the middle the street and, hovering in the sky, dangling from what looked like a crane, was my car in straps.
Regardless of the fact that I was wearing nothing but a pair of pajamas (strawberry colored bottoms with cute powder blue and turquoise retro stars printed on them and a strawberry camisole with turquoise lace), I threw open the door and ran, barefoot, to the sidewalk.
“Hey!” I shouted at a big, black guy in dirty blue coveral s who was at the truck’s levers. “That’s my car!”
“Taking it in to change the tires,” he said, not stopping from his maneuvering of my car, which was floating precariously in the air over the flatbed truck.
“Can’t you change the tires here?” I yel ed over the noise.
“Tex wants me to do it in the shop, told me to give it a tune up and detail while I got it.”
I was going to kill Uncle Tex.
“It doesn’t need a tune up. I had it serviced before I drove out here.”
He shrugged.
I scowled at him.
He ignored me.
I saw a car approaching and turned to watch as Hank’s 4Runner rol ed up the street.
I forgot about my no-longer earthbound car and stood frozen watching Hank park.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
Hank got out, his eyes on my car in mid-air, and walked to me.
He looked good.
He wore jeans, boots and a wine-colored henley. There was a gun and badge attached to his belt. Al that was missing was the white hat.
He stopped next to me, eyes stil on my car. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked, not looking at me.
I realized, belatedly, that it was warm as a summer’s day outside. Stil , I was standing on the sidewalk in my pajamas and I hadn’t done anything with my hair.
Shit.
“That’s my car,” I said.
Hank looked down at me and I just caught myself from holding my breath.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Uncle Tex slashed my tires.”
Hank stared at me.
“He didn’t want me to leave,” I explained.
Hank stared at me another beat, then his eyes moved on my face, then to my throat, my arms and my wrists, taking in the bruises. I almost bit my lip but forced myself to stay stil under his scrutiny. Then his eyes moved to mine. “We have to talk,” he said.
Damn tootin’, we had to talk.
He turned and walked to the porch.