The Racer

He again caught up with the pursued and repeated:

– Pull to the side of the road.

The Dodge rammed and hit the patrol car in the front fender. Norman didn’t say anything into the loudspeaker, but instead reached for the walkie-talkie. There was a second blow, causing Norman to drop the radio. He forgot about the connection and took a revolver from his holster. Norman began to overtake on the left, but at the same time the Dodge began to slow down. Having caught up, he hit the patrol car again in the side, and then again, but now at the very edge of the front fender near the bumper. The final impact was much stronger, causing Norman’s car to be thrown off the track. He began to return to the road, but the Dodge pressed him to the side of the road and did not let go for several more seconds, until an obstacle appeared ahead. Norman began to hit the brakes only when the bottom of the car was already sliding along the bump stop. At a speed of one hundred and forty-five kilometers per hour, the bump stop served as a springboard and Norman’s car took off from the ground. The grinding of metal was interrupted quickly, followed by the idling roar of the engine until the patrol car flew off the road, falling off a cliff in the darkness of the night, which was diluted by the flashes of the explosion when Deputy Heartstone’s car collided with the ground.

And the Racer continued to press on the gas. Nothing could stop him anymore.

5. Good morning, good boss

Not a single appearance of his in the office has yet caused anxiety or dissatisfaction among his subordinates. It was a pleasure working for him at Heartstone. Not only did he pay several times more than the average salary in the town, which is why employees held on to their jobs with both hands, but he also had an innate talent for working with people. Carter Beckran walked through each of the departments and asked if everything was going according to plan and if anything was needed.

– Well, do all the numbers agree, or is it time for us to think about offshore? – Carter asked after greeting the chief accountant.

When the housekeeping manager said that new materials were needed to clean the premises, Carter replied that cleaning was too expensive and suggested ordering a couple of flamethrowers for complete disinfection in order to sterilize the office for the next six months and forget about cleaning. A couple of minutes later, another deputy reported that, most likely, the expected volume of wheat would be too large for which the existing storage facilities would not be sufficient.

– No problem – Carter said. – Let’s start a parrot farm. My daughter has two. They eat like pigs. – And then he added quite seriously: – We’ll order a new warehouse. We’ll put it there and sell this part first.

Carter Beckran in the eyes of his subordinates was not a boss, but a dream. He never ignored requests from employees, and at the same time he taught everyone to come with specific proposals to resolve the issue. Everyone could joke with him or talk in a language convenient for themselves. Carter knew how to feel for the general wave, using a variety of slang words depending on how the interlocutor expressed himself.

At forty-two, Carter continued to maintain his usual appearance. He wore short black hair without bangs and always had light stubble. With a stocky build and a height of one hundred and eighty centimeters, Carter’s light blue irises especially stood out. Even with a wide lower jaw and a dimple on his chin, his brutal appearance became much softer. Carter also did not change his clothing habits over the years. He always wore either light blue jeans or comfortable semi-sweatpants. He had approximately equal numbers of shirts and T-shirts in his wardrobe, but if every single T-shirt had short sleeves, then on his shirts he always rolled up the sleeves to the elbow, not being able to stand a longer length. There was a little more variety on Carter’s feet, but no matter the color, material or thickness of the shoes, they were always sneakers.

After the office, Carter got back behind the wheel of his blue Jeep Comanche and drove to the next facility, located two kilometers from the office building. It was a garage with a car repair shop where all equipment was serviced. On the way to the garage, Carter thought about redistributing part of the profits from the sale of excess wheat through the payroll as bonuses to motivate him for the future.

Once in the workshop, Carter came across two mechanics and the chief engineer, who were sitting at a makeshift table made from a truck tire and a meter-long piece of plywood, playing poker. Since Carter highly valued work, he forbade gambling, which is why the workshop stocked a bunch of coins in denominations of one, five and ten cents, which replaced the gaming chips.

– Hello everyone – Carter said, raising his open palm.

Everyone greeted loudly and in unison, and chief engineer Seth Crawford, age forty-five, added:

– Chief, how are you?

Carter answered, looking at the equipment around him:

– Nothing tragic, so great.

– Would you like to join us? asked twenty-nine-year-old mechanic Matthew Rabb.

– Come on, Mr. Beckran – called the second mechanic, twenty-seven-year-old Edmund Kaps.

Carter took a deep breath and said:

– Eh, you guys are strange.

– Why is this, boss?

– What do you mean “why”? How else can we explain your proposal to sit down at the table and punish you? – With these words, Carter began counting out twenty coins from three jars.

Poker coins were a kind of common fund. They were sorted into three-liter jars, from which they were taken out each time and counted out for the game.

Sitting down at the table, Carter slammed his palms and said decisively:

– Well, distribute the cards. Now the authorities will punish you.

While Edmund was distributing, Carter asked:

– Are we ready to mow the lawn?

The phrase “mowing the lawn” in the workshop meant harvesting when the harvester left bare soil.

– Chief, you’re a little late. It’s been three days since we brought our weapons into combat readiness.

– And you must be punished for being late – Edmund said in a slightly timid tone, dealing out the last card.

– You’re still messing with me here, suckers. – There was synchronized laughter at the table, and Carter added: – You have already been told that I will be the one doing the punishment here.

Along with the game, Seth talked in detail about what they had done with the equipment over the past two weeks. Carter asked about the components required for subsequent repairs and the condition of the equipment, taking into account wear and tear. Seth said that one of the pickups needed new tires, and also that all passenger cars would be better off switching to a different motor oil, which he had recently spotted at the store. The two combines were almost at the end of their working capacity, but Seth convinced that it was better to buy only one next year, since one of the two old ones could be disassembled for spare parts and put some of them on the second one, and thus make it work for a couple more seasons.

After Carter’s father left his job due to spinal problems, Carter began rapidly making changes to his company. He purchased slightly different equipment and updated grain storage facilities; the crop was sold in other places, where they paid two or three times more for each ton, since Carter also delayed the sale, waiting for the most opportune moment when prices soared to the limit. This was the only manifestation of passion in Carter’s character, which could have cost him great financial losses. But his instincts never let him down, and no one understood how he knew when to wait to sell and when to get rid of the goods as soon as possible. One way or another, Carter never miscalculated the timing of the sale. Carter completely abandoned some types of crops. Now he didn’t even want to hear about cabbage or corn. He was interested in wheat, barley, rice, potatoes, beets, tomatoes, cucumbers, pumpkins and watermelons. Having taken over the business from his father’s hands, Carter redistributed the crops and planted one plot with trees, which he also made good money on, recouping the costs in the third year. Now his plans included vineyards. Recently he even inspected a wine cellar in Arizona to start creating his own brand and produce a product that, in ten to fifteen years, could be sold to some moneybags willing to pay sky-high prices for one bottle.

Carter had very far-reaching plans.

6. Closed lake

The boat station remained the only way in Heartstone to get out on the lake. There were no households along the entire coastline. The only public beach was adjacent to the boat station. The owner of the station, Ruben Hustler, decided from the very beginning to make a deal with the authorities, refusing to charge residents for visiting the beach in exchange for tax breaks, pledging to take care of the beach. There was not a day that Ruben regretted this decision. With the opening of the season, the beach was always full of people, among whom there were always those who wanted to ride a boat, speedboat or catamaran.

Even at sixty-five years old, with mild arthritis and varicose veins, Ruben did not want to think about retiring. The boat station was the meaning of his life. He was constantly changing something at his facility. Ruben considered the most serious acquisition to be the launching of the longboat, which became very popular with many unfaithful husbands and wives in Heartstone. In a longboat in the center of the lake, no one will definitely catch you. This was the safest place to cheat on your other half without leaving any evidence behind. Inside, the covered cabin had quite comfortable fold-out seats, although Ruben had not thought that it would be precisely these types of clients who would be interested in his best vessel. He bought a longboat with the expectation that it would be rented on some holidays and birthdays, which is why he selected a ship with the most spacious deck possible, in which there would be room to spread out.

Over the years, Ruben Hustler became more and more attached to the boat station. After one of the two administrators quit, he did not look for a new one, but preferred to work half the time on his own. Spending time on the beach in the sun with a newspaper and cold lemonade is everything you need to ensure that old age is not wasted. At least that’s what Ruben thought. Even in his youth, he treated material possessions with trepidation. More than his property, Ruben valued only his friends, who did not allow him to become completely lonely in his old age. This was what he feared most. Ruben was literally obsessed with not inconveniencing anyone, being as helpful as possible, and never refusing to help anyone. In this regard, he succeeded greatly and was still far from having stopped finding a common language with people one or two generations younger than him. Despite being engaged in commerce, hardly anyone could call him greedy. On the day he received a call from New York and was told that his daughter had given birth to a grandson, Ruben posted an ad that all rowing boats and catamarans were available for rent for free for three days. He wanted to see happy people, because he himself felt warm in his soul, and it didn’t matter for what reason others were happy. All that matters is that they all had a good time. Ruben began to value such moments especially strongly after he was widowed at forty-nine.

Early in the morning he drove up to the office in his pickup truck. Ruben pulled over in front of the entrance to get out and open the gate. But he only managed to get out of the car, after which his mouth could no longer close, and his knees began to give way. In front of his eyes the body of a girl hung on the gate in a crucified position. Her hands were impaled on the sharpened pins that covered the top of the lattice fence, and fixed in a horizontal position, and her head hung down, her chin buried in her chest.

– Yes, you are here with the trunks and this is your town. I already understood – Spencer spoke through the bars of his cell after spending the night in the cell. – That’s it, come on, let me out.

– Shut your mouth! – Harry shouted.

– There is no authority over you – Spencer barked displeasedly, after which he headed towards the couch at the opposite end of the cell.

The phone rang in the office. After the third ring, Harry arrived and picked up the phone:

– Sheriff’s office. How can I help?

– …

– Didn’t understand

– …

– Mr. Hustler, try to calm down. Let’s do it again, as slowly as possible.

Nothing is as annoying as the phone ringing at half past seven in the morning, and even being on the nightstand right next to the bed.

– Hello? – Sheriff Poe said in a sleepy voice, rubbing his closed eyelids with his thumb and forefinger.

The conversation lasted two minutes, after which, patiently waiting for Desmond to hang up, Rhonda said languidly:

– Well, what could happen there at this time? You could lie around for another hour.

– Believe me, darling, maybe – Desmond said, yawning widely.

Forty minutes later, the sheriff, Jenna, and fifty-five-year-old pathologist Larry Green, who worked part-time as a medical examiner, arrived at the boat station. He and Desmond were bosom friends, so even if not a single dead man was found in Heartstone in ten years, they still found a reason to meet.

– Oh my God – said Larry, taking off his cap to take a better look. – Under other circumstances, I would have thought that a movie was being filmed here.

Desmond came up and looked at the hanging head with his narrowed eyes. It was difficult to see anything because of the hanging hair that covered the face.

While Jenna was calming Ruben, Larry came to the gate, wearing latex gloves. He carefully pulled back the victim’s hair to examine her face.

– Dana Host – Desmond said affirmatively.

– Yes, that’s her. Eh, she was a cute girl.

– And she chose an unsafe occupation – Desmond added, continuing to examine the corpse from under the visor of his straw hat, with his hands busily placed on his belt.

– Do you think one of her casual friends?

– So many lustful men flock to Gomorrah every evening. I wouldn’t be surprised if among them suddenly there’s at least one preoccupied psycho with a sick imagination. It is quite possible that this time she was simply unlucky in choosing her next lover. She had a loud reputation and she says that so many travelers and truckers taxi into Gomorrah that she always found herself some kind of male for half an hour. Imagine how many of them she had and who was not among them. – After a short pause, the sheriff added: – As soon as they bring it to the morgue, check immediately for the presence of biomaterial. If this is rape, then at least the motives will be clear.

Sheriff Poe then thought for a moment, imagining various options. He thought that he would need to get the addresses of all the waitresses and dancers working at Gomorrah in order to interview them. He also thought it would be a good idea to talk to Luther too.

Meanwhile, a van was arriving, from which a stretcher and a black plastic bag with a zipper were already being taken out.

Having calmed Ruben a little, who was sitting on the edge of the back seat of the patrol car, Jenna heard the creaking of the radio. She came up, answered, and half a minute later went to the sheriff.

– Chief, Harry reports that some tourists found Norman’s patrol car at the foot of the cliff, not far from the eastern entrance.

– And Norman? – Desmond asked anxiously.

After a painful pause, Jenna still said:

– He burned. Apparently he drove off the road, and after the fall the tank exploded.

Desmond covered his face with both hands, and when he scratched his skin with them, he took a deep breath, as if he was about to say something, but then changed his mind. A few seconds later he turned to Jenna:

– Call the transport company. Order a tow truck and a crane. Tell them to meet us at the eastern exit. And I will inform the hospital so that they can send a second car.

After waiting for Larry to finish examining the corpse of Dana Host, the sheriff said:

– Let’s move on.

Having reached the foot of the cliff, where he had to walk for several minutes, Desmond could not contain his emotions, although they were not so violent:

– Norman. How did you even manage to…

The closer Desmond got to his assistant’s burnt-out car, the clearer the image of the burnt body became.

Jenna couldn’t get too close. It wasn’t even that she couldn’t stand the sight of burnt flesh. She wasn’t sensitive that way. She could not bear the sight of a dead man with whom she worked and treated like a family member. She never dared look at Pierce’s body after he was mauled by the bear. Even at the funeral, she barely found the strength to walk up to the closed coffin, imagining what was hidden underneath. Strangers are another matter. Here she always had enough self-control to do her job.

A stretcher and a bag were brought to the spot, waiting for Larry to finish his part of the job. The crane and tow truck also began to look for a way to get as close to the place as possible.

Meanwhile, the sheriff said:

– Okay Larry. For now, you work, and so as not to waste time, we’ll go and see what’s up there.

– Accepted.

The sheriff and Jenna reached the official car and returned back to the highway. They drove to the section of the road that was closest to the scene of the incident.

Jenna walked up to the bump stop and drew the sheriff’s attention:

– Look!

– And you’re big-eyed – said Desmond, slightly lifting the visor of his hat with his index finger. – Well done.

They began to trace the scratch, which only lasted a couple of meters.

– What do you think? – Jenna asked. – What speed must be developed to cover such a distance in the air?

– Yes, this is an interesting question. But even more interesting is “why?”

– It’s unlikely he fell asleep if he was flying at high speed. Maybe he was chasing someone? Someone was driving in the oncoming lane and didn’t notice the bump stop?

The sheriff considered the assistant’s words.

– I like the way you think. If he was chasing someone and managed to catch up, then he could not go to the right, and to the left there was an obstacle that was not visible due to the darkness and the headlights of an oncoming car.

– Accident?

The sheriff shook his head and said:

– I don’t know, Jenna. Let Larry finish the job, then we’ll inspect the car. Maybe we’ll find something. In the meantime, take a photo of the scratches on the bump stop to attach to the case.

7. Account is closed

That evening, thirty-six-year-old Gloria Nelson was late at work and it was bad for her. Gloria constantly strived to lead a pedantic lifestyle, where everything was scheduled almost to the minute. As a rule, she managed to maintain the usual order of things at the usual time. But sometimes the schedule that had been fine-tuned over the years went to hell and it terribly infuriated her. That day was exactly like that. Because of one lost receipt, she was unable to prepare preliminary figures for upcoming reporting. This could have been done the next day, but for Gloria it was fundamentally important to bring together all the numbers every day, so that after a couple of months she would not have to look for a lost couple of dollars that do not match the documents and rummage through a stack of papers to find documents for the required period. Compiling numbers every day was a guarantee for Gloria that the work would go like clockwork and there would be no problems with accounting in the future. Gloria spent an extra hour and a half searching for the receipt, which forced her to be delayed and significantly spoiled her usual schedule. In such cases, her husband or one of her daughters always called her at work, realizing that such a delay by Gloria looked suspicious and that perhaps something had happened.

She usually finished her work day between 18:00 and 18:10. This time she left the transport company office at 20:42. If Gloria usually warmed up the engine for five minutes before leaving the parking lot, this time she immediately released the handbrake and went home.

Gloria looked exhausted, but not so much because of the delay at work, but because of the damned receipt that frayed all her nerves. She was going to come as usual, cook dinner, and now she didn’t even have time to stop at the supermarket for food for dinner and asked her husband to do it. She then had to iron and hang two of the nine curtains. Next she had to take a bath. Following this, she planned to read the eighteenth and nineteenth chapters of The Night Cabby1. Gloria always set a deadline for reading a book, estimating the number of pages and chapters, distributing an average plan for each day, thus calculating the time in which the book should be read. Now, in her busy evening, she could barely fit in a quick dinner, or rather a snack, and a bathroom, or rather a shower, because she still had to be in bed on time.

When the light turned red ahead, Gloria decided to slow down and approach the traffic light slowly, so that at the moment when the light turned green, she could simply press the gas pedal a little harder and thus spend less time accelerating.

Now every second counted. Her white Ford was barely rolling, and the yellow one still didn’t want to light up.

But in the rearview mirror a black Dodge was rapidly picking up speed. Its slightly scarlet headlights grew larger in the mirror every second. The roar of the engine grew. But Gloria was so absorbed in waiting for the yellow traffic light that she didn’t even notice the growing noise outside her car.

But then the yellow light came on and Gloria stepped on the gas. By the time she arrived at the traffic light, it had already turned green. The needle on the Ford’s speedometer began to creep up and it seemed to Gloria that she was gaining precious seconds without wasting time on the brake, clutch and gear shift. She saved a lot of time. By the standards of her attitude towards managing time, this was a lot.

Gloria was in a hurry to accelerate to the maximum permissible speed as quickly as possible. But there was no speed limit that evening because there was the Dodge on the road. At a speed of one hundred and seventy-one kilometers per hour, it drove into the rear of the Ford and added speed that this car could not develop on its own. By this moment, a slight rise loomed ahead and the Ford lifted off the asphalt for a second, making a short flight. Gloria didn’t have time to realize that something was wrong. She didn’t waste time stopping at traffic lights or wearing her seat belt. Her head first suddenly stuck to the headrest, and then sharply rushed forward. The Ford logo in the center of the steering wheel was the last thing Gloria saw, but she didn’t even have time to realize it. The Racer driving the Dodge did not provide time for this.

8. Day of bread and shamelessness

Carter Beckran attached special symbolism to the end of each month. For him it was like a flag at the start, like a green traffic light or a command to go ahead. This was the moment when many of his employees seemed to break loose and turn into ancient Romans during an orgy. Considering the fact that his company’s employees received salaries three to four times higher than the average in Heartstone (this is in the off-season), they allowed themselves to forget on payday that they were people and acted like animals; others stocked their refrigerators with the most expensive delicacies; someone went to Gomorrah and preferred to get lost somewhere between alcohol and women’s bodies.

Chief engineer Seth Crawford for the last four years, after each paycheck, he visited the most expensive, most elite and most sought-after whore in Heartstone, which he bought for the night, although for all other clients the payment was hourly.

The economist, accountant, logistician, storekeeper and agronomist finally set aside the necessary amount for Las Vegas so that during a joint vacation they could indulge in sin without knowing any boundaries.

Among Carter’s employees was a security guard who fulfilled his dream and bought an eleven-year-old Porsche 911, and repaid the loan in a year and a half.