CHIP SMACKED THE side of his laptop. He jiggled a pair of wires that ran from a port on the computer to a large antenna on Billie’s trash-covered dashboard.
“Piece of garbage,” he said.
“It’s a poor farmer that blames his mules,” said Billie. “We’ve had that signal all the way up 680, so don’t stop now.”
Chip rolled up his window and the wind-tunnel roar of the cab quieted down a bit. He typed on his laptop’s keyboard, adjusting the size of a map on the screen.
“It was hacked together to start with,” he said. “Maybe they went inside a tunnel.”
“Ain’t no tunnels on 680,” said Billie. “Unless your psychic-geek superpowers of the mind just created one.”
“That’s redundant. Psychic means mind.”
“You’ll be redundant when my fist breaks your jaw.”
“Sorry.”
“If we don’t get that signal back, I’ll let you out somewhere and you can call the cops,” said Billie.
“Hello? Number one, that vehicle’s chopped up and modded out the tailpipe. It’s as legal as an underwater hairdryer and there’s no way the cops are getting their sugar-coated fingers on it. Number two, I take care of business.”
“Aw, yeah! Fist-bump,” said Billie. “TCB is fine with me. I just wanted to see if you left your ‘man card’ at the hair salon.”
Chip’s phone buzzed and he glanced at the number.
“It’s Dean.”
“Well, don’t just sit there looking cute, princess––answer it.”
“Hello?”
Lin’s voice crackled on the line. “Can you hear me?”
“Yeah, mom.”
“I’m sorry, Chip, but I had to borrow your car. It was just a little thing and I don’t want you to worry.”
“The Subaru?”
“No, the ambulance. We’ll bring it back in a few days.”
“Why?”
“Dean’s got a conference in Virginia. Sorry, West Virginia. Don’t worry, I’ll call again.”
Chip heard the faint sound of Dean’s voice on the other end.
“Hang up, Lin. They can trace it.”
“Mom, just stop somewhere or turn around,” said Chip. “Why do you have to drive that old thing?”
“Gotta go, son. Bye!”
Billie watched as Chip shoved the phone back into his cargo shorts.
“What do we do now, genius?”
“Dean’s taking her to Charleston,” said Chip. “But there’s something strange in my mom’s voice. I’d feel better about all of this if I knew she was safe. There’s also the PPPP that I spent six figures on.”
“Gotta change that name,” said Billie. “You sound like a two-year-old that really needs to go.”
“But it’s trademarked!”
Billie sighed. “West Virginia, here I come, right back where I started from ...”