Free Mama Does Time: A Mace Bauer Mystery by Deborah Sharp Page A

lingered against mine for a couple of beats too long. I couldnt believe it. The kid was coming on to me. Must be the new do.
     
Thanks. I yanked away my fingers and slipped my ID back into my wallet. He put the socks in a little bag, and handed it to me as I headed for the door.
     
I was still smiling to myself as I climbed into my Jeep and started on the long drive home. Now, there was date potential, I thought: a pro-shop smoothie young enough to be my nephew. Maybe wed drive to Orlando and I could take him on the teacup ride at Disney.
     
My post-flirtus buzz didnt last long. Soon, I started wondering what the hell had happened to Sal. Why had he stood me up? That led to me worrying about how Mama was doing. It must be just about dinner time at the jail, which couldnt be a good thing for someone who loves food. Before long, I was trying to fit together all the bits and pieces Id discovered that day. I needed to prove to Martinez that Mama had nothing to do with Jim Alberts murder.
     
I tried to picture me sharing some information that might replace his customary scowl with a smile. And then my brain took a quick, unexpected detour: how would those lips actually feel against mine I wondered. I traced a finger across my mouth and felt a warm twinge. Where the hell had that thought come from?
     
I quickly reined in my brain, and returned to worrying about Mama.
     
The road wasnt crowded. I was deep in thought, puzzling out the pieces of her case. Occasionally, an unwanted image would intrude of Martinezs face, of his strong hands; of his thick hair. Then, my mind would conjure Mama in her cell, and Id feel guilty.
     
I didnt notice the other car on my tail until I saw headlights flash in my rearview mirror. Maybe Id let my speed taper off. I glanced at the speedometer. Nope, holding steady at sixty-six mph. Thats fast enough that no one should be riding my tail, lights flashing crazily. Peering into the mirror, I saw nothing but a white glow with a dark blob behind it. I couldnt even say if the blob was car or truck.
     
Slowing, I waved my arm out the Jeeps window. There wasnt another oncoming car until next Tuesday. Go around, fool . He had plenty of room to pass, yet he stayed plastered to my bumper.
     
I eased over as far as I could to the right shoulder, giving a wide berth. It was probably a carload of teenagers, tanked up on testosterone and cheap beer. No way was I going to get into a pissing match with that mess. I slowed down some more, doing about forty now.
     
Thats when I felt a jolt from behind. I heard a hard, solid bump, high up on the back of my Jeep. It jerked me off the road, onto the rough shoulder. I wrestled with the steering wheel, fighting to keep control. The Jeep bucked like a rodeo bronc coming out the chute. My tires spit weeds and gravel. I tried to steer left, back to smooth pavement. But the other driver blocked my path.
     
Like freeze frames in my headlights, a mailbox, four garbage cans, and a barbed wire fence whizzed past. Then my lights swept across the white-gray expanse of a concrete culvert. It looked enormous, looming dead center in my sights.
     
And then I saw nothing but black
     
     
     
     
     

     
     
I saw that white light that everybody always talks about, gleaming in front of my eyes. A mans voice called my name, softly, as if from a great distance.
     
Are you there, Daddy? I murmured. Have you come to take me over to the other side?
     
I heard knocking.
     
Im not ready to go yet, Daddy. I havent been able to find out who really killed that man in Mamas trunk. Shes still sitting in the Himmarshee Jail.
     
Rap. Rap. Rap . The knocking continued.
     
Mace! the voice repeated; louder and more insistent. Are you okay?
     
Masculine features blurred, and then formed into a face, peering at me from above. Worried look. Firm jaw. Full mustache.
     
Did you grow that mustache in heaven, Daddy?
     
Mace! Cmon back to Earth, girl.
     
I could almost feel my synapses