Free Big Driver by Stephen King Page A

begin with. It didn’t turn out so well for you, and if it got into the papers . . . well, my gran would be very disappointed.”
    Tess agreed. And because she could embellish convincingly (it was the talent that paid the bills, after all), she did. “A bad boyfriend is sharper than a serpent’s tooth. I think the Bible says that. Ormaybe it’s Dr. Phil. In any case, I’ve broken up with him.”
    â€œA lot of women say that, then weaken. And a guy who does it once—”
    â€œWill do it again. Yes, I know, I was very foolish. If you don’t have my purse, what property of mine do you have?”
    Ms. Neal turned in her swivel chair (the sun licked across her face, momentarily highlighting those unusual blue eyes), opened one of her file cabinets, and brought out Tom the Tomtom. Tess was delighted to see her old traveling buddy. It didn’t make things all better, but it was a step in the right direction.
    â€œWe’re not supposed to remove anything from patrons’ cars, just get the address and the phone number if we can, then lock it up, but I didn’t like to leave this. Thieves don’t mind breaking a window to get a particularly tasty item, and it was sitting right there on your dashboard.”
    â€œThank you.” Tess felt tears springing into her eyes behind her dark glasses and willed them back. “That was very thoughtful.”
    Betsy Neal smiled, which transformed her stern Ms. Taking Care of Business face to radiant in an instant. “Very welcome. And when that boyfriend of yours comes crawling back, asking for a second chance, think of my gran and all your other loyal readers and tell him no way Jose.” She considered. “But do it with the chain on your door. Because a bad boyfriend really is sharper than a serpent’s tooth.”
    â€œThat’s good advice. Listen, I have to go. I told the cab to wait while I made sure I was really going to get my car.”
    And that might have been all—it really might have been—but then Neal asked, with becoming diffidence, if Tess would mind signing an autograph for her grandmother. Tess told her of course not, and in spite of all that had happened, watched with real amusement as Neal found a piece of business stationery and used a ruler to tear off the Stagger Inn logo at the top before handing it across the desk.
    â€œMake it ‘To Mary, a true fan.’ Can you do that?”
    Tess could. And as she was adding the date, a fresh confabulation came to mind. “A man helped me when my boyfriend and I were . . . you know, tussling. If not for him, I might have been hurt a lot worse.” Yes! Raped, even! “I’d like to thank him, but I don’t know his name.”
    â€œI doubt if I could do you much good there. I’m just the office help.”
    â€œBut you’re local, right?”
    â€œYes . . .”
    â€œI met him at the little store down the road.”
    â€œThe Gas & Dash?”
    â€œI think that’s the name. It’s where my boyfriend and I had our argument. It was about the car. I didn’t want to drive and I wouldn’t let him. We were arguing about it all the time we walked down the road . . . staggered down the road . . . staggered down Stagg Road . . .”
    Neal smiled as people do when they’ve heard a joke many times before.
    â€œAnyway, this guy came along in an old blue pickup truck with that plastic stuff for rust around the headlights—”
    â€œBondo?”
    â€œI think that’s what it’s called.” Knowing damn well that was what it was called. Her father had supported the company almost single-handed. “Anyway, I remember thinking when he got out that he wasn’t really riding in that truck, he was wearing it.”
    When she handed the signed sheet of paper back across the desk, she saw that Betsy Neal was now actually grinning. “Oh my God, I might actually know who he