Free Billy by Whitley Strieber Page B

engaged in an incredibly risky enterprise. For all he knew a neighbor had seen his van at the Nearys', seen him hurry across the lawn with the boy in his arms, seen him wheeling the bike into the back of the van.
    He had no reason to feel secure. Safety was an illusion. He was the worst imaginable sort of criminal—a child abductor—  and he was on the run with a drugged twelve-year-old trussed up in his van.
    This trooper was about to catch a monster, and maybe that would be best. The authorities would paw him, chain him, put him in prison ... or worse.
    Barton Royal was not insane!
    He should have used back roads, gotten out of the state that way. It had been stupid to cling to the interstates.
    Why did the trooper just stay back there, watching? Why was he playing games? He hadn't had to piss when he was at the rest stop, but he had to do it now, his whole body was tensing, every muscle tightening, every sinew straining against bone and cartilage. His mouth had gone dry, his eyes felt like they would burst out of his head.
    "Get it over with, you bastards!"
    Wait, he had options. He remembered the scanner. Turn it on, fool! Turn it on and keep it on!
    He watched out of the corner of his eye as the little red dot raced up and down its face, seeking for some snatch of dialogue.
    Silence. The trooper wasn't on the radio. Of course not, not now, fool! He's already done that. He's just waiting, watching, hoping for something more than the description, something that'll give him probable cause to enter the van.
    He was trying to break Barton's nerve, that was it. If he took off the trooper would chase him down. That would give him his right to search.
    God, God, please help your child Barton. You made me, God, now you help me! I'm going through hell here!
    The trooper's light bar started flashing.
    Oh, God, please don't let it be now. He wanted just a month with Billy, then he would willingly die! Yes, die for thirty happy days!
    He sat up straight, became prim. "Pull the van over," he told himself, "be as proper as a schoolgirl in church." The trooper followed him. He tried to calm himself, get some spittle into his dry mouth. 'OK, Barton baby, here he comes. My, what a clean-shaven face that trooper has. I wonder if he needs to shave at all?' He blanked his mind, cranked up a smile. His  voice was calm, concerned, perfect as he said, "I don't think I was speeding, officer."
    "Driver's license, please." The voice was calm and clear.
    "Yeah, I have it, just a second." Barton tried not to tremble as he pulled out his wallet.
    "California license, Mr. Royal?"
    The voice had dropped an octave. Suspicion.
    "Yeah. I have my summer place in Utah."
    A long silence. Here it came. They would utter the murderous formula: "We'd like to have a look in the back."
    "Your plates are expired."
    Oh, no, not stupidity again. Fool, fool fool! But wait. How could that be? On the way to Iowa he'd stopped at the mail drop in Salt Lake, gotten the renewal. He'd put on the sticker.
    "No, I don't think so."
    "No sticker."
    It was on the front plate. Wasn't that what he was supposed to do? "It's on the front."
    Please, Oh Lord of heaven, I will do anything, I will serve you body and soul for evermore —
    The trooper went around to the front of the car, looked at the plate. He came back to the window. "Mr. Royal, you ought to have stickers on both plates."
    "They only sent me one."
    "Well, I suggest you get another if you don't want this to keep happening."
    "Thank you, officer."
    "We're not going to issue a summons this time, Mr. Royal, but you'd better stop at DPS in Salt Lake and get that sticker."
    "I sure will, officer."
    Billy uttered three short, sharp cries. The trooper leaned farther into the window. At that moment inspiration struck. "I have a capuchin," Barton said.
    "A capuchin?"
    "The sounds. A monkey. A little monkey in the back."
    The officer's face grew tight. He drew back from the van. "All right, Mr. Royal. You can go now."
    He put