Ricky passed Gary, Indiana, saw smokestacks belching smoke in the distance, thinking there was a city that was uglier than Detroit and he was looking at it. Karen was five cars ahead of him cruising on 1-94. He'd had to make a decision. O'Clair was in on it too. But he could only follow one of them and Karen had the plastic bag, and his gut told him that's where money was at. Ricky didn't know where O'Clair had gone to. He'd dropped Karen off at the hotel and driven away. Ricky just had to be patient, wait till she pulled over, stopped somewhere and make his move.
Twenty minutes later he got his wish. She got off the highway just outside Kalamazoo. Ricky wondered where she was going. He didn't see any gas stations or fast food places at the exit. He followed her for half a mile on a two-lane county road, cornfields on both sides, to an old Mobil gas station. She pulled in and he stopped by the side of the road and watched her get out, and go in the place.
Karen was hungry for the first time in days. She'd seen a small weather-beaten sign on the highway that said "Gas-Food Next Exit" and decided to stop and pick up a little something to hold her over till later. She hadn't eaten anything all day except for the two bites of English muffin that morning and her stomach was growling. She got off 1-94 and drove about half a mile to a little run-down gas station with a cornfield behind it. She went in and bought a Coke and a bag of cashews, and came out humming "Runnin' Down a Dream," the Tom Petty song she'd just been listening to. She noticed another car had pulled in the small lot and parked next to hers. She had the can of Coke under her arm and it was cold as she dug her hand in her purse, trying to find her keys. She felt the presence of someone, and looked up and saw Ricky. He was aiming a chrome plate semiautomatic at her sideways like a bad guy in a TV movie. He was wearing blue track pants with red stripes going down the legs, and a black tank top.
"You better have my money," Ricky said.
"It's in the car," Karen said. "I've been holding it for you."
"You've been holding it, huh?" Ricky said. "Let me see it."
Karen opened the trunk and pulled out the plastic bag and dropped it on the oil-stained asphalt. Ricky squatted and opened the bag and looked in. He lowered his gun and reached in the bag and took out three banded packs of bills. He grinned, staring at the money, not paying any attention to her.
Karen reached in her shoulder bag and gripped the.357 and stepped toward him. "I've been holding this for you too."
Ricky glanced up at her with a nervous look on his face.
"Jesus, be careful," Ricky said. He looked down at his gun.
Karen said, "Don't even think about it. I don't want to shoot you but I will if I have to."
Ricky dropped his gun on the asphalt, got up and stepped back. Karen picked up the gun and said, "Put the money back in my car."
"Give it to me," Ricky said. "I'll let you go."
"You'll let me go?" Karen said. "I'd worry about myself if I were you."
Ricky picked up the bag of money and put it in her trunk and closed the lid.
"You're making a big mistake," Ricky said. "I don't care where you go… no place is safe, you take this money." He stood there looking cocky and self-confident.
"Open your trunk," Karen said, pointing the.357 at him.
"What the hell for?"
"Because I told you to," Karen said. "And I've got the gun." She kept the Airweight trained on him.
"Don't do anything dumb," Ricky said, realizing it was all Karen now.
"I was going to say the same thing to you, but you can't help yourself," Karen said, "can you?"
He moved behind the white Ford Focus that was parked next to her Audi. She came up behind him and jabbed his shoulder with the barrel of her gun. He reached in the pocket of his warm-up pants, took out his key and pushed a button on the keypad and the trunk popped open.
"Get in," Karen said.
Ricky looked over his shoulder at her. "I'm not getting in there."
Karen swung her arm and hit Ricky on the back of his head with the butt of the Mag.
"Jesus, what're you doing?" He bent over, making a face, holding his head, rubbing it with his fingertips.
"You don't have a choice," Karen said. "Get in."
He lifted his leg up, put a foot in the trunk, and then pulled himself up and in. He fit with no trouble. There was enough room left for a bag of golf clubs.
"I'll give you a piece of the action," Ricky said.
Karen could see he was nervous now. "Just give me the keys."
He tossed them to her.
"I'll split it with you," Ricky said.
Karen said, "You don't have anything to split."
"What do you want?" Ricky said.
"I've got what I want," Karen said.
Ricky said, "You think it's going to end here? You're out of your fucking mind. I don't care where you go, I'll find you-"
She slammed the trunk closed. She could hear him kicking the sheet metal inside.
"Get me out of here." Panic in his voice now. "Help!"
Most new cars had a release button in the trunk in case you fell in by mistake, but Ricky didn't seem to know it. Karen tapped her knuckles on the trunk lid and said, "Hey, keep it down in there." She got in Ricky's car, started it, backed up and drove to the edge of the cornfield behind the station. She had her foot on the brake, holding the car back. She could hear Ricky yelling and banging inside the trunk. She shifted into drive and opened the door, took her foot off the brake and jumped out. The Ford rolled into the field, knocking down stalks and then disappeared in the high corn.