Mad Girls In Love

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Authors: Michael Lee West
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Then Jennifer and I would drive south. The more miles I put between myself and Alice Ann, the better. I could imagine the girl talking to the police, rattling off a description of the Cadillac, along with the tag number. In no time flat, I would be caught and dragged back to Crystal Falls. But I had to risk it.
    Turning back onto the interstate, I peeked into the mirror. Alice Ann was staring out the window, humming “This Old Man,” making every other word rhyme with kidnapped. I hated to steal a license tag, but it looked as if I had no choice. A tag could be switched in the parking lot of any Howard Johnson’s. Although I couldn’t leave the old one behind. That would make things too easy for the police. I could use a fingernail file to unscrew it. Now I was even starting to think like a criminal. And I didn’t want this sort of life for Jennifer. My baby was supposed to grow up with girl friends and slumber parties, her own princess telephone in the bedroom. She would not only speak French, she would tour France, all the places I had only imagined. As the child of a kidnapper/murderess (not that I was either one), my daughter would be destined for a double-wide trailer—or, God forbid, a foster home.
    I pressed my foot against the gas pedal, wishing the McDonald’s sign wasn’t so far away. From the backseat, Alice Ann said, “Uh-oh. A cop’s on your tail.”
    I glanced over my shoulder, and sure enough, a blue light was filling up the rear window. Jennifer held out one hand, tried to grab it.
    â€œSee what happens when you go over the speed limit?” Alice Ann said. “That’s against the law.”
    â€œYeah? Well, it’s a good thing. I’ll just hand you over to the cop.” I tapped the brake, steering into the gravel breakdown lane. Cars whizzed past the Cadillac, their taillights blinking red.
    Alice Ann began to sing “This Old Man” again, making up the lyrics. “You don’t have a tit-le. You will go-o straight to jail, where thieves and con men will pinch your tail—”
    â€œWill you hush?” I cried. “Don’t you say another word. Don’t even open your mouth.”
    Alice Ann spread her lips apart with her fingers and opened her mouth as wide as she could.
    In the side mirror, I watched the officer approach. He was tall and lanky, with a beaked nose. As he leaned over, peering into the car, heat lightning flashed behind him. The sky lit up with muddy clouds, then faded to black. A speeding ticket would prove that I’d been on this interstate. It would list the make and license number of the Cadillac.
    â€œYou were going sixty-two in a fifty-mile zone,” he said, glancing at Jennifer, then back at Alice Ann. “That’s not real wise, considering your cargo.”
    â€œWell, we’re starving. I was just trying to make it to McDonald’s.” I laughed theatrically and rolled my eyes.
    He reached up, tipped back his hat, and squinted down the interstate, toward the crooked row of neon signs. It looked as if a drunken farmer had planted them. Shoney’s, Arby’s, Best Western, McDonald’s, Holiday Inn.
    â€œWe’ve just been driving forever,” I said, and Alice Ann kicked the back of my seat.
    â€œWhere you good people headed?” He spoke with a deep baritone. I imagined him quizzing his daughter, if he had a teenage daughter, asking the girl why she’d missed her curfew. I tried to think of a nearby town, but this part of the country was foreign to me.
    â€œWe’re just…” I paused. Behind the officer I saw a green sign, Hazlehurst 33 miles. “We’re going to Hazlehurst,” I said a beat too fast. I wondered if he’d seen my eyes shift behind him.
    He had. From his car, the police radio crackled. “You got folks down in Copiah County?” he asked, shuffling one foot in the gravel.
    I nodded, but I didn’t think this

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