Lost Highway

“Do you know where we’re going dude?” Hector asked Mark with more than an abundance of impatience in his voice. 

“I’ve been down this way before,” Mark shot back with frustration. 

“It so happens, amigo, I think you missed our turn back there. You know how to work this navigation thing?” 

“If I knew, don’t you think I would be using it?” 

“Sorry I asked. So, what’s this all about?” 

“My parents,” Mark replied, concentrating on the highway and not paying attention to Hector’s reaction. It was five years ago to the day; he found out from Mark’s sister that they died. 

“What do you mean man?” Héctor asked trying to sound relaxed, but his gut was churning with guilt. 

“I need to confide in you something I found out. It’s a rumor and that’s all it is, my Mexican friend.” Mark appeared on the verge of tears as he tried desperately to hold his emotions in check. “God I miss them. Every night I have dreams of them before all of this. You know, Mom never had a bad heart; Dad did. I can’t and won’t believe they both died from some kind of cardio-event. Something happened to them.” 

“But the autopsy?” 

“In all the years we’ve been investigating homicides, how many times have you counted when the medical examiner or pathologist was wrong?” Mark turned his head quickly to Hector and saw a look he couldn’t describe upon his face. “What is it Hector? Do you know anything about this?” 

Hector so wanted to clear the air here; admit that he was the one tasked with protecting them, he failed and found their bodies in his parents’ home. “No man, I don’t know nothing.” 

The fog was thickening. “You never did answer my question, Mark.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Where are we going?” 

“Tri Cities.” 

“Why? Is there a case that Armstrong sent us on? I don’t recall anything in this morning’s briefing.” 

“You haven’t heard, but our entire team, except for Howard Jones, are being moved to the other Washington. I’m taking this trip to clear the air about how my parents really died. I know you don’t know nothing about this because you were on some kind of drug sting the day my parents died. 

“I called Sheriff Dickerson, but he sounded distracted by something. Next year is election year for him and that might have something to do with it.” 

Hector didn’t say anything. He stared at the heavy, dense fog layer and wondered Why can’t I tell him? He needs to know. “Mark, how much do you trust Joe?” 

“Armstrong? I guess I trust him, okay. He had my back on that first case we did together; had yours too. You just didn’t know it at the time.” 

“Howard told me some stuff on him that…Well I’m surprised he still has a job. And now he’s being promoted to section chief in D.C.? Who is he giving blowjobs to?” 

“I can’t answer that one partner. I’d have to admit though; without him I wouldn’t be in the FBI.” 

“What? Why you say that?” 

“He basically let my physical ride.” 

“What happened Mark?” 

“The doctor who examined me, had to leave suddenly and when he returned he forgot where he left off. Remember Héctor, I’m missing half my right lung from when I got shot in Baja California. The doctor probably…shit he had to have told Joe the physical was incomplete. Yet, I was hired anyway.” 

Hector pondered this bit of information, plus the fact that his duty assignment was vetoed in favor of being partnered with Mark in Spokane, plus every time he had requested a transfer, he was turned down three times in the fifteen years he’s been an FBI agent. I smell a big fat rat. 

“So, Mark, you are going AWOL just to try and clear the air about how your parents really died?” 

Mark wondered about that remark but let it pass. “You know, I wouldn’t blame you if you did know more than what you’re telling me. Secrets are made for a reason. I guess if there was something that happened and someone higher up the food chain wanted a lid clamped down on it, you’d have no choice. 

“Mark, trust me, if I knew anything, I would tell you.” 

“I’m sure you would, amigo. I’m sure you would. Shit I can’t see two feet in front of me.” 

“Dude, you really don’t need to do this. Just turn around and go back. Someday, something will happen and the truth will be revealed to you.” 

“How do you figure?” 

“Like you said earlier autopsies can be wrong sometimes.” 

“I just find it hard to believe they both died from a heart attack on the same day, virtually at the same time. It’s been in the back of my mind for a long time. Then, I lost touch with Nicole. She disappeared about the same time my parents died. 

“Oh, I did receive a letter from Dylan, but he doesn’t mention his mom at all. I think I know what might be going on. He wanted to straighten out his shit and joined the Army. He’s in Afghanistan doing something there, but couldn’t elaborate. But, why is Nicole giving me this cold shoulder treatment?  

“Ever since I joined the FBI, she has grown more and more distant. I think she’s afraid I’ll bring her drug days back, or that I’ll bust her for possession. Shit, Hector, I could care less. It’s her life. Anyway, she changed phone numbers or something because I can’t get hold of her. I even tried to get hold of her parents, but they died in 2000. The day after my parents. Some kind of gas explosion, I guess from what the police told me. 

“Did you hear about that?” Mark asked Hector directly. 

“I’m afraid I was out of the loop on that one, amigo.” 

Both men turned their attention back to the highway, just in time to see two sets of headlights coming on them. 

“SHIT!” They both screamed as Hector braced for impact, and Mark made a hard right. The car in his lane barely clipped him and he spun into the gravel, and the FBI cruiser, a 2004 Ford Crown Victoria flipped onto its side. Glass shattered and a horrible grinding noise of sheet metal and gravel echoed off the interior. 

Before the car came to a halt, Hector was on the radio, using his instincts from the Marine Corps to survive, blurted out, “Clear all chatter; clear all chatter. Unit 1641 involved in car accident on State Route 126 between…Shit Mark where are we?” 

Mark appeared groggy and perhaps injured, but replied, “between Lacrosse and Washtucna,” in a disembodied voice. He grimaced in pain. “Go check on the other car, Hector.” 

“We got a copy,” the dispatcher replied in a calm young female voice. “Are there injuries?” 

“Yes,” Hector replied quickly. “Mark, can you get out from the car?” 

Mark didn’t reply right away. He then slowly unbuckled the safety belt and discovered the car door was directly over his head. “Son of a bitch,” he stated in exasperation. Pull that center armrest down.” 

Hector did as he was told and saw Mark push the heavy driver’s side door open, using every ounce of strength to defy the gravitational pull. His six foot four inch frame worked to his advantage as he was able to pull himself out from the car. “Give me your arm, Hector.” Again, Hector obliged his friend and partner’s request by reaching his left arm up and allowing Mark to pull him out from the car. 

Once both were free they jumped off the car and onto the highway’s pavement, slick with black ice, and promptly fell on their butts. They slowly raised themselves and saw they were alone. The other two cars fled the accident scene. In the distance a lone siren wailed. 

Five minutes later blue and red overhead flashing lights came into view. Mark and Hector remained in the same position. They hadn’t said a word. The State Trooper pulled to a stop. He got out from the car, wearing his overcoat and trooper hat. “Are you two alright?” 

“I’m alright,” Hector replied, “ my partner might have a concussion.” 

“I ain’t got no such thing,” Mark replied in bitterness. “I’m just a bit uncoordinated right now. That’s all.” 

“What happened?” 

“We were on our way to meet someone,” Hector started. “We’re FBI agents working a cold case, when these two cars came at us. I believe one was trying to pass the other, but that other guy wouldn’t allow it. We tried to veer out of the way…” 

“The car that was in my lane clipped me though, and I ended up like this. Here are my credentials, Hector, I mean Agent Gonzales, please show him yours.” Mark handed the Trooper his badge and ID. Hector did the same.  

The trooper briefly looked at the pieces and then handed them back. “Did you get a good look at the cars involved?” 

“Sort of,” Mark replied. “But it happened so fast, I couldn’t possibly give you an accurate description.” 

“It was a dark colored Chevrolet sedan, possibly an Impala, and a blue Pontiac, maybe,” Hector guessed. 

“I think I went passed them on the way up here. I’ll call it in.” Another distant siren was heard lowly approaching their location. 

“So much for my perfect driving record,” Mark stated as he looked at the sideways car parked on the gravel shoulder. 

Hector nodded, but inwardly, he thanked God this happened when it did. Mark was about to get me to confess to everything. That would have been an awkward moment. 

end