Mr. Perlmutter went back to the shopping mall where he'd been the night before.
He cruised the lots looking for the V1CTR plate, but the search was fruitless.
Someone had moved the vehicle. He went into the parking garage and did some work,
a couple of Jimmys and a Dodge Durango. Each time there were people nearby, once in
the next car. Some of them yelled but no one tried to stop him. After that, tension
caught up to him. He pulled into a quiet side street and fell asleep across the front
seat. When he awakened it was after dark.
Or perhaps he did not wake up. His memory of the next few hours is broken and unreal,
like the dreams you have with fever. He remembers stopping on some highway shoulder,
possibly I-70, remembers taking out the bar and going up to a Land Cruiser parked there,
starting to work on the left rear wheel. Something may have happened then. Someone may
have come out of the truck. This person may have grabbed him or struck at him.
He remembers spinning or turning, his eyes filled by the light of oncoming traffic.
He may have stepped into the light.