Chapters (62)
- Cover
- A PENNY
- Dedication
- Acknowledgments
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- A Sample Chapter of Don’t Take Any Wooden Nickels
- About the Author
- Other Books by Mindy Starns Clark
- About the Publisher
“Don’t ask any questions just yet,” I said. I put on my blinker, trying to pull back out into the line of traffic. “Please use your phone and find me the nearest car rental place.”
“Were you in an accident?”
“Sort of.”
“I’ve got a cousin here in town,” she said. “Maybe we could run out there, and you could borrow her car. I was hoping to squeeze in a visit anyway.”
“Harriet,” I said evenly, “thanks for the offer. But I’d be more comfortable with a rental.”
We found a nearby car rental agency, and I left Harriet waiting in my car while I went inside and asked for the biggest, safest, sturdiest vehicle that they had. They offered me a Lincoln or a minivan. I was about to decline both when the young man behind the counter volunteered that the Lincoln had a really strong V8 engine.
“Zero to 60 in about five seconds,” he said, grinning, but when his boss flashed him a glare, he added, “Least that’s what they say in the commercials.”
I took him up on it, handing over my credit card and waiting impatiently as he did the paperwork. I had lost my pursuer in the red truck, and I had no intention of being found again. Once they got me all set up with my rental, the man recommended a body shop right up the block for my Saturn. I told them I’d rather just park it for the time being, so they let me have a slot on the end.
By the time Harriet and I got into our new Lincoln, she was bubbling over with questions, her face the picture of concern. I tried to convince her that everything was fine, or at least okay, but I knew she could tell from my trembling hands that it was not.
We headed into the city in our new rental, the interior as plush and comfortable as any I’d ever ridden in. I always had an odd affection for rental cars, for the pleasure of trying out different types of vehicles on a temporary basis. But I rarely went with the luxury class, opting instead for the more economical midsize. This was different, however.
This was war.
Glancing frequently in my rearview mirror, I tried to relax as we drove, finally giving Harriet a toned-down, modified version of what had happened. She seemed nervous after that, glancing behind us often, asking me twice to describe the truck that my attacker had driven. I realized too late that I should’ve just made up some story of a fender bender instead—Harriet was not the type who enjoyed or even endured danger or intrigue. The fact that the police wanted me for questioning would’ve only made her more upset, so I omitted that fact altogether.