Driving through the Rocky Mountains is so surreal…almost like you’re driving right into Heaven. I’ve never actually gotten the chance to experience it as a passenger before. I was always the one doing the driving, while Angel rode shotgun…the kids squirming around restlessly in the back.

I’ve made this trip before…across Interstate 70 West. Angel’s sister Malena lives in Grand Junction. 250 miles from Denver. 

Three and a half hours with good weather. 

The kids used to drive me nuts the entire way. Kristen, her fingers working frantically texting her friends…little beeping noises coming from the keypad.

“Can’t you turn that thing off for five minutes?”

“Daaad…its Meghan’s birthday tomorrow and I’m already gonna totally miss it cause you guys are making me go to Aunt Mals and…”

I would just let it go. Truth was, I was happy she had friends. Happy she was popular. And although I would never admit it, it was better to hear the non-stop 'beeps' of her phone than the grunts and groans I’d get if I took it away. 

And then there was little Armondo…fussing and whining…impatient to be free of his seat belt restraints and explore the world.

“Daddy...Daddy…Daddy…Mumma…Mumma…DaddyMumma…Mumma…Daddy…”

“WHAT ARMONDO, WHAT?”

“Um….Daddy…I, um Mumma…and we are going to antie Mals and I love you DaddyMumma.”

Naturally we would all break up laughing. Angel reaching her hand over to try and steady the wheel while I wiped the tears of joy from my eyes.

“Oh Armondo...”

“Huh?” The person sitting next to me took their eyes off the road for a heartbeat and asked. 

“What?” I respond.

“I’m sorry. I thought you said something?”

“Oh…no. I must have just dozed off for a second.” I lied.

“Oh okay. Been there.” She winked at me. “So listen, Dillon will be coming up here shortly…and that’s my exit. Soooo…you wanna come into town with me, or do you want me to just drop you at the exit…like on the highway?”

Hitchhiking. Hitchhikers. Either way, it’s never a good idea. Especially in this day and age. If Angel ever gives a stranger a ride…I would be furious!

‘Don’t worry baby…I’m not that stupid.’

I can’t believe this one actually agreed to give me a lift. It’s really too bad her stop is two hours short of where I need to go too, because she seems like a really sweet girl.

“Ah, Yea…on the highway by the exit. That’d be fine thanks.” 

“Okay then…” She sighed…obviously disappointed. “Got about 20 more minutes I’d say.”

I reached down between my legs and felt for my paper sack bag on the floor, my confidence resting there inside of it.

I had twenty minutes before I would need to pull it out. 

I checked my watch. 10:11 a.m. I laid my head back and mentally recapped…it had been one hell of a crazy night…

    I couldn’t make up my mind…answer the door or pick the hat back up. The knocking continued, and it didn’t sound like it was going to stop. Whoever was out there really wanted to see me. Maybe he wanted his hat back. Or his knife.

But the silent beckoning from the hat would not cease either. I had felt something when I put it on…hadn’t I? Something…empowering. Something masculine.

I bent down and picked it up, holding it by the brim. The light of the room worked into the blackness of it and created tiny colorful illusions. At once the hat was a cobra, gnashing its powerful teeth at me. Then it was a human heart…pumping and bloody…beating slower…and slower…and…

The knocking picked up in intensity.

I placed the hat back on my head. As before, it fit perfectly and it felt right. I smiled. I could handle the preacher now.   

I moved confidently over to the door ready for the confrontation of my life. Without hesitation, I yanked it open: 

“Mr. Malcolm?”

Uniforms. Two of them.

They looked like a movie script pairing…a skinny aggressive rookie and a fat laid back vet.

No problem…I could handle them too.

“Who wants to know?” I growled.

The rookie shot a raised eyebrow glance to his beefy partner whose own blank stare hadn’t changed.  

“Ahh, Were the Police sir.” The rookie stated as if shocked that I couldn’t tell by his shiny badge and gun. “Would you happen to be Mr. James Randall Malcolm?”

“Wadda ya want.”

“Sir, we would like to speak with you regarding your wife’s…ahhh, I mean ex wife’s…um, Mother. Your mother-in-law. Mrs. eehhh…” He looked down at his notes.  

“Maria Santos.” I assisted.

“Yes sir, that is correct.”

“And how many times you say she was stabbed, there partner.” 

The rookies mouth dropped open…and nothing came out. He just froze.

The tubby vet stepped forward, positioning himself directly in front of me…and continued to inch forward slowly as he spoke.  

“Sir, why don’t you invite us in so we can all sit down and discuss this situation.” 

“I don’t think so.” I said forcefully as I held my hand up in front of me.

He stopped short and sized me up. Realizing I wasn’t going to budge he took a step back, his face turning reddish.  

“Look, if you would feel more comfortable having this conversation down at the station then…” 

That’s when the **** hit the fan.

The rookie had been staring past me while the fat one had kept me occupied. And what he saw caused him to pull out his gun and level it at my head.

My turn to raise my eyebrows.

“Johnson…What the **** are you doing?” The fat cop demanded while he fumbled to get his own gun out of its holster. 

“Behind him sir…on the floor…it’s a knife. And it looks like it might be covered in blood sir.”

I smiled. I hadn’t even bothered to hide it before I answered the door.

“Well why don’t you get yourself a closer look so you can be sure. Ya know, kinda like you have to do with your johnson…Johnson. ” I openly laughed.

Before the rook could respond I brought my knee up hard into his gut, and as he doubled over I uppercut his jaw. Off balance he instinctively tried to move backwards, to get away from me...but he collided right into the fat cop, just as he was aiming his weapon toward me. He fired. He missed.

I quickly reared back my fist and slammed it into his fat nose. He staggered numbly as blood began to flow quickly. The Rookie attempted to regain his composure as he raised his gun back up and blindly fired it in my direction. His shot whizzed past my ear and into the front door. Frustrated he rushed me and slammed the butt of his gun into my temple. I dropped.

The hat came off my head. 

   Before I knew it a circus had formed in my front yard. Cars with flashing lights. Cop monkeys and Cop elephants strutting around on my lawn. An ambulance. A Fire truck. Some serious looking plain clothes ring leaders with bushy mustaches. The audience, my neighbors…standing around scratching their chins, shaking their heads and whispering:

‘Unbelievable...’

‘I didn’t think he was capable…’ 

‘I always knew there was something not right about him.’

The rookie led me out of the house in cuffs to his car. The fat cop waited there to duck my head in as they lowered me into the back seat.

Frustration levels were high.

Turns out the knife had been plastic. A Halloween staple for wanna be pirates and serial killers. The blood, fake. Probably syrup and food coloring.

A thorough search turned up nothing else of significance.

Even so, the objects were placed in a zip-lock bag and tagged as evidence to be taken back to the big top tent. 

  On the way to the station the Rookie couldn’t resist turning in his seat and glaring at me.

“Look man…I’m really sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” Of course I did.

“I got a mind to show you what a good **** whoopin is boy.” The rookie mumbled through a mouthful of chew.

I knew I was in a world of ****.

“Look, I don’t want no more trouble officers. Really. You have to understand…Halloween is a very difficult time for me. My wife…my wife and kids died last year on Halloween…” I began to weep. Uncontrollably.

“…and I should have…I should have been with them…I should have taken the van in…to…get...the brakes…”

“No **** Sherlock.” The rookie laughed. “But ya didn’t did ya. Huh? No sir-ree-bob. You had you another plan all worked out. A more financially secure plan.”

“What are talking about?” I shot back defensively.

 “What am I talking about…like you don’t know. Maria Santos knew too didn’t she? Why you think we showed up at your door hot stuff? Wasn’t cause we wanted to see you in your fancy Halloween hat.”

The rookie laughed as he opened up a brown bag, stuck his long boney fingers in and pulled it out.

My black hat.

I looked him dead in his eye and I told him, “Put that hat down…and I didn’t kill my wife.”

The rookie dropped the hat back into the bag. “Well maybe not tough guy, but despite that there fake knife…we got plenty of other firm evidence says you DID kill her mother.” 

The rookie held up another bag. This one clear plastic. An exact replica of the rubber knife. Only this one was real.

“I’m betting this has your prints all over it genius.”    

“Johnson, let it go.” The fat vet commanded.

 “Come on Jack, you aint feeling sorry for this **** are you? Not with what we got on em. And surely not after what he did to you earlier.” The rookie started laughing again. 

I looked up in the rear view mirror and saw the vets eyes on me. All purple looking and puffy from the blow I gave him.

I looked quickly away. I couldn’t believe that I had done that. My chest swelled with pride. My erection stretched against the crotch of my pants. But it was short lived. The real me had surfaced once again. Here, now…whimpering and begging. I was a coward. Angel didn’t deserve me. I am not a man.

‘Not without that hat on your head.’

I peered straight ahead through the windshield. Distantly I recognized the sounds of the two uniforms arguing. It was getting heated.

I realized with a start that we were on Elmhurst rd. The same road Angel and the kids had died on. Seemed fitting in an eerie sort of way.

As tears welled up in my eyes again an image suddenly appeared in the not so distant distance. Up in the road ahead…

“Hey…” I managed weakly.

Getting closer. A Mini-Van?

“Hey…” A little louder. But they ignored me, still arguing.

A cream colored Mini-Van. Oh mi God…it couldn’t be?

“HEY…” I screamed.

“WHAT” Came the in-stereo reply.

I had just enough time to see the anxious expression on my Angels face as she steered right into us…and then blackness.   

  “Okay, were just about there...”

I smiled over at her, my driver. She was a nice girl wasn’t she.  Just too damn trusting. Her Daddy should have warned her…

The next thing I remembered after the crash was standing on the side of the road with this brown bag in my hand and the car I’m currently sitting in idling in front of me with the window rolled down. Instinctively I bent down and looked in.

“Where ya headed?” The driver asked.

My wife’s voice in my head had told me to say: “Grand Junction. I can pay you.” 

“Well, I’m only going as far as Dillon but your welcome to ride with if you want. I could use the extra gas money.”              

My wife had also told me to get to her sisters in Grand Junction and get there fast. As soon as I could. A matter of life and death.

I thought about what that meant as the car came to a halt on the side of the road.

“You sure you just want me to leave you here? I mean, you’ve been such a good passenger. And you did give me a hundred bucks. Least I could do is maybe get ya into town…like to a diner or something? If your not in a hurry maybe we could grab some lunch?” She stared at me expectantly. I think she was developing a crush.

‘Bitch.’ Angel screamed!  

I reached down and opened my brown bag. 

I pulled out my black hat and placed it snugly upon my head. It was time to take control of this situation. As I slowly eased the white bone handle bowie knife out: 

“Well, actually sweetheart…I think I’ll just go ahead and drive from here.”

Two hours to go until I hit Grand Junction.       

I hope Malena is safe. I hope I can make it there before the Preacher does. I hope the tug of guilt and the smell of death coming from the back seat doesn’t make me lose my mind. 

‘Its sad baby, I know. No one should have to die. But sometimes it’s necessary.’ My wife assures me.

‘I think this one will be worth remembering.’ The preacher’s words come back to me.

I giggle as I look at my reflection in the rear view mirror; the black hat tilted sideways, gangsta’ style, shading one eye. Tiny red splatters decorating my own bone white skin.   

“The last thing I need is to lose my mind.”