The Dummy Line (20 page)

“How’s your ankle?” Jake asked Elizabeth when she caught up.

“It’s worse, Mr. Crosby,” she whimpered. “I can hardly put any weight on it.”

Jake got Katy off his back and then kneeled down to take a look at Elizabeth’s ankle. It was the size of a grapefruit and hot to the touch. He knew she must be in excruciating pain. Jake slipped off her shoe, then searched his hunting vest for his pocketknife. He removed her shoelaces and cut out the tongue of the shoe. He then cut the top off, leaving just enough to cover the sides of her foot. He hoped her toes and heel would keep it on her foot.

He quickly stood, grabbed his shotgun, then unloaded it as quietly as possible—hating that he had to do it. He slipped the shells into an easily accessible pocket. Then he unzipped the cushion seat off his hunting vest and dropped it on the ground. He reached into the back of his vest and found his old Primos turkey wing, which had a six-foot piece of parachute cord tied to it so he couldn’t run off and forget it when things heated up during a hunt.

The girls just watched silently.

“Elizabeth, hold this straight up,” Jake said as he put the gun barrel down onto the cushion. Using both hands, he squeezed the cushion around the barrel and used the parachute cord to tie it tightly around the barrel, looping the cord through the ventilated rib to prevent the cushion from pulling off in the mud.

“Okay. Now you have a crutch,” he said proudly. “Put your armpit right on the butt of the gun like this. The end of the barrel shouldn’t sink too far in the mud since the cushion’s so wide. See?” Elizabeth had to lean over slightly, but other than that, it really made a pretty good crutch.
If I need to, I can shoot through the cushion.

“Cool, Dad,” Katy said proudly.

“Thanks, Mr. Crosby. I’ve used crutches before. But what about if we need…you know?” she said, testing her crutch.

“You’ll have to give it to me, fast. Listen to me; it’s very, very important that you keep the cushion on the end of the barrel. If it comes off and you jab the barrel in the mud, I can’t fire it. Understand?”

“Yes sir.”

“This is really important. You have to watch it all the time.”

“Yes sir.”

Jake bent over, and Katy jumped on his back. They were off. After a few yards, Jake turned to watch Elizabeth as she hopped along at a much better pace. Jake prayed that the cushion would stay on.

The trio had traveled about another quarter of a mile when Jake thought he heard something. Years of shooting had taken its toll on his hearing, especially in his right ear. He turned to face the sound.

“Shhhhh,” he whispered to the girls.

There it was again—a unique high-pitched beeping. Jake recognized it as a radiophone.
Is that the sheriff or the police or those freakin’ lunatics? SHIT!
Fear shot through him again. He strained to hear; suddenly there it was again—maybe two hundred yards across the clear-cut. Whoever it was, they were tracking him and the girls…and they were close.

“Come on, girls. We have to be extra quiet from now on.” He was right up against their faces as he whispered urgently. He wouldn’t tell them what he had heard. He’d insulate them from as much as possible.

Katy held onto him with all of her strength. Jake kept a constant eye on the cushion. He had to push Elizabeth so they could cover ground faster, but she was really gutting it out. The crutch made travel much easier once she got into a rhythm. Jake considered every step to make tracking them as difficult as possible.

Deputy Lewis Washington had been on Sheriff Marlow’s staff for only six months. He was certain this event would jumpstart his young career. He kept looking back over the seat, checking on the woman, doing his best to hold the car in middle of the road as he raced toward Livingston. The blue lights and siren fed his adrenaline rush. He nearly sideswiped a mailbox while talking on the radio. He tried to calm down—to analyze what had just happened. He’d have to explain it to his superiors…maybe even to the press. He was going to be a hero.

Lewis had not totally understood his assignment. Instead of stopping two hundred yards short of the trailer and observing, he had accidentally driven up to the trailer. When he slowly pulled into its driveway to turn around, his headlights illuminated the entire area. Lewis thought,
Looks like white trash lives here,
observing the Rebel flag hanging from a pole in the yard with old tires stacked around it.
A brother wouldn’t be flyin’ that flag.

As he backed away, movement caught his attention. He flashed his searchlight. Standing under a giant oak tree was a half-naked woman with duct tape over her eyes and mouth. Her hands were bound behind her. He slammed the cruiser into forward and drove right to her. Pulling his weapon as he jumped out of the car, he frantically searched the shadows for anyone else. The woman ran from the sound of the approaching car. Lewis caught up with her, grabbed her, and held on as she jerked and twisted. He quickly explained several times who he was. She then collapsed in his arms.

Lewis wanted to get out of there as fast as he could. He was spooked and expecting all hell to break loose at any moment. He quickly laid the unconscious woman on his back seat. Jumping into the driver’s seat, he locked the doors and slammed it into reverse. Once on the pavement, the rear tires boiled smoke as he punched the gas and headed toward Livingston.

His first thought was to radio Sheriff Marlow. He did and could tell that Marlow was very pleased with the news. That feeling made Lewis drive even faster—he was headed to praise and glory.

By the time Lewis crossed the I-20 overpass, he had the story and his future career worked out in his mind.
I’ll wait for Sheriff Marlow to retire, and then I’ll be elected sheriff—the county will belong to me. After one term, I’ll move on to the FBI
.
This is indeed a great night for Deputy Lewis Washington, law enforcement officer extraordinaire.

Ollie leaned back and relaxed as he headed to the hospital. He was relieved, the stress draining from his body. This could have been the ugliest of all possible scenarios. A missing, then murdered, teenage girl, besides being a devastating local tragedy, would have made national news instantly, inviting constant media attention. Ollie shuddered at the thought. CNN and Fox News were absolutely relentless. When they had first descended upon Ollie’s investigation a few years ago, he’d enjoyed it. He loved seeing himself on television, the daily press conferences feeding his growing ego. After the truth was uncovered, Ollie had realized that he had allowed the hype to adversely affect his judgment. He’d vowed never to let that happen again and rededicated himself to the job—with the help of a good therapist. Apparently, the end of his football glory days had left an “attention void.” He
needed
to feel and be important.

Yesterday’s golf tournament had given Ollie a much-needed fix. A radio talk-show host, who had been a kid when Ollie played football, had been in his foursome. Ollie couldn’t help but like the guy. He had been on his radio call-in show a dozen times. This guy could recite all of Ollie’s stats and knew the big plays step-by-step. And a businessman had paid one thousand dollars just for the privilege of being in Ollie’s foursome. Ollie loved it.

With his blue lights flashing, Ollie crossed Interstate 20, a few miles from the hospital. He thought about all that still needed to be done. Martha could help with the details. As long as the Beasley girl was OK, everything would fall into place.

Sheriff Marlow called the Tuscaloosa television stations to tip them off about the breaking story. They couldn’t be there when Lewis arrived with the girl, but it would make a great news story anyway. Marlow planned to retire in a few years. He didn’t need the publicity for career advancement but never missed a chance for it either. Marlow had never met a camera he didn’t like.

Marlow arrived at the ER and started preparing for his photo opportunity. The first thing he did was to go into the men’s bathroom to put a little dab of Brylcreem in his gray hair. He smoothed the starched shirt covering his pot belly. He was proud of Lewis. He’d have to think of some way to reward him—maybe a dinner at some swanky Tuscaloosa restaurant. This whole affair was worth getting up in the middle of the night.
I bet Zach Beasley never charges me again for doing my taxes.
He checked his teeth in the mirror, then walked out to put on a show.

Martha O’Brien called Zach Beasley to give him the good news. He was elated and headed straight for the hospital. Olivia broke down crying and promised to pass the word to the Tillmans. Martha called her nurse friend at the hospital ER to get the details of the girl’s initial exam.

Afterward, Martha got up and walked out the front door for some fresh air and a cigarette—a fresh cup of coffee in hand.
What a night!
Tanner would be fine, eventually, and the Beasley girl was found.
Thank you, God,
she thought happily. She finished her coffee, took one last drag, then went back inside.

R.C. was following closely behind Ollie. Things were looking up for him. They still had to catch the bad guys, but they had a great lead. He was confident that they would be tracked down. He was proud of his instinctual decision to ride down the Dummy Line. This was proof of a sixth sense for investigative police work. R.C. had always liked and understood Ollie. They appreciated each other. Since R.C. had no ambition to be sheriff, Ollie trusted him completely. R.C., the devoted deputy, clearly understood the nature of their relationship. He smiled as he fast-forwarded the tape to “Copacabana,” then cleared his throat, preparing to sing along with Barry.

Deputy Larson, on the other hand, was sinking into a deep depression. He had gone from peak exhilaration when Shug found the gun to complete frustration when he lost the guy he was following. He had given Martha the details of his vehicle including his tag number. It was just a matter of time before they would find him again, but that didn’t help his mood. Adding insult to injury, the Hale County deputy had found the woman just minutes after Larson left the stakeout—just his rotten luck. Even over the airwaves, he could feel the weight of Sheriff Landrum’s disappointment. Larson glanced over his shoulder at Shug lying on the backseat, licking away.

Steve Tillman was elated to hear about Elizabeth. He prayed silently that she had not been raped. She was so young, vibrant, and full of life. Tanner had told him last month that she tested in the top ten percent of high school seniors nationwide. He hoped that she had been able to somehow protect herself. As he stood near the ER nurses’ station, he heard the head nurse instruct someone to take a wheelchair and a gurney to the entrance.

“I’m on my way!” the female nurse’s assistant replied excitedly as she hustled to the door.

Tillman followed her while Olivia punched Zach’s cell phone number into hers and waited.