The Dummy Line (23 page)

Marlow was sitting at Ollie’s desk. As Ollie walked past Martha O’Brien, she gave him an understanding glance. He stopped to pour himself a cup of coffee. He could see Marlow in his office talking on the landline. Zach Beasley walked in. Martha got up and hugged him. She had that uncanny ability of knowing what to say, and when to say it, that made everyone feel better. She poured Zach a cup of coffee. Ollie could tell she was going to mother him.

Marlow motioned him to come in. Ollie hung up his cowboy hat, then sipped his coffee.

“That’s right…there will be lots of media attention, and if your helicopter is being used, think of the positive PR that can come from this…you’ll be the hero.” Marlow winked at Ollie. He had opened a can of Vienna sausages and was busy dousing them with Tabasco after placing them on saltine crackers.

“Yes sir…I’m telling you this is big enough the national media will pick it up…everybody from
USA Today
to CNN,” he replied. He had started to take a bite of his snack when he gently placed the cracker on Ollie’s desk and repositioned the pink weenie. “OK. I’ll keep that in mind…the beach tomorrow afternoon…no, Bill, I promise that won’t happen again…it’s not even deer season.” Marlow laughed heartily. “Have him here as soon as you can. Have him land at the Livingston hospital…Yeah, they have a helipad. Thanks, Governor, and good night,” Marlow said with enthusiasm, then hung up.

Marlow leaned over Ollie’s desk and beamed. “You’ve got your ‘copter. It’ll be here inside two hours.

“You know, these things are good anytime,” he added, cheerfully holding up the can of Vienna sausages. “You want one?”

Ollie ignored the offer, thinking about the helicopter. He was thrilled beyond words but wondered if Marlow was more interested in helping the governor’s reelection efforts than he was in finding Elizabeth. “Thanks, Marlow. What was that about the beach?”

“He needs the helicopter back as soon as possible so he and his family can fly to their beach house on Ono Island…you know, down near Gulf Shores.”

“Shit, Marlow, we don’t know how long this is gonna to take!” Ollie exclaimed.

“Relax. It’ll all work out.” Marlow stood up and offered Ollie his own chair.

“And what was that about deer season?” Ollie asked as he sat down and motioned Zach to come in.

“Oh, that…well, last year we went on a deer hunt down near Mobile and the governor had to be at a fundraiser in Montgomery by seven that night. It was cold, and the bucks were chasing does hard. I killed a
huge
buck right before we had to leave. We didn’t have time to clean it. He was
huge
. I didn’t want to leave him, so I talked the governor into lettin’ me load the whole thing, guts and all, in the helicopter and I’d get my trusties to clean it when we got home. Well, while we were flyin’, a bunch of blood ran out and sprayed all over the underside of that white ‘copter, and when we landed, the ground crew ‘bout shit a purple snake thinkin’ that hydraulic fluid had leaked out. He caught some grief about that, evidently. Son, that deer was
huge
.” Marlow laughed and stuffed his mouth.

Ollie stared at him.
Hunters are amazing. What they do for a deer is unbelievable. Hell, it’s insane.
Zach walked in, snapping him back to reality.

“OK, OK, let’s get organized.” Ollie grabbed a sheet of paper and laid it next to a county map. He motioned for Zach to have a seat.

“No, thanks, I’ll stand.” Zach couldn’t be still.

Ollie nodded his understanding. “Here’s what we know.

“The Tillman kid and Elizabeth went on a date and somehow ended up on this road. His family owns some land off that road…so that gives them a reason to be there…whatever they were doing…let’s not worry about that right now. We found the boy, who had been beaten severely. There was another truck, but it didn’t have a tag, and we confiscated the keys to it. Earlier, I’d been on a call to a hunting club located pretty close to all this. Some guy calls Mick Johnson from a cell phone, telling him there’s some kind of emergency, and when we get there, we can’t find him. The cell reception broke up, and we couldn’t reestablish contact. We find some blood and later we find a pistol, but we don’t know anything else.”

This was all news to Zach Beasley. He stood very still trying to process it. He was astonished.

“But get this: the guy who called Mick—his name’s Jake Crosby—he’s from West Point, Mississippi, and the woman they brought in tonight is his next-door neighbor.”

“You think this Crosby fellow is behind all this?” Zach asked.

“No…I mean I don’t know, but I don’t think so. Marlow’s deputy found the woman right after I had a phone conversation with Johnny Lee Grover. But he’s definitely a person of
high
interest right now.”

Marlow grunted when he heard Johnny Lee’s name. “He’s trouble with a capital T.”

“We—R.C. and me—were standing at the truck I was telling y’all about, and there’s a radiophone that beeps and we hear a voice ask about a girl,” Ollie continued, carefully choosing his words.

Zach’s knees were getting weak. He couldn’t believe all this.

“Well, we captured his name and number from Caller ID. It’s Johnny Lee Grover. I called him from that phone and said I wanted to meet with him and that we wanted the girl back. I’d hoped to bargain and that he might betray his location. Of course, he played ignorant. Twenty minutes later, Marlow’s deputy finds the woman from West Point at Johnny Lee’s trailer. It may have been a coincidence, but I doubt it. There really aren’t ever any coincidences.”

Zach Beasley sat down and stared at the ceiling.

“You did the right thing, son,” Marlow added, as much for Zach as for Ollie. “You’ve gotta push hunches to make things happen.”

That made Ollie feel a little better about his gamble. He continued, looking at Zach. “So the call we overheard could have been referring to the Mississippi woman instead of your daughter. We just don’t know.”

Marlow stood up, anxious to offer his insight and wisdom. “What do you know about Crosby?”

Ollie answered. “Mick vouched for him. Said he was a good guy. We all know Mick…he’s solid. I trust his judgment. Crosby’s down here turkey huntin’, and I think—I’m not sure—but now, I think he has a kid with him. At a camper where he was staying, there was a small sleeping bag and a stuffed animal and several books for young kids. I have an APB out on a vehicle that was seen at Johnny Lee’s trailer just moments before we found the girl. It’s a Tupelo registration.”

Ollie looked up and saw several more of his off-duty deputies come in and talk to Martha.
Good, we need ‘em
. Behind them, Ollie could see the newspaper editor and two TV camera crews gathering.

“Your entourage is here, Marlow,” Ollie said with a little attitude, referring to the media.

“They can help us, you know.” He leaned forward and checked out who they were. “I’ll handle the media for you. I have two more deputies who’ll be here shortly.”

“Mr. Beasley, I’m so sorry you had to hear all this, but you need to know what we’re up against…and it’s mostly confusion. It just takes some time to sort through all the information,” Ollie said compassionately.

Zach nodded, still deep in a trance, not taking his eyes off the ceiling.

“Zach, this is going to work out. You’ve got the best guys in west Alabama working on it, and the governor’s personal helicopter will be here at dawn to help us search,” Marlow added, trying to reassure him.

Pointing at a map, Ollie commented, “This is the largest wilderness area in the county…miles of pine plantations and swamp. That’s gonna make it tough to search…and we really don’t know if that’s where we need to be lookin’. But that’s where we’ll start. So, if y’all will excuse me, I need to call West Point to check out this Jake Crosby guy. Marlow, if you’ll start laying out a search plan…don’t forget your Tabasco.” Ollie handed Marlow the small red bottle.

With that, Zach and Marlow walked out and shut Ollie’s office door. Ollie stared at the chaos beginning in the outer room. He picked up the phone and dialed information.

Lindsay Littlepage, assisted by Sumter County’s only female deputy, Lakreshia Gibbons, tried to contact her husband, Scott. Lindsay called out his cell number to Lakreshia, who slowly dialed it. Once Lakreshia heard the first ring, she handed the phone to Lindsay.

Listening impatiently to the ringing, Lindsay started getting emotional. Finally, she heard her husband answer sleepily, “Uh”—he cleared his throat—“hello?”

“Scott!…Scott!” She immediately started sobbing.

“Lindsay? Lindsay! What’s the matter? Are you OK? Are the kids OK? Lindsay!” he said frantically. Scott had stayed out late gambling and drinking whiskey with several other pharmaceutical sales reps. His head was pounding.

When Lindsay heard her husband’s voice, she couldn’t speak. Lakreshia gently took the phone from her.

“Mr. Littlepage, I am Deputy Gibbons with the Sumter County Sheriff’s Department, and we have your wife here in the hospital in Livingston. She’s fine now. This is going to sound crazy, but we think she was kidnapped and somehow escaped.”

“Kidnapped? Livingston? Alabama?” Scott was trying to force the thoughts to make sense.

“Yes sir,” the deputy responded.

“Is…is she OK?” Scott asked, sitting up and running his left hand through his hair.

“Yes sir. I’m looking at her right now. She’s obviously tired and the doctors are checking her out.”

“Wait…say all that again. I’m lost,” Scott pleaded as he fumbled for the light on the nightstand.

“Sir, we don’t have all the details. We do think that she was kidnapped sometime during the night. She escaped and was found by one of our deputies. We have her in the hospital, and she is stable.”

“Stable? She’s OK?”

“Yes sir.”

“What about my kids?”

“Apparently they were spending the night with some friends. We have officers checking that out…hold on…I think she can talk to you now—hang on.”

“Scott, he said you killed somebody! Did you? What’s going on? Who’d you kill? Please tell me you haven’t killed somebody,” she begged, on the verge of hysterics.

Totally stunned by the head-on collision of events, Scott shook his head, trying to make sense of Lindsay’s babbling.

“Lindsay, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about! I’m in Biloxi working. Who said that? I haven’t killed anybody. Are you OK? This is crazy!” Scott exclaimed.

“Scott, please come get me. I’m scared,” she pleaded.

“I will, honey. Don’t be scared. Are you all right? What about the—”

“Yeah…yes, and the kids are safe, I’m sure. They spent the night with the Johnsons.”

“Honey, I’m leaving right now, but it’ll take me at least three hours to get there from Biloxi.”

“Please hurry!”

“I’m on the way, baby,” he promised. “Let me speak to the deputy again. I love you.”

She handed the phone to Lakreshia and lay back down.

“Hello?” the officer said.

“Who kidnapped her?” Scott asked in disbelief.

“We don’t know, sir.” The deputy shrugged her shoulders.

“This is just crazy! Why?” Scott asked, obviously in shock.

“I don’t know, sir, but we’re working on getting answers to all these questions.”

“Has she…has she been…was she…was she raped?”

“No sir. There are no such indications,” she replied and smiled kindly at Lindsay.

Scott’s mind was whirling. “Hey, look, I have a friend, actually he’s my next-door neighbor, who’s at a hunting club ten miles or so from Livingston. His name’s Jake Crosby, and the club’s called the Bogue Chitto. I hunt there some with him. Can you have someone go out there and get him so he can stay with Lindsay? I’m sure he’s at the camp house.”

“Yes sir. I’ll see what I can do.” Deputy Gibbons jotted down “Jake Crosby” in her notebook and took a stab at spelling “Bogue Chitto.”

“Is there a number where I can call you back?” Scott asked. “I’m goin’ to have a bunch of questions while I’m drivin’.”

“Yes sir.” She gave Scott the hospital number and the sheriff’s office number. He promised to be there as fast as he could. Scott hung up the phone and stared in disbelief at the hotel walls.

Lakreshia again smiled warmly at Lindsay and told her that her husband was on his way and had said to tell her that he loved her. Lindsay smiled weakly, closed her eyes, and allowed the Xanax to work its magic.

Lakreshia walked out and called Martha O’Brien with the details. When she mentioned the Jake Crosby connection, Martha immediately took the information to Ollie. At this point, Ollie believed Jake was one of the good guys, but he sure wanted to ask the man some questions. Ollie had just gotten off the phone with the sheriff’s office in West Point. They really didn’t know anything about Jake Crosby. They did know he had a perfectly clean record, and a deputy on duty knew Jake because Jake had coached his daughter’s softball team two years earlier. The deputy didn’t think Jake could be criminally involved in anything this bizarre. West Point was dispatching units to the Johnsons’ to check on the children and to the Littlepage and Crosby homes to investigate the kidnapping. The deputy promised to call him right back.

“Thank you, Miz Martha,” Ollie said as he rubbed his head with both hands.

“You need anything, Sheriff?”

“Some fresh coffee please…if you don’t mind.”

“You got it.” Martha turned to leave and stopped. “Do you think this Jake character kidnapped the woman from West Point?”

“I don’t know what to think…common sense dictates we consider that angle, though,” he responded.

“Nothing’s ever as it seems; is it?”

“No ma’am.”

“I’ll get your coffee; you’re gonna need it.”