The Traveling Corpse (33 page)

Brad answered immediately, “He always had a
key to the Bingo closet in Old Main. Have you tried that?”

“I'm on my way,” Juarez said.

“Praise the Lord! We're right behind
you,”

 

* * *

 

Annie was suffering through a Charlie Horse
cramp when she thought she heard a sound like a key turning in the
lock. Then she felt a difference—the air began to move in the
stuffy room. She heard voices, lovely, familiar voices. Then Art
was telling her how much he loved her and was kissing the duct tape
covering her face. Then she heard him say in a joking tone, “Whee,
Annie! Smells like you've been partying in here! What have you been
drinking?”

Hands were working to release her—to cut the
duct tape that held her prisoner to a wooden chair. She wanted to
beg them to stop pulling the tape from her face; it was so painful,
but her mouth was still bound. She felt the cold steel of the blade
of a scissors on her face. Someone was carefully cutting at the
tape, trying to uncover her eyes. Finally, she saw a thin line of
light. The worst of her kidnapping ordeal was over. Her left arm
ached from all of Karl's pulling and pushing on it, aggravated all
the more by being tied in one position for hours and hours.

After Juarez was satisfied that Annie was
going to be okay, he asked, “Is there a phone in the building?”

“I'll show ya,” DeeDee offered and led him to
the wall phone in the kitchen.

Juarez dialed the hospital and asked to speak
to Sgt. Menendez in ER. The first words out of his mouth to his
sergeant were, “We've got her! Annie's safe!”

“Praise the Lord and the Sheriff's
Department!” Maria whooped in a most undignified manner. Then,
business-like, she queried, “Where is she? Where'd you find her?”
After Juarez filled her in, she told him, “I'm sending an ambulance
for her. She won't want to go to the hospital, but tell her it's an
order from me. I need to have a doctor examine her for the record.
She's a nurse; she'll understand. I'll wait here in the ER for her.
And, by the way, great job, Joe!”

 

* * *

The EMTs worked quickly, but gently, then
slid the stretcher holding Annie into the ambulance. Art headed for
his car. Brad followed and asked, “Can Barb and I ride with you? We
don't have a car, and I guess Karl still has our golf cart.”

“Of course. Sorry I forgot about you. I just
want to get to the hospital.”

“We'll go with you,” Barb decided. “You need
support.”

“That's a good idea,” Doc agreed. “But, it'll
be too many for all of us to go there, and I don't think they'll be
needing a veterinarian at the hospital. We'll go back to your
place, Art. Don't want you to come home to an empty house.”

Art reached in his pocket for a house key. As
DeeDee took it from him, she said, “We probably won't need it; that
deputy should still be there. I don't think any of us even thought
‘bout lockin' your house!”

“We'll keep you guys company,” Von said to
Doc and DeeDee.

His wife agreed, “We've got all that food to
put away and stuff to clean up. Annie doesn't need to come home to
that mess aftah all she's been through.”

“Thanks, gang,” was all Art could manage to
say.

Then Juarez spoke to the Bs, “There was a
golf cart by that old barn. Had ‘Brad' and ‘Barb' painted in script
on the front of it. Could it be yours?”

“That's us,” Brad responded.

“We'll have to keep it for a while, get it
checked out.” Then Joe turned to Art, “I'll stop by your house to
tell the deputy that he can leave. Always have to keep an eye on
the county's budget. Overtime runs up real quick. Karl has been
apprehended, and Annie's on her way to the hospital. You should be
safe now.”

“Praise the Lord!” the friends said in
unison.

 

* * *

 

The ER staff attended to the Sheriff
Department's patient immediately. Annie was whisked inside and
helped into a clean, but unpressed, white cotton hospital gown with
a blue sprigged pattern covering all of Annie but the slit up the
back of the garment. Art, Barb, and Brad waited impatiently for the
medical examination to be over. Then they had to wait longer while
Maria questioned Annie. When they were finally allowed to see her,
patches of Annie's eyebrows were gone, as was the smell of liquor;
her left arm was supported in a sling. She managed a wan smile, but
her violet eyes were sad.

Art wanted to ask about the sling, but he
wanted to hug his Annie more. When he tried to hold her, she
protested, “I love you too, Art, but you're squeezing me too hard.
It kindda hurts!”

“Oh! Annie, sorry, but I was so scared for
you—and for me too. Don't want to hurt you anymore than you've
already been.”

Weakly, she answered, “I'm all right. Karl
didn't hurt me too much. I kept feeling Jesus' arms wrapped around
me, so the knocks I got weren't too bad. The worst part is all that
duct tape. It hurt to pull it off. Do I have any eyebrows
left?”

“It doesn't matter. Annie, you still look
beautiful to me with or without eyebrows,” Art said fondly.

“Karl really did a number on my arm. He put
so much pressure on it that he almost dislocated it. I guess that's
better than a broken arm like he gave Kitty.”

Art was furious; Annie calmed him, saying,
“It's over, Art. Don't let your blood pressure soar because of
this. Don't want you in the hospital too.”

“Do you have to stay here?” Barb asked. “Are
they going to admit you?”

“I don't think so. The doctor wants to have
me take a few more tests. Then I can probably go home. Why don't
you leave now and get some sleep?” Annie urged, always thinking of
others.

Barb let out a little laugh, “Annie, you are
something else. Here you are bummed up, and you're worrying about
our getting sleep!”

“It's morning, Annie. Time to wake up,” Brad
told her. “Guess you lost track of time being locked in that dark
closet.”

Then Art asked, “Did you get any sleep? You
were taped to that chair all night. No wonder you're sore in
places.”

“I did have some awful cramps at times,”
Annie admitted. I'd just grit my teeth and pray for them to ease.
I'd say that verse from James, that one that you taught us,
Barb—the one about persevering in the Lord. And, yes, I did manage
to doze some.”

Art emphatically stated, “Annie, I am not
leaving you here without me. If you are staying, then so am I. I
should never have gone to that shuffle tournament and left you
alone.”

Annie chided her husband from her cot, “Art,
stop beating yourself up. You didn't leave me alone. You made sure
I was with Barb. It surely wouldn't have made any difference if it
were you or Barb—either way, one of you would have gone inside to
phone for an ambulance for Kitty, and Karl would still have
kidnapped me.”

Art shrugged, “I guess you're right, but I
still feel responsible.” Annie smiled, appreciating Art's love for
her. She shut her eyes for a moment to send up a sentence prayer:
Thank-you, Lord, for letting me share my life with such a kind,
caring, God-fearing man. I've been so blessed. Amen.

“I can't wait much longer,” Barb almost
exploded with curiosity. “I've got to know everything that happened
to Karl. And before you start your story, I want to let you know
that I called the president of Hobby Club. Helen says she'll get a
team of club members to take turns being with Kitty—to help her
through this awful time in her life until her kids can fly down to
take care of things. So, you can concentrate on getting well
yourself and not be worrying about Kitty. Now, will you please tell
us ‘the rest of the story'—like Paul Harvey always says?”

“I don't know all the details, and it's not a
nice story,” Annie sighed. “But, I'll tell you what Maria told me.
She said that Kitty was a big help.”

“She certainly was,” Barb agreed. “I was
there when Maria questioned her. The deputies would never have
found Karl as soon as they did without the tips from Kitty.”

Annie continued, “Maria told me that the
clues Kitty gave her about the old barn and the adjoining golf
course let them locate where Karl had been hiding all day with
Kitty.”

Brad broke in, “I'll bet he knew about the
old barn from when he served on the golf club committee—from when
they were hunting adjoining land to buy to build the new golf
course.”

Annie went on, “Maria and the deputies
surrounded the place. I guess they used a bull horn and ordered
Karl to come out. They waited. No answer. Finally, a deputy crept
up and tried to open that small side door—that Kitty mentioned—not
the big barn door. It squeaked, just like she said. That's when
Karl called out and warned them not to come in; if they did, he
threatened to hang himself. They regrouped outside, wondering if it
were best to wait or charge in. Since they were worried about my
safety, they decided to rush Karl. He'd found an old rope. Made a
noose and threw one end of the rope over a rafter and secured the
other end. He had his head through the nose and was standing on a
rickety old chair. When the officers rushed in, Karl kicked the
chair away. His body dangled giddily, swinging back and forth. They
couldn't get to him quickly because he had strewn those used tires
around and pulled old furniture up so the officers had to work
their way through the blockade he'd built around himself. So, it
took a few minutes before they could get to him and hold his body
up to release the strain on his neck. Maria told me that it was a
horrible thing to have to see, but he was still alive.”

Annie paused; then wiped a tear away and
continued, “Maria said she had radioed for an ambulance before
going inside the barn. She rode in the ambulance with Karl, trying
to get him to tell her where he had me hidden away, but he wouldn't
cooperate. Maria said she didn't think he could talk—his voice box
was damaged, but he was aware enough that he could have nodded his
head or squeezed her fingers to answer a yes or no question if he
wanted to. But he wouldn't help her find me. He just wanted me to
be as miserable as he was; I guess. He wanted to die, and …”
she hesitated, “he did die in the operating room.”

“So, Karl is dead. I don't know whether to be
happy for Kitty or sorry for her,” Barb wondered.

When the last test on Annie was completed,
she was released from the Emergency Room. “I just want to go home
to my own bed and sleep for a hundred hours,” she told Art as he
helped her into the car. And sleep she did—for hours, until Art
began to worry if she were ever going to wake up.

 

 

 

 

The telephone rang early. Art roused himself
to answer it, knowing it was either one of their kids calling or
the media wanting an interview. He'd turned away all the calls
wanting interviews by telling them, “Mrs. Andersen is in no
condition to speak to a reporter at this time. Thank you for
calling.”

As he hung up the phone, Annie opened one eye
and asked. “Who was that?”

Instead of answering her question, Art said
with relief, “Well, good morning. Nice to know you are alive. I was
afraid you died in your sleep!”

“Of course, I'm alive. Who was on the
phone?”

“One of those morning tv talk shows. Did you
want to talk to them?”

“Do I have to?”

“Not unless you want to.”

“Not now. Not ready to face that yet. I'll be
like Scarlet O'Hara and ‘think about that tomorrow.'” She got up to
go to the bathroom.

“Are you going to stay up, or are you going
back to bed?” Art asked.

“What day is it?”

“What's that got to do with your getting up
or not?”

“I don't know. How long did I sleep?”

“Almost sixteen hours.”

“Sixteen hours?”

“Do you remember what happened to you?” Art
asked.

Annie stopped in the bathroom door, turned
back to her husband, and paused while the horror of being kidnapped
enveloped her. “So that's why my arm is so sore. Oh, Art, it was
awful. I'm used to being in control of my life, and, and, … Oh,
I was so helpless.” She sat down on the toilet lid and began to
sob.

Art knelt in front of her, trying to comfort
her, “Go ahead and cry, darling. It'll be good for you to let it
out of your system.”

When her tears finally subsided, she asked
Art, “Do I have to go back to bed?”

“Not if you don't want to. Why do you
ask?”

“Oh! I guess I was so brow-beaten. I… I…”

“It's okay, Annie. It's all over. You're
safe. Now, what do you want to do?”

“Then I'd like to get up and get dressed.
I've slept long enough. Will you help me with my bra? I don't think
I can reach behind me to hook it; my arm is too sore.”

“Honey,” Art said, “I am so happy to have you
home safe and sound that I'll gladly help you dress. I'll even feed
you, if you want me to!”

For the first time since she came home,
Annie's violet eyes danced as she laughed, “That might be fun. I
will need help cutting my meat for a few days.” Then she asked what
day it was. When Art told her it was Wednesday, she said, “Is it
too late to go to Coffee?”

“Sure you want to? Want to face all those
people? They'll ask you all kinds of questions. Are you ready for
it?”