Make Haste Slowly

by Amy K Rognlie

  Was Earl asking me for help? Or was he trying to trap me into saying something?

  I held my tongue, the gun in my purse weighing down more than my shoulder.

  “I don’t know, Sheriff.” I frowned at him. “I know they knew each other.”

  He snorted. “It was more’n that, and you know it.”

  “No, I don’t.” I stared him down. “All I know is that Brandon accused Houston of shooting that P.I. that I found on my back doorstep.”

  “Well, if that don’t beat all. Are you still goin’ on that after I already told you the man didn’t die? Even the newspapers said—”

  “Don’t patronize me, Earl. You and I both know—”

  “All right, all right.” He glared at me. “Let’s jest leave it alone. All I want is to git some answers from the preacher. And you were the last one with him.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, until he was kidnapped. What are you doing about that?”

  “Well, seein’s as your boyfriend decided to git the Temple PD involved, not much.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you. I’m not—”

  His radio squawked. He answered it, then swore before stomping toward the door. He turned back to me. “This conversation ain’t over. I know you know something and I’m goin’ ta find out what it is.”

  I sank down in Houston’s desk chair, praying. I didn’t care about Earl at the moment. All I knew is that I needed to find my friend. I also knew I should wait for Todd to come with me, but I couldn’t wait to see if I could locate the place I had seen in my dream. But how would I know where to look?

  I texted Mona. “Are you coming home today?”

  “Just pulled in!!!!! No news about Houston??”

  “No. But I have some stuff to tell you.”

  She called me.

  “I’m coming over,” she said. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I don’t think Rob believes me, Callie, but I’m pretty sure I saw Nicole at a gas station not long ago on our way home.”

  “Where?”

  “It was near Granger somewhere.”

  I pictured the tiny town thirty minutes from here. “Would you be able to remember what gas station it was if we drove down there?”

  “Hush, Bubbles!” she shouted in my ear. “Sorry about that, Callie. Yes, for sure. There’s only like two, you know. She looked terrible.”

  I could only imagine. “Did she see you?”

  “Nah, I don’t think so. We stopped real quick ’cause I had a hankering for one of those cappuccino things and Rob wanted him a corn dog. I picked up a bag of—”

  “Meet me at my shop. I’ll be there in a sec.” I tried to push back in the chair, but the wheels crunched over something. I shoved the chair harder, then bent to pick up the crumpled envelope that had been stuck under a wheel.

  I sucked in my breath. That was my brother’s handwriting. On an envelope addressed to Brandon.

  The letter.

  Brandon had received Jason’s letter. But what was it doing in Houston’s office? Maybe Brandon had brought it to show Houston. But why?

  I folded it in half and stuck it in my pocket. I could puzzle over that later. Right now, we had Nicole to think about.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I texted Todd to let him know what was going on and that Mona and I were on our way to Granger.

  He called me right as we pulled away from C. Willikers. “I don’t think that’s a wise idea.”

  “We can’t lose her again, Todd. If Mona saw her, we need to get down there and—”

  He growled. “What do you think you will do if you find her? These are dangerous men.”

  “I want to see her, Todd. Make sure she’s okay.”

  “I don’t like it. Why don’t you wait for me, and I’ll go with you tomorrow?”

  Mona grabbed the phone from me. “Todd Whitney. We can’t wait until tomorrow. This girl needs us.”

  She held the phone up to me. “He says he needs to talk to you. I put him on speaker.”

  “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid. You know she’s being watched and if you—”

  “I’ll be very careful, Todd. I promise.” I sped up to pass a semi. “And I’ll text you when we get there, okay?”

  “Callie—”

  Mona ended the call. “Men.”

  We were almost to Granger when I saw it. I slammed on the brakes.

  “Mona! That’s the sign that I saw in my dream.” I pulled onto the shoulder and backed up until I was in front of the dilapidated sign. “‘Hang ’Em High Taxidermy,’” I read out loud.

  Mona made a face. “You dreamed about taxidermy?”

  “No. In my dream I saw a sign shaped like this, but I couldn’t read what it said.” I grabbed my phone and got out of the van to look closer at the sign. It was weathered wood, shaped like a deer head with antlers. A faded arrow pointed down a dirt road.

  Mona rolled down the window. “Is it the right one?”

  “It has to be.” I took a picture of the sign. “What if that’s where Houston is?”

  We stared at each other.

  At a taxidermist? But that’s where they took dead animals and—

  I shuddered.

  “What about Nicole?” Mona tapped her fingernails on the window frame.

  I was torn.

  “Let’s go see if we can find Nicole. Then we can come back by here on our way home.” I started to get into the van, then veered off to walk a few feet down the dirt road. “I can’t even see a building. It must be way back in there.”

  Mona honked the horn.

  I headed back to the van, dragging my feet. What if we were only a few yards away from Houston? I couldn’t simply drive away.

  I yanked Mona’s door open. “We need to at least go see.”

  She sighed. “I was afraid you were going to say that. But won’t it be kind of obvious if we drive your C. Willikers van right up to the building?”

  “Yes. I’ll park it up the highway a little bit. Then we can walk up the road and see what’s there.”

  “How about if I park it and wait there for you in case you need a quick getaway?”

  I almost laughed until I realized Mona wasn’t joking. “Um, okay. Head up the highway a mile or so. I’ll look around and then text you when I’m done and you can come get me.”

  Seriously. What could happen? I would hike down there a little way to see if I could spot the building, so we would know where to go when we came back.

  She maneuvered herself from the passenger’s seat into the driver’s seat, puffing and mumbling. “I want you to know, Nancy Drew, that if you get in trouble with Todd for this, I’m not going to take any blame.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’ll even walk through the trees instead of down the road, okay?”

  “You’ll get a million chigger bites.”

  “Go park, Mona. I’ll text you in a few minutes. Then we’ll see if we can find Nicole.”

  I stuck my phone in the front pocket of my shorts and hiked my oversized purse over my shoulder as she sped away. Why hadn’t I left it in the van with Mona? It was like 100 degrees out here, and I was already sweating. I picked my way through the scrubby underbrush until I got to the shade of the trees. It wasn’t much cooler, but at least the sun wasn’t beating down on my head.

  Skirting a big patch of prickly pear cactus, I wound my way through the trees that paralleled the dirt road. Sure didn’t seem like good business to have your building so far out in the boonies, I grumbled to myself. I felt ridiculous, slinking through the trees like…like Nancy Drew. Ha. All I needed were my pumps, my string of pearls, and my shiny new roadster.

  And a whole bunch of angels.

  My little jaunt had suddenly ended at the back of a dilapidated barn from which emanated a horrible smell. Worse, I was looking straight down the barrel of a rifle.

  “Hello, Callie. Looking for your friend?”

  I knew that voice. Those freckled arms. I raised my eyes to the face of Houston’s
kidnapper—and Nicole’s handsome, red-haired pimp. Of course. Why hadn’t I put two and two together before now?

  “I’m sure he’d love some company,” he continued in a friendly tone, plucking my phone from my front pocket.

  My heart sank. At least Mona knew where I was. Sort of.

  “Cat got yer tongue?” A grin spread across his handsome face. “I’ve been watching you.”

  My throat closed.

  He advanced closer. “You weren’t supposed to tell your boyfriend about our little time together, sweetheart.”

  I took a few steps backwards. Jesus. Please help me.

  “But that doesn’t matter now, does it?” He stepped close enough for me to smell the scent of his skin. “You’ll forget all about him after I’m done with you.”

  I gagged. The cruelty emanating from the man was palpable. Dark forms snaked and swirled around me until I felt invisible hands on my throat.

  “Jesus!” I screamed.

  The man fell to the ground as if stunned.

  I staggered backwards, trying to breathe.

  What should I do? Surely Houston was here somewhere. I couldn’t run. Couldn’t leave him to die at the hands of this monster. God, help me.

  The man struggled to his feet. He pointed the rifle at me again, but this time the tip of it wavered. “Into the barn,” he ordered.

  I didn’t move.

  Jesus?

  “Now!” He jerked his head toward the barn, but didn’t try to touch me.

  I edged toward the barn door, hoping to see Mona come flying up in my van any moment. God would not abandon me. Neither would my best friend.

  “In there.” He pointed with the rifle toward a closed wooden door.

  I wanted to vomit. The smell of rotting flesh was overpowering. Flies crawled and hovered everywhere. I opened the door and stared into blackness.

  A kick from behind sent me tumbling into the darkness. I landed hard on the dirt floor as the door slammed closed behind me. At least it was cooler in here. And the smell wasn’t as bad.

  I sat up. I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face. I felt around for my glasses, then froze.

  I was not alone in this room.

  I could sense the presence of another person. Had I found Houston? Or was there evil waiting in the shadows?

  I held my breath, listening.

  Jesus?

  I am here, Beloved. Do what I sent you to do.

  Not daring to move, I strained to see in the dark.

  “Houston?” I whispered.

  Nothing.

  A little louder. “Houston? Houston, it’s Callie.”

  “Callie?”

  His voice was raspy, and I bit back a sob. “Yes, it’s me. Where are you?”

  “Over here. In the corner. I can’t—”

  I crawled my way toward the sound of his voice, hoping I wouldn’t smoosh my glasses on my way. I needed to find them or else I wouldn’t be able to—I bumped into Houston’s leg and reached out blindly. My hands found the top of his head, and then his face.

  “Oh, thank God I found you!” I threw my arms around his neck. “Are you okay?”

  He wept then, great racking sobs.

  I rocked him as a mother would rock an injured child, holding him until the pain subsided. He was burning with fever.

  “I thought God had forsaken me, Callie. I’ve done such a terrible thing and He is punishing me.”

  I pulled back from him, wishing I could see his face. “He has not forsaken you, Houston. He sent me here to find you.”

  “I don’t deserve His mercy.”

  We could discuss that once I was satisfied he was okay. “Let me untie you. Are you hurt?”

  “No.” He grunted, trying to turn so I could reach his hands behind his back. “Just my wrists and ankles from being tied up. And I have the flu, I think.”

  “These are some serious knots,” I said. “I wish I had a flashlight.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “I told you. The Lord sent me here to find you.” I picked at a knot. “Ouch! Broke my fingernail.”

  “I mean—”

  “He gave me a dream. When should I expect our captor to come back?”

  “No telling. He usually comes a couple of times a day to give me food and water. I have no idea what he plans to do with me.”

  “Do you know why he kidnapped you?”

  Houston heaved a sigh. “I can guess.”

  I finally got one of the knots free and started on the next one. “Care to tell me about it?”

  “I was planning to tell you that night. That’s why I wanted you to meet with me in the first place.”

  I nodded, then realized he couldn’t see me. “Yeah, I gathered there was more to the story than what you told me.”

  “I still can’t believe you found me. Does anyone know you’re here?”

  “Mona.” Surely, she had already alerted Todd. And probably the police, too.

  He coughed a painful-sounding cough. “What were you planning to do if you found me? Have a shoot-out with the bad guys?”

  I laughed. “No, I was only supposed to see where the building was, then we were going to come back later.”

  But speaking of a shoot-out—I sat back on my heels, abandoning the knot picking. “Houston. Why did you have a gun in your office?”

  He was silent for a long moment. “It’s not a gun, gun.”

  “Sure looks like one.”

  “It’s a Taser. A stun gun.”

  A Taser. The same weapon that was used on the P.I. Oh, Houston.

  “It’s a long story. I’m not a gun person. I don’t like handling them. But when that guy started harassing Nicole, I decided that I might need to physically protect her at some point.”

  I braced myself for what he was going to tell me.

  He groaned as he worked his arms out from behind himself. “I feel like my shoulders are out of joint.”

  I took one of his hands in mine, rubbing it to help restore the blood flow. “And so?”

  “And so I bought a Taser. I didn’t think I could ever bring myself to pull the trigger of a real gun on someone.”

  I stopped rubbing. “But you told me the other night that you murdered that guy.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I felt him go still.

  I waited, wishing I could see his eyes. What was he thinking?

  Finally, he took a deep breath and then blew it out. “I never said I murdered someone. What are you talking about?”

  “But you did! You sat right on my couch in my book nook at C. Willikers and said ‘I killed him.’”

  “I meant Brandon. Not the other guy.”

  I gulped. Was Houston going nutso? “You didn’t kill Brandon. He was hit by a truck.”

  “I killed him.”

  A chill ran through me at the terrible finality of those words.

  “What do you mean?” I whispered.

  “It was my fault he ran out in front of that truck.”

  I sagged back on the floor in relief. “No, it wasn’t. He had schizophrenia and it affected his thinking. That’s not your fault.”

  “It is my fault. He had been coming to me for counseling and I—”

  “You were counseling Brandon?”

  “Yes. He didn’t want anyone to know, so we usually met early in the morning or late at night. I—I think he sincerely wanted help.”

  The puzzle pieces were starting to fall together in my brain. “And one early morning he saw you—”

  “He saw me tase the man.”

  Whew.

  “So you really didn’t kill the guy.”

  “No.” He shifted, his foot bumping into my leg. “I didn’t know who he was. I thought Vic had hired some new thug to stalk Nicole.”

  “Vic?” I knew it. I knew he was involved in this whole deal in some way.

  “I saw the guy slinking around Sherm’s house a couple of times. Then that morning, I went to my office extra early, be
cause Brandon wanted to meet at five o’clock. He was super paranoid someone was going to see him going into the church.

  “I happened to glance out my window, and I saw the scruffy dude nosing around your shop. That was the last straw. I Tased him that morning, hoping to run him out of town.”

  “And Brandon saw you.”

  “Yes. But I didn’t know it at the time. Also, I swear to you that the man was not dead. I could see him under your back-porch light. He fell down when I tased him, but then he got up and kind of staggered away.”

  I couldn’t believe this. “Then who—? Could he have died later from it?”

  “But I visited him in the hospital the next day, remember? He was a homeless guy named Roger. I’m positive he was the same person I shot. He even confessed to lurking around in your neighborhood. Just trying to get by, I guess.”

  I thought back to the day I found the body on my back doorstep. I had walked up to the back door of my shop, seen the man with the gift bag in his hand…his expensive clothing...his hair neatly clipped around his ears…his face crawling with fire ants…no way. It couldn’t be. But it had to be.

  “There were two.”

  Why hadn’t I thought of it before?

  “Two what, Callie?”

  “Two men.” My hair was sticking to the back of my neck. I gathered it into a ponytail and held it there while I put more puzzle pieces together. “The one you tased, and the one someone else killed and put under my crepe myrtle tree.”

  “I can’t believe this.”

  I let my hair drop down my back again. “It finally makes sense, in a terrible kind of way.”

  We sat in silence.

  “So who killed the other guy?”

  “Hmm. Probably Vic or the pimp dude. Do you know what the pimp’s name is?”

  “No. Or maybe Earl?”

  I sat still, thinking. I saw again the grief in the sheriff’s eyes over his nephew. Could Earl be capable of murdering someone?

  “Nah, I don’t think it was Earl. He’s a good ol’ boy and a cheater, but I don’t think he’d kill anyone.”