by Cat Clayton
Cuff nuzzled my hand. Your sleuthing skills are on fire today!
“Okay, Steely.” Daniel maneuvered the car to the side of the road. The car engine purred.
Everyone kept their voices muted as we stared out of the passenger window. Closest to the door, Gertie’s breath formed little fog patches on the glass. A memory of Stoney and I driving with our parents, when we were young, popped into my head. We used to write each other messages in our fogged breath on the car windows. I closed my eyes, blinking back tears.
George Strait blared in our ears, causing all of us to jump.
“Jesus, Joseph, and Mary!” Gertie squealed. “I nearly peed my pants!”
“It’s my phone,” I said. One signal bar appeared. No caller ID. I swiped to answer.
“Hello?”
“Steely, where are you?” Jackson’s voice crackled.
“You will not believe it, but I think we may have found her!”
Silence on the other end. “Jackson?” I noticed the call dropped. I hit redial.
“Steely, you’re... up!” His high-pitched voice put me on edge, my hands trembling.
“I hope you can hear me. I can’t explain now, but I need y’all to get out here. Fast. We’re pulled over on FM 218, in front of the old Wood family farmhouse. It’s yellow.”
“Steely, I can have Lenora... tax records, but... faster if... see an address. Is there a mailbox... numbers?”
The call dropped again. “Doggonit!” I wanted to smash my phone but resisted the urge.
“He needs the address! Let me out of the car!”
Gertie fumbled with the door as I unlatched our seatbelt. I clambered over her, out of the car, and ran to the middle of the road, holding my phone above my head, searching for a signal. No freaking bars!
“I don’t see anything on the mailbox over there!” Daniel said out the window.
I looked at both sides of the road, coming up empty. I inspected the dilapidated gate area and spotted a black, county 911 address plaque on the wooden fence, partially hidden by the native shrubbery. I dashed back to the car and handed the phone to Gertie.
“Hold this. Answer if he calls back.”
“Steely, be careful!” Daniel hissed.
Behind me, I heard my phone ring, and Gertie answered it and fussed at Jackson.
“Bolivar, this is Gertie. Quit your squawking. We can’t think straight. And she’s doing all she can to get you the address.”
I crept closer to the primitive gate and moved the brush hiding the address. I hand-signaled the numbers to Gertie. 1928. She nodded. I heard her reciting them to Jackson as I dashed back to the car. I grabbed the phone from her ear.
“Jackson, did you get that?”
“He disconnected. They’re en route he said,” Gertie said.
I motioned for her to scoot in, so I’d be on the outside of the seat. I left the seatbelt undone. Just in case, I thought.
Just in case what, Chiquita?
There are too many bad scenarios to mention, little buddy.
“Let’s hope Earl didn’t see us pulled over,” I said and sent a quick prayer up to Mama for everyone’s safety, especially Stoney’s.
Chapter 28
The minutes felt like hours as we waited for backup to arrive. Gertie hummed an unfamiliar tune. Cuff stood on his hind legs on my lap, head over my shoulder, gaping out the back windshield, panting. His tiny body shook against mine. Like the purr of a cat, I found calmness in the vibration as I kept my eyes on the small rearview side mirror.
Daniel switched on the AM news station we picked up from Brenham. The DJ chuckled as he reported a story about a shoplifting Santa.
“So, here’s an interesting story for all the listeners out there on this crisp, sunny day. They arrested an alleged Santa-in-training in Grimes County, where he allegedly shoplifted several items from an outdoor Christmas market. He led local police and county deputies on a one-hour, slow-speed chase on—get ready, folks—a John Deere tractor the Santa hijacked from a farmer. The shoplifting Santa was posing as a trainee at the Southwest Texas Red Suit Academy as his cover. He is also wanted in Wallerton County for questioning in a murder investigation.”
“I think I’ve heard it all,” Gertie said, shaking her head.
Daniel slapped his knee. “Yeah, and just think, we served him coffee at Baker’s Bliss!”
“I don’t think it can get any crazier,” I said, squinting at the mirror. I spotted a tiny, dark speck on the road behind us. “I think I see someone approaching. Let’s hope it’s backup.” I leaned into Gertie and looked out the back window.
She howled. “Ouch! You stabbed me!”
“What?”
Pulling up her pant leg, she found the culprit. A cocklebur, perfect and prickly, stuck to her jogging pants. “Stupid little sucker!”
“Sorry, it must have clung to my jeans when I walked in the tall grass,” I said, reaching down and carefully plucking it from her pant leg. I rolled down the window and tossed it out.
Daniel turned the radio volume down, but left the car running to keep us warm. It was a smart decision. With the outside temperature, it’d be fifty-five degrees in here in no time.
The speck in the side mirror grew larger as it approached. Thankfully, whoever was driving knew to leave the emergency lights off. I imagined Pop’s current state of mind. Panic-mode. Fearful. Angry. Desperate. I hoped for his sake, he was with Jackson, who would tolerate his mood more than any other officer at the department.
“Here they come,” I said, noticing at least six or seven cars following in a line.
Cuff whipped his tail back and forth, whining. Chiquita, they have come to our rescue.
“I know, little buddy.” I patted his hind end.
The first car drove past us. The others held back and pulled over onto the side of the road.
“What’re they doing?” Daniel asked, adjusting his rearview mirror.
“I’m guessing they didn’t want to drive seven units past the house in case he’s watching,” I said, observing the first car stopping up ahead. It backed up with caution toward Daniel’s car, stopping about fifteen feet in front of the Miata. Jackson jumped out of the driver’s side door, and Nick emerged from the passenger side. They walked in our direction.
Where is Pop? I wondered.
I rolled down the passenger window. Annoyance plagued Jackson’s handsome face as he loomed over the Miata.
“I appreciate you staying in the car and waiting,” he said, resting his palms on top of the car. Despite the frustration in his voice, I had the notion his disposition wasn’t about me.
Nick stood to his right, arms crossed over his chest. He avoided eye contact with me, and he allowed Jackson to do the talking.
“Of course,” I said, not wanting to further his aggravation. Maybe the two of them had words on the way here. With two arrogant male officers who weren’t exactly friends, the testosterone in their vehicle probably reached a record-high level.
Jackson’s eyes flicked to his left as a DPS black and white unit drove past us and pulled in front of Jackson’s car.
“DPS is involved?” I asked.
He nodded. “We needed backup. Apparently, Earl Wood’s got a rap sheet the devil would be proud of.” His eyes incarcerated mine. “Steely, I don’t want you here. It’s dangerous—”
“I’m not leaving,” I said, digging my proverbial heels in. I wasn’t leaving until they found Stoney. Bottom line.
“I know, but I need you to stay put. Right here. No closer. No matter what you hear, you’re not to go near the house. Can you do that for me, buttercup?” He pleaded with a kind smile. “Please?”
“I’ll do anything you ask. Just don’t make me leave.”
“All right.” He bent down, brushing his lips over mine. “I love you.” He stood straight, readjusted his gun belt, and took a step back.
“And I love you.” My heart thumped so loud I’m sure everyone near heard it.
Aww, Ch
iquita, you make me want to see my Taffy.
Nick rolled his eyes and stomped off to meet the two DPS officers headed our way.
Jackson caught me watching him. “Don’t worry about him. He’s butt-hurt over our argument earlier.”
“Y’all argued?” Guilt crept into my thoughts. “About me?”
He nodded. “It’s all good. I want y’all to roll up your windows and stay in the car.”
We did as asked and watched him walk toward Nick and the other officers.
“Shoot, I forgot to ask where Pop was,” I said as a third car passed us. “I guess they’re driving past the house one car at a time, so they don’t attract attention to themselves and alert Earl.”
“Send him a message,” Gertie said.
“Right. Good thinking.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” she said, grinning.
I hoped the one bar of signal would be enough. I typed out a text to Pop, asking for his location and status. I received an immediate reply.
I’m two cars behind you w/Chief Becker. You okay?
I typed. We’re fine.
We? he replied.
Don’t ask, I messaged him back and set my phone on the dashboard.
“He’s two cars back with the chief.”
Jackson headed back to our car, and I rolled the window down.
“Can you pull up closer to my car, please? We need to make room near the driveway for the chief. We’re assembling a plan, and then we’ll move in.”
“Okay,” I said, holding my hand out the window. He took it in his. “Be safe out there.”
“Will do, buttercup.” He kissed my hand and waved to the chief to move into our spot.
Daniel pulled the Miata right behind Jackson’s police car and set the emergency brake, leaving the car idling in neutral. “We can’t see as much back here.”
I twisted in the seat. “I know.” I wondered if Jackson’s motive for having us move further away was more about keeping us at a safer distance rather than making space for the chief.
Chief Becker’s SUV pulled in behind us, and Pop shot out of the passenger side. He rushed over to our car.
“I hear you’re the one who figured this all out,” Pop said, resting his hands on the lower window frame.
“Well, I had help. Pop, it’s Ziggy’s brother, Earl.”
He reached in and patted my hand. “I know. We’ll talk about it when it’s all over. I’m assuming they told you to stay in the car?”
“Yes,” I said, with a hint of annoyance in my voice.
“Good girl. Stay,” he said and headed back to the chief’s vehicle. I pushed the button to close the window.
Sounds like he’s giving commands to a dog, Chiquita.
“I know, right?” I patted Cuff on the head. I watched the activity in front of the car. “It’s so aggravating.” I took a few deep breaths, attempting to soothe my escalating apprehension.
AFTER FORTY-FIVE MINUTES of everyone on the scene organizing themselves, they finally made a move. In full tactical gear, Nick, Jackson, and one of the DPS officers entered the thick brushy area to the left of the gate. From our view, there were six officers to the right of the gate set up. With a radio in his hand, the chief, Pop, and two other DPS stood next to Chief Becker’s vehicle in front of us.
Gertie wiggled in the seat next to me. “I need to void my bladder.”
I glanced at her. “Seriously?”
“Yes. I drank a lot of soda back in the filing room.”
“Oh, Gertie,” I said, eyeing the grass on the other side of the road. “You know you will have to squat out there, right? And, there are people everywhere.”
“And don’t forget, sticker burrs,” Daniel said.
“Would you prefer I test the pee-proof undies I’m wearing?”
“I’d rather you not,” Daniel replied.
“Fine. Daniel take off your sweater. I can use it to shield her,” I said.
Daniel unbuttoned his charcoal-gray sweater and wiggled out of it. “Please don’t urinate on it.” He squished up his face, reached into the center console and retrieved a travel size packet of tissues. He tossed them.
“Let’s go, or I’m having an accident.” She all but shoved me from the car.
Chief Becker headed our direction, shaking his head.
“I know, I know. But my grandmother desperately needs to use the bathroom. We don’t have a choice.”
He sighed. “Be quick and quiet.”
I followed in Gertie’s toddling wake. We selected a dry area of a deep ditch on the other side of the road. Gertie squatted, and I provided a sweater shield.
“Goodness, Gertie. You weren’t kidding.”
Peering up at me, she said, “I need help up. These old knees ain’t like they once were.”
I took a step toward her, holding out my hands, and felt my boot heels sink in the ground. “Darn these boots!”
“I’ll trade you.” Gertie waggled her eyebrows.
I glanced down at her bright red Crocs. “I’ll pass, thanks for the offer.” Gertie loved wearing my things, but now wasn’t the time.
She put herself back together, and we scurried to the car. Pop shot me a thumbs up as we clambered inside.
Jackson and the other two stumbled out of the wooded area and headed over to Chief Becker. Jackson and Nick were waving their arms in a circular motion, and the chief spoke into his radio. A minute later, Chief Becker answered his cell phone, pacing back and forth next to his vehicle as he talked.
For the next ten minutes, we sat in silence. Chief Becker was on his phone the entire time. Nick held his radio to his mouth, looking past our car toward the other units parked on the other side of the driveway. Behind us, six officers—one being a blonde female—added tactical gear over their uniforms.
“Is that Stacia Peacock?” Daniel asked with his head turned around.
I focused on her in the side mirror. “Yep.”
“Now, don’t go getting all upset. She’s a peace officer and a professional. I’m sure she’s aware she has a job to do and won’t let the issue between y’all get in the way,” Gertie said beside me.
When Nick Campbell cheated on me six months ago, it’d been Stacia he’d cheated with. Even though I’d moved on with Jackson, I held on tight to my grudge against her and Nick.
“I sure as heck hope so,” I said. “Because, my sister’s life and her baby’s life are on the line.”
Chapter 29
From both sides of the driveway, the equipped officers made their way into the thick brush line. Stacia stayed positioned just outside of the brush as she watched the others with a pair of binoculars. Chief Becker and Pop stood next to the SUV, and one DPS officer moved in toward the brush with his own pair of binoculars to observe.
“Danny boy, you have paper and a pen?” Gertie asked, breaking the silence.
He leaned over, popped open his glove compartment, and withdrew a small pad of paper and a pen. He waggled his brows at her. “Whatcha thinking?”
“Hangman!”
Daniel wrinkled his nose. “No way, it’s a creepy game.”
Perplexed, Gertie shook her head. “Nah, we played it all the time as kids.”
“What’s so creepy about it?” I asked.
“Well, the game dates back to Europe in the 17th Century when hanging was a form of capital punishment, among other horrible ways. Sometimes, the criminals on trial were forced to play a game called “Rite of Words and Life.” The executioner would pick a word and the criminal guessed the word by choosing letters. If the criminal solved the executioner’s puzzle, they released the charged criminal without conviction.”
“And not solving the puzzle?” I asked, certain I knew the answer.
“Let’s just say, five wrong letter guesses sealed the criminal’s fate,” Daniel replied.
I shivered at the thought.
Gertie sketched out the beginning of Hangman on the pad of paper. “So, when we draw the set-up structure f
or the game, it represents the gallows?”
Daniel nodded. “And as letters are called out, every wrong guess represents a part of the body of the hanged man.”
Gertie gasped.
I winced, shaking my head. “Y’all play Tic Tac Toe instead.” I had no earthly idea about the morbid backstory of the popular childhood game. With the current situation and mood in the car, we didn’t need to pile on more negativity.
I listened to their pen scrawling on the paper and them occasionally laughing at who won. I glanced at the time on my cell phone. 5:16 PM. We’d been sitting in the car for hours. Why on earth was it taking so long? I sent Pop a text.
What’s going on?
He replied, They’ve formed a perimeter around the house.
I wish this was over I typed.
Me too☹ he texted back.
A loud crack boomed nearby, and Pop, Chief Becker, and the DPS officer hit the ground. A gunshot. I peered out the side window but saw nothing.
“What on earth?” Gertie yelled.
“Someone’s shooting.”
A text came through from Pop. Get down!
I ordered them to sink down in the seats underneath the windows. I accidentally nudged Cuff awake with my foot. “Sorry, little buddy.”
What? Who? When? He opened his sleepy eyes and yawned.
“By the way, this is what we officially call the duck during a stakeout,” Daniel said.
“Why?” Gertie asked.
“Would y’all hush so we can listen,” I said.
We waited seven long minutes before Jackson knocked on the window, scaring the bejeezus out of us. Gertie let out a yelp as we all three scrambled to sit up.
“And Steely calls this move the turtle,” Daniel said.
“I didn’t feel like a turtle,” Gertie replied.
Ignoring them, I pushed the button to roll down the window.
“Who shot?” I asked as soon as the glass lowered an inch.
“Wood. One of the DPS officers got too close, and he took a shot at him. Missed though,” Jackson said, brushing off leaves and stickers from his uniform. A smudge of dirt ran across the length of his right cheek.