“Anyone other than Jason know about the map?”
“Milt was with me when Norma Rae handed me the envelope. He saw the map, but doesn’t know about the threatening call.”
“You still have the map, don’t you?”
“Of course.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s locked in Jason’s safe.”
“Snap a picture of the map and send it to me as soon a possible. I’ll email you a consent form for authorization to have your cell phone carrier provide information about the caller making the threat.”
“The name came up unknown, so I bet it’s a burner phone.”
“You’re probably right, but we should check anyway. Meanwhile, do exactly as the caller demanded.”
“Pfft. That advice is kind of late, don’t you think? I already told you, despite being warned not to contact the police.”
“After snapping a picture of the map and sending it to me, lock it up again. Delete the photo from your phone and don’t speak of it any place where your conversation might be overhead.”
“Roger, there’s something else.” Louise felt him cringe over the phone.
“I’m sitting down…”
“Without letting on that you and I spoke, so in a roundabout way, you might want to talk to Norma Rae. She had another envelope to deliver but didn’t say to whom.”
“I can wrangle a conversation with Norma Rae pretty easily. With Morton on the run, I have many reasons to talk with his wife.”
“When will I hear back from you?”
“I’ll give you an update later today.”
“Thank you.”
“I want you to stay with Jason for a few days. You both have permits to carry a concealed firearm, so I highly recommend you do so.”
She silently agreed with a nod, reminded of the same advice he offered the first time the Jones brothers were on the loose.
“Make sure Jason keeps the doors locked and don’t lose sight of Ben. There are twisted people in the world, Lou. People who wouldn’t think twice about committing a dognapping, then torturing and killing a beloved pet just to send a message.”
“Gee, thanks,” she scowled. “I feel so much better now.”
“I’m sorry. I know the words are harsh, but they reflect the cruel reality of situations sometimes. I’m not taking this phone threat lightly, and I don’t want you to either.”
“I’m not, that’s why I told you about it. Stay safe out there.”
“You too.”
“Roger…” she said before he hung up. “All those things you said about the MTAF—”
“The way I see it, as your memory returned, you remembered something else Porter said to you. Being the responsible citizen that you are, you called me. At that point, I decided what you shared with me wasn’t relative to the MTAF’s case. Therefore, I had no reason to pass it along.”
“You’re a good man and a dear friend.” Tears glazed her eyes. “Thank you.”
Chapter Forty
Good, Bad, and Worse News
The theme song from the movie SWAT blared from Louise’s phone.
Jason glanced over his shoulder into the family room where Louise sat on the couch with a laptop.
After a light lunch, they had both decided to spend some time taking care of their businesses. Jason worked on payroll programs for several clients while Louise paid invoices for deliveries to the trading post.
“Hopefully Roger has some news.” She picked up her cell phone and answered, “Hi, Roger. What news do you have for me?”
“I have good news, bad news, and worse news.”
“Worse news?” She wrinkled her nose. “That’s a new one. Start with the worst first and work up to the good.”
“If you happened to have the news on, you saw that we had a murder-suicide involving an entire family.”
Louise shook her head. The TV hadn’t been on all day, nor had she bothered to check the news apps on her phone or computer.
“The man murdered his wife and six children before turning the gun on himself.” He sighed. “It’s a helluva mess and a priority which means your threatening phone call case has been placed on the back burner.”
“I understand. The murder-suicide of a family is the absolute worst news. What’s the bad?”
“You were right about the burner phone. It was purchased yesterday at Walmart. Unfortunately, I don’t have the resources to send officers out to review the surveillance footage.”
“I’m ready for the good news.”
“Norma Rae said she delivered the envelope to Stella at the post office.”
“Stella … our Stella?”
“Not to Stella, personally, rather for her to place it in PO Box 1217. Norma Rae said Stella was adamant about following the rules. She told Norma Rae it was illegal to place mail in a United States Post Office box unless it had gone through the mail system.”
“Sounds like Stella.”
He chuckled, adding, “Stella said she’d make an exception if Norma Rae paid the postage. So Norma Rae paid the postage, and Stella placed the envelope in box 1217.”
Louise set her laptop on the couch and stood up. The excitement pounding her heart resonated in her voice. “Who owns box 1217?”
“Stella hasn’t returned my call yet.”
Bummed, Louise collapsed onto the couch.
“How are you holding up? How’s Ben? Do you and Jason have your defensive weapons handy?”
“Good, good, and yes,” she answered with a grin. “My turn to rapid-fire questions. What did you make of the map?” Any ideas about the location? And what do you think RAT means?”
“Touché,” he chuckled then turned serious. “Lou, I’ll tell you right now, you’re not going to like my opinion.”
She raised her brows and held them there. “Oh?”
“What if that childishly drawn map is a hoax and the altered voice on that phone call was a prank meant to scare you?”
“What if the childishly drawn map is a clue related to Tom’s murder and the murderer is scared, so he altered his voice and made that phone call?” She rapidly shook her head. “I don’t believe Porter would use his dying breath to set in motion an elaborate hoax. Besides, if he’s dead, he’d never see his scheme come to fruition, which eliminates his motive.”
“I thought you’d say something like that, which is why I have Sue, our lead forensics tech, taking a look at the map. She’s a wizard at solving puzzles and interpreting things in ways I never imagined.” He cleared his throat. “As I told you, this morning’s murder-suicide case takes precedence over everything. Even that whole mess with the Barrs, which I’m washing my hands of and letting the MTAF handle.”
Her heart sank. Disappointment choked her up. “I understand.”
“I can’t promise anything other than I will keep my radar on how the map may relate to solving Tom’s murder. Meanwhile, call me right away if anything else hinky occurs or if you get another threatening phone call.”
“Thank you, Roger. I know I can count on you to do your best. Stay safe out there.” Louise disconnected the call and swallowed hard, holding back tears.
“I take it you didn’t receive the news you hoped for.” Jason strolled from the desk to Louise. He sat next to her on the couch and caressed her forearm.
“There’s been a horrible murder-suicide involving a family in Tumble City.” She sniffled and blinked away tears. “So Tom’s case has, once again, been pushed to the back burner.”
Displeasure twisted Jason face. “Perhaps we can do a little research on our own.” He rose and marched over to the desk, retrieved a black book, and flipped through the pages. He stopped on a specific page and pulled out a business card. “What do you think about hiring a private detective?”
“Oh, I don’t know. P.I.s can be expensive—”
“Paul owes me a favor or two.” He waved the business card in the air. “How about I ask him to snoop around as a favor, with the understanding he can stop whenever he feels that favor
he promised has been returned?”
“That’s quite the little black book you have there. How many people owe you favors?”
“I believe in helping folks, especially in their times of need.” He flickered his brows. “And, quite often, they like to reciprocate.”
“Wow. You are well-connected. Sicilian Mafia bosses aren’t part of your clientele, are they?”
Jason tilted his head back in laughter. “I am a quarter Italian, but that’s as close to any Mafia connection I’ll ever have.”
“Woof-woof.” Ben stood barking at the French doors.
“He misses his doggy door.” Louise pushed herself off the couch and strolled into the dining room. “At home, he comes and goes as he pleases.” She opened the door and walked out on the patio. With her arms over her chest, she watched Ben smell the ground in search of the right place to relieve himself.
Jason joined her on the patio. “Now is as good a time as any to talk about home … yours and mine.”
Louise jerked her head to the side, looking at him, her thoughts running rampant like stampeding buffalo. “You mean like moving in together or something?”
He wiggled his brows and grinned. “Or something…” He dropped to one knee, took up her hand, and beamed. “I love you. Louise Mayfield Tumble, will you marry me?”
Taken aback, she gasped and jerked her hand from his. She had felt the depth of his love for some time but hadn’t anticipated a proposal. Not in a long shot. Was she ready to share her heart, the rest of her life, with Jason? To move on after Tom who had left her 8,075 days ago … or was it 8,076? Could be 8,085 for all she knew. Unable to pinpoint the day she stopped counting, she knew Jason was the reason.
A tornado of thoughts jumbled her mind. When lying in that homemade coffin unsure she’d live another day, she promised to let Jason know how much she cared about him, starting with a kiss. That much she had accomplished. And now…
“I assume by your reaction, your answer is, no.” He rose and brushed his palms over his shorts. “My apologies, Lou.” Head lowered, shoulders slumped, he turned and lumbered back toward the house.
“Wait!” She latched on to his arm, spun him around, and attacked his lips, planting a doozy of a kiss on him. “Yes, Jason—I don’t know your middle name—Paxton. Yes! I would very much love to marry you.”
“Benjamin. My middle name’s Benjamin.”
“Ben!” Louise laughed so hard she snorted.
“Woof-woof-woof.” Ben charged onto the patio and pressed his big head between the enamored couple, separating them.
“Oops. I wasn’t call you, my sweet boy.”
Jason laughed, stooped, and rubbed the dog’s ears. “Just to set the record straight, I was given the name Benjamin long before you were a glint in your daddy’s eyes.”
“My Bens.” Louise dropped to her knees and engulfed the two in her arms. A rush of soul-felt joy swept over her. The type of intense happiness she hadn’t felt in years.
Louise soaked in the euphoria, relishing every moment. Through gut-wrenching experience, she had learned such bliss could be taken away faster than a speeding bullet, so she better appreciate it to the fullest and in the now.
Chapter Forty-One
Now What?
Arm in arm, Jason and Louise strolled into the house, Ben at their heels.
“I could use a drink.” Jason escorted Louise to the kitchen bar and pulled out a stool for her. “How about you?”
“Yes, please.” She rapidly and gently patted her cheeks with her hands. “Did we just decide what I think we did?”
“We’re getting married!” Jason waltzed into the kitchen, opened the fridge door, and poked his head inside. “Coke, Sprite, strawberry lemonade…?”
“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
Jason set two cans of Coke onto the kitchen counter and settled into the barstool next to Louise. “Let’s toast to our engagement.” He popped the tops on the cans and handed Louise a Coke.
He raised the can and said, “To the beginning of our life together.”
“An all-hearter for sure.”
They clicked the aluminum cans and sipped a drink.
“I suppose now we need to pick a date.” Jason stroked the side of the Coke can. “Martha and I married in August.”
“Tom and I married in April, so that month’s off the table as well.”
“What kind of wedding do you want?”
“I’m not the big fancy wedding type,” Louise confessed. “I’d be thrilled with a simple ceremony held in the backyard with close family and friends in attendance.” She placed her hand on top of his. “But I don’t have kids,” she glanced down at the dog, “other than Ben.”
“I would like to invite my three sons and have my five grandchildren here, but…” he jacked up his shoulders. “Since Martha died, they don’t talk to me much.” Hurt radiated from his eyes. “Cynthia Marie, my oldest grandchild, will be sixteen next month. And she’s driving.” His gaze shifted to a vacant stare into the kitchen. “I only know that because I read their Facebook posts.”
“Oh, Jason, I’m so sorry.”
“My sons have their own families. I respect that.” He leaned back into the barstool and smiled at Louise. “Our marriage is about us. So let’s focus on that.”
“How do you feel about a December wedding? That would give us plenty of time to figure out everything. Like where we’re going to live, how we will handle bills, wills, and I’m sure dozens of other things that will likely crop up.”
“That’s sound thinking, but…” he bobbed his head in a wishy-washy way side to side, “I’d like to keep our engagement a secret. I envision throwing a party, inviting the whole town, and telling everyone all at once.”
“Sounds fun. So when did you want to throw this shindig and where?”
“I’m old fashioned. I want to buy you a ring and formally propose … in front of a crowd, now that I know you’ll accept.”
“You’re a hoot, Jason. I’m all ears. What do you have in mind?”
“Why not Sunday at the monthly town picnic?”
“This Sunday?” Louise felt her eyes bulge.
“Practically everyone in town shows up. I already checked out renting a commercial snow-cone maker and talked to Patty at Awesome Cakes about making a bunch of fancy cupcakes.”
“Let me guess,” Louise grinned. “Patty’s a client.”
“She owes me a favor or two.”
“You’ve been planning this for a while.”
“Since our tailgate picnic on Tuesday.”
“It’s only Thursday.”
“Thank goodness for the internet and telephones.”
The SWAT theme song blared from Louise’s phone. Eyebrows furrowed with concern, yet feeling giddy inside from just having accepted a marriage proposal, she answered, “Hi Roger. If you’re bearing news, this time give me the good first.”
“Wow. Are you psychic? I come bearing good news … mostly.”
“Mostly? Oooookay. Fire away.”
“Stella got back with me. You’ll never guess who rented box 1217?”
“RAT,” she blurted. “Someone with the initials R-A-T.”
“That’s freaky. You are psychic.”
“Wait a minute. You’re not kidding. Someone by the name of R-A-T rented that box?” Goosebumps splattered her skin. She rubbed her arms. “That’s creepy.”
“It gets creepier. Stella said the box was rented over twenty years ago.”
“Tom’s been dead over twenty years,” she said, whispering her thoughts.
“Stella faxed me the original application.”
“And the person’s name is…?” Louise held her breath.
“Randall August Tumble.”
RAT.
“The address listed on the application is Rural Route EB1 in Barr Lake, Utah.”
Barr Lake, Utah? The heebie-jeebies overcame Louise as if she had gotten entangled in a freshly spun spiderweb.
; “My techs checked into a few things. There’s a Barr Lake listed in Colorado, but not one in Utah. And there’s no record of a Randall August Tumble. Not even the issuance of a Social Security number which my techs researched back to 1936 when the numbers were first assigned.”
“I can explain.”
“Ooookay. Fire away,” Roger said, repeating her reaction to his news.
“Randall August Tumble was one of the settlers of Tumble Lake. Edgar Barr, also one of the settlers, felt the area should be named after his family, thus Barr Lake.”
“Wow, Lou. That’s strange. Creepy strange.”
“I guess you were right after all,” Louise conceded with a sigh of defeat.
“How so?”
“You felt the map and phone call were nothing more than hoaxes. You were right.”
“No. I was wrong. Since talking with you, now more than ever, I believe the map and the call are connected to Tom’s murder.”
“You do?” Louise thought her head might spin off. “What changed your mind?”
“What time did you say you received the call this morning?”
“Just after midnight at twelve-seventeen.”
“The PO box number is—”
“Twelve-seventeen!” Louise shrieked, making the connection. “It can’t be a coincidence that I received a phone call at twelve-seventeen this morning, and the box number is twelve-seventeen.”
“I agree,” Roger said, his tone serious. “This is hinky beyond hinky.”
“Where do we go from here?”
“I’d like to install an app on your phone that records both sides of a conversation.”
“Both sides?” Louise pulled a face. “Uh, I don’t know—”
“By law, civilian call recording apps must inform the other caller they’re being recorded. Whereas, for law enforcement purposes, only one caller needs to know the conversation is being recorded.”
“You mean like a wiretap?”
“No. Wiretaps require jumping through legal hoops to secure a warrant. Parties subject to a wiretap are clueless they’re being recorded. The conversations are recorded and listened to by law enforcement.”
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