I raced down the stairs and into the parking lot. Before I reached my truck, Jackie yelled my name. I stopped and waited while she jogged over to me.
“Sergeant Rorski put out an APB on Pepper. He thinks you might be onto something with your kidnapping theory. You might want to get in touch with Buck. This could make the national news cycle tomorrow, and you wouldn’t want him to hear about it on the radio or television.”
I felt sick to my stomach. This was going to blow up in my face if I couldn’t figure out who killed Tony soon. Pepper would be found with the gun, and we would both be going away for a long time. My eyes filled with tears, but not because I was grateful.
“Thank you,” I told her. “Hopefully, she’ll turn up soon.”
I jumped in my truck and drove home. Something in my gut told me not to go back to the cabin. Not just yet. I couldn’t risk someone following me.
I left my truck in my driveway and went in through the front door. I was too worked up to sleep. I hadn’t heard from Glenn, so I assumed he would still be here at two o’clock. I knew in my heart nothing had happened between him and Barbie in Tony’s bathroom, but I was going to feel better hearing him say it.
Pepper would need clothes and personal items. I couldn’t take her own items to her. If her house was searched more thoroughly, and it would be, it couldn’t look like she intended to flee. I packed a small bag with some of my clothes that I thought would fit her.
Buck! I needed to call Buck. I knew it was late wherever he was, but I had to get in touch with him before morning.
I found his cell number on my phone and called him. It rang six times before he answered. His voice was groggy.
“Hello?”
“Buck, it’s Jo. I need to talk to you.”
He didn’t say anything. I didn’t know if he hung up on me or went back to sleep.
“Buck?”
“I’m here. Hold on a sec.” I heard rustling. He finally said, “I didn’t want to wake the kids. I’m in the bathroom. What’s wrong?”
“I need to talk to you before you hear the news tomorrow. And don’t freak out on me.” He swore under his breath. “Buck, I mean it. Stay calm and listen to me. It’s going to be on the news that Pepper was kidnapped when the manager was murdered at Chummy’s tonight.”
“What?” he shouted.
“Buck! Shut up and listen,” I yelled into the phone.
He quieted down. “What’s going on?”
I told him the truth. All of it – even that Pepper was hiding out at Grandpa Frasier’s cabin on Treehorn Lake. The only thing I left out was that Pepper owned the property. She could deal with that potential firestorm later.
“Try to keep the kids away from the news for a few days if you can. If they get wind of the murder and kidnapping, tell them as much as you’re comfortable telling them. I know Keith can keep a secret. You’ll have to figure out how much to tell Kelly.”
“I should come home,” he said. “Won’t I look heartless if my wife is supposed to be abducted, and I’m not there wringing my hands while I wait for the police to find her?”
“Yes, but don’t leave just yet. Let’s wait another twenty-four hours before you have to head for home. Go about your business and pretend like you don’t know anything for as long as you can. I’ll figure this out, Buck. I have to.”
“Twenty-four hours, Jo. I’m dropping my load late tomorrow afternoon, and if you don’t have this straightened out by Sunday morning, we’re booking back to Buxley.”
I no sooner hung up and the burner phone in my purse buzzed. Glenn had sent a text. Too much happening. Need to cancel tonight. I’ll make it up to you.
My heart ached with disappointment, but part of me was relieved. Glenn knew me so well, he would see through my lies in a heartbeat.
I grabbed my bag and walked down the hall to my old murder room. Clay was just like Alan. Instead of using this room above the garage for an office or library, he was using it for a television room. I pulled his recliner into the middle of the room and faced it toward the wall where my whiteboard used to hang. Clay didn’t have any furniture along this wall, so I had plenty of room to work.
The only marker I had in my bag was a black permanent marker. I ran downstairs to the kitchen and dug through my old junk drawer. A rubber-banded bundle of dry-erase markers was in the back. I grabbed them and ran back upstairs. I had used a semi-gloss paint on the walls, and I tested a marker to see if it would wipe off. It did.
I went to work. I drew pictures of the layout at Chummy’s. I then drew a picture of Tony’s office, the position of his body, and the open window with the hand shooting him. I noted the placement of the gun on the cabinet. I left a big question mark as to how someone managed to get to the second floor window to make the shot.
I drew Pepper’s hideout but didn’t specify the location. No one would ever see my drawings, but if I put the location on the wall, you could bet someone would see it tomorrow as sure as horses had hooves. I drew an arrow from the gun on the cabinet to the cabin.
I was manic in my drawing and didn’t stop there. I drew Barbie’s house and my fall from her tree. I drew an unknown assailant shooting at Barbie from the tree. I noted there was no tree outside Chummy’s for someone to have climbed.
I drew a separate picture of me aiming the metallic green gun at Barbie’s heart, a bullet making its way toward the target. I couldn’t get the mother-of-pearl effect on the handle, but it was good enough, and the picture made me smile. I would never actually hurt her, but it felt good drawing the picture. It was like therapy.
I flopped down into the recliner and admired my handiwork. I had never drawn pictures on my whiteboard. I usually made lists. This was way better than lists.
I checked the time on my phone. Two thirty in the morning. There was no way I was going to get any sleep tonight. I grabbed the bag of clothes for Pepper and tossed in a spare toothbrush along with an extra hairbrush.
I ransacked the kitchen. Clay had left all of his food for me, so the cupboards and the refrigerator were full. I filled two sacks with food. Once I had everything in the back seat of my truck, I left Buxley.
It was a full moon night, so there was plenty of light. I didn’t turn my headlights on as I made my way slowly on side streets to the entrance ramp to the interstate. Once I hit the ramp, I turned on my lights.
I knew from experience there was very little traffic between Buxley and Patterson at this time of night, so I was surprised when a vehicle entered the highway directly behind me. The speed limit was seventy. I quickly got up to speed. I kept an eye on my odometer. After three miles, I dropped my speed back to sixty. The vehicle behind me dropped back. I lowered my speed to fifty-five. The car remained behind me. There was no doubt someone was following me, and whoever it was didn’t care that I knew.
I sped up to eighty and barreled down the highway to the next exit. I knew there was only a gas station and convenience store at this exit, but I didn’t want to take whoever was behind me all the way to Treehorn Lake.
I didn’t even hesitate at the stop sign at the bottom of the ramp. I made a right turn and sped down the road. The other vehicle followed.
When I had gone about a hundred yards past a turn in the road, I slammed on my brakes, stopped the truck in the middle of the road, and hopped out. I began running as fast as I could toward the curve, knowing I was running directly toward the oncoming vehicle.
When it came around the corner, I realized it was a big car. A vintage black Cadillac registered in my mind. The car stopped and the driver stepped out. The interior dome light didn’t come on. I couldn’t tell if the driver was a man or a woman. They were dressed in all black with a hood from a hoodie or jacket pulled over their head. I slowed when the driver raised his arm toward me.
I instinctively jumped to the side of the road but not before I saw the flash from the gun and felt the bullet. I rolled to my right and the ground gave way below me. I tumbled head over heels down a steep hil
l and landed in a shallow swampy area. The green slime made me want to jump up and do a heebie-jeebie dance, but I remained perfectly still. I didn’t know if whoever shot me was looking over the embankment with the intent of shooting me again.
A few seconds later, tires squealed. I pulled myself out of the slime and began the long, painful slog up the hill.
Chapter Nine
All the roads on this side of Treehorn Lake looked the same. I made two wrong turns before I found the road to Grandpa Frasier’s cabin.
I grabbed the bag of clothes and walked to the front door. Light filtered out from the sides of the dark curtain at the window. The handle turned easily in my hand. I couldn’t believe Pepper hadn’t locked the door.
I walked in and was shocked to see her sitting on the sofa with a man. They both had a beer in hand. There were two empty bottles on the table and two full bottles still in the carton.
My mouth hung open. I was literally speechless.
“Jumping jeepers creepers! What happened to you?” Pepper asked, launching herself from the sofa and rushing to my side. She held her nose. “You smell horrible. What happened here?” She poked my arm, causing me to wince.
I gritted my teeth and said under my breath, “Have you gone mad? Why would you let someone in here?”
The old man stood and asked, “Are you ok? I used to play a doctor on TV. Let me take a look at that for you.”
Pepper giggled. I swear, I was going to strangle her.
“He’s not someone,” she said. “He’s Floyd Thompson.” She turned to the man. “This is Jo. She’s the sister I was telling you about.”
“I’m her only sister,” I said. I was becoming more aggravated by the minute.
He came to stand beside me and stared at the blood on my jacket. “Let’s get you a seat, and let me get a better look at that. Tell me what happened.”
He was determined as he took charge and led me to a chair at the table in the small kitchen area. I slipped off my jacket and said. “Someone shot at me.”
Pepper’s giggly attitude evaporated, and she began wringing her hands. “No! Someone tried to frame me for murder, and now they’ve tried to kill you? Why?”
My eyes should have fallen out onto my cheeks I had them open so wide. “Pepper, shut up!”
She quickly said, “You can talk in front of Floyd. I already told him everything. I trust him just like I would trust Grandpa Frasier. He and Grandpa were good friends, and he’s kept an eye on the cabin for years. That’s how he knew I was here.”
“This doesn’t look too bad,” Floyd said. “The bullet missed the biggest part of your muscle. Let me run get my bag, and I’ll stitch you up.”
I grabbed my arm, winced again, and said, “No you won’t. Pepper and I will figure out how to bandage it.”
Pepper couldn’t help another giggle. She sounded like Nancy. Giggling was Nancy’s thing. “Floyd was kidding when he said he used to play a doctor on TV. He’s a brain surgeon.”
“Retired,” he said. “But I can still wield a wicked needle. I’ll be right back.”
As soon as Floyd left the cabin, I turned to Pepper, fully intending to give her a piece of my mind for telling him about our situation, but the look on her face caused me to hold my tongue. Tears began to stream down her face.
“You could have been killed – all because of me.”
“Stop it,” I said sharply. “None of this is anyone’s fault other than whoever killed Tony, and we have to figure out why he was murdered. Have you been thinking? Do you know if he had any enemies? Did he harass anyone else at work?”
She shook her head. “I started cleaning in here as soon as you left, and I’ve been over it in my mind a million times. I can’t think of anyone.”
I just then noticed how much progress she had made on the cabin. Cleaning was Pepper’s thing when she was upset. All signs of dust were gone, and everything looked remarkably clean.
She put a pan of water on to boil. I assumed she found some coffee or tea in the cupboards. I grabbed the bag of clothes and took it into the bathroom. I stripped off my slimy clothes and shoes and tossed them into the shower stall. My face hadn’t gone in the water, and only the ends of my hair had slime. I tried to rinse the slime out in the sink.
The gash on my arm was still bleeding but not at an alarming rate. I dressed in some of the clothes I had brought for Pepper, but I left my bleeding arm out of the shirtsleeve and clapped a washcloth on it. Once again, I was surprised at how loose my clothes were. I didn’t know how much weight I’d lost when I wasn’t eating, but it was substantial.
Floyd was coming through the doorway when I walked out of the bathroom. I sat down again. Pepper brought a flat plastic bag to the table, opened one corner of it, and poof - it blew up to six times its size. There were extra towels and washcloths in it.
“Aren’t those things a miracle?” Floyd asked. “Your Grandmother put my wife onto those bags, and I still use them all the time. They sure keep stuff fresh when you’re not around for months at a time.”
“Or years,” Pepper said.
Floyd pulled a chair up to face mine and opened his black bag. Pepper pulled a chair close to Floyd’s and said, “I have water boiling and clean towels.”
“He’s only putting in a few stitches,” I said sarcastically. “He’s not delivering a baby.”
“No,” Floyd said. “This is good. We need to clean the wound, and hot water is always a good start.” He handed a flask to me and said, “It might not help, but this is going to hurt, and a few good belts of whiskey might take the edge off.”
I handled pain fairly well, but since I didn’t know what I was in for, I gladly belted the burning liquid back – several times. My stomach took a couple turns around my liver, but finally settled down.
“Ok, I’m ready,” I said.
Pepper handed a towel to me.
“What’s that for?” I asked.
“To put between your teeth. You can bite down on it when you feel pain.”
I pushed the towel away. “You watch too much television.”
By the time Floyd had my arm cleaned and stitched, I determined the repair hadn’t been so bad. It was the creepy feeling of the needle tugging at my skin that ended up being more bothersome than the sutures themselves.
It was nearly five in the morning when the three of us sat in the living room with cups of coffee.
I filled both of them in on what happened at Chummy’s and how I had thrown suspicion off Pepper by putting out the theory she had been kidnapped.
“That was some quick thinking,” Floyd said.
“Well, she didn’t kill Tony, so the real killer is out there somewhere, and the Buxley police need to be looking for whoever that is,” I said.
I let Pepper know I had called Buck and filled him in on the entire story. She had a moment of panic.
“You didn’t tell him I owned the cabin, did you?”
“Of course not. You can start that argument on your own.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Floyd smile.
I told her Buck wouldn’t be calling, and she should still leave her phone turned off. We didn’t want anyone tracking her from her cell signal. I honestly didn’t know if she could be found by her cell phone, but I didn’t think we should take the chance.
Floyd stood from the only upholstered chair in the room and said, “I best head on home. If you girls need anything, you let me know.” He looked at me and said, “Don’t you worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”
The minute he left, indescribable fatigue came over me. My eyelids felt like lead weights. Pepper grabbed another miracle bag from the closet and poofed it open. She pulled a pillow and two blankets from it. I flopped over on the couch, pulled my feet up, and allowed her to slip the pillow under my head and cover me with a blanket. Before dropping off, I managed to mumble, “Groceries in the truck.”
~ ~ ~
“If you break it, you buy it.” Roger shouted the words at an elderly woman wh
o held a clown figurine in her hand.
She threw the clown at him and yelled, “It’s plastic, you moron.”
I smiled. When I first met Roger at the old flea market, I thought he was a jerk. Other than his face, all of his exposed skin was covered in tattoos. He was also a Harley-riding biker. He and Mama met online through a dating site, and they hit it off. They were, and still are, one of the strangest pairings ever, but they were happy, and I had to admit, Roger’s rough exterior covered up a teddy bear heart.”
I made my way to the snack bar at the back of the building and saw Arnie sitting on a stool at the end of the counter – just like old times.
I sat next to him and asked, “What are you doing here?”
“The better question is what are you doing here?” he asked.
“Coffee. And I want to talk with Kay Walker. I solved the case of her disappearing wonders.”
Mama raced to us from the other end of the counter. “Josephine Louise Frasier! I’m so mad at you right now, I can’t even speak to you.”’
She raced back to the other end of the counter.
I looked at Arnie and frowned. “I’m thirty-three years old. What are the chances I’ve lived my entire life not knowing I had more than a two-letter first name and a middle name?”
Arnie rarely laughed, but he couldn’t help himself and let out a hearty chuckle. “I’d say they’re pretty good.”
“Do you have any idea why she’s mad at me?”
“She had to hear about the murder at Chummy’s and Pepper’s possible abduction from that BS hotline. You probably should have called her.”
Pepper and I were horrible. We were so busy worrying about ourselves, we never gave Mama or Hank a thought. I walked down to the end of the counter and said, “I’m sorry I didn’t call you, but I’ve been out all night looking for Pepper. I’m here now.” I knew I still looked like crap, so it wasn’t hard to believe I hadn’t had any sleep.
“We could have helped,” she snapped. “The Blue Hat Society would have been able to spread out all over town. The first few hours after a kidnapping are crucial, and because of you, we missed the chance to find her. Now Sergeant Rorski wants me to stay here. He can’t count on you, and he needs someone reliable to call if they get any leads or find her. And Buck and the kids! I’ve been trying to reach him all morning. He needs to get his butt home right now.”
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