“I can’t see Emily voluntarily getting into a vehicle with Toby Sands.” Lewis stomped on the brakes and threw open the car door. Donald jumped out of the passenger’s side. Lewis followed. Donald looked back and saw Lewis wince as he emerged from the car. Sure he was out of the hospital, Donald thought, but still in a lot of pain. Lewis caught up to Donald and grabbed his arm to pull him back.
“Let’s not muck up what might be a crime scene. I’ll take a good look around the area to see what’s here.”
Donald shrugged. “Go play cop, but I can see there’s nobody here.”
“There could be something in the dirt—tire tracks, boot marks, Emily’s foot prints. Let me take care of this.”
“You’re no longer on the force, detective. Shouldn’t you call the police to investigate?” Donald’s tone was sarcastic.
“And Emily may be in real danger. You want me to put in a call to the department and wait for a real detective? Time may be important here.”
Well, he had him there, Donald thought. He gestured for the detective do whatever it was he had in mind.
Lewis walked around the area, shining his flashlight onto the ground. There was one set of boot tracks, deep and small. Fat Toby, he thought. Then he could see another set of prints, smaller than the first. He thought of Emily’s tiny feet at the condo after she shed her wet sneakers. If Toby did anything to her, thought Lewis, he would… He could see in the dirt where there was something of a scuffle, the booted person behind the other. The tiny feet disappeared, and the boot prints led to the vehicle parked beside Emily’s. Toby carried her to the truck, shoved her in, and drove off. Lewis shined his light following the dirt tracks. The light bounced off something ahead. He walked up to it. Interesting. Part of a fender from an old truck. From Toby’s old truck.
What did you see?” asked Donald.
“Toby took her. No doubt of that. But where did he go?”
“To his old cabin.”
“Every cop in this county is looking for Toby, and the first place they’d look would be that cabin. Toby’s trying to stay out of sight, so he’d take her somewhere else, someplace well hidden, off the beaten path.”
“We need someone who knows Toby’s haunts. Who?”
Lewis’ shoulder throbbed, and he felt his shirt wet with sweat under his jacket. He must be running a fever. Think, he told himself, think.
“Girlfriend maybe?” Donald scrunched up his face with distaste.
“Are you mad?” Only the pain in his shoulder kept Lewis from laughing at that one. Then he had it. “Cousin Bill.”
“Oh, like the guy Toby turned in for murder would hide him.”
“No, of course not, but Bill might be willing to talk to me. He would know Toby’s habits and favorite places.”
“I’ll drive.”
“Why?”
“Look.” Donald nodded at Lewis’ chest.
Blood had seeped through from his wound onto his white shirt which now looked like it was tied-dyed.
Chapter 20
“On one condition.” Lewis begrudgingly allowed Donald behind the wheel. “You’re not dropping me off at the hospital.”
“I didn’t say a thing.”
“But I can read your mind.”
Donald nodded. It looked to Lewis as if it was a gesture of agreement, but, despite his words to the contrary, Lewis never could read Donald’s intentions.
Donald jammed the accelerator to the floor, and they headed for the exit from the rodeo grounds.
“Stop a minute,” said Lewis. “I caught the reflection of moonlight off a car in those trees. Somebody’s parked in there.”
“Now we’re rousting teenagers’ making out?” Donald gave one of his characteristic throaty growls of disdain, but he slowed and turned the car toward the wooded area.
“I’ll have a look.” Lewis prepared to open his door and get out.
“No. You stay put. Here.” Donald handed him a large neckerchief. “Bleeding on your shirt is one thing, but ruining the upholstery?”
Lewis gave a little snicker. Donald’s priorities were clear. Lewis knew if he was bleeding in Donald’s truck, he’d be riding in its bed.
Some clouds obscured the moon, and Lewis couldn’t see what Donald was doing in the stranded vehicle. Soon he emerged from the woods with two young women.
“Naomi’s been taken too,” Donald said.
“Toby got her? What’s the guy’s game?” This didn’t sound like a Toby scheme, thought Lewis. Too big for him to handle on his own. He had help, but who?
The young women were unhurt, but scared. Donald seated them in the car.
“Now is it time for real cops?” he asked Lewis.
Lewis extracted his cell from his coat pocket and handed it to Donald who punched in the number. He turned his attention to the frightened women.
“What happened?”
“A big SUV, black, pulled in front of us as we were leaving the rodeo. Two men jumped out, both with guns,” said the blonde woman.
Lewis started to reach for his notebook, but, of course, he no longer had it. “Describe the men.”
“One was real lean, didn’t say a word. The other…”
The second woman, small like Emily, interrupted. “The other was Naomi’s ex-husband.”
With a crash, the parts of Toby’s scheme came together in Lewis’ head. He groaned and looked at Donald who ended his call and stared back at him.
Donald’s jaw line tightened, and his cheek began its angry twitch. Lewis had seen the reaction many times, times right before the man exploded in rage. This time he kept his reaction under icy control. “We should have taken care of that hunk of mud when we had the chance. Scaring him wasn’t enough.”
They had tried to frighten Naomi’s husband several months ago by threatening to pay him a visit if he ever bothered her again. Obviously, it wasn’t enough of a scare, thought Lewis. This time they’d get it right. If they had the chance.
The sow made straight for Toby. With a swipe of her long tusks she hit him mid-calf. Only the protection of his boots kept her from severing an artery.
The charge brought Toby to his knees.
“Get up. We’ve got to get out of here.” With her hands tied behind her, it was difficult for Emily to run, especially when the moon slipped behind a cloud and shuttered the path ahead of her in darkness. She preferred to have her hands in front of her to protect her face or out to the sides for balance.
Despite the awkwardness, she knew she had to get away from the pig at least until mom found her prodigal young one. Emily struggled down the path, trying hard not to fall. She heard crashing in the underbrush behind her. Toby? Mother pig? Baby oinker? She couldn’t take the time to look.
The moon slid from behind the cloud. The light made the woods as light as day. She knew where she was. The sinkhole housing the still had to be just ahead. If she jumped into the hole without her hands to cushion her fall, would she break her leg or her neck? She had no choice. Jump. Now.
She miscalculated a bit and caught the far lip of the hole with one knee, but the fall took her into the hole and to safety. She lay there a moment on her back, wiggling body parts to make sure everything worked.
Noise at the opening of the sinkhole caught her attention. She could see shadowy movements just beyond the top. The sow squealed and grunted. Somebody yelled. That must be Toby, she thought. Something fell on her, something not big enough to be a human, but it was as smelly as Toby, perhaps more so, and it was wiggly. Oh, no, the piglet.
The fall seemed to daze the little thing for a moment, and Emily hoped it would remain quiet. If mama knew where her kid was, she’d never leave the area. And Emily would never leave this prison.
“Toby. Where are you? Are you okay?” Why was she asking that? She didn’t care. In fact, it would be nice if Toby fell into the hole and broke his neck or got trampled and slashed by pig mother love. But then, of course, how would she get out of here?
It appeared
her shouting aroused the piglet who began to yell in piggy language. Its cries were answered by the mother whose head appeared at the top of the hole. Emily looked with fear at the formidable tusks on the hog. She was glad for a moment that she was down here and not up there with mama.
“Toby. Where the hell are you? You’ve got to get me out of here.” Was he dead? Did he run off?
The vocal exchanges between mother and baby continued unabated and reverberated throughout the otherwise still night. Emily longed to put her hands over her ears. It was gut wrenching to hear the little piglet’s cries of distress. Was he hurt? I guess not. He’s yelling lustily and running around like he’s just fine.
She couldn’t stand the noise. There was nothing for her to do but find her way back into the sinkhole to the still and hope she could figure out how to get the door back there open. Without her hands, that seemed impossible, but remaining here and listening to the anguished exchanges were not helping her situation. She began to wander back toward the still. With the branches and other brush creating the ceiling for the sinkhole, the light became dimmer as she moved farther from the rabbit’s hole she’d fallen down. Soon she had to walk with extreme caution, fearing she would smash her face into the walls or, if she went far enough, run right into the still itself. The thought of metal making abrupt contact with her nose made her take one step at a time, pausing after each one before she moved her foot out to test the ground ahead of her.
The piglet’s screams grew louder.
What the hell is going on?
She felt the animal dash by her leg.
“No, no, little one. You go back. Don’t follow me. I’m not your mama.”
Emily wondered how long it would take mama to decide to take the risk and jump into the sinkhole back there. And then Emily would become her target, an easy one as she stumbled around in the darkness.
This is not good, thought Toby, as he ran from the sinkhole trying to put distance between himself and the angry pig. Soon the cries of mother and piglet grew more distant. He’d circle around and move back to his truck hidden in the bushes at the side of the road. There he could wait for the arrival of the other package and his buddies in crime. He was pretty certain Emily would never be able to get out of that sinkhole by herself. It was too steep to climb without help and especially without the use of her hands, and the door at the other end was locked. He’d made certain of that earlier today. I’m a crafty one, he thought. Yup, I know every hidey hole in these parts including the Pratt’s still. That gave Toby another of what he considered his brilliant ideas. He could blackmail the Pratt’s by threatening to give away the location of their still. Toby congratulated himself for being able to plot while on the run. As for Emily down in that hole? He’d just tell Mr. Smith and Barry he threw her in there to keep her out of the way. No need to say anything about the pig and her falling into the hole. Brilliant. A high five from one side of Toby’s brain to the other.
He revised his earlier, negative assessment of the situation. Everything was working out just fine. He checked his watch. Time to make the call, the one he knew Lewis would welcome, the one where Toby offered to let Lewis save Emily from the bad guys. Toby reached in his pocket for a fresh chaw. Empty. He must have dropped the packet when he was doing battle with the pig. No matter. He’d soon have all the money in the world he’d need to replenish his supply, and this time he’d buy the good stuff. He punched in the number.
“You’ve got ten minutes to get out to the Pratt’s still or your little girlfriend will be dead. I went along with these guys because they threatened me, but I can’t hold them off forever. They’ll be here soon with your gal’s daughter. Come alone.”
Lewis signed off after Toby’s message. His arm ached, and the bleeding wouldn’t stop, but he knew he had this one chance to find Emily and her daughter. Lewis leaned against his car while Donald and the police talked to the young women who had been with Naomi. He pushed himself away from the car and moved toward the driver’s side, then opened the door, and slid in.
Donald turned his head when he saw the overhead light come on. “What are you doing, you idiot?”
Donald ran toward the car, but Lewis had it in gear and gunned it toward the road, leaving Donald behind. He heard Donald yell for one of the cops to give him a ride to his truck. Lewis checked his rearview mirror. Donald flailed his arms around, but the cop kept shaking his head. Procedure, thought Lewis. They’d want to finish taking the young women’s stories before they attended to someone losing his ride. Lewis smiled and pressed the handkerchief harder against his wound. It would be awhile before he had to worry about a bass fisherman following him.
The car fishtailed onto the highway as Lewis headed north, the route he’d taken the night he tried to show up Emily and Naomi. He regretted taking them to the still. But damn Emily. She had a way of getting under his skin, thinking her intuition could get her farther than his detecting skills. Your fault you got shot, he said to himself. He just had to show her where the real still was, make her look stupid that she’d nosed around a moonshine location not used for years.
In his rear view mirror Lewis saw headlights come up on him fast. Soon they penetrated his car. Damn fool is going ram me, he thought. He gave the car more gas to pull away, but his pursuer kept up with him. Then the flashers came on.
“Pull over,” said a voice from the loud speaker in the cop car behind him.
Lewis groaned, but knew his vehicle could never outrun a cruiser.
He watched in his mirror as a familiar figure emerged from the car. It was Captain Worley.
“Lewis, what the hell are you doing flying down this road at over eighty miles an hour?”
“Sir. What are you doing on patrol?”
“I’m short-handed because one of my detectives was stupid enough to get himself shot, and now he’s on leave.”
“I know this looks bad for me, but I got a message from Toby…”
Before Lewis could finish what he was saying, a car pulled up behind Worley’s cruiser.
“Now what?” asked Worley.
Donald stepped out of the driver’s side of the car.
“He’ll tell you all about it. Toby’s behind this entire thing.” As Lewis spoke he considered his words. Worley had to know Toby wasn’t capable of being behind anything.
“Stanton. Honey.”
The individual speaking in those sugared tones might be hidden behind the pulsating lights of the cruiser and the headlights of the other vehicle, but Lewis recognized their owner without seeing her.
“Adrienne. What the hell are you doing here? And better yet, Donald, why is she with you?”
The expression on Donald’s face was one of concern mixed with self-satisfaction.
“She drove into the parking lot at the rodeo grounds right after you left. I’d already put a call into the police about you. Worley arrived about that same time. We could see your tail lights heading north, so we followed.”
Lewis stepped out of his car. His legs felt as shaky as Jell-O squares.
“Are you okay, darlin’? Adrienne wrapped her arms around him. All at once it felt good to have someone support him. He must have lost more blood than he knew. The world began to grow darker, his vision yellowed at the edges and pulled in on him. He sank to the ground.
Toby leaned back relieved he’d delivered his message and certain that Lewis was on his way to the still. He hadn’t yet caught his breath from his run to the truck. He looked down at his hand, still on his cell. It was shaking. It might be from the anticipation of confronting Lewis with the odds in Toby’s favor for once. He rejected the other possibility, that it was going to take some time to recover from his flight. All the way through the woods, he ran faster than he ever though he could, not stopping or hesitating to look behind him, terrified that any minute he would feel the pain of a sharp tusk in his calf. He had no idea what happened to the Rhodes woman, nor did he care. For all he knew, she lay bleeding to death at the bottom of the s
ink hole. All he focused on now was the next victim in his scheme, the partner he blamed for all his misfortune. He was certain the trembling came from the excitement of taking Lewis down. Finally.
There was the issue of timing, he admitted to himself. If Lewis didn’t put in an appearance soon, Toby’s partners would show up, and Toby would have to give up his revenge on Lewis. Or, worse yet, they would show, and then Lewis would appear. A messy situation, but one Toby was certain he could handle. Somehow.
He saw lights on the road behind him, a large car approaching slowly. He knew Lewis would be driving his own vehicle since he was on leave. This car had to be the detective’s. As the headlamps got closer and brighter, Toby could discern the make. He groaned and slumped down in his seat. Right now a disappearing trip down a sink hole sounded good. It was Smith’s SUV. Time to execute Plan B. Toby always had a Plan B. And C. Maybe D, if necessary.
The SUV stopped behind the truck, and Smith emerged from the driver’s side.
“What the hell are you doing out here on the road? A blind man could find your truck. You’re supposed to be in there with your prey, hiding out near the still, you told me.”
“It’s not my fault.” Toby got out of the truck and approached Smith. “We got ambushed by a pig. It ran off, but I had to think fast to save her for you, so I pushed her down the sinkhole. Yep, I knew you’d want her alive, not mangled by some fatback on the hoof.”
“You let a pig run you off?” asked Barry. His face was black with anger and disbelief. And animal rage. Toby’s mind quivered. He began to understand why the daughter found this man so frightening.
“Where’s your cargo?” asked Toby. The question was barely out of his mouth when he knew he’d made a mistake, asking it, asking anything.
Barry nodded toward the SUV. “Back there, safe and sound for now.”
Smith gave him a dark look, then turned his attention to Toby. “Perhaps you’d like to show us your pig.” He moved to Toby’s side and placed his hand on his shoulder.
Grilled, Chilled and Killed Page 20