Buster looked over at her and growled softly.
Amanda smiled down at him and said, “We’re gonna follow him, okay. I think he’s going to meet up with those inspectors, and, well…I tried to tell him I wanted to be there for that meeting. He’s not going to like it, but…we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, won’t we, fella?”
Buster offered up one more supporting growl before returning his attention back to the dog biscuit. “Hey, I’m just along for the ride, remember!”
_____
Tim nudged Ross. “Hey, Buddy…you awake?”
Ross groaned as he tried to sit upright against the wall. His chest was burning with pain, and every time he inhaled, it felt as though he was being hit with a wrecking ball. “Hell…I’m afraid to go to sleep…might not wake up again…” he tried to joke. “I think I might have one rib left that they haven’t broken yet.”
Tim looked at his friend and co-worker through the one good eye he was still able to use. Tyler and Abbott had left them at least thirty minutes ago, and Ross had not said anything about the visit. “You do realize that the kid was Tyler Foster, don’t you?”
Ross looked sideways in Tim’s direction. His friend’s battered face made him almost unrecognizable. “The thought had crossed my mind, yeah…do you think he knows who we are?”
Tim shook his head. “I don’t think so…and, I hate to say it, but he might be our only chance of getting out of this alive. If he goes to the hotel room tonight, as planned, there’s a chance he’ll find our I.D. cards, put two and two together, and realize what’s going on…provided he can find a way inside the room.”
“Well…” Ross groaned again as he tried to find a more comfortable position. “I’m not sure what my own face looks like, but…I know for a fact that you don’t look anything like the picture on your card.” He tried to laugh, but the pain in his chest was excruciating, and it came out more of a croaked groan. He began to cough and tried to get his labored breathing under control. “He really is our only hope, isn’t he? That crazy son-of-a-bitch, Abbott, is going to kill us…”
Tim remained quiet. He knew he should say something comforting and reassuring, but he had been thinking along those same lines for most of the day. Nobody knew they were here…their bodies would never be found…he was sure of that. “Ready to pray yet, my friend?” was all he could think to say.
Ross closed his eyes and shook his head. “Prayer isn’t going to get us out of this cabin, Tim…so, no…I don’t want to pray, but…if it works for you…by all means, be my guest.”
Tim was quiet for a few moments. He decided to change the conversation to help get their minds off their impending predicament. “Ross…earlier this morning…on the hill…when we were watching Tyler and the dogs…”
“Yeah?” Ross mumbled. “You talking about when that monster dog snapped that little pup’s neck? Damn…I heard that snap all the way up the hill…sent chills down my spine.”
“No…” Tim spoke softly. “I’m talking about what happened afterwards…”
“What do you mean?” Ross asked, puzzled. “That’s about the time I heard the leaves crunching behind us. Wish I’d heard them sooner…we might not be in this predicament if I had…”
Tim smiled. “So…you didn’t see what happened afterwards?”
“What are you talking about, Tim” Ross mumbled. “We got caught by these assholes afterwards.”
“No…” sighed Tim. “I’m not talking about that…you missed it…you missed seeing that little terrier dog come…back…to…life…”
Ross shook his head closed his eyes again. “I think you got hit harder in the head than we thought, my friend…” He waited for Tim’s reply but when none came, he exhaled a short, painful breath. “Tim…we’ve got to find a way out of this cabin…before Tyler reports back to Abbott. Even if the kid learns the truth about who we are, I can’t imagine what he could say to Abbott that would make him change his mind about killing us.”
Tim sighed deeply. “The best thing Tyler could do, for himself, would be to tell Abbott the truth about us. He needs to protect his own cover until this operation is finished.”
“So…you do have a death wish, huh?” Ross kept his eyes closed and concentrated on taking short, shallow breaths that seemed to hurt a lot less than deeper ones. “Because…if you think, for one minute, that Abbott is going to let us go after he finds out who we really are, then…”
“No…I’m sure that he plans to kill us, regardless, Ross…” Tim smiled. “That’s what he does…that’s all he knows how to do. Once he finds out what we’re really in town for…and he will…he’ll have no choice. He can’t let us go, and…he can’t allow anyone to ever find our bodies.”
“Well…you’re just a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” Ross grumbled. He couldn’t argue with his friend, though, because he was beginning to feel the same way. He sighed deeply, in spite of the effort and pain it took him to do so, closed his eyes, and thought about his wife and two boys. He was almost twenty years younger than Tim Breydan; he had people who depended on him to come back to them.
“Sorry,” Tim smiled absently. He glanced sideways and saw the worried expression on Ross’s face. “I lost my faith for a little bit there, but I know for a fact that if He brings us to it…He will bring us through it…one way or another.”
“Oh, yeah…one way or another, huh?” Ross smirked. “Well, if your God is real, then I wish he’d hurry up and bring us through it before Abbott comes back here. I don’t like the looks, or the smell, of that pit out there. I sure as hell don’t want to spend my last hours on earth roasting over it…”
Tim didn’t respond. He was deep in silent prayer to the one person who had never let him down. His previous conviction that Abbott would kill them regardless of what Tyler told him, dissipated into the darkness of the claustrophobic room. He was ashamed that he had allowed his faith to falter, even momentarily.
Tim’s eyes remained closed in prayer, but a smile crossed his lips when he heard a lone, deep howl that echoed from a distance outside the cabin. He couldn’t explain how he knew, but he suspected that the howl belonged to the large, black dog that had miraculously brought the small terrier back to life. He knew that he had not imagined it; he knew he had witnessed one of God’s miracles. He, also, knew that he and Ross were not alone in this room…God was with them, had been with them all along, and, Tim Breydan’s faith would not allow him to believe that they would be forsaken.
____
It was completely dark outside by seven-thirty when Tyler pulled into the parking lot of the Econo Lodge. He rode around to the side of the building and found Room 109; there were no other cars in the side parking lot. He rode to the end of the building and parked the rental sedan on the other side of the dumpster; he figured this would be as good a place as any to park the cousins’ vehicle. He removed the rental paperwork from the glove compartment and wiped down the seats, steering wheel, and door handle, so that his prints would not show up once the police found the car. He threw the keys into the dumpster, pushed his hands deep into his pockets, and walked slowly across the parking lot to Room 109.
An exterior light burned beside the room’s door; the drapes were closed. Tyler put his ear to the door, but didn’t hear any noises or voices coming from inside. He knocked lightly upon the door and waited for a response that, for some strange reason, he didn’t really expect to receive. He felt the hairs on his arm stand up and knew, instinctively, that he was no longer alone. He spun around quickly, fists raised to protect his face.
Amanda was the last person he expected to see standing behind him, and she wasn’t alone. Buster positioned himself bravely between her arm and chest, and growled defensively when Tyler raised his fists.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he whispered loudly. “I thought I told you to stay put at the café and I would let you know how things went.”
“Hmmm…” Amanda pondered, while rolling her eyes. “Nope…I
guess I don’t follow orders all that great, do I? I told you I want to meet these investigators. I can help, Tyler. You don’t have to do this all by yourself.”
“And why on earth would you bring him with you?” Tyler demanded.
“Because I couldn’t very well leave him by himself, now could I? And I couldn’t ask Max and Bertie to watch him while I galloped off after you because they agreed with you that I should stay there, so…”
“I don’t have time for this, Amanda…you have to go now…please.” He turned to knock on the door again.
“I don’t believe anyone is home,” Amanda sighed. “Why don’t we go inside and wait for them? You’re late, so maybe they went to get something to eat.”
“We can’t go inside because the door is locked,” Tyler stated the obvious and wondered again about her qualifications for being a cop.
Amanda pulled what appeared to be a dry eraser marker from her back pocket. “Oh…ye of little faith. Check out this neat gadget that I pulled off some jerk a few days ago. Silly me forgot to log it into evidence; I’ll have to do that first thing when I get back to work…”
“You’re going to open the door with a magic marker?” Tyler pushed his face between his hands and sighed.
“Scoot over, handsome…and hold Buster while I show you how this little contraption works.” She handed the pup to Tyler. “You see…it acts as a master key for hotel room door locks. Most of these key card locks have a power jack on the bottom that doubles as a 1-wire communications port. Crooks are using this little gadget to unlock hotel doors in less than one second; it’s that easy. Let’s face it…nobody is going to be suspicious if they see someone holding a dry eraser marker, now are they?” She removed the tip and inserted the marker into the hole beneath the lock.
Tyler was about to voice another objection when the green light appeared on the lock.
Amanda turned the handle, opened the door to Room 109, and stepped back. She bent at the waist and smiled. “After you…”
24. Amos Collapses
The dinner crowd was in full swing by seven-thirty; every table was filled and the counter seats were all taken by the usual trucker crowd, with the exception of the end seat – the one closest to the kitchen - where Amos sat talking to Doug.
Amos looked around the crowded room and grinned. “Lawdy, this place sure does a good business at dinner time, don’t it?”
Doug was working behind the counter while Bertie made easy work keeping the table customers satisfied. Doug had a special connection with the truckers and he especially enjoyed those who stopped by for their dinner meal on their way to designated stops across the nation. “Yes, it does, Amos.” He looked at the empty dinner plate that sat before the old, black man. “Looks like you didn’t have any trouble finishing your meal,” he laughed. “Your favorite is on the dessert list tonight, you know.”
Amos dabbed his thick lips with a napkin and grinned back at Doug. All his upper teeth were missing now, but he still had three on the bottom that allowed him to continue to enjoy Max’s celebrated meals. “Buttermilk cake… yessiree… that is my favorite, for sure…” He stopped in midsentence and caught his breath.
Doug’s natural instincts kicked in; he could feel that something wasn’t quite right with Amos. He moved to stand beside him and put an arm around his shoulder. “Amos? What’s wrong, my friend?”
Several truckers at the counter stopped talking and watched Doug tilt the old man’s head back so that he could look into Amos’ eyes. One of the truckers slid off his stool and moved quickly to stand on the other side of Amos. “What’s wrong with him, Doug? He’s sweating like a pig.”
Amos was taking short, shallow breaths but managed to smile at the trucker. “Actually…pigs don’t sweat, so…”
“What?” the red-neck trucker, named George Hickson from Opps, Alabama, asked.
Doug didn’t like the sensation he was absorbing from Amos, but he knew that Amos would not want to be the cause of any disruption, so he clarified Amos’ response. “It’s true, George…pigs don’t sweat…they don’t like hot climates for the simple fact that they have very few functional sweat glands. So you see…they’re hardly able to sweat at all. They are also not very good at dumping heat from their wet mucus membranes in the mouth by panting…you know…like dogs are able to do. Long story short…pigs are not very good at handling heat stress.
George looked back and forth between Amos and Doug. It appeared that the old man’s breathing was becoming more regular and since Doug didn’t seem to be overly concerned, he figured everything must be okay. He shook his head at Doug’s explanation about pig sweat and heat stress. “Yeah…right…okay, then…” He returned to his seat.
After George sat back down, Amos stared directly into the eyes of an angel and whispered. “I don’t want to cause no ruckus, Mr. Doug, but…I’s not feeling all that good…do you think…”
Doug helped Amos off the stool and walked him toward the kitchen where Max was already wiping his hands on his apron. “Grab a chair, Doug…” he said as he guided Amos into the kitchen, toward the back door. He opened the door to allow in the fresh, cool October air.
Doug returned with a chair and placed it on the back porch. “Sit down, Amos,” he offered. “Tell me…are you feeling any tightness in your chest, any pain at all?”
Max provided Amos with a glass of water and wiped his forehead with a cool rag. “Here, take this, Amos.” He also pulled a bottle of aspirin out of his pocket. “I want you to chew this aspirin, too…don’t just swallow it…make sure you chew it.” He put his hands on Amos’ shoulders and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he looked at Doug and said, “Call 911, Doug…”
Amos moved to stand up, and shook his head when Max gently pushed him back into a sitting position on the chair. “No sir…no ambulance…I don’t like them…folks die in them things…please, Mr. Max…”
Max squatted down so that he was eye-level with Amos. “Amos…be honest with me…how long have you been hurting?”
“It ain’t nothin’, Mr. Max…really…probably just indigestion cause I ate too much of your good food…I’s be fine in a few minutes,” he rubbed his jaw absently.
“Jaw pain?” Doug asked.
“Just a little,” Amos replied, while rubbing his left arm. “And, it feels like my arm has gone to sleep…been feeling like this for a few hours…before I got here this evening, off and on.”
Doug looked toward Max, who gave him the signal. “Stay seated, Amos. I’m calling 911,” he held his hand up at Amos’ forthcoming objection. “No argument from you, my friend…and, don’t you worry…one of us will ride with you all the way to the hospital. We won’t leave your side…you will not be alone, okay?”
Amos took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He simply nodded and said, “Will you pray with me, Mr. Max?”
Max took the old man’s withered hands into his own and bowed his head. “Heavenly Father…we ask that you be with Amos and heal him…you are the One we turn to for help in moments of weakness and times of need. We ask that you be with your servant in this time of illness. Psalm 107:20 says that you send out your Word and heal. So then, please send your healing Word to your servant. In the name of Jesus, drive out all infirmity and sickness from his body.”
Amos heard the sirens coming from a distance. He opened his eyes and smiled into Max’s all-knowing eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Max…thank you…”
_____
It was very dark inside Room 109, so Amanda felt for a light switch on the wall and flipped it on. The entire room lit up with bright, fluorescent lighting.
Tyler kicked the door shut behind them and put Buster down on the floor. He quickly turned off the light. “Are you crazy!” he whispered loudly. He moved in the dark until he found the switch for the table lamp on the nightstand between two queen beds.
“What!” Amanda exclaimed. “We can’t very well search the place in the dark, can we?” She began looking through the two suitcases in t
he corner. “Go ahead, look in all the drawers.”
Tyler stared at her with a dumbfounded expression. “What are you doing, Amanda? I’m just here to meet these fellas, not to discover their innermost secrets. What do you think we’re supposed to search for anyway?”
Amanda placed her hands on her hips and returned his dumbfounded stare. “Tyler…you have to admit it, something feels off about this whole thing, doesn’t it? I mean, these guys are here to bust up a dog-fighting ring, and you’re supposed to meet with them, promptly at seven o’clock. It’s past that time now, they haven’t called you to cancel the meeting, and they’re nowhere to be found…”
Tyler looked at his watch and rolled his eyes. “Amanda, it’s only forty minutes past the time we were supposed to meet. Anything could have happened to delay them. That’s certainly no reason for us to go rummaging through their personal belongings. I say we go back outside and wait for them there. Come on…” He moved to open the door but stopped when he saw Buster dragging something from one of the suitcases on the floor. “Amanda, get him quick before he destroys something…”
Amanda squatted on the floor and urged Buster to release the piece of plastic he had in his mouth. “Come on, Buster…what do you have there, huh? Come on…give it to me…”
Buster backed away from Amanda, preparing to play their “catch-me-if-you-can” game. “Oh, no…that’s not the way the game goes…I found it first…you have to try to get it from me…” He scooted backward on his butt, dragging the plastic card with him.
Four-Footed Angels Page 17