by Ann Mullen
“Stop whining, put it in neutral and steer, while I push,” he instructed. “Hit the brakes as soon as you’re out of the hole. There’s a gully in front of you.” I heard him mumble something under his breath.
My reaction time was very slow sometimes, and this was one of those times. I ended up with the front tires in the gully just like he said, and the bumper was now firmly planted on top of a big rock.
It was like something you’d see in a movie. Billy slapped his forehead and walked in circles, while I cried.
“U-lv-no-ti-s-gi `ge ya!” he yelled, walking from the rear of the truck to the front. “Tla-i-`go-li-`ga. Didn’t you hear what I said?”
By now, he’d lost all patience with me. I didn’t know what to say and I hated it when he said stuff I didn’t understand. All I could come up with was the two Indian words I had memorized, “Da-qua-dov Tse-si.”—my name’s Jesse.
That stopped him cold in his tracks and he burst out laughing. “You’re nuts.” He went back to the front of the truck, lifted it up off the rock and pushed it out of the gully. “Now hit the brakes!” The truck came to rest in the middle of the road. “Pull the handbrake,” he ordered, “and get out.”
As usual, I did what he said. This was fast becoming a habit. He tells me what to do, and I do it.
Surveying the truck, he said, “Who taught you how to drive anyway, Athena?” Before I could get my two cents in, he got in the truck, readjusted the seat and drove it off the road behind the trees.
“Hey, look at this Billy. There’s a path over here with imprints of a bulldozer. It looks like someone took a bulldozer and plowed right through the woods,” I said as I walked toward the truck. “And you can see it goes all the way back there.” I pointed in the direction of the tracks.
He got out of the truck and walked over to where I was standing.
“The tracks are old,” he said. “See the mashed, dead leaves in the grass? That means whoever did this, did it a while back.”
“Maybe some time around Christmas?”
“The timing would be just about right,” he said. “Let’s see where the path leads. He walked over and locked up the truck doors and the camper shell. “Don’t want anyone to steal my equipment.”
“This must’ve been a road of some sort at one time,” I guessed. “There are a few remnants of saplings, but no large trees.”
The sun was high in the sky and blasting down on us with all its intensity. A slight breeze in between the trees hit my sweaty face and cooled me. I felt like I was going to fall out from the heat.
“I can tell summer’s here,” I said, wiping the moisture off my face with my shirttail. “Man, it’s hot.”
Billy looked at me, rolled his eyes and said, “This isn’t hot, baby.”
We scouted for what seemed like forever, when, dead ahead of us in the middle of the path, was the hill I’d tried to explain to Billy. The top of the mound was about three feet tall and it was wide enough so that if you dug a hole and put a car in it, it would be the perfect size. My deductive reasoning was working at maximum overdrive.
“See, I told you,” I said, walking around the hill and pointing to its size. “He could’ve driven the bulldozer back to here,” I pointed, “dug the hole and dumped the car in, and then covered the hole with dirt.”
“Someone could’ve buried trash back here, or they could’ve buried a dead horse. Who knows? I think the whole thing about burying a car is a little far-fetched. Besides, if you didn’t want to draw attention to it, you would’ve leveled the ground.”
“I guess you would, unless you panicked. An adult would have more sense, but a kid... that’s another story. Maybe he was in a hurry to cover his tracks. He wanted to...”
“Forget it, Jesse,” Billy said. “You’re stabbing in the dark.”
The path ended with the hill. Trees and underbrush lined the background. A clump of ferns sprouted out of the mound.
I was losing wind. “You’re probably right,” I agreed. What did I know? “We should head back. I’m hungry as a horse. Oops, sorry. I wasn’t trying to be smart.” I looked down at the mound and then back to Billy.
“I’m hungry, too,” he said. “We’ll give it another half-hour, if you can hold out that long. After that, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go to eat. Is it a deal?”
I mumbled under my breath as we turned and headed back down the path, “I guess I can hold out for a little while.”
“I want to hang around and see if anything develops. Something might happen. Why else would the police have been here earlier?”
We got back to the truck ten minutes later. I got in the passenger seat and dug out my purse, while Billy got in and rolled down the window.
“Want a piece of gum?” I offered, after pulling a stick out, breaking it in half, and then shoving it into my mouth.
“Sure, why not? I want a whole piece.”
I immediately pulled out my pack of cigarettes and lit one.
“I see you have that old habit back.”
“Yeah, and it’s your fault!” I accused. “I haven’t had a cigarette in years, not until I hooked up with you. What does that tell you? You’re one to talk, you smoke.”
“Only two or three a day,” he said. “That’s different. I’m not... hey, it looks like we have company.”
I could see Rose and her father coming out of the house. He followed her to her car, pointing his finger at her the whole time, and then he threw his arms up in the air. She got into the car and sped off, leaving him standing in the empty parking space, eating dust. He spun around, looked in our direction, and then ran back to the house.
“Family feud,” I said, not paying much attention.
“I think he saw us. Let’s get out of here.”
We were flying down the road when the first shot rang out.
“He shot at us... that lunatic!” I screamed, looking through the back window. “Go faster, Billy. He’s standing in the middle of the road with a gun. Oh my God...”
“I’m going as fast as I can! This isn’t a racecar. It only has a four-cylinder.”
The next shot took out the rear window of the camper shell, and then shattered the windshield. Glass flew everywhere. Billy didn’t even stop at the end of the road. He turned onto Rt.15 and never slowed down. I looked over and he was covered with specks of blood.
I became hysterical. “Billy, you’re bleeding! Pull over!”
I didn’t notice the blood on me at the time, but I had a stinging feeling on my face and arms.
Billy finally came to a stop when we reached a muddy pull off area, a mile down the road. This was the same spot I remembered passing when I followed my parents on our move to the mountains. A cop car was sitting here with a radar gun at the time.
Billy stumbled out of the truck and made his way over to a shady spot under the trees. I was right behind him with a rag I’d dug out from behind the seat and my cell phone in my hand. I dialed 911. The emergency dispatch came on the line.
“911. State your emergency, please.”
“Help us, please!” I screamed in her ears. “We need an ambulance. Someone shot at us. We need help!”
“Ma’am, can you give me your location?”
I looked around and tried to get my bearings. I didn’t see a mile marker or a road sign of any kind. Think, Jesse, think, I told myself.
“We’re on the northbound side of Rt. 15 on a pull off. It’s where the cops sit sometimes with his radar gun. It’s about three or four miles before you get to Zion Crossroads. We’re in a black, Toyota pickup truck with a black camper shell. Please hurry!”
“Miss, just stay on the line.”
I heard her barking out orders in the background and then heard her fingers clicking away on a computer. “Rescue One, we need an ambulance dispatched to lookout post number 4-5-0. Be advised... Shots fired at moving vehicle with injuries... Local law enforcement notified.” She returned to me. “May I have your name, please?”
“Jesse Watson,” I screamed. “My name’s Jesse Watson. My friend, Billy Blackhawk needs help! He’s bleeding!”
“Has he been shot, Miss Watson?”
“I don’t think so. Let me check,” I said to her. I looked down at Billy, who was now lying on the ground, soaked in blood. He had numerous, small rips in his shirt and pants, but I didn’t see anything that looked like a bullet hole.
“Billy,” I got down on my knees and got close to his face. “Have you been shot?”
“No, I’m all right,” he replied. “I have cuts from the glass, but it isn’t bad. A stitch here and there and I’ll be fine.”
“He says he’s not shot,” I told the dispatcher, “He has cuts from the shattered windshield, and he’s got a pretty bad gash on his arm. I’m tying a rag around it as we speak. He’s going to need stitches.”
“Are you hurt, Miss Watson?”
When I looked at my arms and legs, I was shocked. My T-shirt was splattered with blood and I could feel the dampness.
“I’m covered in blood, too! Just like Billy!” I screamed.
“Are you shot, Miss Watson?”
“No, I don’t think so,” I answered, looking over my body. “But there’s a gash above my knee.” I heard sirens in the distance. “The ambulance is here! I can hear the sirens!”
“Please stay on the line,” she repeated herself.
The ambulance was the first to arrive. Seconds later, two state troopers pulled in, brakes squealing, lights flashing, and their sirens blaring. The paramedics worked diligently to fix us up, so they could transport us to a hospital, while the two state troopers asked us questions and talked on their radios. A few minutes later, a tow truck arrived.
“Where are you taking my dad’s truck?” I cried.
“Ma’am, your friend over there,” he pointed to Billy, “told us to have it towed to Redman’s Auto Center. Is that all right with you?”
“That’s fine,” I whispered. “But I need to lock it up first. Billy’s got some expensive equipment in the back, and my purse is in the cab.”
“We’ll take care of it,” the officer replied. “Don’t worry.”
“Another fine mess you’ve gotten us into,” I said to Billy, mocking a character from an old show I’d seen on the tube many times as we were being ushered through the emergency room. “I’d like to see how you’re going to get us out of this one since you have all the answers.”
“Hey, we didn’t do anything wrong,” he said. “We’re the good guys. Poor old Larry isn’t going to be so lucky. They’re going to burn his butt.”
“He deserves it!” I snapped. “He tried to kill us!”
The emergency room crew put us on separate beds, pulled a curtain and began the process of tending to our injuries. It turned out not to be so bad. Billy took eleven stitches in his right, upper arm and I had seven stitches sewed into an area above my right knee.
“Are we finished?” I asked the nurse. I was ready to get out of there.
“Not yet,” she replied. “The doctor has some instructions for you first, and you’ll need to speak with the police before we can release you.” She walked away.
Once alone, I got off the bed and went over to see Billy.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you, but I kept forgetting,” I whispered. “What about Helen’s purse? Won’t the cops know it was dusted for prints before they got it?”
“My friend didn’t dust for prints,” he went on to explain in hushed tones. “She used an ultra-violet laser enhanced imaging scanner that scans for prints then feeds the data into a computer. You get fast results and no residue. It’s pretty neat, huh?”
“Good, I was worried about the police finding out the evidence had been tampered with,” I said, talking as fast as I could before the cops came in to question us. “Do you remember what Bubba said about Tom Dorey and Jay being best friends? Do you think it’s true? Because if it is...”
“Why would he say it, if it wasn’t true?”
“This puts a whole new slant on everything.”
As if on cue, the doctor walked over to Billy’s bed. Two troopers followed behind him.
“We’re in for it now,” I murmured, looking over at Billy.
“Just tell the truth,” he whispered.
For the next half-hour we told our story and answered enough questions to choke a goat.
“We contacted your mother like you asked,” the officer said to me before we left. “She’s in the waiting room.”
By the time we walked out of the examination room to the emergency room admitting desk, we’d been assured that Lawrence Hudgins would be arrested. The police would need a formal statement from us, but that could wait until tomorrow morning when we felt better.
I didn’t look forward to seeing my mother and having to explain myself again. I was tired of telling lies and trying to cover my butt.
“Jesse!” Mom cried out when she saw us. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Mom,” I said, walking up to her and giving her a hug. “We’re both fine.” I looked at Billy and gave him a weak smile. I looked past Mom and saw the whole gang standing in a huddle off to the side—Claire and both of the kids, Jack and Dennis... and Cole.
Every emotion in my body came surging forth. I broke down in tears as I ran into Cole’s arms.
“I’m so glad you came,” I whispered in his ear. “I need you.”
“That’s why I’m here,” he replied as he wrapped his arms around me. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I was worried.”
Mom took charge and led everybody out to the parking lot. That woman never ceases to amaze me sometimes. We were all gathered in a group beside Cole’s police cruiser.
“Cole’s going to take you and Billy home,” she said to the two of us. “We’ll meet you there.” She physically pushed us in all directions. “The three of you have a few things you need to work out and now is the perfect time to do it, before things get any worse.” She was determined. Claire and the kids got in the minivan with her, as Jack and Dennis got into the Camaro. Nobody was happy.
“Let’s have it,” Cole demanded, driving out of the parking lot with our gang in close pursuit. “How deep is the hole you’ve gotten yourselves into now? Am I going to need an excavation crew for this one, or will a shovel suffice?”
I sat in the front seat with my mouth closed, while Billy sat in the back and talked to Cole. “We didn’t do anything. We were on routine surveillance when this guy comes out and starts shooting at us.”
“Stop it right there, Billy,” Cole said. “I know all about it, and what I don’t know, I’ve pretty much figured out on my own. Let me tell you what I have and then you can try to lie your way out of it, okay?”
“Okay,” we said in unison.
His unbridled analogy of actual events was astonishing. He knew about Jay shooting me, and guessed at Billy’s parents’ involvement in fixing my wounds. There was no record of my being treated at either one of the two local hospitals. The purse was a different matter. He knew Billy had some contact with it, but he didn’t know that Billy took it to Caroline at the research lab... and neither one of us was going to tell him.
“And now this,” he barked. “Don’t you realize you both could’ve been killed? I blame you, Billy.”
“Like I said—we’re not the guilty parties here,” Billy growled.
“Not entirely,” Cole said. “Larry Hudgins will pay for what he did, but you can’t go around harassing private citizens. It’s against the law!”
“Yadda... yadda... yadda.” Billy was antagonizing him. “Have they arrested Hudgins? That’s all I care about.”
“They picked him up about an hour ago and brought him in for interrogation,” Cole responded. “His lawyer was waiting for him, screaming something about getting a restraining order against the two of you. Hudgins says that both of you belong in jail.”
“If that’s supposed to scare us, it doesn’t.” I was fast becoming belligerent. “Does it, Billy?�
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Billy shook his head and said, “Jesse, a court order isn’t a joke.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Billy was backing down.
“If we get caught anywhere near those people, we’ll go to jail. It’s time to throw in the towel.”
“Has everyone in this car lost all perspective, except me?” I asked. “Who cares about Larry Hudgins? As far as I’m concerned, he’s nothing but a butt fissure on the rear end of society. His son’s an aggressive, angry, out-of-control, psychotic teenager who likes to torture small animals. Rita’s a spoiled, pampered, brainless airhead, and poor Rose is caught up right in the middle of all this. Barring all that, what about Helen? Isn’t she the one who matters?”
Neither one of them had anything to say about that. Their silence indicated to me that they were thinking it over. Hoping they’d come to their senses and see that the most important thing was to find out what happened to Helen, I forged ahead. “If none of them had anything to do with her disappearance, then why are they getting so bent out of shape?”
“It might have something to do with the fact that you’re harassing them,” Cole sneered. “You can’t push people but so far.”
“We’re not getting anywhere,” I hissed.
Cole parked his cruiser in Mom’s driveway. None of us had spoken since my last statement, and frankly, I was getting a little tired of all the tension. Cole stepped out of the car and came over to my door.
“I’ll walk you inside, and then I’m going to take Billy home,” he said, helping me out of the car.
“That won’t be necessary,” I said. “I’ll take him home.” I opened the car door and held out my hand. “Need a lift, partner?”
“Why, thank you kindly,” he answered, taking hold of my hand. He turned to Cole. “I think we’re finished here, officer. Thanks for the ride.”
Together, we walked up the steps and waved good-bye. It wasn’t polite, but it was the right thing to do. Cole had pushed us to our limit and now it was time for us to push back.
“Tell me one thing,” I said to Billy as we were walking inside. “Why was he driving his cop car when he picked us up at the hospital? Was he on duty? Did you hear the radio squawking the whole time? What’s he doing in Charlottesville? Isn’t he out of his jurisdiction?”