The deputy sighed loudly. “I suspect you’re right about that one.”
Did the vision mean I should I tell Mason to stay away or not? I wasn’t sure I’d even get the chance to talk to him.
We drove the rest of the way in silence except for a short phone call he took, during which he did a lot of grunting and didn’t sound very happy, but he pulled a U-turn and headed the opposite direction.
“Is there a problem?” I asked.
“Nothing that won’t be straightened out soon enough,” he responded with a frown.
His answer wasn’t exactly reassuring. I had no idea where we were going other than south of Henryetta until we stopped in the parking lot of a rundown motel in Pickle Junction, a small town known for its annual pickle festival and not much else. The motel looked like it had seen its hey-day back in the sixties and seventies, when the festival had been in its zenith. Now the establishment needed a new paint job and roof and, judging from the empty parking lot, a few customers. No wonder they picked this place. The deputy turned off the engine and turned to look at me. “I’m going to leave you here with an officer. Trust me.”
As we got out of the car, the unmarked car pulled into the space next to the chief deputy’s. One of the motel doors swung open and a man in a police uniform stepped out. Chief Deputy Dimler walked me to the doorway. “Rose, this is Officer Sprout with the Henryetta Police Department, and he’s going to take care of you for now.”
Officer Sprout looked like he was fresh out of high school. He had short, light-brown hair; brown eyes; and a face full of freckles. But he offered me a warm smile, which I desperately needed. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
And then it hit me. “Wait!” I spun to face Jeff. “I thought the sheriff’s department was going to protect me.”
The deputy at least had the courtesy to grimace. “That phone call I took was telling me that the Henryetta police won the custody battle for you. Since the incident occurred in city limits, they claim it’s theirs.”
“But…” Why in the world would the Henryetta police want to look after me?
“If you need anything, tell Officer Sprout. He’ll see to it.”
I nodded, but I was less than confident about this whole mess. I suspected I’d be a lot safer hiding somewhere on my own.
Some unnamable emotion flickered over Jeff’s face. “Rose, I suspect you probably think I’m a prick after our conversation about Mason and now this, but I assure you that it’s not personal.” He lowered his voice. “And while you might not feel very safe right now, I promise that you are. I’m doing everything in my power to get you transferred back to the sheriff’s department. But for now, just sit tight.”
Rather than answering, I walked over the threshold, leaving the two law enforcement officers murmuring to each other in the doorway. I took a minute to examine my temporary new home. Two double beds covered in nasty jewel-toned polyester bedspreads filled the room. The décor was completed by an old television chained to the dresser on the opposite wall, and a wooden chair with a vinyl seat in a corner by the window. Giant dancing pickles with faces, top hats, and stick arms and legs resembling the Planter’s Mr. Peanut adorned artwork that hung over each bed. The door to the bathroom stood ajar, giving me a glimpse of a yellow laminate counter, only I was fairly certain it hadn’t been yellow when it was new forty years ago. The floor was covered in a stained brown carpet I had no intention of standing on barefoot.
After Jeff left, I found myself alone with the barely legal boy who’d been charged with guarding my life.
Officer Sprout motioned to one of the beds and the TV. “I know it’s not much, but it’s remote, so there’s little chance of him finding you here. Do you want to turn the TV on?”
I looked toward the back of the room. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep from breaking down. “I need to go to the bathroom.” The words sounded strangled.
His eyebrows lifted. “Oh. Okay.”
I hurried into the one private place left to me, shutting and locking the door behind me. I turned on the sink faucet, sat on the yellow stained toilet, and started to cry. Once I let the dam break, I couldn’t stop my tears. My shoulders shook as I tried to keep the officer from hearing me.
Daniel Crocker scared the bejiggers out of me. I had no delusions that we’d have a polite “let’s get reacquainted” chat if he found me. I was sure he’d make me wish for death long before he granted it. And I had serious doubts that the officer outside my door could protect me. Crocker’s men were hardened criminals. There wouldn’t even be a contest if they showed up. My only hope was that the motel was really remote and secretive enough that Crocker was captured before he found me.
But it also occurred to me that as far as I knew, no one other than Jeff, the deputy in the unmarked car, and Officer Sprout knew where I was. If Crocker’s men showed up and killed or kidnapped Officer Sprout, the sheriff’s office wouldn’t even know I was missing for hours.
I gasped for breath when the officer knocked on the door. “Ms. Gardner? Are you okay in there?”
I jumped up and turned off the water before opening the door.
When the officer caught sight of my tear-streaked, reddened face, his mouth fell open like it was on a hinge. I pushed past him and grabbed the phone on the nightstand.
“Ms. Gardner,” he said, following me. “You can’t call anyone.”
I sank into one of the beds, the receiver cradled against my shoulder. “I need to call Mason.” I wouldn’t ask him to come, but I at least needed him to know where I was. And I needed to hear his voice telling me everything was going to be okay.
“You can’t do that. I have orders that you aren’t allowed to call anyone. Especially him.”
“Please.” I wasn’t ashamed to beg. “I just need to talk to him for a minute.”
His eyes filled with sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
I was still holding the receiver in my hand. Would he really stop me? “Are you going to shoot me if I try it?” I started pressing in Mason’s number. “Or are you going to wrestle the phone out of my hand?”
He stood between the beds, his thumbs hanging inside his belt. He looked remarkably relaxed considering he’d been ordered not to let me call anyone. As soon as I finished entering Mason’s phone number, I realized why. The phone was dead. I put the receiver down and started to cry again.
Officer Sprout’s face twisted with horror. “I’m sorry! I didn’t make the rule. We always use this room because the phone is broken. I hear that witnesses tryin’ to make a call isn’t uncommon.”
That got my attention. “This is the police department’s room? Do you rent it by the month?”
His eyes bugged in surprise. “I don’t rightly know. I was just told that they use this particular room because the phone’s out.”
“Who else has stayed in here?”
“You know, people who get themselves into trouble and then testify to cut themselves a deal. Drug dealers, prostitutes, the works.”
I glanced at the nasty bed beneath me. “When was the last time the sheets were changed?”
Confusion crinkled his forehead. “I don’t know…”
“So how many people have you protected?”
“Countless.”
I doubted that. “No, you. How many have you protected?”
He gave me a sheepish look. “You mean like this? Here?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re the first.”
I really didn’t feel reassured. But if he was a newbie, I might get him to bend the rules for me. My tears seemed to horrify him, so hopefully I could use that to my advantage. “I’m really scared, Officer Sprout. My boyfriend Mason isn’t just anyone. He’s the assistant district attorney.” The words felt odd rolling off my tongue, but my stomach fluttered just from thinking about him that way.
“I know.” Officer Sprout didn’t sound very happy.
“He’s always there for me when something bad happens and he makes me
feel safe. I know he can’t come here, but if I could just hear his voice…” My voice trailed off. “I’m sure your girlfriend feels exactly the same way about you.”
He cleared his throat. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“I find that hard to believe.” And I did. He might be young, but he was cute even if he seemed a bit inept. I gave him a shy smile. “Here’s the thing, Officer Sprout. When a girl’s scared, she just wants her boyfriend to tell her everything’s okay. I’m sure you can understand that.”
He hesitated.
“I’ll make it really short.”
“I’ll get in trouble.”
I clasped my hands together. “No one will ever know.”
He closed his eyes and inhaled, then released a long breath. “If I were to go to the bathroom, the witness could potentially leave the room and go to the office.”
“What about your cell phone?”
He shook his head. “No way. That can be tracked.”
“Leave the room? Is that safe?” I was shocked he would suggest it.
“No one knows we’re here.” He shrugged. “It’s safe.”
Given his cavalier attitude, I had all the more reason to call Mason. “Okay.”
He walked over to the chair by the window.
I tilted my head to the side, squinting in confusion. “I thought you were going to go to the bathroom.”
He looked at me with a blank expression. “I don’t have to go yet.”
My mouth dropped open. “Are you serious?”
“I usually have three cups of coffee in the morning, but with all of the excitement, I only had one.”
I could argue with him and risk him changing his mind or wait. There was more than one way to handle this. I found a plastic cup on the dresser next to the ice bucket. I grabbed the bucket and headed for the door.
He jumped out of the chair and blocked my path. “Whoa! Where do you think you’re goin’?”
“I’m goin’ to get ice so you’ll drink a big glass of water and go to the bathroom.”
He shook his head. “I can’t let you leave.”
“But you…” I stopped. I didn’t want to press my luck. Setting the ice bucket down, I grabbed the cup and filled it at the bathroom sink before handing it to him.
“Thanks.” He took a small sip and set it down.
This was going to take a while.
I pulled back the greasy bedspread and thoroughly examined the sheets before lying down on the bed. I’d woken up early and it had been a stressful morning to say the least. I’d learned that my body’s way of dealing with stress was to sleep. If I had to wait for the deputy to go to the bathroom, I might as well take a nap.
“Do you mind if I turn on the TV?” Officer Sprout asked.
“Go ahead.”
I closed my eyes and let the talk show host’s voice lull me to sleep. When I woke up later, the room was dark and the news was on. Groggy, I sat upright and looked around. The officer wasn’t in his chair and the bathroom door was closed.
He’d gone to the bathroom without waking me.
I jumped off the bed and fumbled with the locks on the door, ignoring the rumbling in my stomach. I hadn’t eaten since the night before and it was close to six o’clock. No wonder I was starving.
An older man at the reception desk was watching a television that looked even more ancient than the one in our room.
I leaned against the desk, my heart racing. I wouldn’t put it past the deputy to find me and drag me back to the room even though he’d been the one to suggest this plan. “I need to use the phone.”
The man didn’t even look up. “Customers only.”
“I am a customer!”
“Then use the one in your room.” He sounded bored.
“I can’t. It doesn’t work.”
Perking up, he swiveled his head toward me. “Yer in room six?”
I nodded.
“That’s the Henryetta police’s witness protection room. The phone’s not supposed to work.”
How many people knew about this room? So much for secrecy. “Please! I’m begging you!”
“I don’t know…”
I ran around the desk and grabbed the phone.
“You can’t do that!” he shouted.
Ignoring him, I dialed Mason’s cell phone. Thankfully, he answered on the second ring.
“Mason Deveraux.” It was his no-nonsense voice.
I picked up the phone and moved to the other side of the counter as the older man made a grab for it. “Mason, I need your help.”
“Rose?” he sounded panicked. “Where are you?”
“I’m at the safe house, but it’s anything but safe. I think everyone knows where this place is.”
“Everyone but me,” he grumbled bitterly. “Jeff refuses to tell me. Where are you?”
I looked out the window at the motel sign. “I’m at the Pine Motel in Pickle Junction. Did do you know the police department has a room they regularly use for all their witness protection cases?”
“You’re shitting me.”
“I wish I was.”
He sounded breathless. “I’m comin’ to get you. Do you feel safe right now?”
I looked at the owner, who had resumed watching the news, apparently no longer interested in getting the phone back. “For the moment.”
“I wish you had your cell phone on you. Goddamn it. I knew I shouldn’t have let you go alone.”
“Just hurry, Mason. Please.” I realized I was putting him in danger, both physically and professionally, but I couldn’t stop myself from begging.
“I should be there in thirty minutes. Call me if something happens.”
“That might be difficult given the fact that room six is the police department’s room and they purposely have a broken phone.”
“Then how are you calling me?”
“I’m in the motel office.”
“You have got to be—” He broke off into a slew of obscenities then paused, trying to calm himself. “See if you can get into another room.”
“The officer’s going to come find me any minute now. He was in the bathroom when I left the room.”
As if on cue, Officer Sprout appeared in the doorway. “Ms. Gardner,” he growled.
“Mason, I’ve gotta go.”
“Wait!” he shouted. “What’s going on?”
“Officer Sprout found me.”
“Officer Sprout? The guy who’s been rejected from every police academy in Arkansas? The guy who the HPD hired anyway?”
That explained so much. “Yeah, that’s him.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
I hung up the phone and turned to face the officer.
I was done. “I’m not goin’ back in there with you.”
Officer Sprout’s eyes bugged out. “You can’t just leave.”
“Watch me.” I started for the door, but that was when an image appeared on the television screen. Daniel Crocker.
I froze in my tracks.
“Crocker was believed to have been in an abandoned warehouse here in Shreveport, but after a lengthy standoff, police discovered the suspect was actually a homeless man with a gun. Arkansas State Police now believe Crocker is still in the southern Arkansas area. He is considered armed and deadly. Use extreme caution if you spot him.”
“Ah…” the older desk clerk groaned, plopping his feet on the desk. “He ain’t so bad. Everyone knows he was framed.”
I gasped in shock, delaying long enough for the officer to grab my arm and drag me back into the room. I tried to pull out of his grasp, but he was deceptively strong. When we were almost inside, I had a vision. I was in the motel room, hiding behind the bed as gunshots zinged over my head.
“Come on out!” a man shouted. “We’ve got no beef with you. We only want Rose.”
“Okay!” I shouted. “Stop shooting! You can have her!”
I looked next to me and my own shocked face appeared in the shadows.
He scowled. “What are you talking about? I’m not doin’ any such thing. I only want to get you back inside before I get in trouble.”
He pushed me inside and locked the door. Two things hit me: one, Officer Sprout was going to turn me over without a second thought. And two, Crocker’s men were going to find us; it was just a matter of when.
I couldn’t wait for Mason to show up. I had to get away now.
I grabbed my lower abdomen. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
Officer Sprout made a weird face, like he wasn’t sure what to do with that piece of information.
“I just thought you might want to know that I’ll be in there for a while.”
He shrugged and sat down in his chair.
I stepped into the bathroom and immediately figured out how I’d bought so much time in the office. Officer Sprout must have paid a visit to Buffalo Bill’s Hot Wings. Gagging, I batted my hand in front of my face and found the exhaust fan switch. I needed the noise anyway.
I spun around to inspect the feature that had inspired me to lock myself into the reeking room: the frosted glass window over the toilet.
Climbing on top of the toilet lid, I grabbed the bottom handle and lifted. Nothing happened. I reached on top of the casing to make sure the window was unlocked, then gave it another jerk. Nothing.
No. No. No. I had to get out of here. Now.
After I’d been working on the window for several minutes, I heard a pounding on the door. “Pizza delivery,” a man shouted.
“I didn’t order a pizza,” Officer Sprout said.
Shit.
My heart beating wildly, I hopped off the toilet and pushed up, grunting and straining until the window finally popped up, throwing me off balance. I fell on my butt, which was the least of my worries if the shouting outside the bathroom door was any indication.
Scrambling on top of the toilet, I pushed my upper body through the window, dismayed to see a five-foot drop in front of me. I’d learned a lot about climbing out windows over the last several months, but I didn’t have time to do it gracefully. The first gunshots echoed through the night as I dove head-first from the window, somersaulting to land on my butt in the grass. I climbed to my feet and looked around, considering my options. Behind the motel and to the left, there was a patch of woods; to the right was a storage unit surrounded by a tall chain link fence.
Thirty-One and a Half Regrets (Rose Gardner Mystery #4) Page 13