If he’d thought he could get away by making a run through the maze, Cutch might have tried it. But he was outnumbered and outmaneuvered. Though Leroy had apparently called the authorities with pure intentions, Cutch realized he was in deep trouble.
Because he’d finally remembered where he’d seen that red soil before, and there was an airstrip on that property. The plane that had just attacked theirs had taken off from Bruce Bromley’s land.
So it didn’t really surprise him when Bruce’s little brother approached him and said, “Henry McCutcheon, you’re under arrest for the production of methamphetamine.”
ELEVEN
Elise gasped and watched in surprise as Deputy Bernie Gills stepped past the sheriff and cuffed Cutch’s wrists behind his back. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you.” Bernie’s voice faded as he led Cutch toward his patrol car.
Elise practically leaped in front of the sheriff. “Why are you arresting him? We’re the ones who were being chased by a plane! Cutch is injured.”
Gideon Bromley turned to her with sad eyes. “I don’t really have much choice. We found production materials on his land—with his fingerprints on them. And he’s been a person of interest before.”
“But he’s the one who reported finding that stuff out there. Why would he do that if he was guilty?” The story didn’t fit. Cutch hadn’t touched any of the stuff they’d found on the ground. How would his fingerprints get on it? She knew the sheriff had taken their fingerprints the other night at the airfield office, but his prints shouldn’t have matched anything on the evidence they’d found in the woods.
“Maybe it was an attempt to draw suspicion away from himself,” the sheriff theorized. “Look, I don’t want to have to arrest him, but there’s circumstantial evidence, too. We’ve had a growing meth problem in Holyoake County for the past six years or so. And for the past six years, Cutch has been buying land—hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of land. Where do you suppose he got the money to do that? The county assessor doesn’t make near that kind of salary.” Gideon sighed. “The evidence is stacked against him. Pure and simple.”
Elise backed away and stood by her uncle, watching with despair as Bernie and another officer drove off with Cutch in the backseat of the cruiser. Where had he gotten the money? She felt desperation rising inside her. She couldn’t let them arrest Cutch—not when he’d been about to open up to her for the first time. “What about bail? Can I bail him out?” She had no idea how bail worked. She’d never known anyone who’d been arrested before.
The sheriff shook his head sadly. “Bail for producing meth is one hundred thousand dollars. You’d have to put up ten percent—that’s ten thousand dollars you’d never see again.”
She’d saved more than that for a new plane. She had the money. “I’ll pay it.”
“Cash. Not a check, not a credit card,” Gideon Bromley specified. “And you’d have to put up collateral for the rest. Property. Something worth ninety thousand. So if he fails to make his court appointments, you’d lose that, too.”
Elise felt her stomach sink. She didn’t have anything worth near ninety thousand—not even if she added up her car and her plane and all her cameras together. “I—I don’t have that much.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to put up that kind of money for a McCutcheon, anyway. Everyone knows your families can’t stand one another.” The sheriff shrugged. “You had an incident you wanted to report?”
Though everything in her wanted to run after Cutch, Elise figured the smart thing to do was to tell the sheriff what had happened and pray he’d sort it out. Surely if Cutch was innocent they wouldn’t be able to keep him for long. While she explained everything to the sheriff, her mind swirled with questions. Where did Cutch get the money to buy his grandfather’s land? And how would his fingerprints get on the meth production materials? He’d insisted they not touch any of it. Too much still didn’t make sense.
Likewise, she doubted her story made sense to the sheriff. He looked unconvinced when she told him about the plane shooting them out of the sky. Granted, it wasn’t likely the kind of situation the small-town Iowa sheriff was used to encountering, but she didn’t appreciate the wary-eyed look he gave her.
Almost as though he didn’t believe her.
He didn’t think she was making drugs with Cutch, did he?
If Gideon Bromley suspected her of anything, he didn’t mention it but simply clarified a few points in her report before he doffed his hat, hopped behind the wheel of the cruiser and drove away.
Elise spun around and faced her uncle, who’d been mostly silent through the whole exchange.
“I didn’t know they were going to do that,” he said simply. “They asked if Cutch was with you. I didn’t think—”
“It’s okay.” Elise pinched her face up. She wouldn’t cry, though the morning had already been overwhelming and it wasn’t even near lunchtime yet. “Do you think he’s guilty?”
Leroy shrugged. “Sounds like they’ve got a pretty solid case.”
Elise could guess what her uncle was thinking: “And he’s a McCutcheon.”
Her uncle didn’t respond to her comment. His eyes followed the dust cloud that trailed behind the sheriff’s car. “Come on.” He headed back toward the plane. “You want to fly or you want me to?”
Feeling guilty about the crashed crop duster that was still lying sideways in a ditch on the next road south, Elise asked, “Where are we headed?”
“Back to the airfield. I have to prep the next load for Rodney.”
“Oh? Did he finally show up for work?”
“Yeah. Turns out he overslept.” Leroy stopped by the door of the plane and looked at her questioningly.
“You can fly,” Elise told him, glad she didn’t have to do it. After everything she’d been through, not even flying appealed to her anymore.
Fortunately, the short flight was uneventful. They landed at the airport before Elise realized she didn’t have a vehicle. Cutch had given her a lift from his place. Her car was still at home. She wondered if he would mind if she drove his truck. But then again she didn’t have his keys.
Leroy did the postflight check on her plane, and Elise walked in a daze toward the parking lot. She paused, her numb mind slugging through the unappealing choices before her. The phone in her pocket began to chirp. “Hello?”
“Elise, I need your help,” Cutch’s words were hushed, almost as though he didn’t want to be overheard.
“Where are you?” she asked, surprised that he’d be calling her. Wasn’t he supposed to be in jail?
“In jail.” He sighed. “This is what’s called a booking call. I only get one.”
And he’d chosen her? She almost felt flattered.
Cutch continued quickly, “Remember the red mud we saw on the bottom of the plane?”
“Yes.”
“There’s only one place in the county with red mud like that—Bruce Bromley’s place. I was just out there this past spring for a reassessment. That’s when I discovered all the improvements he’s made—inground swimming pool, new outbuildings and an airstrip.”
Elise sucked in her breath. “The sheriff’s older brother! That’s how the gunmen knew where to find us. He was getting his information straight from the top.”
“I’m afraid so. Now listen. We can’t trust the sheriff. They’ve got to be the ones who are framing me. I’ve got to get out of jail today. I heard the deputies talking. The judge is off for the Labor Day holiday, but when he comes back tomorrow, he’ll probably raise my bail out of sight—we’re talking millions. My only chance to get out and prove I’m innocent is if you bail me out today.”
“I’d do it, Cutch, but I need ten thousand cash and collateral worth the other ninety thousand.”
“You can put up my land as collateral,” Cutch explained. “My wallet’s in my truck. Let me give you my PIN. You’ll have to withdraw the rest.”
“Just a minu
te. I need something to write with.”
While Elise let herself into the office to find a pen, Cutch’s voice softened. “Are you hanging in there?”
She fumbled with the doorknob. “I’m pretty freaked out, I have to admit.” She turned the knob and pushed the door open with her hip. “We have to catch these guys, Cutch. They’re making drugs that will ruin people’s lives just like they ruined your grandfather’s life. We’ve got to bring them to justice. Okay, I’ve got a pen.”
“Good girl.” Cutch’s smile carried through in his voice over the phone, and Elise’s heart gave a little hitch as he told her the information she’d need to retrieve cash from his bank and credit lines at the ATM.
Did this determined man really trust her to bail him out? She felt hopeful that she’d be able to free him, but at the same time, doubts and fears tempered her optimism. She wasn’t even sure he was innocent. Where had he gotten the money to buy his land, anyway? She imagined the sheriff could have faked the fingerprints—or even lied about it to save his brother’s hide—but the land was a circumstantial complication she couldn’t explain away.
“There’s an extra key to the truck in the toolbox in back—passenger’s side, in a magnetic keyholder up under the lid.” Cutch’s voice faltered. “Thank you so much for doing this, Elise.”
“No problem,” she stated simply. “I’ve got to get going.” They said their goodbyes, and after another thank-you from Cutch, Elise shoved her phone back in her pocket and took a deep breath, approaching the more-or-less unfamiliar truck with her shoulders thrown back and her head held high. She tried to think courageous thoughts, because she certainly didn’t feel courageous.
The key wasn’t difficult to find. The truck started on the first try, and although Elise instinctively pulled on the lever by the steering wheel, thus dousing the windshield with wiper fluid and streaking dead bug residue across its previously mostly clean surface, she quickly found the gearshift on the floor and got the truck moving.
“Okay, Lord, I just need a little help,” she prayed as she brought the full-size pickup around in a wide turn. She thought she had enough room to maneuver in the gravel lot, but she swiped close by the marigolds planted along one edge and, looking back, realized she’d flattened most of them. “Actually, Lord, I need a lot of help.”
She made it back to her dad’s farm without further incident. Her plan was to leave the truck there and take her car into town. Plus, she needed to grab her purse, because she knew the banks would be closed for Labor Day, and she doubted Cutch’s cards would yield the full ten thousand at the ATM. She’d probably have to use some of her own money for the rest.
Her father was in the yard raking the first of autumn’s leaves when she pulled in. He watched as she pulled Cutch’s truck to a stop with wide berth between the front bumper and their white picket fence. No sense getting too close.
“Young Cutch with you?” Bill McAlister asked.
“No.” Elise figured he’d probably hear the story from Leroy soon enough, so she explained as she darted to the house. “He’s in jail. I have to go bail him out.” She paused at the screen door, unsure what else to say, then darted inside and bounded up the stairs two-at-a-time. She wasn’t sure what had prompted her to confess what was going on, but she figured her father had a right to know. Anyway, she didn’t have time to worry about that now.
Though she’d have loved to take time for a shower, there wasn’t any time to spare. Cutch was right. If she didn’t get him bailed out that afternoon, the Bromleys would see that he never got out of jail. Then they’d keep pouring out drugs and destroying innocent lives. She couldn’t let that happen. She’d have to hurry.
Elise grabbed her purse from where it sat next to her Bible on top of her bureau. In her haste, she knocked the Bible to the floor, and it spilled open to the page where she’d left the bulletin from church. As she bent to pick it up, her eyes fell on the words Pastor Carmichael had preached on the day before. The words spoke straight to her harried heart, and she felt the frantic pace her of her heartbeat steady somewhat as she read from chapter six of Luke.
Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you…do to others as you would have them do to you.
The words stopped her in her tracks, and she stared for a long moment at the open Bible before gently closing it and placing it back on her bureau. For as long as she could remember, McCutcheons and McAlisters had been enemies.
But if what the Bible said was true, she was supposed to love them, do good to them, bless them, even pray for them, regardless of how they felt about her. Recalling what Pastor Carmichael had said in his sermon on the subject, Elise was reminded that God loved all His children, whether they loved Him back or not. And God called all His children to love their brothers and sisters with the same kind of love: a love that didn’t demand to be loved in return.
So what difference did it make if Cutch had betrayed her all those years ago? That was his problem, not hers. The only reason she’d felt humiliated was because she’d truly loved him, and he obviously hadn’t loved her back.
Love your enemies. The thought seemed to awaken a long-dormant part of her, as though the light had suddenly been switched on after she’d spent too long sleeping in the darkness. It didn’t matter if Cutch loved her or not. It didn’t matter if he hated her. God instructed her to love him.
There was no shame in loving Cutch. Even if he never returned her feelings, love didn’t have to be returned to be real. She could love him today and eight years ago and for the rest of her life, and whether he loved her back or not, at least she knew she was doing God’s will.
Love your enemies. Do good to those who hate you. Pray for them.
Taking the words to heart, Elise made her way slowly down the stairs, praying aloud as she went, “Lord, please be with Cutch while he’s in jail. Help me to help him get out of there. And if I’m supposed to love him, Lord, then give me the strength to forgive him.” As she stepped toward the front door, Elise’s heart felt a little lighter. Cutch had said he wanted to be friends. Though she doubted they could ever be close buddies, maybe, with God’s help, they could somehow move beyond the feud that afflicted their families. Elise opened the door, stepped outside into the bright sunlight and blinked.
Her father was waiting for her. “Now, what’s this about Cutch being in jail?” he asked. “I’ve told you for years McCutcheons are nothing but trouble. And now you’re planning to bail him out?”
Planting her feet solidly against the worn floorboards of the front porch, Elise looked up at her father, returning his gaze directly. He was right. He’d always insisted Cutch was trouble, and, except for those couple of months when they’d dated, she’d always believed her father was right. Now she wasn’t so sure.
Granted, Cutch had publicly rejected and embarrassed her eight years before, but hadn’t he indicated that morning that there was more to the story than she knew? Maybe it was time to follow her heart and trust Cutch for once.
“Yes, Dad. I’m going to bail him out, if I can. He’s not as awful a person as you say he is.” As she spoke the words, Elise realized just how true they were. Cutch had gone out of his way to help her, putting her needs before his own. He might not have ended up in jail if he’d chosen to look for the anhydrous tank first instead of helping her with her glider, but because she’d been so distraught, he’d helped her.
Just because Cutch hadn’t really loved her eight years before didn’t make him a bad person. She recalled his plea that they be friends. Was it possible? She could start finding out by springing him out of jail.
“I need to go, Dad. Cutch needs my help,” Elise explained before she turned and hurried to her car. She didn’t look back.
The ATM at the First Bank of Holyoake held a surprising amount of money, Elise discovered. Though their bank cards were limited to withdrawals of two hundred dollars per day, she was able to pull out a thousand dollars on
her credit card and thirty-five hundred with Cutch’s card, though she hated to think what the accompanying fees might be.
But fees were nothing considering the alternative. Between the cash she’d already withdrawn to take with her on her scrapped trip to the Labor Day Powered Glider Festival and the cash she’d found in Cutch’s wallet, she came up with a total of almost six thousand dollars.
So she was still over four thousand dollars short.
Elise drove around town and tried using their cards at other ATMs, only to receive the message that she’d already maxed out her withdrawals for the day. Although she’d known that much already, she couldn’t think of any other option. Unsure where she might come up with another four thousand dollars in cash, she followed her rumbling stomach back home. It was past lunchtime.
Her father was just bringing meat in from the grill—not charred burgers this time but steaks. She followed him inside and watched as he pulled a couple of baked potatoes from the microwave.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Starving,” she admitted, plunking down her cash-filled purse with a sigh. Looking at the juicy steaks, she asked, “What’s the occasion?”
“I think it’s time you and I had a talk.”
Dread filled her. Maybe she should have kept the whole bailing-Cutch-out-of-jail plan under wraps—at least until she knew if she’d be successful or not. And maybe she shouldn’t have challenged her father so directly. She silently helped her father by setting the table while he pulled butter and sour cream from the fridge.
“Let’s bless it,” he said and bowed his head.
Elise obediently followed suit. She tried to focus on her father’s prayer while impatience and despair waged war inside her. She needed to do something to come up with another four thousand dollars, not just sit there enjoying a steak lunch. But as her father’s prayer tugged at her consciousness like lift pulling up on an airplane’s wing, she realized he was praying for more than just their meal. Her father prayed for forgiveness—from God and from her.
Out on a Limb Page 13