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Rock-a-Bye Bones

Page 26

by Carolyn Haines


  Coleman filled Hoss in on the rest of the case. “We almost lost the missing girl. She’d been beaten, starved, and abused. Hypothermia almost finished her off. But Sarah Booth got her out of that cabin and away. Potter took her captive so he could sell her baby. He had a buyer lined up, and as soon as I find out the lawyer who was handling the sale, I’ll let you know. Charges there, too. I’m still checking into the role those teenage girls and Carrie Ann Musgrove played in this whole mess.”

  Hoss leaned toward me. “Men like Potter and DeLong don’t learn. They want someone to abuse, whether it’s a dog or a woman or a kid. They hate themselves, and so they want to crush anything of joy in whoever comes under their authority. There was a time in my law enforcement career that I would have been tempted to take them out. I mean there’s a standoff in the woods, it’s kill or be killed. And even if it didn’t play out exactly that way, justice would be served.”

  What he described was familiar enough to make me blush. “I wanted to kill him. I would have if my dog hadn’t knocked me down.”

  “Buy that dog a T-bone,” Hoss said. “Taking a life never leaves you. Even when you have no other choice. All in all, I’d say you did a good job. Oh, and by the way, we have a lead on that bail skip, Gertrude Strom.”

  “What?” I thought maybe I’d heard him wrong.

  “She checked into the Riverview Motel under a false name, but the young girl at the desk recognized her from the wanted flyer. The clerk knows you, Sarah Booth. Said you were a good egg. Anyway, a couple of bounty hunters had stopped by the motel asking questions and offering a reward on top of what Yancy Bellow offered. The clerk called the bounty hunters.”

  “Did they get Gertrude?”

  He shook his head. “She got away, but someone saw her driving on Highway 8 through Sunflower County. The bounty hunters are about twenty minutes behind her. Highway patrol has put up roadblocks, and the bounty hunters are hard after her. They won’t stop until they have her in custody.”

  Could it really be coming to an end? Coleman nodded encouragement at me. “She can’t escape now,” he said.

  I hadn’t been aware of the heavy, heavy weight pressing down on my shoulders until it lifted. I stood up taller. Pleasant was saved, and Gertrude would be behind bars. “Thank goodness.” I wanted to say a lot more, but I was too tired to speak.

  “I’d better transport Potter to the hospital,” Coleman said. He gave Hoss a salute and motioned for DeWayne to lead the way out. Coleman tucked Chablis in his jacket and I took Pluto. The cat wasn’t happy with the idea of a four-wheeler ride, but he knew which side his bread was buttered on and curled up against my chest.

  I climbed on behind Coleman, glad for his solid warmth as we headed for civilization. Careful not to crush Pluto, I pressed my face against the back of Coleman’s leather jacket and allowed my brain to empty. The only thing that mattered was hanging on to the man in front of me.

  * * *

  When we made it to the main road, a Ram 350 with a trailer for the ATVs was waiting for us, along with a patrol car. Coleman put Potter in the backseat of the patrol car and DeWayne wasted no time heading for the emergency room and Doc Sawyer. Potter was in no danger of dying, but he needed medical attention, and Coleman would never compromise the case against him by neglecting to provide it.

  I helped Coleman load the four-wheelers on the trailer and tie them down and then secured the critters in the backseat of the truck. Sweetie Pie loved to ride up high in a big truck. I slammed into the front seat. When Coleman cranked up the thermostat, I thought I might faint with the first blast of real heat. I’d been cold for so long, the warmth was a shock.

  Coleman pulled me against him and held me close as he drove to town. For a moment, it took me back to high school days, when riding next to the boy of your dreams was a Friday night happening.

  He dropped the truck and trailer off at the courthouse, tucked me and the pets into a patrol car, and drove to the hospital.

  The hospital parking lot was mostly empty. The holiday was hard upon us and those patients who could go home had been released. Scanning the area, I frowned. “Where is Tinkie?” I’d expected her to be with Doc, but there was no evidence of her Cadillac anywhere on the hospital property.

  Coleman checked his phone. “She was supposed to catch up with us in the woods. I wasn’t concerned when she didn’t show, because she doesn’t have access to an all-wheel-drive vehicle. The Caddy wasn’t designed for those conditions, but she hasn’t even called to check on you.”

  Worry ate at me. Pleasant had been found. Tinkie had surely heard the news, yet she was absent. She should have been here, with Libby. I remembered her good-bye in the woods, just before she drove away. A terrible suspicion took root in my brain.

  “Are you okay?” Coleman asked when he opened his door and got out of the car and I didn’t move.

  “I am.” But I wasn’t. “I’m still a bit frozen. I’ll sit here a little while and get good and toasty, then I’ll be right behind you.”

  He looked back in through the open door, assessing me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I am.”

  He gave me the key so I could start the motor and heater. “If I see Tinkie, I’ll send her out to you.”

  “Perfect.” I forced a smile. But he wouldn’t find Tinkie. She wasn’t in the hospital, and she wasn’t at Hilltop. In fact, I would be willing to bet she wasn’t in Sunflower County any longer. Possibly not Mississippi. I calculated the time from when she’d dropped me off to the present. She had a three or four hour lead. She was on the run with baby Libby.

  I tried her cell phone—no answer. I hadn’t expected her to respond, and I wondered if she even had the phone with her. She knew she could be tracked through the GPS on the phone. Likely, the smartphone was sitting on the foyer table at Hilltop ringing away.

  I slid behind the wheel and drove to the Richmond house. If Tinkie was there, all of my suspicions could be put aside, and we could bask in the knowledge we’d solved our case and Libby and her mother would soon be reunited.

  If she wasn’t there … my choices became much more complicated.

  When I pulled up at Hilltop, there was no sign of the Caddy or of Oscar’s car. It wasn’t yet five, so the bank hadn’t closed. Oscar was still at work. I knew the worst when Chablis leaped from the car and ran yelping to the front door. She sounded as if someone were torturing her. She jumped and clawed at the front door. I understood. Chablis sensed that Tinkie was gone.

  Trying to comfort the little dust mop, I lifted her into my arms and slipped into the house with the key Tinkie had given me so long ago. My worst suspicions were confirmed. The house was empty, and it looked as if a tornado had come through. Baby things were tossed everywhere. When I went upstairs to Tinkie’s room, the floor and furniture were littered with clothes. Tinkie had gone through her things and packed in a great hurry.

  Chablis ran around the bedroom, sniffing everything. At last, she sat in the middle of the room and howled. I’d never heard her make that sound. Sweetie Pie went over to nuzzle her, and even Pluto attempted to show sympathy by rubbing against Chablis’s face.

  There was no doubt now. Tinkie and the baby were gone. My heart ached for Chablis, but I had to focus.

  My next call was trickier. I wanted to talk to Oscar without alarming him. As much as Oscar loved Libby, he would never condone kidnapping. Once he realized what Tinkie had done, he would be crazed. I didn’t want to upset him and start a ball rolling that I couldn’t stop. I needed to find out what, if anything, Oscar knew, and then I had to find my partner and the baby and bring them back before anyone realized they were gone.

  It was a tall order, but this was one instance when I couldn’t fail.

  There were people I could trust, and I called Harold. “Do you know if Oscar has seen or heard from Tinkie in the last four hours?”

  “Where is she?” Harold was nobody’s fool, and he knew how attached Tinkie was to the infant. “She’s
taken off, hasn’t she?”

  “I think she’s on the run. Pleasant Smith has been rescued and is safe at the hospital. Tinkie is nowhere to be found.”

  “Tinkie called and said she was leading Coleman into the woods to find you and Pleasant. That’s what Oscar told me. As far as I know, that’s where he thinks she is.”

  “She sent Coleman to the rescue, but she never showed.”

  “She left you there? In possible danger? That’s not like Tinkie.”

  How right he was there. “If she’s taken the baby—”

  “That’s kidnapping.” Harold sounded as worried as I felt. “What are you going to do?”

  A better question would be, what could I do? She could have gone in any direction, but my guess was she’d head for Memphis with the thought of a flight to New Orleans or Atlanta, both international airports. Tinkie was one of the smartest people I knew. Her only hope of keeping Libby lay in getting out of the United States and ultimately landing in a place without extradition. Dubai or Croatia might have the most advanced technology or beautiful terrain, but they were too far from Oscar and Zinnia, Mississippi. And from me.

  I had to stop Tinkie before she made a mistake she couldn’t take back. Much like my moment of darkness in the woods with a gun barrel to Luther Potter’s head, Tinkie was acting on a dark impulse. Before my turn with Potter, I might not have understood. But my aunt Loulane would say, “The heart wants what it wants.”

  I’d heard that all my life, but I also knew the conclusion of the Emily Dickinson quotation. “Or else it doesn’t care.”

  And boy did Tinkie care. Libby had become her whole life. From where she was sitting, there was no future without that baby.

  I only hoped that I could find her and bring her home before she wrecked her marriage and her life. Oscar might agree that Libby made the world go round, but he would be devastated that Tinkie had left him behind in a quest to keep the baby. I had to make this right before it was too late.

  Where had Tinkie gone and how could I get ahead of her?

  * * *

  I left Hilltop with all the critters in the front seat of the patrol car. Chablis was pitiful. She curled into the smallest ball of glitzed hair and trembled violently. She wasn’t cold; she was having a fit of despair. I tried to console her, but she only whimpered and crawled away from me. Her little doggie heart was breaking.

  Tinkie was in danger of losing everything she loved, but she couldn’t see that. She was driven by the maternal instinct to protect her child. It didn’t matter that Libby was not her blood. Nor did it matter that Libby had a mother who would love her. For Tinkie, this was a case of life or death.

  I had to make a call to the sheriff’s office—after I returned the patrol car. Or sort of returned it. I drove straight to Dahlia House and transferred the animals to my car. I would call DeWayne and ask him to pick up the patrol car at my house and return it to Coleman. I didn’t want to inconvenience Coleman, but I also couldn’t go to the hospital. If he took one look at me, he’d know something was amiss. I had to hit the road.

  When I pulled up at Dahlia House, I was shocked to see an attractive blond woman in a wheelchair on the front porch. I jumped out of the car, worried that whoever she was, the bitter cold must certainly be affecting her.

  “Just a moment and I’ll open the door,” I called as I let the pets out. My first clue was when Sweetie Pie and Chablis charged down the front porch, ignoring my guest. Pluto slowly walked up the steps and sat in front of the woman, staring at her with his green, green eyes.

  “Ma’am, are you lost?” What were the odds of finding an infant and a woman in a wheelchair on the front porch of Dahlia House all in one week?

  “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. I’m here to see you, Sarah Booth Delaney.”

  I didn’t have time for this interruption. Where had this woman come from and how was she going to leave? There wasn’t a vehicle in sight. “Let’s go inside. It’s freezing out here.” Though I normally didn’t invite strangers into my home, this beautiful woman didn’t seem to pose a threat.

  When we were inside, I held open the swinging kitchen door so she could wheel herself into the warmest room in the house.

  “Would you care for something hot to drink?” I really had to get on the road, but I couldn’t abandon the woman. “Can I call someone for you?”

  “No, I’m exactly where I need to be.”

  “Why are you here?” I rounded up some cans of cat and dog food for the four-legged kids. I didn’t know where I would end up or how long I’d be gone. They had to have provisions.

  “To bring you a message.”

  It was only then that I realized who she really was. I’d read the news story about her—though I couldn’t remember her name—Stephanie something or other. Her heroics had been all over the television and Internet.

  “You protected your children with your own body during a tornado. You saved both of them. They survived without a scratch, and you lost the use of your legs.”

  “A small sacrifice for my children.”

  A really bad feeling knotted in the pit of my stomach. Jitty always came with a purpose, and this one scared me. “What is Tinkie going to have to give up?”

  “She’s a mother. Whatever sacrifice is called for, she’ll make it.”

  The beautiful blond showed not a whit of regret at what she’d given up to save her children, and while I knew the woman was an apparition—another guise for my haint, Jitty—I couldn’t help the tears that formed. “Tinkie has given up enough.”

  “Her willingness to sacrifice tells me how deeply she can love.”

  “This isn’t right, though. Taking Libby is wrong. I know Tinkie loves her, but she was never Tinkie’s to fall in love with. And now she’s kidnapped the baby. I have to save her.”

  “You can’t.” The blond shifted and morphed until Jitty sat in the wheelchair. “You can’t save her, Sarah Booth.”

  “I have to try.”

  “Yes, you do.” She stood up and pushed the wheelchair across the room. It evaporated before it crashed into the wall. “But you can’t save her. She is desperate and willing to sacrifice anything and everything to save Libby.”

  “But Libby isn’t in danger. Tinkie isn’t saving her. Libby is happy and safe and she will have her mother back.”

  “That is danger, to Tinkie. You have to put yourself inside her skin. She is that little girl’s mother now, and anyone who wants to take her is a threat. Tinkie has convinced herself that she can give Libby what no one else can, that primordial mother love.”

  “Pleasant will love her baby. She stayed alive in terrible conditions just because she hoped to hold her little girl.”

  Jitty sighed. “This is a case for King Solomon.”

  I knew the story of the two women who claimed the same baby. Their case was brought before King Solomon, who ruled that the baby should be cut in half so that each woman got a part of the child. When the real mother yielded her claim to save the baby, she was given the child because King Solomon recognized the true mother’s willingness to sacrifice her heart to protect her son.

  “Not even the wisdom of King Solomon can save Tinkie,” I said. “This is Pleasant’s baby, and she is a capable, responsible young woman who deserves to have her little girl.”

  “Then you must convince Tinkie to do the right thing.”

  “First I have to find her.”

  Jitty pointed out the kitchen window where the moon had come up over the empty horse pastures. “Times a-wastin’. If you want your partner home for Thanksgiving, you’d best find her and bring her back.”

  26

  Memphis was the city I settled on. Tinkie would go for the place most likely to have a flight. Jackson, Mississippi, had an airport, but there were longer delays and fewer flights. With Thanksgiving right around the corner, more frequent flights would work in Tinkie’s favor, because she would be on standby.

  How I would find her or stop her, I di
dn’t know. I only knew I had to try.

  With the accelerator to the floorboard, I flew toward Memphis, regretting my decision to bring the critters along. They were no trouble, but I didn’t know where I’d end up. Which was why I’d brought them in the first place; I didn’t know when I’d be home. But they would have been safe and more comfortable at Dahlia House, at least my two would. Chablis would not be happy anywhere but in Tinkie’s arms.

  If luck ran with Tinkie, she’d have caught a flight and be on her way. I had no idea what security measures were in place for infants. Did she need identification? Would Libby need a passport to get out of the country? Tinkie was far better versed in such things. International travel with a kidnapped baby wasn’t part of my normal world.

  It occurred to me to call the airport security and have an amber alert put out for Libby. I might catch her in that net, but such a move would effectively ruin Tinkie’s life. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not yet. Maybe I could catch up with her, reason with her, and bring them both home.

  To that end I drove too fast and reached the Memphis airport in record time. I left the animals in the car in the parking garage. As long as I hustled, they wouldn’t get too cold. When I entered the airport lobby, I took my bearings. As I’d assumed, it was crowded with holiday travelers.

  Tinkie would be easy to spot. She was fashion perfection, and wherever she went, men turned to watch her walk by. But there was no sign of my petite partner in the lobby. I went to the boards and checked the flights to New Orleans and Atlanta. Two airlines had planes boarding.

  Without a ticket, I would never get past the TSA agents. I went to the check-in desk of one airline.

  “My cousin is on a business trip, and I can’t remember whether she’s going to New Orleans or Atlanta to catch a flight to Europe. Her Aunt Loulane has taken a turn for the worse and is dying. Could you check your passenger manifest and get a message to her?”

  It was a long, long shot. The agent looked through the computer and shook her head. “I don’t have a Tinkie Richmond ticketed.”

  “Thanks.” I hurried to the next carrier’s counter and went through the same process.

 

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