Peggy Dulle - Liza Wilcox 04 - Saddle Up

by Peggy Dulle

  I went back to the beginning of the files and pulled out each one. In the first drawer I found three people who had been diagnosed with NHL and learned that Grace had been tested several times for pregnancies in the last three years and had an abortion last summer.

  There was a file for Grant Banner, probably Priscilla’s husband. He broke his back and injured his spinal cord after being thrown from a bull. The doctor had written that Grant would be a quadriplegic for the rest of his life, but that his vital signs were strong and his prognosis was good. But he had died? What happened? Where there complications? I flipped through the file, passing the lab and x-ray reports. The last entry said it all – suicide. Not possible for him to do on his own, I thought, he had help. Obviously Grant hadn’t wanted to be a quadriplegic, dependent upon his family to take care of him, and someone had helped him end his life. Doc Sanders didn’t seem like the blackmail type, but maybe that was why Blue Stripe Enterprises, which was probably owned by Priscilla Banner, bought him all new equipment. But why now and not three years ago when it happened?

  In the next drawer, I found Davis’ mom’s very thin file. Her name had been Sheila Carlson and she hadn’t seen the doctor except for a bout of food poisoning three years ago, after Davis was born. She had been a healthy thirty-nine year old woman. I flipped through the first lab results and found a toxicology report. She had a high concentration of methamphetamine in her blood stream and the doctor had written – overdose? Then he had done the autopsy. The microscopic and other lab results looked very similar to Paul’s, but since I had no idea what I was looking at I couldn’t really read them. The last entry stated cause of death – non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma (NHL). What about the methamphetamine in her system? Could it be used to help the pain associated with end-stage cancer?

  I found four more cases where the original cause of death was thought to be something else, but when an autopsy was done NHL had been found. I remember reading that the main symptom of NHL is enlarged lymph nodes which could also be attributed to many other illnesses. How many people in the world could be walking around with cancer and not even know it? I bet it’s a very high number. And until anyone gets really sick, they don’t often go to a doctor. These people waited too long and died.

  I heard a noise from the other room. The delivery men must be here, so I put away the files, closed the cabinets quietly and went out toward the front door. My heart spiked and I stopped up short. In the middle of the room was a very large man, holding a squirming Latino boy with one arm and a gun in the other. It was pointed at me.

  CHAPTER 13

  “Put your hands in the air!” he shouted as the hand that held the gun shook along with his voice.

  I immediately put my hands up.

  “Get on the floor!” he yelled, trying to contain the struggling boy and keep his eye on me.

  “Can I say something first?” I asked.

  “No!” He crunched the boy’s head harder.

  I lay down on the floor, laced my hands behind my back, and waited.

  “I see you’ve done this before,” he replied.

  Actually, I had seen it on television several times but didn’t say anything. This must be Earl and he didn’t look too comfortable holding the boy and trying to keep me in his sights.

  I heard handcuffs click, then a pair were put on my wrists and he yanked me upwards.

  “You’re a lousy lookout, lady. I caught him coming through the back window. The other two got away, but I got him and you.”

  Earl threw me down on the couch and went away from us to use his phone to make a call. He was dressed in blue jeans and a dark blue polo shirt. Not much of a uniform, if you ask me.

  The boy was handcuffed and sat on the ground next to the couch. He struggled to free himself.

  “Don’t pull on them,” I told him. “They’ll just hurt your wrists.”

  “I was just trying to get some more medicine for my mom. She’s real sick.”

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Carlos Suarez,” he said, then looked wildly at Earl. “What’s going to happen to me?”

  “Don’t worry about it, Carlos.” I winked at him. “I’ll get us out of this.”

  “You can get the cuffs off?” he asked.

  “No, I can’t.” I remembered Emily and her ability to get the cuffs off me in a few minutes. It was a good skill to have for a professional killer, I guess, but not something a teacher really needs to know.

  “Can I talk now?” I asked.

  “No, you can talk when we get down to my office.”

  A few seconds later, Tom came through the door. As soon as he saw me on the ground with the Latino boy, he pulled his gun, so did Earl. They yelled at each other to put the gun down. Two tall, lean and young delivery men dressed in overalls initialed with ‘Tree Heart Delivery Service’ came through the front door and Tom and Earl pointed their guns at them. The men screamed and raised their hands in the air. The chaos escalated as the two delivery men tried to explain why they were there, shouting over Tom and Earl, who bellowed at each other to put the weapon down. Just then, Doc Sanders walked in.

  He ignored all the men and came directly over to me. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, Doc.”

  “Who are all the screaming men besides that idiot, Earl?”

  “My fiancé, Tom, and the two delivery men.”

  Doc put his fingers to his lips and let out a loud whistle. Everyone froze but Tom and Earl did not put down their guns.

  “Earl, where are the cuff keys?”

  “I caught them fair and square, Doc. She was the lookout for this gang member. They were going to take all your drugs.”

  When Tom tried to move toward me, Earl pointed his gun at him again. “Don’t move, I said.”

  “Earl. This is Liza. She was in my office waiting for the two delivery men over there. Tom is her fiancé and Carlos’ mother is my patient.”

  “Is your mom sicker, Carlos?” Doc said, turning his attention to the boy.

  “Yes, Doctor. She needs more medicine.”

  “I’ll get it for you. Next time use the door.”

  “But you weren’t here. I was just going to get the medicine and get out.”

  “I keep it in a locked cabinet, Carlos. You wouldn’t have been able to get it. Next time use the door and call me first.”

  Earl still had his gun on Tom.

  Doc Sanders rolled his eyes. “Earl, put the damn gun away. I don’t know why Priscilla insists that you carry it. One of these days you will shoot some innocent person and she will get sued.”

  “I’m the law in the town, Doc. I put my gun away when I think I should,” Earl retorted.

  “I’m Chief Tom Owens,” Tom said, sliding his gun down to his side.

  “The one I talked to on the phone?” Earl asked, putting his gun back into its holster on his belt.

  Tom nodded and said, “Do you have a permit to carry that gun?”

  “Yes, sir.” He extended his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Chief. Us law enforcement types have to stick together.”

  Tom shook his hand, then looked at me. “Are you all right?”

  I held up my hands. “Still handcuffed.”

  Earl rushed over and unlocked the cuffs.

  “Now, unlock Carlos so I can get him the medicine his mom needs so he can go home,” the doctor told him.

  “But I caught him coming through the back window,” Earl said.

  “Sometimes we have to let them go,” Tom said, patting Earl on the shoulder.

  “I guess so,” Earl said as he unlocked Carlos’ cuffs.

  Carlos quickly jumped up, rubbing his wrists and said, “Will you come see Mom tonight?”

  “I’ll stop by early in the morning before the parade, Carlos.” Doc turned to all of us. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’ll get his mom’s medication and show these men where to put the examination table.”

  The two delivery men followed the doctor from the
room.

  Tom came over to me and said, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine, Tom.”

  “I’m sorry for the mix-up,” Earl apologized.

  “That’s okay,” I told him, although the look on Tom’s face said otherwise.

  Earl’s phone rang.

  “Officer Backston,” he answered, puffing out his chest like a peacock on the prowl.

  “I’m on my way,” he replied, then turned to Tom. “I’ve got to break up a fight at the bar. You want to come along?”

  “No, that’s okay,” Tom said, then added, “unless you need my help.”

  “No, I can handle it. It’s just some rodeo cowboys letting off steam before the big day tomorrow.”

  “Okay.”

  Earl nodded and he was gone. Thank God!

  The doctor returned, handed Carlos a bottle and said, “Make sure she takes these once an hour, but no more, okay?”

  Carlos nodded, snatched up the bottle, and ran from the room.

  Doc extended his hand to Tom. “Doc Sanders.”

  Tom shook his hand and said, “Tom Owens. Thanks for coming to our rescue.”

  “I’m sorry about Earl. He takes his job way too seriously. We don’t have much crime around here, so he has to make some up.”

  “He told me you had a problem with a couple of gangs,” Tom said.

  “We do have two trailer parks south of the city. One has quite a few bikers and the other is mostly Latino, so he thinks they’re rival gangs.”

  “The meth problem?”

  “Oh we do have that. We’ve had a few labs explode in the last several years. It’s mostly in the outskirts of town.”

  “I saw the boarded-up houses as I was coming in tonight,” Tom told him.

  “Those are the places. When all the businesses left town, people just walked away from their houses. Now they’re used to cook the drugs.”

  “What about distribution?” Tom asked, sounding like a cop.

  “I have no idea. I know we’ve had some problems at the school and at the Lagoon.”

  “The Lagoon is the recreation area, right?” Tom asked.

  “Yes, but mostly it’s just a place for teenagers to hangout during the summer. It pulls in young kids from all over this area.”

  “Grace told me that it provides jobs for the teenagers during the summer,” I said, rubbing my wrists where the handcuffs scraped against my skin.

  “Yep, it’s a place for teenagers run by teenagers,” Doc said.

  “That’s a recipe for disaster,” Tom insisted.

  “I know, I’m out there at least once a week, stitching up someone from either a Jet Ski or swimming accident. There’s a rock formation and a bridge the kids like to jump from.”

  “Alcohol?”

  “Of course. They get their older friends or parents to buy it for them and then they take it to the Lagoon.”

  “As I said,” Tom insisted. “A recipe for disaster.”

  Doc nodded and said, “Liza, thanks for coming down and waiting for the delivery men. I’m sorry about Earl.”

  “That’s okay, Doc. It made for an interesting evening.”

  “I hear you’re going to help at the Cowgirl luncheon tomorrow.”

  “News travels fast,” I said.

  “Small town gossip line.”

  “Well, I am, so I guess I’ll see you there tomorrow.”

  Doc Sanders extended his hand to Tom, who shook it.

  “Thanks again, Doc,” Tom told him.

  “No problem. Get her back to Sheryl Ann and into bed,” Doc told him.

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Tom said.

  Okay, the Doctor and Tom were not thinking the same thing. The doctor thought I was pregnant and needed the rest. Tom just wanted to get me back into bed.

  The streets were filled with people, some setting up their shops and others wandering around with cups in their hands, talking and laughing. Several cowboys leaned against buildings and chatted to girls with very short shorts, halter or spaghetti strapped tops, and flip flops. The town had turned into one big “meat rack” in just one night.

  As we strolled down the street, I asked, “How’d you know where to find me?”

  “That was easy. When I woke up and you were gone, I figured you’d gone back to the doctor’s office to try and get a look at his files. That was pretty slick, getting the doctor to ask you to wait for the delivery men. What did you learn in his files?”

  I told him about Grant Banner.

  “The doctor figured someone helped him commit suicide but never reported it?”

  “Can you see a man who wanted to ride a bull at fifty-two wanting to be a quadriplegic and have people take care of his every need for the next thirty years?”

  “Hey, remember your saying?”

  I smiled. “Yes, I know. You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit.”

  “That’s it, honey. Destiny serves it up and we have to deal with it. Suicide is the chicken way out.”

  “Is it legal to wander around with alcohol like that?” I asked as we passed four men perched on a bench outside the ice cream store with a case of Bud Light at their feet.

  “Not, really,” Tom said, “But it’s rodeo weekend and the laws get stretched a bit. As long as they don’t cause any trouble, the local cops will just ignore it.”

  “We’re talking Earl here, right?”

  Tom blew out an exasperated breath, “Yeah, Earl and a few volunteers.”

  “Then there is no real law in this town.”

  “There will be this weekend. When I talked to the FBI, they said they’ll send a group to keep an eye out for your dad and the other wanted eco-terrorists. As well as just to make sure nothing happens during the rallies.”

  I stopped walking. What the hell had he just said? My stomach tightened and my anger seethed.

  “What?” Tom said looking around.

  “It’s nice that you can talk about my dad being arrested without breaking your stride!”

  Tom took my hand and led me to a bench in front of one of the antique shops I saw being set up earlier.

  “Have a seat,” he said.

  I sat down, crossed my hands over my chest and stared at him. I was ready to have it out with him. How dare he talk about my dad getting arrested so lightly! He sat down next to me, put his arm around my shoulder and leaned against the back of the bench.

  After a few minutes, he said, “I love when you get all mad at me and pout out that bottom lip of yours.”

  I turned so I could see his face. “I do not.”

  He laughed, leaned in and kissed my bottom lip which definitely did stick out. When he pulled away, he said, “I love you.”

  “I’m still mad at you,” I said half-heartedly.

  “Oh good.” He leaned in and kissed me again.

  I pushed him back. “Are you going to keep doing that?’

  “Are you still mad at me?” he asked.

  “If I say yes, you’re just going to kiss me again.”

  Tom smiled.

  “Fine, I’m not mad but …,” I started.

  Tom leaned toward me.

  I put both hands on his chest. He started to move back when I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him toward me, laying on a kiss of my own. Not a little peck like he had given me, but a long, tongue involved, meet me in bed, kiss.

  When I finally pulled away, he said, “Why are we still sitting on this bench?”

  I turned and leaned against the back of the bench. “I haven’t finished telling you what I found in the doctor’s files.”

  “I don’t care. Unless you’ve discovered the doctor is killing people and hiding their bodies in his office.” He took my hand and pulled me up. “And then I might not care about that until tomorrow, either.”

  We heard a woman scream.

  Tom’s head flipped around and he said, “Damn it!”

  Those seemed to be his favorite words these days.

/>   “Stay here.” He pointed to the bench and ran toward the scream.

  CHAPTER 14

  Of course, I took off after him a few seconds after he ran down the street. I’m just not the kind of person who can sit idly by when something is happening.

  I followed Tom, who followed the screams. When I turned a corner I saw Tom holding a large man against the wall. The man yelled obscenities at Tom and swung his arms back and forth trying to strike Tom but Tom leaned his full weight into the man’s back and pulled his wrist around as he pulled a set of handcuffs from his back pocket. There was a young woman crying and huddled on the ground. Her pink halter top was ripped almost clean off and her knees were bloodied.

  I ran over, put my arm around her and said, “Can you walk? Let’s get you out of here.”

  I recognized her as one of the girls we saw earlier. What had this girl been thinking when she dressed this evening? The pink halter top barely covered her breasts and the tight blue jean shorts were only a centimeter below her butt. She had been looking for love and what she found was man in a drunken rage.

  “What’s your name?” I asked when we got out of the alley. I could smell the beer on her breath, too.

  “Brenda Sanders,” she said, wiping the tears from her face.

  “How old are you?”

  She hesitated.

  “That’s not a trick question, Brenda.”

  “I’ll be seventeen on my next birthday,” she said defiantly.

  “That makes you only sixteen and underage,” I glanced at my watch. It was a few minutes before eleven. “Why are you out here so late?”

  “I was walking home from getting an ice cream when I ran into stupid Bruce.”

  “Bruce what?”

  “Bruce Stanford. He’s a senior and on the football team. He thinks he’s God’s gift to the town’s women.”

  “How’d you end up in the alley with him?”

  “Well, I …,” she stuttered, looking around wildly.