by K. J. Emrick
But they had to be practical. If they were right, and Franky or Penny—or both of them—was the real killer, then they had to find out. Especially since… they had talked Stacia into riding with them!
“Oh my goodness!” Cookie blurted out. “Stacia!”
“I know,” he said. “I was just thinking the same thing. Listen, I’m going to call Lieutenant Fairfield. He needs to know not to let Tabitha and Brock out of his custody, and he needs to find Franky and Penny’s motorhome. Right now.”
“I know where they are,” she told him, already going for her clothes. “Penny told me the name of the place. We’d better hurry.”
CHAPTER 8
Driving a motorhome at night, down a dark roadway, was a lot different than driving during the day. Headlights and streetlights and reflective strips on the center line didn’t do much to help you find your way.
“Did we miss the turn?” Jerry asked her.
“No, dear. We’re still a few miles away.”
“You’re sure?”
“Trust your copilot.”
They’d been driving for hours straight now. One of the reasons he was relying on her to be his guide was because they were both still very tired. Sleep, however, had been completely forgotten. There was no time for that.
They were well past the Heaven’s Haven RV park, heading to Leighman’s Restaway. It didn’t sound all that inviting to Cookie, but it was where Penny and Franky had stopped for the night. When they’d told that to Lieutenant Fairfield, along with all the rest of it, he’d promised to get people out there just as soon as he had someone available.
Cookie had not been overly reassured by the way he said it. That was another reason for rushing their motorhome down this dark and deserted highway.
Jerry was definitely driving faster than he probably should have. Of course, for a vehicle this size that only meant ten miles over the posted speed limit. Fifteen when they were going downhill. It was as fast as he or Cookie were comfortable with going. It was also just fast enough that they could shave valuable minutes off their time, but not so fast that any police cars out there were likely to bother them for a speeding ticket.
“I’m just making sure,” Jerry said, still worrying about their turn. “Lieutenant Fairfield wasn’t too happy with our ‘meddling,’ as he put it. I’m not even really sure he sent patrols ahead to check on Stacia’s safety. I want to get there as fast as possible. Just in case.”
“Then you should probably get in the right lane, so you can make the turnoff,” she said sweetly. “It’s coming up.”
“Thank you,” he sang out, putting on the signal light and checking the mirrors as well as the video camera feed from the rear bumper before gliding over. “At least you’re paying attention to the signs.”
“I don’t want to end up in Kansas before the night’s over.”
“Cookie, we’re nowhere near Kansas.”
“Not yet,” she said. “Although I think if I was to leave you to your own devices, we’d be in tornado country in no time.”
“Very funny.”
“Yes. I am, aren’t I?”
Cream barked from behind them to show his agreement. He did it quietly, though. He knew better than to distract Jerry when he was driving.
They were making jokes, trying to ease the tension and unease at the thought of the danger they might have left their friend Stacia in. Right in the hands of a killer. The idea of calling ahead to Penny and Franky was discussed and quickly forgotten. If they did, that would tip them off. If Stacia wasn’t in danger already, a phone call from Jerry definitely would have put her in danger.
The turn was an easy, gentle curve that took them away from the main highway and onto a narrower road heading south. In just a few miles they could see the lights of the RV park coming into view. Leighman’s Restaway was a roadside eyesore with space enough for just six hookups. A smaller tow-behind style camper was serving as the business office. Their old and weathered plastic sign was supported on two poles and leaning to one side and as Jerry turned onto the gravel driveway they could see several garbage bins at the front all overflowing with bags and boxes and God alone knew what.
“This isn’t a very nice place,” Cookie noticed, her nose wrinkling as if she could smell the garbage cans from here. “Why on Earth would they stop here?”
“Maybe it was the only place along their route,” Jerry said.
“No, because we had reservations at the Starlite RV Stop, remember? We were all going to meet up there tonight.”
“Sure, but plans change.” He slowed them down to a crawl as they passed the camper-trailer-office. “After Ernesto was murdered all of our timetables got thrown out of whack. I don’t know. We’ll have to ask Franky and Penny when we see them. Look. There’s their motorhome now.”
Cookie saw it. She saw something else, too. Or rather, she didn’t see it.
There weren’t any patrol cars in sight. Jerry swore under his breath, promising no one and everyone that he was going to have words with Lieutenant Duke Fairfield before this was over. Cookie had seen police officers come to Widow’s Rest before, to the town Jerry had sworn an oath to protect, and he always treated them with courtesy and listened to everything they had to say. Obviously, Duke Fairfield wasn’t used to extending the same sort of courtesy to officers who came to him for help.
“Let’s hope we’re wrong,” he said after he had a moment to calm down. “Maybe they were already here, and they took Stacia away for protective custody. Maybe they arrested Penny and Franky, and everything is all settled.”
“Maybe,” she agreed with him. “Maybe.”
Although, their luck hardly ever ran that way.
Cookie was already crossing her fingers and reciting a silent prayer. She was hoping for luck and waiting for a miracle. It certainly couldn’t hurt to hedge their bets. For all they knew, they were already too late. Stacia could be dead, just like her husband. Just like Boxer.
Hope for luck, she reminded herself, and wait for a miracle.
They parked on the gravel drive, right in front of Franky and Penny’s Starcraft. This was against proper RV park etiquette to block the path like this, but they weren’t worrying about being polite at this point. They were in a hurry. As soon as the engine was off they were both out of their seats and rushing out.
Cream whuffed once, wondering why he was being left behind. Again.
Running around to the side door of Franky and Penny’s RV, Jerry put his ear up against it. He stood very still for a moment, just listening.
“I don’t hear anything,” he told Cookie. “It’s completely quiet in there.”
“The lights are off, too,” she said. “Maybe they’re just asleep. Maybe we were wrong and Stacia isn’t in any kind of danger.”
“Uh-huh,” Jerry said, sounding less than convinced. “Sure. Anything’s possible.”
“But?”
“But, I want to make sure.”
Curling his hand into a fist, he beat on the side of the RV, next to the door, several times in a row. The noise of each slam was a hollow boom inside.
“Franky? Penny!” he called out. “Open up! It’s Jerry Stansted. We need to check on Stacia. Open up!”
At first there was no response. Cookie counted to ten, and then to twenty, before Jerry slammed his fist against the side of the vehicle again.
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM.
“Open up!”
This time there were muted voices from inside, and the RV rocked on its wheels. Someone was in there moving around. She prayed again that it would be Stacia, and that she would be okay.
Just as Jerry was raising his hand to knock again, the door opened.
It was Franky, dressed in pajamas and a deep blue bathrobe, rubbing at his eyes as if all the racket had just woken him up from a deep sleep.
“Hey. There you guys are,” he said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his robe. His usually wavy blonde hair was a mess from sleep. “Wasn’t sure we’d fin
d you again. Why didn’t you call when you were on your way?”
Jerry ignored the question and instead put his hand on Franky’s chest, pushing him back. “Where’s Stacia?”
“What? Hey, watch it. Jerry, if you wanted to come in just say so. There’s no need to push. Stop pushing me!”
Jerry did, but only after he had pushed Franky far enough back that he fell into the seat of the breakfast nook. He glared up at Jerry, anger slowly simmering in his eyes even as his dimples deepened with a frown.
“What was that for?” he griped. “You gonna act like some sort of big shot now?”
Jerry ignored the question. He leaned over the table, right in Franky’s face. “Is she here? Is Stacia here?”
“Well, of course she’s here,” Franky said indignantly. “Where else would she be? What are you going to do, push her around too? Listen, you need to start explaining yourself. This is my home. Well, my home away from home, anyway. You can’t just burst in here. You’re a police officer, aren’t you? You know the rules!”
“I know you told me I could come in if I asked. Well. Here I am. Now, what I’m asking you is, where’s Stacia?”
“Dear God, man, you are dense.” Franky pointed down the RV. “She’s asleep on the couch back there. My wife is asleep in our bed, too, by the way. That is if you haven’t woken her up by barging in here.”
“He did wake me,” they heard Penny saying. She yawned and levelled a glare at everyone, Franky included. “Thanks for that, by the way. It’s pretty late, Jerry. I think Franky is right. You should explain what you’re doing.”
She was wrapped in her own robe when she came out of the bedroom area, but she was wearing jeans underneath instead of pajamas. Had she gone to sleep in her clothes, Cookie wondered?
“All right,” Jerry said after a moment. “I’m here to check on Stacia. To make sure she’s okay. I see you, Franky, and I see you, Penny. Know who I don’t see?”
“She’s sleeping,” Franky insisted. “Stacia’s on the couch over there like I said. I guess she’s a deep sleeper.”
Penny crossed her arms over herself. “Or someone wore her out.”
Her gaze shifted back to her husband when she said that, an accusation written in her eyes.
Clearing his throat, Franky looked away from Penny. “Jerry, listen. I know you’re worried about Stacia, but Lieutenant Fairfield already called about it earlier. He spoke to Stacia on the phone. He knows she’s okay. You’ve got no reason for all of this tough cop, Elliott Ness nonsense. We’ve taken good care of her.”
“At least one of us has,” Penny said in nearly a whisper.
Cookie didn’t know why Penny was acting the way she was, but she was more concerned with what Franky had just said. Jerry had a blank look on his face and she could just tell what he was thinking. Lieutenant Duke Fairfield had listened to their concerns about Stacia’s safety, and their concern that Franky or Penny or both of them together had killed Ernesto, which meant Stacia was in danger here. Knowing all of that, Duke had handled the situation with a phone call.
Instead of sending patrols to protect Stacia, he’d left her here with these two.
“Penny,” Jerry said to her, his voice severe, “I want you to come down here and sit with your husband. Come on. That’s right.”
“Do I have to?” she asked.
“For now, yes.”
She did it, but she was obviously upset at this intrusion, just like Franky was. Cookie smiled at her sweetly, because she didn’t care if they were upset or not. Their discomfort would take a backseat to Stacia’s life and safety.
Franky moved over to make space for Penny. “Listen, Jerry, either tell us what’s going on or get out. I mean it. You and Cookie are friends, but this is pushing things a little too far.”
“Just sit there, and don’t move.” Jerry stepped past the breakfast nook, and down past the bathroom and closet, to where the small two-seater couch sat opposite the foldout television.
There were blankets piled on it, Cookie saw. And there looked like someone might actually be under there. How anyone could have slept through all the noise that they were making she didn’t know, but it had been a very rough few days for Stacia. Sleeping was the body’s way of recovering from bad things. That could be what it was. Couldn’t it?
Then again, Penny seemed to think someone had worn Stacia out. Did she actually mean her husband?
Stopping at the sofa, Jerry bent down, and took ahold of the blankets. He flipped them up in the air.
Underneath was just pillows, and more blankets. Stacia wasn’t there.
The blankets dropped to the floor. Jerry wheeled around on Franky and Penny. “Where is she? What did you do with her?”
“What?” Franky rose up from the breakfast nook, his fist raised, and his finger pointed at Jerry. “What are you accusing me of, huh? Stacia was right there when I went to sleep. I swear she was.”
“He’s right,” Penny insisted. “She was there. If she’s not there now we don’t know where she went.”
Jerry was staring at her, but not at her face. Cookie felt a twinge of jealousy at where his gaze went… until she realized what he was really looking at.
“You’ve got jeans on,” he said. “You don’t get undressed for bed?”
“Uh, sure.” Penny looked down at herself, like she’d forgotten that she was in jeans instead of pajamas or a nightgown. “Most nights, I do. Tonight there was so much going on I just decided not to. I laid down in what I was wearing. What, are you going to criticize the way I dress now?”
“No. This is America. People can dress any way they choose. I just think it shows that you weren’t really in bed. I’m betting you were outside.” Now he looked back at the empty sofa. “And now, I think I know where Stacia is.”
He stormed up the RV and this time Franky stepped back from him rather than even try to stop him.
Cookie followed him out into the night. If Leighman’s Restaway had one thing going for the place, it was the bright lights on the poles all around. It wasn’t much of a security feature, but it sure lit up the bare field all around. The bare dirt slowly gave way to grass, and then much further out they could just see the shapes trees growing closely together. Jerry walked out a little distance, past the line of parked RVs, and then stared out as far as the lights would let him look.
Cookie shook her head. She understood where he was going with this, but it didn’t bode well for what they would find. If Penny and Franky had hurt Stacia, they could have dumped the body here, at this little nothing of a stop in the middle of nowhere. They could have claimed that she chose to leave them, and they couldn’t stop her because she’s a grown woman and it was her right to go wandering off. They would look totally innocent.
Or at least, they would have if she and Jerry hadn’t been here to interrupt their plan.
Still, that was a lot of territory to cover. They could spend the rest of the morning wandering around out here and find nothing. Dawn would be in just under an hour but even then, the extra light from the sun wasn’t going to be much help. If they were going to search all around the RV park to find one person who might be hurt or—God forbid—might be dead, they would need help.
“We should call Lieutenant Fairfield,” she suggested. “Now that Stacia is missing he’ll have to send someone here, don’t you think? Jerry?”
Without warning, he took off running.
She was half a step behind him. She caught on to what he had seen and then she got her tired butt in gear and followed him. He was heading over to the right, away from the parked motorhomes, almost to the edge of where the light fell. There was a heap of shadows there. A darker shape that almost blended into the rest of the shadows. Now that she’d seen it, however, there was no mistaking what it was.
There was a person lying there in the grass, and that person wasn’t moving.
When they got to her Jerry dropped down on both knees and gently turned her over. It was Stacia. Cookie recognized
that face and her short, feathered hair, even in the dark, and even with the blood. Red smeared across her forehead and her cheeks and her eyes. Beside her in the grass was a sizeable rock with red smears on the sharp edges.
Oh no, Cookie thought to herself. Not again!
“Is she...” Cookie couldn’t make herself ask the rest of the question.
The wound must be under her hair, because it was dark and matted right near the scalp. Her eyes didn’t open. Her hands fell limply to the ground as Jerry moved her. If she was breathing, Cookie couldn’t see it.
But apparently, Jerry could.
“Call for an ambulance,” he said, the words rushing out. “Call 911 and get an ambulance here. We need the police, too. Franky and Penny can’t be allowed to get away.”
Cookie didn’t argue and didn’t try to ask questions. If he was asking for an ambulance then Stacia was still alive, and every second counted. She ran to their motorhome and climbed up inside, making sure to close and lock the door behind her. Next time, she promised herself, when they went out to find a possible murder victim, she was going to bring her cellphone with her. That, and a flashlight.
The phone rang when she dialed the number, and then it connected. “Hello, 911? We have an emergency.”
LIEUTENANT DUKE FAIRFIELD did not seem happy.
Cookie didn’t give a burnt falafel crumb how he felt. She just wanted the man to do his job.
His wide face looked just as tired as she felt. Which was fitting, as far as she was concerned. She and Jerry had been up half the night trying to save Stacia’s life, and this wasn’t even Jerry’s jurisdiction. They weren’t even in their home state, for goodness sake! If they had to be up, then it was only fair that Duke had to be up with them to make sure the innocent were protected and justice was done.
“I swear to you, Chief,” Duke said to Jerry, rubbing a hand across his high forehead. “If you ever choose to take a tour across America again after this, I would certainly appreciate it if you pointed that motorhome in the other direction.”