tell him she's not here Read online

  After receiving Mabel’s quick nod of acceptance, Casey hurried outside. Nearing the truck, he noticed the lights and engine had been turned off. Annoyed, he asked the crowd, “Who turned the engine off?” A small crowd had gathered beside the driver’s side door.

  “I did, Casey,” Leroy Walters said, raising his hand. “That’s my nephew’s truck. Why in the world is there blood all over the seats? Has he been in some kind of accident or something?”

  “Damn it, Leroy, you shouldn’t have touched anything. Until we know what’s going on, this truck is considered a crime scene.”

  “A crime scene?” Leroy hooted, hooking his long bony fingers into the straps of his bib overalls. “Why, that’s Jimmy Joe’s truck. That boy ain’t ever been in trouble a day in his life.”

  Casey motioned for Leroy to come over to his side. “Since you took it upon yourself to get involved, you can stand right here until Sheriff Butler gets here. Which is right now,” Casey said, relieved. He waved at the sheriff who was out of his car and hurrying toward the front of the store.

  The sheriff shifted directions and ran toward Casey. “What do we have so far?”

  “Caucasian female is passed out inside. She looks to be about fourteen, fifteen years of age. Blood covering most of her body. Luckily, it doesn’t look like all of it’s hers. Mabel Crabtree is with her. I believe this to be the vehicle she came here in. Leroy Walters here says the truck belongs to his nephew.”

  “That right, Leroy?”

  Leroy rocked on his feet and tittered. “Yea, sheriff, that’s Jimmy Joe’s truck all right, noed it anywhere.”

  “Anyone touch the vehicle?”

  “Leroy did, Sheriff. He was inside the truck while I went in to check on the girl,” Casey said, glancing at Leroy.

  Nervous under the Sheriff’s stare, Leroy stopped rocking and sniffed. “Well, I didn’t know nothing about no crime scene, Sheriff. All I did was shut the motor off, that’s all I did.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to stick around until we can get your fingerprints and a statement,” the Sheriff said, glancing at Casey.

  “I can’t be here that long,” Leroy whined, squinting up at the sheriff. “The wife sent me here to get some ice cream. She’ll be real mad if I’m gone too long.”

  “Who do you want mad at you, Leroy, me or your wife?” The sheriff snapped, staring hard at the old man.

  Not receiving an answer, the sheriff shrugged, then turned to Casey. “Watch him! I hear the ambulance coming. I want to have a look before they move her.”

  Leroy stared after the sheriff and grabbed Casey’s arm. “I can’t stay here that long. The wife, she gets the temper if she don’t get her ice cream.”

  “Get in my car, Leroy. I don’t have time to watch you,” Casey ordered, pointing toward the cruiser.

  “You arresting me?” Leroy demanded, pinching his mouth together, his wrinkled hands grabbing the front of his denim coat.

  “Call it whatever you want, just get in, and stay there until we have time to talk to you.”

  “All right, but I’m telling the wife it was your fault she don’t have no ice cream.” “Fine, tell the wife it was my fault,” Casey snapped, leaning inside the truck to look around.

  ***

  Leroy turned and walked toward the police car. He felt people patting him on his shoulder as he passed Puffing out his chest, Leroy felt important. He shook his head slowly, as if to say, they couldn’t do any police investigating without his assistance.

  Mightn’t be so bad. Everybody would think he knew what was going on. They’d be asking all kinds of questions. If he was to wander into the Old Crow later, he might even get a few free beers.

  And what he didn’t know to tell them, he wasn’t averse to making it up. Forgetting all about the ice cream, he hooked his fingers into his bib overalls and strutted toward the police car.

  Casey pulled his head out of the truck and watched Leroy walk through the crowd gathered around the police car. Hiding a smile, he turned toward the truck. Leroy was milking it real good, the old goat.

  Casey took a pen pocket light from his coat and searched the inside of the truck. Reaching over to the glove compartment, he opened it and examined the registration documents. The truck belonged to Jimmy Joe Walters, all right.

  He picked up the slip of paper by the tips of his fingers, and laid it on the seat while he continued his inspection of the truck.

  He shone the light under the seat and pulled out a bondage magazine. Flipping through the pages, he frowned. Some weird stuff here. Placing the magazine next to the registration, he straightened up, thinking hard.

  ***

  The sheriff hurried over to where Mabel crouched, bent and studied the girl.

  He didn’t think she was local, he didn’t recognize her. Glancing over at Mabel, he was surprised to see her crying. Tears were flowing down her round cheeks, dropping off her chin, leaving tiny specks on the blanket covering the young girl.

  “Mabel darling, don’t cry. She’ll be all right. She seems to be breathing okay and the ambulance has just arrived. You took real good care of her, she’ll be all right, I promise.”

  “It’s not that, Sheriff. Look!” Pulling the blanket back, Mabel pointed to the girl’s small wrist. “That’s handcuff marks or my name’s not Mabel Crabtree. She’s got them on her ankles too.”

  “Good Lord, whoever would do a thing like that to a little girl?” he asked, appalled. He glanced over his shoulder then leaned in to Mabel. “Do you know Jimmy Joe Walters?”

  “Yea, I know him and his whole family. The only ones worth anything are his mama and him. What’s he got to do with this?”

  “Maybe nothing, but it’s his truck the girl drove up in.”

  Mabel gave the matter some thought. “I can’t say I like that family much. White trash most of them. The only ones who work are Jimmy Joe, his brother Bubba and his mama. I always thought a lot of his mama.”

  She narrowed her eyes and continued, “Tell you the truth, Sheriff, Jimmy Joe’s always kept to himself pretty much. So I don’t know that much about him. But if he did this, I hope his pecker falls off.”

  One thing you could count on, the sheriff thought, Mabel never had any trouble expressing her opinion.

  “Well, don’t you go saying anything about what I asked you. If he had anything to do with this, he might very well be dead. It doesn’t look like all the blood is hers. I’ve never seen her before, have you?”

  “She doesn’t belong in this town, I’d stake my life on that,” Mabel said, covering the girl back up. “She’ll need someone to ride to the hospital with her. Can I go with her?”

  “Sure, you go along if you want to. Casey can follow in his car. I’ve got to stick around until the crime boys from Helena get here.”

  “I’ve got a feeling someone will be very happy to know she’s here,” Mabel said.

  Chapter Twelve

  Orley stumbled out of the bar and headed toward his car. He had drunk four shots of Tequila in twenty minutes and was feeling no pain. Although he was still mad at Jimmy Joe, he was more sad than mad. He peered down the street looking for a cop cruiser. Not seeing anything, he opened his car door and slid inside.

  He missed the ignition on his first try. Starting the engine, he shifted into Drive and headed out of Lepanto. He was going to find Jimmy Joe and tell him what he thought about him drinking and smoking with a new best friend.

  Orley fished around under his seat and found the bottle of whiskey he’d left there earlier. Opening the cap, he took a swig and stuck the bottle between his legs.

  Damn him, damn him to hell, Orley thought. Jimmy Joe could keep his new best friend. Orley was gonna find himself another best friend.

  Orley burped and smelled whiskey and Tequila creep under his nose. At least he was having him some fun at the bar. While Jimmy Joe was drinking with one person, Orley was drinking with seven.

  He’d gone to the Old Crow to drown his sorrows and had
run into a couple of guys he knew from high school. They were on a bender and hiding from their wives.

  Orley wished he had a wife, or even a girlfriend. He and Jimmy Joe didn’t have much luck in that department. He sighed with real regret, already missing his friend.

  He swung his car toward Jimmy Joe’s granny’s trailer, and thought about what he was going to say. He really wasn’t too good at talking. Slowing down, he turned into the long lane that led to the trailer.

  The first thing he saw was fire. The intensity of the flames was blazing into to the cold dark sky, firestorms shooting twenty feet into the air. Shifting into Park, he dove out of his car and loped to the front of the trailer. He backed up when an explosion ripped the windows out of their frames.

  Dumbfounded, he stared at the fire, relieved Jimmy Joe’s truck wasn’t sitting out front where he always parked it.

  Jimmy Joe was going to have shit-fit when Orley told him about the fire. He walked around the side of the trailer and noticed a bundle of clothes on the ground, not ten feet from the trailer. If he got the clothes before the fire did, at least Jimmy Joe would have something left.

  Orley drunkenly lurched toward the clothes. When he was closer, he gasped, shocked to the core. The bundle of clothes was Jimmy Joe! He grabbed his friend under the arms, pulling him away from the trailer.

  Unable to haul him very far, Orley bent over panting. He was too drunk to carry Jimmy Joe. He staggered to his car and started the engine then . pulled alongside Jimmy Joe. He fell out and wheezed his way to Jimmy Joe’s side. The fire was burning out of control, the heat intense.

  “Come on, Jimmy Joe. We got to get you out of here.” He began to drag his friend toward the car.

  “Get me out of here….”

  Orley was so surprised he dropped his friend.

  “Sure, Jimmy Joe, I’ll take you to the hospital. You’re fucking bleeding everywhere.”

  Jimmy Joe grabbed Orley’s arm, “No, no hospital. Take me to your house.”

  “Okay, I’ll take you home and look after you. We’re best friends. We’re always best friends,” Orley cried, relieved that Jimmy Joe was alive. Dumping him in the back seat, Orley puffed around the car and clambered in. He started the engine and swung the car toward the highway. In his rear view mirror, he saw the fire still raging, the only thing identifiable was the iron undercarriage of the trailer.

  Orley wiped the sweat from his face and glanced in the back seat. He vaguely wondered why Jimmy Joe wouldn’t go to the hospital. It weren’t no fire that was making him bleed like that, Orley figured. Jimmy Joe’s new best friend must’ve beat the shit out of him and left him to die. He should’ve stuck with me, Orley thought, feeling better than he had all afternoon. After all, he ain’t never even hit Jimmy Joe and Jimmy Joe’s new best friend tried to kill him. He turned the radio up and listened happily while Conway Twitty sang about cheating women.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Casey shifted restlessly in his seat. He hated hospitals. He also hated waiting. Glancing at his watch, he frowned. Ten-thirty, what could be taking so long? Glancing over at Mabel, he wasn’t surprised to find her sleeping. He would bet she hadn’t been out past nine o’clock in a long time. It was decent of her to stay.

  He tried to relax. There was an old western on the TV, John Wayne and Dean Martin in a shoot out. The Old West would’ve been an exciting time to live in, racing around on horseback, shooting bad guys.

  He shook his head and thought about the girl he had followed in. What kind of pervert would handcuff a kid like her? And she’d driven up in Jimmy Joe Walter’s truck. He didn’t know Jimmy Joe personally, since Jimmy Joe was a few years older, but damn, to handcuff a kid by their wrists and feet, man, you had to have something really wrong with you.

  Casey wondered if the crime boys were done fingerprinting the truck. They’d probably have to haul it back to Helena since they’d have to test the blood samples on the seats. He wished they had a better crime lab in Lepanto, but they couldn’t afford one. Not many small towns could these days.

  When he heard his name called, he jumped to his feet and rushed to the front desk.

  The nurse gave Casey a flirtatious wink and said, “The doctor will see you now, Deputy. Just follow me.”

  She led him into a smaller waiting room. “Just have a seat, the doctor will be right in.”

  “Thank you.” Unbuttoning his shirt pocket, he took out a notebook and a pen. “Nurse!” He called, as she was disappearing out the door. “If Mrs. Crabtree wakes up, will you tell her where I am?”

  “Sure thing, Deputy,” she promised, closing the door.

  Casey noted the difference in décor. This must be where the doctors talked to family members whose loved one was in a serious condition. It had a cross on the wall and the chairs were a lot more comfortable than the waiting room.

  When the doctor walked in, Casey rose from his seat to shake hands. “I’m Deputy Anderson. I hope you have some good news about the girl we brought in.”

  The doctor gave Casey a brief glance before sitting down and flipping through the girl’s chart. “My name is Doctor Babcock. I am the attending physician on this case.”

  Casey grunted, sliding into a chair across from the doctor.

  “Let’s see, the patient is a sixteen-year-old girl suffering from extreme dehydration, multiple bruises, and contusions. She’s been brutally raped and beaten, God knows how many times. The worst injuries besides the psychological ones she’ll have are the injuries on her wrist and ankles. Those are going to need extensive treatment because of the infection. Anything you want to ask?”

  “When do you think she’ll be well enough for us to talk to her?”

  “Not for a while, I’m afraid. We woke her up so we could get her name but she became hysterical, so we put her back under. Right now she needs to rest.”

  “You have her name?” Casey asked, excited.

  “Didn’t you just hear me say we had her name?” The doctor yawned, looking down at the chart. “Yes, her name is Kerry Stewart. She lives in Conway, Indiana.” He closed the chart. “After what she’s been through, she‘s pretty lucky.”

  “Lucky.” Casey stared at the doctor.

  “Yes lucky,” the doctor repeated. “I interned in Memphis. Some of the rape victims brought into Mercy didn’t have faces. Harder to identify, you know. Well, now that you have her name and know where she lives, maybe someone will get word to her family that she’s here.”

  He glanced at Casey’s pale face before tapping him kindly on the shoulders. “You’ll soon learn, boy.” He stretched and hurried out, he had other patients to attend to.

  Her family. Funny, in all the excitement, he hadn’t given a thought to her family. What kind of cop was he? That was the first thing he should have thought about. Damn, he did have a lot to learn. First he’d take Mrs. Crabtree home, then he’d hit the hot sheets. If she had been reported missing, he’d find her family tonight.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Emma lay on her side, her eyes shut. Although she was exhausted, she couldn’t sleep. She hadn’t slept much since Kerry’s disappearance. And, when she did fall asleep in the early hours of the morning, she’d dream of Kerry. Kerry calling out to her. Kerry crying. It was always the same. Kerry needed her help.

  She rolled over on her back, opened her eyes, and stared at the ceiling. Thirty-six days of watching her parents fall apart had been terrifying. Her mother, always calm and upbeat, was nervous and unable to concentrate. Her father was moody and distant.

  She had always felt secure and confident about her life. Now she was scared for the future of her family. If they had any.

  ***

  Jason Stewart lay beside his wife in the darkness of their bedroom. He wondered how long a person could survive without sleep before they went mad.

  Weeks, months? Turning over, he watched his wife. Although she was breathing evenly, he doubted she was sleeping either.

  When Kerry had first disappear
ed, they had clung to each other, talking and praying into the night. Now they lay side by side, each pretending to be asleep. He couldn’t remember who stopped talking first, probably him.

  Sherry was a good wife. She had always taken care of the family with a sense of humor and boundless energy. Nowadays, he knew it was hard for her just to get dressed. She was suffering. They all were.

  Jason felt as if his family were suspended in mid-air. No one was moving forward, everyone was just trying to make it through another day until they heard Kerry was safe.

  The question no one wanted to ask or think about was what if Kerry was never found?

  Thirty-six days and there hadn’t been so much as a whisper as to where she could be. How much longer could they bear it? He couldn’t, and wouldn’t believe that she was dead. His bright, beautiful, loving daughter, not breathing. Inconceivable to think she’d never come home or drive her car or graduate college…

  How did other people manage? Turning over, he glanced at the clock. Two-thirty. He wondered if his eldest daughter was asleep.

  Emma, at twenty, was doing her best to be strong. Strong, what a word to use. All his friends, people at the office, thought he was being strong. He didn’t feel strong, especially at night. He felt lost and alone. Kerry had to be alive - she had to be. He felt he would know it if she weren’t.

  When the telephone rang, he froze. Who would call this late unless it had something to do with Kerry? He sat up and swung his feet to the floor before picking up the phone. Gripping the receiver, he felt Sherry stir beside him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face into his back. Clearing the lump in his throat, he braced himself, “Jason Stewart speaking.”