Murder for a Rainy Day (Pecan Bayou Book 6) (19 page)

I pulled my phone out of my pocket. "I’ll just text my family and let them know I’m on the way."

The bars I’d proudly displayed to my family earlier were now flat. The storm must have knocked out the cell tower. And my ability to call for help.

"No coverage. I promised my family I wouldn’t be long."

"So what were you doing at the police station all alone?" Lonnie asked.

"I was checking on something."

"Go on…"

I didn’t answer, and hoped he would let it drop. No way could I tell him I had been at the police station digging through the innards of a cow—
his
cow, which just happened to be stuffed full of neatly wrapped bills.

Lonnie kept his eyes on the road. My heart was pounding so hard against my ribs, I wondered if he could hear it. Probably not, since the wind outside was getting louder by the minute. I looked up just as a plastic grocery bag collided with a swaying stoplight, wrapping around it like a bandage. My labor pains seemed to be mimicking the wind gusts. I crossed my arms over my middle.

"Looks like it won't be too long now," Lonnie said.

When I regained my breath I answered. "Yes. Were you headed to the shelter?"

"… Sure," he answered.

I knew Lonnie Carello hadn’t been driving to the shelter when he spotted me. Given the direction he was headed, he may have been coming
from
the shelter, but he certainly wasn’t going
toward
it. He was about to break into the police station, but before he could, he found me standing in front. I suspected he was lying, but wasn't sure what he suspected of me.

"You know the shelter was back there," I said, pointing behind me. I hoped Carello was so new to Pecan Bayou he didn’t realize his mistake. 

"Was it? I just thought we would take a little shortcut." I don’t know what kind of shortcut he thought he was taking, but I thought it was a bad idea, since we were driving directly through the wind and rain.

I tried to remain calm. If I couldn’t be calm, I had to at least sound calm in order to think my way out of this. I was escaping for two this time around.

"Just what brought you to Pecan Bayou, anyway?" I asked, trying to sound friendly.

The wind whipped more debris across our path. Before Lonnie could answer my question, a large pine tree uprooted and crashed onto the roof of a house.

"Damn," Carello swore. "That was close."

I desperately wished it had landed across the road because then I could have scrambled out of the car.

"Pardon my French," he apologized. "You Texans sure know how to have a storm."

"So where are you from originally?" I asked, still trying to sound normal, not terrified.

"Chicago."

"That explains the accent. You took over Cattleman’s Call a few months ago when Mr. Neuwitt retired. Where did he retire to? I don’t believe I ever heard. Strange how he was here, then just up and left. So what led you to buy a business here in a small town like Pecan Bayou?"

Lonnie swerved to avoid a flying trash can lid .

"Don't really know where Ron went.   Why Pecan Bayou, you ask? Well, I guess you could say I was a silent partner in the business for years. I decided to retire away from Chicago winters, and Texas seemed like a good option. Nice warm weather in these parts. Ron was … well, let’s say, easily convinced to let me take over the business. He was ready for something different as well."

"I see. You sure have been doing a lot of remodeling."

"Yeah." His eyes scanned the road as he navigated through the storm. "Ron let the place go to hell. Beams were rotting, and it needed a lot of repairs just to get it up to code."

"Cattleman’s Call wasn't up to code?"

I found this surprising, since if a restaurant in town wasn’t up to code, Rocky would be sure to report it in the Gazette. One of Rocky’s heroes was Marvin Zindler, an iconic Houston reporter famous for his regular restaurant reports on the evening news. Rocky drew inspiration from Marvin Zindler and would type up his weekly health department report chanting Marvin’s signature line
Slime in the ice machiiiiine.
Oh how I longed for Rocky’s annoying little chant right now.

If Cattleman’s Call had code violations, everybody would've known it. It was one of the nicer eating establishments in town. Lonnie Carello hadn’t been remodeling, but searching. Searching for whatever it was hidden inside that cow.

Lonnie interrupted my thoughts. "So what were you doing at the police station to begin with? Seems strange to find you there all alone. There weren’t even any police at the station. Do you have a key to the building?"

"Why would you think that?"

"Come on Betsy. You’re the daughter of the head honcho cop over there.  I can't imagine you would want to be hanging around outside for no reason, so you had to be doing something inside.  I'm guessing you have your own key but I'm curious as to what you needed it for.."

Lonnie Carello knew I had a key. He also now knew he could get into the police department without even breaking a window to do it. As we came up to the next stoplight he turned to the left. As much as I hoped he had decided to drive to the shelter, I knew exactly where we were heading.

"Why are we going back?"

Carello did not respond to my question. He focused forward with steely determination. His pleasant demeanor had now slipped for good. I repeated my question.

"I said, why are we turning back?"

"I think you know."

"No. I don't know. Tell me about it." The baby pushed down again, harder this time. I leaned over in pain. Lonnie drove on, ignoring my obvious discomfort.

"Listen, I don't know what's going on, but I need to get to the hospital. I'm in labor."

"Yeah, well, pretty inconvenient for you, if you ask me. I got more important things on my mind. Listen, women drop those things all the time. You'll be fine. Now, shut your face and quit complaining."

I had to get out of this car. We couldn’t be going more than five to ten miles an hour, given the force of the wind. I glanced at the speedometer.

"What are you doing?" he said, following my gaze.

"What do you mean?"

"Enough of this, and don’t even think about trying to jump out. You want to save that baby, you’d better sit tight."

"Fine." I pulled my hand off the door, and laid it across my belly. "Seeing as you now have decided your trip to the police station is more important than my safe delivery, the least you can do is tell me who you really are. What is it you want in the police station? What was it you were looking for at Cattleman’s Call?"

Lonnie smiled.

"You’re smarter than you look, Miss Hinter lady. You really wanna know what I was looking for? Fair enough. Maybe, just maybe, there was some money hidden somewhere. Maybe, just maybe, two guys who were best friends robbed a check cashing store in 1978. Maybe one guy went to prison for it and the other guy didn't. One guy kept the money and thought he could get away with it. That thief Neuwitt always told me he had my stake hidden somewhere. When I got out of prison, I came to collect and he got all whiny, saying the money was dirty. He had started a new life in a piss-ant of a town. He told me he was saving me by withholding my share of the money. Said I’d never find it, and I should go start my own life doing good in the world. What a load of crap. So one thing led to another, you might say."

"Meaning you killed Ron Neuwitt?"

"What? Are you wearing a wire or something?"

"Hardly." Even if I were, who could be hearing me in this storm? Lonnie’s eyes narrowed, and he continued.

"Why no, sweetheart. Let's just say he disappeared, and they won't find him for years. Maybe he went off to start another new life doing good."

Another pine tree fell, this time landing in the road. Lonnie Carello swerved around it, barely avoiding impact. My body slammed against the door, and as it did, another contraction hit. I bent over using my Lamaze breathing, trying to work through it until it passed.

"Oh yeah, that kid is coming. I've been in the delivery room. This is where there ain’t no turning back. Too bad I have to be here with you. Last time it was excruciating to watch. Especially seeing as they won’t let you smoke in there. Buck up sweetie, you're not going to get any help from a doctor."

"Listen to yourself. This isn’t right, and you know it."

He pulled into a parking space in front of the Pecan Bayou police station. "Yeah well nothing I can do about it now. Hand me the key, Mama."

I reached into my purse and pulled out the single key my father had given me attached to a police department key fob. I thought for a moment maybe I would give him the wrong key to stall for time.

"Give me the key. Don't try to pull anything. Oh, and give me your cell phone."

I searched in my purse trying to cover my cell phone with my hand.

"It’s not here. I must have dropped it under the seat." I tried to pretend searching beneath the seat, but the bulk of the baby kept me from reaching the floor.
   Lonnie grabbed the purse out of my hands. "I told you not to try anything." He reached in my purse and pulled out my cell phone. Holding it up he said, "How stupid do you think I am? A pregnant woman without a working cell phone? I'm not playing here. I'm not one of these local yokel yahoos here. In Chicago we’re a little brighter than that."

I wished he would go back to Chicago. I liked the yahoos here much better. As he exited the car he leaned down and said, "You stay here. Normally I’d take you with me, but in your condition you ain’t going nowhere. Maybe you could have the kid before I come back? Oh, and don't get any blood on the seats."

"You can’t just leave me here," I said, breathing through another contraction.

"Yes I can." He sneered.

He opened the door to the police station with my key and ran inside. As the contraction eased, I tried to come up with a new plan. A little puddle dripped down onto the floorboard as I felt my water breaking. I hoped I ruined his upholstery.

I pulled myself out of the car, struggling with the door. The wind kicked up a newspaper that slapped against my leg. If I could just avoid being hit by storm debris, maybe I could make it to the shelter. Nolan Ryan Middle school was about four blocks away and then I just had to cross the bridge. That would be the toughest part because there would be no buildings to protect me, and a heavy wind could pitch me into the water if I didn't get to the guardrail soon enough. 

I started walking, staying as close as possible to the sides of the buildings in downtown Pecan Bayou. About every ten feet or so another contraction would hit. I would stop, lean against the wall and breathe through it. I had to do this. I had to make it for me and Leo and our baby.

Walking was the worst thing to be doing right now since it speeds up delivery, but it was the best thing for me to do given the situation. It was my only way out.

I thought about what Lonnie Carello said about women who dropped babies in the middle of work. I wasn't that girl. I was the one who asked for extra epidural juice, chipped ice and pleasant music in the background. For just a moment, I thought of the birthing suite Leo and I had signed up for three months ago. Our little hospital tried to replicate the birthing suites in the big cities. There wasn’t a birthing tub, or a specialty birthing chair, but they did have a big screen TV, a bubba recliner and a mini fridge that would hold enough Lone Star beer to get any couple through an average length delivery.

No luxurious surroundings for this baby to come into, unfortunately. Even if I did get the baby suite, I didn’t have a doctor to deliver me. None of that mattered unless I got away from Lonnie Carello.

If he hadn’t been so anxious to get his hands on the money, he probably would have killed me while he had me in the car. Killing a mother and her child wouldn’t faze him. He had already killed two people trying to recover his stolen cash.

I kept moving, desperate to get far enough away he wouldn’t be able to hunt me down. I saw car lights coming toward me. Carello must have found the money by now and was going to take care of me next.

I slid into a doorway and held myself tightly against the door as a tremor worked its way through me. All I could do was hope he hadn't seen me. The car inched closer, and then slowed down in the park right in front of me. Nothing like trying to hide an elephant behind a skinny tree.

"Betsy?"

The voice was so familiar, I gasped. With the wind I couldn’t be sure.

"Betsy? Is that you?"

I didn't know what to do. If that was Carello, he would kill me. If it was somebody who could save me, I could miss the chance of a rescue by staying hidden.

The words of my last dream echoed in my ears.

"Betsy step into the wind. It’ll only do you good."

I stepped out from the doorway. Standing in front of a white, storm-battered minivan with the words "Storm Chasers" painted in bold red letters, stood the love of my life, Leo Fitzpatrick.

"Leo!" I ran into his arms and felt his strong arms encircle me. I had found home in the middle of a tempest.