The Dummy Line (19 page)

Sheriff Ollie Landrum and Deputy R.C. Smithson stood side-by-side with their backs against the front quarter panel of the sheriff’s Expedition. They stared blankly into the cold darkness just beyond the camp’s lights. They had not spoken for several minutes.

Ollie was feeling the mounting pressure to act. The clock was ticking. His palms were sweating.
Somethin’s gotta happen and pretty damn quick.

R.C. blurted, “Just call him. Tell him who you are and that you need to see him ASAP.”

“Is that the best you can do?” Ollie asked. “I was hoping for something a little more tricky comin’ from you.”

“We could get a known associate of Johnny Lee’s, maybe Ray-Ray Walker, to call him…but that would take hours to put together. Let’s just push the envelope ourselves…maybe use that old ruse where someone calls anonymously tellin’ ‘em a search warrant’s been issued.”

“Well, Ray-Ray is doing time so he’s not a candidate. Besides, I don’t think he’d go for it anyway. That punk would enjoy seeing us squirm. Let’s—”

Before Ollie could finish, the radio crackled to life, and they both spun to listen.

“Base to Unit One.”

“Go ahead, Miz Martha,” Ollie replied, hoping for some good news.

“Sheriff, I just gave two deputies from Hale County directions to your twenty. They’re coming through Livingston right now.”

“Redirect one to Larson’s location. Have him watch the trailer and report anything unusual. Larson can give him the details. I need Larson and Shug to be flexible for the search.”

“Ten-four.”

“Sheriff Marlow’s about five minutes behind ‘em.”

“Thank you,” Ollie replied.

Ollie pulled out the radiophone that R.C. had found in the pickup and stared at it. He hit the menu button and found the recently received calls. There was Johnny Lee Glover’s number.
All I have to do is hit that button
.

“OK. I’m goin’ to do it. I’m just gonna call him. Straight up,” he told R.C. confidently. “I’ve got to
do
something.”

R.C. nodded, and Ollie hit Send, heard it beep twice, and waited.

Just a few seconds before he heard
beep-beep,
Reese thought he glimpsed a flashlight beam for a split second across a clear-cut. He stopped, leaned his rifle against a tree at the edge of the cutover, and pulled his phone from his pocket. He looked at the screen.
Tiny? His phone’s at his house,
he thought.
This is weird.

Reese hit Send, and the phone beeped twice. He didn’t say a word. Reese listened intently.

Ollie and R.C. had their fish on the line but didn’t know what to do next. Ollie took a deep breath and went for it.

Beep-beep.
“Mr. Glover, this is Sheriff Landrum. I need to speak to you.”

What the hell!? How’d he…
Reese thought, shocked. He stared at the phone, trying to make sense of what he heard.
Shit! Do I respond? Ignore him?
Reese decided to see what he could learn.

Beep-beep.
“I’m kinda busy right now, Sheriff. Maybe tomorrow.”

Beep-beep.
“No. I need to talk to you face-to-face. Right now. Where are you?”

Reese was scrambling to think this through.
Maybe he went to Tiny’s house, searched it, and found the phone. Maybe Tiny left it in his truck at the gate and they found it there. If that’s the case, he’s on the property. But he thinks he is talking to Johnny Lee…so they haven’t found his truck yet.

“Shit!” Reese said out loud.

Beep-beep.
“Johnny Lee, where are you? This is important.”

Beep-beep.
“Where are you, Sheriff?”

Beep-beep.
“Johnny Lee, we’re looking for a missing female. You know anything about it?”

Reese’s mind was swirling…
Is he talkin’ about the woman I had Moon Pie kidnap? Maybe it’s the “female” I heard screaming with Tiny and Sweat?

Beep-beep.
“Sheriff, I don’t know anything about that at all. How ‘bout I call you tomorrow sometime?”

“That’s not Johnny Lee!” R.C. said. Ollie looked at him like he was crazy.

Beep-beep.
“Johnny Lee, no…I need some answers. Now!”

There was no response. Only silence.

Beep-beep.
“Johnny Lee?”

Beep-beep.
“Johnny Lee!”

Reese had no intention of talking to him anymore. He had to get Moon Pie. Reese hit End, then dialed Moon Pie’s number.

Beep-beep.
“Moon?”

Beep-beep.
“Yo.”

Beep-beep.
“Get rid of the package and get the hell out of there. But I need you to hang around and wait for me to call you back. I’ll need you to pick me up on Highway Seventeen, ‘round the Noxubee River bridge at about daylight. Be close but not too close. Go hang out at the truck stop off Twenty…that’s maybe ten miles from me.”

Beep-beep.
“Whadda I do with our girl? They’re gonna follow me.”

Reese thought for a minute. There were too many unanswered questions. He needed some time. He needed vengeance, but he decided to eliminate a liability first.

Beep-beep.
“Blindfold her. Tie her hands, then push her into the woods behind the trailer…she could walk for days back in there. Has she seen ya?”

Beep-beep.
“Shit, man, yeah. This is screwed up, dude.”

Beep-beep.
“I really need you on this one, Moon. Get rid of her and hang tight.”

Beep-beep.
“I’ll be there…you call; I’ll be there.”

Beep-beep.
“Hey, Moon?”

Beep-beep.
“Yeah.”

Beep-beep.
“This shit’s serious, man…he killed Johnny Lee
and
Sweat. So whatever happens tonight, I need to know that you’ll help even the score…and then some.”

Beep-beep.
“You got it, dude. Go get him. I’ll meet you at the bridge.”

Moon Pie slithered out of his Tahoe and crawled to where he could look at the cop’s car. The moonlight made it easy to see the lone deputy’s outline slouched behind the wheel.

He hurriedly went inside the trailer, straight to his victim. She jumped when he whipped opened the door. He could tell she had been trying to get free of the duct tape.

“Get up, bitch!” he said, jerking her up by one arm. The room reeked of urine. Because now she was going to live, he was careful not to let her get a good look at him in the light. He stood her up, then cut the duct tape from her ankles. He checked her wrists. They were still secure. She could barely make a sound with the tape over her mouth. He led her to the back door, unlocked it, stuck out his head, and looked both ways.

Beyond Johnny Lee’s trailer lay miles of swamp that eventually ended at the Tombigbee River. Gators, moccasins, and rattlers waited. If she wandered west, she could reach a catfish farm or the giant landfill. Moon Pie didn’t care just so long as she was as far away from him as possible.

“Listen to me and listen good. This is your lucky night…but only if you do one thing. So you better listen good,
real
good, you hear? You walk straight ahead and do not come back in this direction…don’t turn right and don’t turn left. You forget everything that has happened, you hear?” Then he whispered in her ear. “If you talk to anybody…
ever
…remember, I know where you live.

“You hear me?” he asked, cupping her breast from behind, and then he nibbled on her ear. She nodded, tears streaming down her face.

He pulled off an eight-inch piece of camo duct tape and put it over her eyes. She cringed. But when she opened her eyes, she could see parts of her bare feet. She was shaking so violently, she could hardly stand.

“If you want to live, you walk straight ahead and forget any of this ever happened. Understand?”

Again she nodded, overwhelmed with relief at the thought that she might actually live.

“Go!” He slapped her butt like she was a football player and watched her follow his directions to the letter. He then hurried back inside and looked around before bolting out the front door.

Inside his Tahoe, he breathed a sigh of relief, cranked up, and rolled out of the gravel driveway. He didn’t like this at all. Johnny Lee would never be this disorganized or take these crazy risks. Moon Pie knew he had to keep his cool for just a little longer. He turned onto the pavement and gave his ride some gas.

Larson saw the lights and sat up straight. He grabbed his microphone and excitedly shouted, “Ollie?”
Come on…hurry up,
he thought.

“Go ahead,” Ollie responded.

“Daniels is leavin’…whaddya want me to do, Sheriff?”

“Follow him. Let’s see where he goes. Give the Hale County deputy good instructions—have him watch the trailer. You should be able to reach him on the radio now. And Larson…be careful.”

“Ten-four.” Larson was so excited he couldn’t replace the microphone on the small metal clip. After three tries, he dropped it on the seat.

Ollie and R.C. debated the call with Johnny Lee, or whoever it was, for a few minutes. They couldn’t agree as to its probative value. They’d pushed the envelope, but it did not appear to have paid off. One thing was certain—they’d tipped off Johnny Lee or his accomplice that they were onto him.

Ollie monitored the radio traffic to make certain Larson’s replacement knew where to go and what to do. He should be in place in a few minutes. Ollie learned from Larson that Ethan Daniels was headed toward Livingston.

A few minutes later, Martha reported that the .44 Magnum Ruger had been stolen from a Selma man’s truck two years earlier.

Ollie was trying to get everything straight in his mind, so he could thoroughly explain the situation to Sheriff Marlow, who would be arriving in a few minutes. Ollie’s headache worsened.

“R.C., go get me another Coke from in there, please,” he said, pointing at the camp house with one hand and rubbing his furrowed brow with the other. His cowboy hat lay upside down on the hood of his Expedition.

“Yes sir, Chief,” R.C. responded, heading toward the camp house.

Ollie grabbed the microphone to touch base with the kids’ parents. Instead, he leaned his head back, trying to clear his mind.
I’ll wait a few minutes more.
After a while, he realized that the calendars had distracted R.C. again. He was about to honk the horn, then raised the microphone to his face.

“Miz Martha?”

“Yes, Sheriff?” she said, blowing out a lungful of smoke.

“Give me an update…how’s everybody?” he asked.

“Well, Tanner is still sedated. I understand Mrs. Beasley is standing there waiting on him to crack an eye open. Mrs. Tillman seems to be doing pretty good, but they say Mr. Tillman is pacing the halls.”

“What about Zach Beasley?”

“I haven’t heard from him. He’s supposed to be at home in case Elizabeth calls or shows up.”

“Call them all and tell ‘em that I have reinforcements coming, and we expect to have as much help as the state can provide by daylight.”

“Hang on, Chief. Somebody’s cuttin’ in!” she said excitedly.

Ollie watched R.C. approach with a Diet Coke. He shrugged his shoulders and mouthed, “It’s all I could find.” Everyone knew Ollie hated diet drinks.

“Ollie, go to frequency three and hurry!” Martha exclaimed.

Ollie set down the can and switched the channels. He heard a Hale County deputy in the middle of an excited explanation. “I have the girl in my car now, and she seems to be OK but she’s unconscious,” he said in a very high-pitched, excited voice, “but I think she’s all right.”

Ollie was stunned. He heard Sheriff Marlow’s voice speak, “Great job, Lewis. Take her to the hospital emergency room in Livingston. I’ll meet you there.”

Ollie couldn’t take it anymore. “This is Sheriff Ollie Landrum. Please apprise me of the situation.”

“What’s that, Ollie?” Marlow asked.

“Tell me what’s going on, Marlow!”

“Well, it seems my young deputy Lewis was instructed to stake out a trailer north of town. As he explained it to me, he got a gut feeling and approached the trailer where he saw a girl with her hands tied behind her, blindfolded, wandering around. Lewis is on the way to the hospital with her. Good thing you called us…it only took us about three minutes to resolve this for you!” he boasted.

“And she’s all right?” Ollie asked, almost out of breath, ignoring Marlow’s last comment.

“Apparently,” Marlow said and chuckled like he did this every day. “Hey, Marlow. Thanks, man, I really appreciate you guys. I’m on my way. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

“I’ll be there. I want to see my old buddy Zach Beasley.”

“I understand…Miz Martha, are you listening?”

“Yes sir.”

“Call everybody and tell them!”

“Yes sir. Good job, Ollie!” She was clearly proud and about to tear up.

Ollie signed off, then bear-hugged R.C. They high-fived each other. R.C. howled like a dog and yelled, “Yes, yes, yes!”
This nightmare’s over,
Ollie thought.
My worst fears were for nothin’.

“Let’s go!” Ollie exclaimed, grabbing his hat.

They both jumped into their vehicles. As Ollie hit the gas, relief flooded him.

The sheriff thought about Martha calling him “Ollie.” She didn’t do that often. He still had the crazy Mick Johnson cell phone call to think about, but he would do that later. There was one more person to call right now. He switched back to the main frequency.

“Larson? Larson? Come in.”

“Yes sir, Sheriff.” He sounded very despondent.

“Arrest that guy you’re following. Where are you?

“Larson?

“Larson!”

“I’m in town, but I lost him.”

“What? What happened?” Ollie was furious. Marlow had deputies with uncannily accurate gut feelings, and his own deputy couldn’t even keep a tail.

“It’s crazy. This guy just vaporized. I’m really sorry, Sheriff.”

“I can’t believe this!” Ollie said aloud to himself. This was a classic Larson screwup—just another example of his crazy-making behavior.

“Larson, give Miz Martha his name and vehicle type,” he said sternly. “She can put out an all-points bulletin.”

“Yes sir, I’ll do just that.” Larson knew he had screwed up. He felt like he was going to vomit.

Ollie wanted to see the family reunited. He stomped the accelerator. They had found Elizabeth.
What a relief,
he thought. He was frustrated that he and his men had spent hours trying to resolve this crisis, and Marlow’s deputy had it handed to him on a silver platter within minutes.
I’ll catch hell about it, but at least the girl’s alive and in good shape. That’s the really important thing.
He took off his hat and laid it on the seat next to him, ran his hand over his head, took a deep breath, and, with no small amount of relief, said, “Thank you, Lord!”