What You See (29 page)

“Sorry,” I said as I adjusted the seat back a little.

The truck lurched and jerked as I tried to back it out of the
garage, and then it stalled. It had been a while since I’d driven a stick
shift. Billy threw his hands up on the dashboard and laughed at me.

“I’ll get the hang of it in a minute,” I said, restarting
the truck. Billy rolled his eyes. I backed down the driveway and pulled up to
my Jeep. After carefully loading his equipment into the back of the truck, we
bucked and jerked our way down the driveway.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?” Billy asked,
holding on for dear life. “You’re giving me whiplash.”

“See, I told you I’d get the hang of it,” I said as we
reached the end of
South
River Road
.

“Yeah, but at what cost?” he asked. “My back will never be
the same.”

“
Whine... whine... whine
,”
I joked, stopping at the stop sign. “Before we go any further, I want to
know what we’re doing. My last brush with the law was enough for one day.”

“You’re not quitting on me, are you?”

“You know, I didn’t sign up for this,” I said, irritated.

“I know you didn’t,” he said, with a hurt look on his face.
“If you want out, now is the time to tell me. We can turn around...”

“No,” I said. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m mad at Cole and
I’m taking it out on you. I shouldn’t be like that, but I can’t help it. I’m so
furious.”

“I figured that much,” he whispered. “Do you want to tell me
why?”

“I think you know. I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“Whatever,” he said, pointing to the road. “We’re off to the
crossroads. Let’s go 4-wheeling.”

“This doesn’t have four-wheel drive,” I said as I pulled onto
Rt. 33 and headed to Zion Crossroads. We’d made this trek so many times that by
now the drive only took us forty minutes. We were cruising, listening to a
radio station that Billy had picked out.

“What’s this junk?” I motioned to the radio. “It sounds like
somebody’s dying. I feel like I should have a beer in my hand.”

“It’s country music,” he stated. “Randy Travis is the best!”

“He makes my ears hurt.”

“Listen to the words and you’ll wind up loving... hey, what’s
this?” Billy asked as he turned and stared. Just ahead of us was a police
roadblock, closing off the road to the Hudgins’ house.

“Aren’t we supposed to turn here?” I asked. “What do you want
me to do? Speak fast!”

“Keep on going!” he demanded.

The police gave us a fleeting glance as we passed by. I tried
not to draw attention to us by driving erratically, while Billy absorbed
everything in sight.

“What did you see?” I asked.

“A couple of police cars, that’s for sure. Keep on driving.”

“Shall we have lunch?” I asked Billy. We were fast
approaching the Piney Mountain Grill, and I was hungry.

“Yeah!” he yelled. “That’s a great idea. It’ll give us a
chance to see if anybody at the restaurant knows what’s going on back there.
You never know, we might get lucky.”

“I just hope the food doesn’t kill us.”

I parked the truck in front of the grill and Billy and I got
out. There were only two cars in the parking lot off to the side, and one of
them was the Mustang. The other one was an old, beat-up Ford truck.

“Hey, isn’t that Rose’s car?” I asked. “I’m willing to bet
the truck is Bubba’s. I think you might be right, Billy. Maybe we’ll get lucky.
The joint looks empty. We should be able to have a long talk with Rose.”

Inside, Rose was sitting on a barstool reading the paper,
while someone in the back was banging pots and pans. I assumed it was Bubba
making that racket in the kitchen.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said, folding up the paper and staring at
us. “Can I get you something to eat?” She slid off the stool and walked toward
us. “As you can tell from the heat, the air-conditioning is broken. If you
can’t stand the heat... well, you know the rest.”

Billy found a booth at the far end of the room away from the
rays of the sun. “We’ll sit over here,” he replied. “If you could just bring us
a couple of ice teas and a menu, we’d be grateful.” He motioned for me to sit
down.

I leaned over the table and whispered, “It’s too hot in here,
Billy.” The restaurant had several ceiling fans, and they were working
overtime. Yet, they still couldn’t alleviate the heat. “I’m going to
suffocate.”

“Hang in there, kid,” he said. “People sometimes act strange
and say things they don’t mean to when they get overheated. I want to see how
hot I can get Rose.”

“That’s gross,” I uttered. “Is this a sexual thing?”

“I hope you’re joking.”

Rose returned with our drinks and said, “The special for
today is fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and string beans.” She handed us a
menu. “We also have a hamburger boat for $2.95. It comes with fries or potato
chips. Just shout when you’re ready to order.” She started to walk away.

“I’m ready now,” I called to her.

She turned back around, pulled out her order pad and said,
“What can I get you?”

“I’ll take a cheeseburger boat, and perhaps you can tell us
what the police are doing at your house?”

She glared at me. “Why don’t you ask them yourself?” She put
her hands on her hips. “I’m sure you already know. Why don’t you tell me? They
weren’t there when I left this morning.”

Billy butted in. “I’ll take the cheeseburger boat, too.”

“Two cheeseburger boats,” she yelled at the top of her lungs
and walked away. She acted cool, but I knew I’d rattled her chain.

My ears were ringing from the noise. I stuck my finger in my
ear and cried, “Give me a break!”

Billy scolded me. “This time, be quiet and let me do the
talking. You’re going about this all wrong. You’re going to make her mad.”

“But I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“I said I wanted to get her hot and make her sweat, not rile
her up. There’s a difference.”

“I’ll shut up,” I said. “You talk to her, and I’ll stay out
of it.”

The phone rang somewhere in the back and Bubba came out with
a large pair of tongs in his hand. Rose had gone back to reading the newspaper
in a feeble attempt on her part at ignoring us. He whispered something into her
ear, and she jumped up and ran to the back.

“Ah, perhaps she didn’t know the cops were at her house,” I
said to Billy, who by this time was engrossed in picking at his fingernails. “I
bet that call is from someone at home. I thought she was a little too calm when
we told her about the cops being there.”

“I was just thinking the same thing myself,” he replied.
“We’ll find out in a minute, if she goes rushing out the door.”

Two minutes later, she did exactly what Billy had said. She
ran out the door, purse in hand, with tears streaming down her face.

“I guess that answers our question,” Billy said. He jumped
up, pulled his wallet out and threw a five-dollar bill down on the table. “Come
on. We’re going to follow her.”

“What about lunch?” I cried. “I’m starved.”

“Forget lunch. We’ll eat later,” he insisted.

We were just getting ready to walk out the door when Bubba
walked up and blocked our exit. He stood poised and defiant, ready to react at
a moment’s notice.

“You folks don’t want to leave without eating your meal
first, now do you?” he stated in a most demanding way.

“I left a five on the table,” Billy pointed. “We’ve changed
our minds. We’re not hungry anymore.”

“That’s a load of crap,” Bubba barked. “I know what you’re
doing. You’re going after Rose.” He raised a finger and poked it at Billy’s
chest. “I’m telling you right now, leave her alone!”

Billy’s face turned red. Normally, he’d never stand for
anyone getting in his face like that, but Bubba’s next move gave him pause.

Bubba took a step back, lowered his finger and spoke in an
octave lower. “She’s a good kid. She don’t know nothing about that missing
girl. Do us all a favor, and get off her back, please.”

I just knew the situation was going to get out of hand.
Billy’s a big guy. He’s over six feet tall, and weighs close to two hundred
pounds. He’s strong as an ox. However, Bubba made Billy look like a kitten up
against a mountain lion.

Billy’s face started to get the normal color back as he
calmed down. “We’re not after Rose. All we’re after is the truth. We don’t
think she had anything to do with the missing girl. Unfortunately, the cops
have evidence that was discovered on the Hudgins’ property. They’re all over
it. They have cop cars blocking off the entrance to their road, search dogs in
the woods, and helicopters flying overhead. It’s a real circus.”

“What evidence?” Bubba asked.

“I can’t go into that,” Billy said, acting like the hotshot
investigator that he is. “It’s classified and I can’t give out that
information. I can tell you this, somebody had better get at the truth before
Rose and her whole family winds up in jail.”

Finally seeing the light, Bubba suggested, “Somebody should
check out that gas station guy, Tommy. He’s Jay’s best friend.” He leaned in
toward us and whispered, “They’re both bad news. I can tell you that!” He then
stepped back to let us pass.

Billy and I made a quick exit, which was something we’d been
doing a lot of lately. We were constantly on the run.

“What kind of malarkey was that?” I asked, digging for my
keys. “They have helicopters? Search dogs? Did I miss something?”

“Just get in the truck,” Billy commanded.

As usual, I did what he said. I got in the truck, cranked it
up, and drove out of the parking lot.

“I didn’t realize Helen’s purse was found on the Hudgins’
property,” I stated. “I knew it was close, but was it right on their property?”

“It could’ve been. I wasn’t there the whole time, so I don’t
know for sure. Anything’s possible.”

“You’re awful!” I admonished him as I shifted gears. The
truck made a loud, grinding, clanking noise. “Oops.”

Rose’s brake lights came into view as we rounded the curve
and came up on her road.

The two police cars were gone.

Billy
told me to drive
down
the road a bit, and then make a U-turn. He said he wanted to give Rose time to
get home without seeing us. “We don’t want to tip our hand.”

I drove for about a mile until I found a place to turn
around. Just before we reached her house, Billy motioned for me to keep going.

“Find a place to park where we can see them, but they can’t
see us.”

“I thought this was a dead end,” I replied. “There’s a dead
end street sign at the entrance to the road, but this sure doesn’t look like a
dead end to me. What’s the deal?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth,
the paved road came to an abrupt end, and a dirt path filled with ruts began.

“Darn!” I moaned, slamming on the brakes. I was unable to
stop in time to avoid bouncing in and out of several potholes. Billy hit his
head on the roof, and the truck stalled.

“You’re the worst driver I’ve ever met!” he said, rubbing his
head.

“Don’t yell at me. I’m doing the best I can.”

“You’re supposed to use the clutch, too... or did that slip
your mind? You think you can turn this thing around without running into a
ditch, or do I need to drive? I will if you want me to.”

“I can handle it!” I smarted. I pushed in the clutch and
restarted the truck. After several attempts at trying to get the truck turned
around in such a small area, I backed into a huge pothole and the truck cut off
once again. The rear bumper was now touching the ground.

Billy jumped out and slammed the door. “That’s it!” he said.
“I’m driving from now on!”

I started crying. I don’t know if it was from stress or an
inside desire to make him feel bad, but it didn’t work.

“Stop whining, put it in neutral and steer, while I push,” he
instructed. “Hit the brakes as soon as you’re out of the hole. There’s a gully
in front of you.” I heard him mumble something under his breath.

My reaction time was very slow sometimes, and this was one of
those times. I ended up with the front tires in the gully just like he said,
and the bumper was now firmly planted on top of a big rock.

It was like something you’d see in a movie. Billy slapped his
forehead and walked in circles, while I cried.

“U-lv-no-ti-s-gi `ge ya!” he yelled, walking from the rear of
the truck to the front. “Tla-i-`go-li-`ga. Didn’t you hear what I said?”

By now, he’d lost all patience with me. I didn’t know what to
say and I hated it when he said stuff I didn’t understand. All I could come up
with was the two Indian words I had memorized, “Da-qua-dov Tse-si.”—my name’s Jesse.

That stopped him cold in his tracks and he burst out
laughing. “You’re nuts.” He went back to the front of the truck, lifted it up
off the rock and pushed it out of the gully. “Now hit the brakes!” The truck
came to rest in the middle of the road. “Pull the handbrake,” he ordered, “and
get out.”

As usual, I did what he said. This was fast becoming a habit.
He tells me what to do, and I do it.

Surveying the truck, he said, “Who taught you how to drive
anyway, Athena?” Before I could get my two cents in, he got in the truck,
readjusted the seat and drove it off the road behind the trees.

“Hey, look at this Billy. There’s a path over here with
imprints of a bulldozer. It looks like someone took a bulldozer and plowed
right through the woods,” I said as I walked toward the truck. “And you can see
it goes all the way back there.” I pointed in the direction of the tracks.

He got out of the truck and walked over to where I was
standing.

“The tracks are old,” he said. “See the mashed, dead leaves
in the grass? That means whoever did this, did it a while back.”

“Maybe some time around Christmas?”

“The timing would be just about right,” he said. “Let’s see
where the path leads. He walked over and locked up the truck doors and the
camper shell. “Don’t want anyone to steal my equipment.”

“This must’ve been a road of some sort at one time,” I
guessed. “There are a few remnants of saplings, but no large trees.”

The sun was high in the sky and blasting down on us with all
its intensity. A slight breeze in between the trees hit my sweaty face and
cooled me. I felt like I was going to fall out from the heat.

“I can tell summer’s here,” I said, wiping the moisture off
my face with my shirttail. “Man, it’s hot.”

Billy looked at me, rolled his eyes and said, “This isn’t
hot, baby.”

We scouted for what seemed like forever, when, dead ahead of
us in the middle of the path, was the hill I’d tried to explain to Billy. The
top of the mound was about three feet tall and it was wide enough so that if
you dug a hole and put a car in it, it would be the perfect size. My deductive
reasoning was working at maximum overdrive.

“See, I told you,” I said, walking around the hill and
pointing to its size. “He could’ve driven the bulldozer back to here,” I
pointed, “dug the hole and dumped the car in, and then covered the hole with
dirt.”

“Someone could’ve buried trash back here, or they could’ve
buried a dead horse. Who knows? I think the whole thing about burying a car is
a little far-fetched. Besides, if you didn’t want to draw attention to it, you
would’ve leveled the ground.”

“I guess you would, unless you panicked. An adult would have
more sense, but a kid... that’s another story. Maybe he was in a hurry to cover
his tracks. He wanted to...”

“Forget it, Jesse,” Billy said. “You’re stabbing in the
dark.”

The path ended with the hill. Trees and underbrush lined the
background. A clump of ferns sprouted out of the mound.

I was losing wind. “You’re probably right,” I agreed. What did
I know? “We should head back. I’m hungry as a horse. Oops, sorry. I wasn’t
trying to be smart.” I looked down at the mound and then back to Billy.

“I’m hungry, too,” he said. “We’ll give it another half-hour,
if you can hold out that long. After that, I’ll take you anywhere you want to
go to eat. Is it a deal?”

I mumbled under my breath as we turned and headed back down
the path, “I guess I can hold out for a little while.”

“I want to hang around and see if anything develops.
Something might happen. Why else would the police have been here earlier?”

We got back to the truck ten minutes later. I got in the
passenger seat and dug out my purse, while Billy got in and rolled down the
window.

“Want a piece of gum?” I offered, after pulling a stick out,
breaking it in half, and then shoving it into my mouth.

“Sure, why not? I want a whole piece.”

I immediately pulled out my pack of cigarettes and lit one.

“I see you have that old habit back.”

“Yeah, and it’s your fault!” I accused. “I haven’t had a
cigarette in years, not until I hooked up with you. What does that tell you?
You’re one to talk, you smoke.”

“Only two or three a day,” he said. “That’s different. I’m
not... hey, it looks like we have company.”

I could see Rose and her father coming out of the house. He
followed her to her car, pointing his finger at her the whole time, and then he
threw his arms up in the air. She got into the car and sped off, leaving him
standing in the empty parking space, eating dust. He spun around, looked in our
direction, and then ran back to the house.

“Family feud,” I said, not paying much attention.

“I think he saw us. Let’s get out of here.”

We were flying down the road when the first shot rang out.

“He shot at us... that lunatic!” I screamed, looking through
the back window. “Go faster, Billy. He’s standing in the middle of the road
with a gun. Oh my God...”

“I’m going as fast as I can! This isn’t a racecar. It only
has a four-cylinder.”

The next shot took out the rear window of the camper shell,
and then shattered the windshield. Glass flew everywhere. Billy didn’t even
stop at the end of the road. He turned onto Rt.15 and never slowed down. I
looked over and he was covered with specks of blood.

I became hysterical. “Billy, you’re bleeding! Pull over!”

I didn’t notice the blood on me at the time, but I had a
stinging feeling on my face and arms.

Billy finally came to a stop when we reached a muddy pull off
area, a mile down the road. This was the same spot I remembered passing when I
followed my parents on our move to the mountains. A cop car was sitting here
with a radar gun at the time.

Billy stumbled out of the truck and made his way over to a
shady spot under the trees. I was right behind him with a rag I’d dug out from
behind the seat and my cell phone in my hand. I dialed 911. The emergency
dispatch came on the line.

“911. State your emergency, please.”

“Help us, please!” I screamed in her ears. “We need an
ambulance. Someone shot at us. We need help!”

“Ma’am, can you give me your location?”

I looked around and tried to get my bearings. I didn’t see a
mile marker or a road sign of any kind. Think, Jesse, think, I told myself.

“We’re on the northbound side of Rt. 15 on a pull off. It’s
where the cops sit sometimes with his radar gun. It’s about three or four miles
before you get to Zion Crossroads. We’re in a black,
Toyota
pickup truck with a black camper
shell. Please hurry!”

“Miss, just stay on the line.”

I heard her barking out orders in the background and then
heard her fingers clicking away on a computer. “Rescue One, we need an
ambulance dispatched to lookout post number
4-5-0
. Be advised... Shots fired at moving vehicle with
injuries... Local law enforcement notified.” She returned to me. “May I have
your name, please?”

“Jesse Watson,” I screamed. “My name’s Jesse Watson. My
friend, Billy Blackhawk needs help! He’s bleeding!”

“Has he been shot, Miss Watson?”

“I don’t think so. Let me check,” I said to her. I looked
down at Billy, who was now lying on the ground, soaked in blood. He had
numerous, small rips in his shirt and pants, but I didn’t see anything that
looked like a bullet hole.

“Billy,” I got down on my knees and got close to his face.
“Have you been shot?”

“No, I’m all right,” he replied. “I have cuts from the glass,
but it isn’t bad. A stitch here and there and I’ll be fine.”

“He says he’s not shot,” I told the dispatcher, “He has cuts
from the shattered windshield, and he’s got a pretty bad gash on his arm. I’m
tying a rag around it as we speak. He’s going to need stitches.”

“Are you hurt, Miss Watson?”

When I looked at my arms and legs, I was shocked. My T-shirt
was splattered with blood and I could feel the dampness.

“I’m covered in blood, too! Just like Billy!” I screamed.

“Are you shot, Miss Watson?”

“No, I don’t think so,” I answered, looking over my body.
“But there’s a gash above my knee.” I heard sirens in the distance. “The
ambulance is here! I can hear the sirens!”

“Please stay on the line,” she repeated herself.

The ambulance was the first to arrive. Seconds later, two
state troopers pulled in, brakes squealing, lights flashing, and their sirens
blaring. The paramedics worked diligently to fix us up, so they could transport
us to a hospital, while the two state troopers asked us questions and talked on
their radios. A few minutes later, a tow truck arrived.

“Where are you taking my dad’s truck?” I cried.

“Ma’am, your friend over there,” he pointed to Billy, “told
us to have it towed to Redman’s
Auto
Center
. Is that all right with you?”

“That’s fine,” I whispered. “But I need to lock it up first.
Billy’s got some expensive equipment in the back, and my purse is in the cab.”

“We’ll take care of it,” the officer replied. “Don’t worry.”

“Another
fine mess you’ve gotten us into,”
I said to Billy, mocking a character from an old show I’d
seen on the tube many times as we were being ushered through the emergency
room. “I’d like to see how you’re going to get us out of this one since you
have all the answers.”

“Hey, we didn’t do anything wrong,” he said. “We’re the good
guys. Poor old Larry isn’t going to be so lucky. They’re going to burn his
butt.”

“He deserves it!” I snapped. “He tried to kill us!”

The emergency room crew put us on separate beds, pulled a
curtain and began the process of tending to our injuries. It turned out not to
be so bad. Billy took eleven stitches in his right, upper arm and I had seven
stitches sewed into an area above my right knee.

“Are we finished?” I asked the nurse. I was ready to get out
of there.

“Not yet,” she replied. “The doctor has some instructions for
you first, and you’ll need to speak with the police before we can release
you.” She walked away.