Picking Up the Pieces

by Carolina Mac

  “The old drive-in outside of Preston.”

  “Good choice. An abandoned area.”

  “Good for who? Them or us?”

  “Umm… I can see where it would be good for them with no one around.”

  “Uh huh.”

  She twisted around and eyed the duffel bag in the back seat. “Is that the fake money?”

  “It’s not all fake,” I said. “The top layer is our money. If we lose it, we do, but I had to make it look real enough for the first couple of minutes. That’s when we’re taking Silverstone down.”

  “What if there are others with him?”

  “We’re following him from his house to see who’s with him as a precaution.”

  “Good thinking,” said Fiona. “I don’t think I gave you enough credit, Logan. You’re handling this calmly and well. You’re a logical thinker and you’re smart.”

  “Thanks.”

  5:45 p.m.

  Silverstone Residence. Preston.

  I followed behind Clay’s truck as we cruised slowly down Silverstone’s street in Preston. Clay stopped way down the block and nipped in behind a parked car so Silverstone couldn’t see his truck and I did the same.

  We were hidden in the shadows of a leafy oak as Paul Silverstone came out of the tri-plex and jumped into his Nissan. He backed out the drive and we followed him out of town.

  When he turned on the county road and headed straight for the old drive-in theater, he was still alone. Maybe his partners were meeting him there.

  6:00 p.m.

  Preston Dive In Theater.

  I hadn’t seen the Sunset Drive-In for years. After it closed nobody went there anymore. Too bad. As teenagers we spent a lot of fun nights parked next to our best buds, sometimes watching the movies but mostly horsing around with girls, eating hot dogs and drinking Cokes.

  The place had a desolate, spooky feel to it. A lot of the speakers had been stolen—ripped off the poles and taken to new homes. The snack palace was boarded up and a rude message had been spray painted on the huge screen.

  Fiona glanced around as I parked next to Clay, a couple of spots away from Silverstone. “This is sad,” said Fiona. “Why don’t people go to the drive-in anymore?”

  “Netflix,” I said as I watched Paul Silverstone step out of his car.

  Still wearing the same suit he wore at the bank, he glanced at his watch and nodded. “You boys are right on time.”

  “Where’s Presto?” asked Clay.

  “I’ll tell you where to pick him up as soon as you hand over the money and I count it. I don’t trust you McKenna’s.”

  “We don’t trust you either,” I handed off the duffel to Jack like we planned. He walked over and handed the bag to Silverstone.

  Silverstone plunked the bag of money on the hood of his car and unzipped it. While he was mesmerized by the money and sticking his hand in to grab a package of bills, I whipped my rope around my head a couple of times, threw it like I’d done thousands of times before and lassoed him.

  I pulled the rope up tight, pressing Silverstone’s arms against his body so he couldn’t move. I sprinted towards him as if he was a steer ready to take down and tied him up. “Where’s Presto?” I hollered in his face.

  “I never had Presto. Not my job. The guys who picked him up have him.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re a liar and a thief,” Paul Silverstone,” said Doctor Lonnigan.

  “I’m only doing what I was told to do. Carson Wagoner promised me half the money if I’d do the collecting for her.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “She’s meeting me at seven at the Spur and we’re going to split the money and celebrate.”

  Clay had already called Bonnie Sue when we left Silverstone’s apartment and she arrived with Sheriff Tucker a couple of minutes later.

  “See you roped yourself a kidnapper, Logan,” said the sheriff. “Nice job.” He eyed the duffel on the hood of the Nissan. “This the evidence?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Did he tell you the whereabouts of your bull?”

  “He did not, “I said. “Maybe you can get that information from him, Sheriff. But he did mention one of his partner’s by name and that would be Miss Carson Wagoner. She’s meeting him at seven at the Spur to split the money.”

  “That’s good information, Logan. We’ll take this fellow to the lockup and book him, then we’ll head over to the Spur to have a word with Miss Wagoner.” He snapped cuffs on Silverstone and once I untied him, the sheriff secured him in the back of the squad car.

  “You’ll get your money back, but not for a while, boys,” said Bonnie Sue. “It will be safe in the evidence locker, so don’t worry.”

  “One down,” I said, as the sheriff and Bonnie Sue rolled away. “Let’s round up Carson Wagoner.”

  “Can’t wait to see the look on her face when the sheriff locks her up,” said Clay. “That’s one mean woman.”

  7:00 p.m.

  Broken Spur Roadhouse.

  MISS Jane showed us to a table and gave us menus. After our busy day we were all hungry as bears in spring. “Have you seen Miss Carson?” I asked.

  “Not today. Are you expecting her?”

  “Rumor has it she’s meeting someone here,” I said, “and we don’t want to miss her.”

  Miss Jane smiled. “I’ll keep an eye out for her, Logan.”

  Our first round of beer came and there was still no sign of Miss Carson. Fiona checked her watch several times and said, “It’s ten past seven.”

  “Maybe she was watching the drive-in and saw the sheriff’s car and she’s not coming,” I said.

  “Didn’t see anybody out there,” said Jack, “unless she had a super long-range spotting scope or something.”

  The Spur began filling up with dinner customers like it did every night and we were kept busy watching the door.

  “There she is,” whispered Clay. “Ricki is showing her to a booth near the back.”

  “Great, I’ll go keep her busy until Sheriff Tucker get here.”

  “I’ll call Bonnie Sue and see if she’s on her way,” said Clay.

  I nodded, drained my glass and headed towards the back booth. “Evening, Miss Carson. I thought you got tired of the Broken Spur roadhouse and moved on.”

  “Broken Spur is full of rude and foolish people,” Logan McKenna, “and you are one of them.”

  “I’m sure there are more than just me,” I said with a smile. “Who else decided not to go along with your little business plan scheme?”

  “My management business is not a scheme. Far from it. I can help people realize their potential a lot quicker than they can do it on their own.”

  “Like you helped us by stealing our bull?” I could see Sheriff Tucker and Bonnie Sue crossing the dancefloor.

  “Why would I steal one of your old bulls?”

  “Why would you?” asked Sheriff Tucker, and it was time for my exit. I returned to my own table and left Carson Wagoner in Sheriff Tucker’s hands.

  “Two down,” I said. “Let’s order another round and get some dinner while we wait for the cover of darkness.”

  Fiona smiled. “That sounds like a great idea, Logan. I don’t know when I’ve ever had so much fun.”

  I wish I was having fun.

  10:00 p.m.

  Doyle Hutton Ranch.

  I left my truck at the Spur and we all rode with Clay out to Doyle Huttons’s place a couple miles out of town north on route 114. Clay parked on the county road and turned off his headlights. We could see the outline of Hutton’s ranch house from where we were parked, and it was all in darkness.

  “Good. Looks like he’s sleeping,” I said as we trudged along the road in the pitch dark.

  “He’s only got a few acres,” said Jack. “Two fields behind the barn and not many cattle. Shouldn’t take long to see if Presto is here.”

  The boys climbed the fence to search for Presto while
Fiona and I walked along the road to meet them at the barn.

  Approaching the end of Hutton’s driveway, I could see two dogs chained to dog houses close to the barn. “Those dogs are going to wake Hutton up and we won’t be able to look in the barn,” I said.

  “I’ll take care of the dogs,” said Fiona. “I can keep them quiet while y’all look in the barn.”

  “Presto isn’t in the field,” said Jacky, a little out of breath. “Let’s check the barn.”

  I opened the barn door as quietly as I could watching Fiona petting the dogs and keeping their attention away from us. “Have a quick look, boys.”

  Jacky and Clay jogged through the barn and were back in a couple of minutes. “Yep, Presto is in the big box stall over there.” Clay pointed. “We need to get him a ride home.”

  “How will we get him home?” asked Jacky.

  “Same way he got here,” I said. “We’ll use Hutton’s truck.”

  Fiona left the dogs and joined us at the barn door. “Should you call the sheriff, Logan?”

  “Yeah, we should, I guess. If we don’t, and we take his truck we’ll be thieves and paint ourselves as bad as they are.” We trudged back down the road, sat in Clay’s truck and called Sheriff Tucker.

  After we’d waited for half an hour and were almost ready to give up and take Hutton’s truck, a squad car pulled up beside us. The cruiser stopped in the middle of the road and Bonnie Sue got out.

  Clay hopped out and asked, “Is the sheriff coming?”

  “He’s sleeping and didn’t want to get up,” said Bonnie Sue. “He sent me instead. Y’all found the bull?”

  She sounded tired and her uniform shirt wasn’t tucked in the way it usually was. I thought she looked a little more attractive in her disheveled state, but Clay was the one she wanted, not me. That’s why we let him do the talking.

  “The bull is in Hutton’s barn and we want Doyle Hutton arrested, then we want your okay to use Hutton’s cattle truck to take Presto home. He stole Presto and he should ship him back to us.”

  “Sounds fair,” said Bonnie Sue. “You boys come in the house with me. If Hutton gives me trouble, I’m going to need back up to take him in. I’m alone.”

  “Yep, see that,” said Clay. “Let’s do it.” He jumped into the squad car with Bonnie Sue while she drove the short distance to Hutton’s place. She parked by his front steps.

  THE windows in the truck were down and we heard the entire conversation between Clay and Bonnie Sue. I jumped out with Jack and Fiona and we ran up the road following the slow moving squad car.

  Bonnie Sue parked in front of Hutton’s two-storey brick farmhouse. She and Clay hopped out and she clumped up the porch steps ahead of him and knocked on the door.

  No one answered at first. The dogs barked and growled and jerked on their chains but there wasn’t much else they could do. Nobody came to the door and Bonnie Sue tried again.

  “Police,” she hollered nice and loud. “Need to speak to you, Doyle Hutton.”

  The porch light came on and the door opened a crack. Doyle Hutton peered through the small opening wearing only a pair of torn jeans, his dark hair all messed up and stubble on his face. “I was sleeping. What do want?”

  Bonnie Sue pushed the door open a little wider and said, “You’re under arrest for theft, Mr. Hutton. Hold your hands out in front of you.”

  He pushed the door closed on Bonnie Sue and she stumbled backwards onto the porch.

  Clay slammed his body against the door, and it flew open before Hutton had time to lock it. Clay led the charge into the house with the rest of us right behind him. “Hold on, Hutton,” hollered Clay. “You stole our bull and we’re taking him back.”

  “I had to do it,” said Hutton. “Didn’t want to. I’m not a thief, but I owed somebody a favor.”

  “Who?”

  “None of your business.”

  Bonnie Sue pushed her way in front of us and tried to take charge. “You have to come to the sheriff’s office, Mr. Hutton.” She held up her handcuffs. “You can come peacefully, or I can handcuff you.”

  “I’ll come in the morning and explain to Sheriff Tucker what happened,” he said. “I ain’t going now.”

  “I have to take you now,” said Bonnie Sue. “I have no choice. The sheriff sent me to pick you up and bring you in for questioning.”

  Hutton took a stance and refused to go. “And I said, I’ll come in the morning.”

  Bonnie Sue pulled out her gun out of her holster and pointed it at Doyle Hutton. “Cuff him, Clay.”

  Clay took the cuffs from Bonnie Sue and reached for Doyle Hutton’s right wrist.

  “Get away from him,” said a voice from the kitchen. Harper Gabriel walked into the room pointing a shotgun at Clay and Bonnie Sue.

  I was so surprised to see her, I blinked twice not believing she was there in Hutton’s house. “Harper, you don’t want to do this.”

  “Oh, yes, I do, Logan. All of you get out of this house and leave Doyle alone.”

  “Put the gun down, Harper,” said Bonnie Sue. “You’re threatening an officer. That’s a crime.”

  Harper laughed and moved closer poking Bonnie Sue with the shotgun barrel.

  “Are you part of the kidnapping ring?” I asked Harper.

  “Doyle was forced to pick the bull up,” said Harper. “We had nothing to do with those other people.”

  “And yet, our bull is on Hutton’s property. How do you explain that?” asked Clay.

  “I’m not explaining anything to you, Clay McKenna.” She waved the barrel of the shotgun at him. “Y’all get on out of here. I’m warning you. Move it on out.”

  Trying for reason, I looked Doyle Hutton in the eye and asked, “Can I borrow your truck to take Presto back to our ranch?”

  He nodded. “I don’t want to be in the middle of this. Never did and I’m sorry I had to be caught up in it.”

  “You still need to give a statement to the sheriff’s office,” said Bonnie Sue. “You stole their bull whether somebody forced you to do it or not. Sheriff Tucker has made two arrests already and he’ll want to hear your side of the story.”

  Hutton sounded sincere when he said, “I promise I’ll be at your office at nine in the morning and I’ll tell him all I know about the people involved.”

  “I’m taking her in now.” Bonnie Sue pointed at Harper. “She’s threatening an officer at gunpoint while I’m trying to do my duty.”

  Harper took a step backwards still pointing the gun at Bonnie Sue.

  “Put the gun down, Harper,” said Doyle. “You’re getting us into more trouble.”

  “She’s not arresting me.” Harper’s face was almost as red as her hair.

  With handcuffs in one hand and her gun in the other, Bonnie Sue stood in front of Harper. “Put the gun down. Get down on your knees and put your hands behind your head.”

  Harper laughed. “Make me, if you think you can, you cop wannabee.”

  Bonnie Sue aimed at Harper and said, “Put your weapon down or I’ll shoot.”

  Harper laughed and said. “Never happen.”

  Bonnie Sue pulled the trigger and her gun clicked. She didn’t have one in the chamber.

  Blam.

  Harper fired the shotgun at close range.

  Bonnie Sue fell to the floor and Clay fell on top of her. Both of them bleeding like stuck pigs.

  “No,” I hollered and rushed at Harper. “You shot my brother, you stupid bitch.” I knocked her over backwards before she had time to get ready for another shot. I wrenched the gun out of her hands and slewed it across the floor. “Give me something to tie her up,” I yelled.

  “I’m calling an ambulance,” said Fiona. She called, then tried to help both of the wounded.

  Jacky picked Bonnie Sue’s handcuffs up off the floor and we managed to get a wild, thrashing, screaming Harper’s hands secured behind her back. “Take that shotgun and point it at her, Jacky” I said, “until Sheriff Tucker comes.”

  I knelt
down beside Clay and watched Fiona as she tried to stop the bleeding in his left arm where the pellets had caught him.

  Bonnie Sue was in worse trouble than Clay, blood pouring through her shirt from her chest area. She was limp and not moving.

  Doyle sat with his head in his hands. “I can’t believe this happened in my house. He glanced over at Harper sitting on the floor with Jack watching her and shook his head. “You never know what women are getting you into.”

  The ambulance arrived from Preston and the paramedics gave their attention first to Bonnie Sue, and then to Clay.

  “We’ll be along, Clay,” I said. “Go get fixed up and Jacky and I will be there quick as we can.”

  Clay nodded, his face paler than I’d ever seen him.

  The ambulance was leaving when Sheriff Tucker finally arrived, pissed off that he had to get out of bed for an emergency call.

  “Where’s Bonnie Sue?”

  “In the ambulance,” I said and pointed at Harper. “That woman shot your deputy and my brother.”

  “I guess I’ll need statements from y’all,” said the sheriff.

  The statements took half an hour and Jacky and I were anxious to get to the hospital to see how Clay was doing.

  “Take the bull,” said Doyle Hutton. “I’ll help you load him up before Sheriff Tucker takes me to jail. At least my conscience will be clear on that score.”

  “Make it quick,” said the sheriff. “I want to get to the hospital, and I have to lock this maniac up first.” He tilted his head towards Harper.

  We all tromped to the barn, Doyle backed his truck up to the loading corral. He put the ramp in place and ten minutes later, Presto was in the back of the big truck ready for his ride home.

  “We’ll bring your truck back in the morning, Doyle,” I said.

  Doyle nodded.

  “Jacky, drive Presto home and I’ll go see about Clay. Leave him in the truck until I get back from the hospital. You can’t unload him alone.”

  “No. I’ll go with Jack and help unload the bull,” said Fiona. “You go to the hospital and stay with Clay.”

  “Would you? Thanks.”

  “I’ll come tomorrow to work on the charts, Logan.”