by Paula Boyd
“Well, you don’t have to be so hateful about it. Just look at you, you’ve gotten yourself worked up into such a state, why you’re acting like you did back in high school when you got so jealous over that Rhonda girl.” She shook her head and tsk-tsked. “Like I said, I’m sure there’s a very good explanation for why Sarah was in the truck with Jerry Don.”
I was quite sure there wasn’t. But my concern was far different than she implied.
There’s no point pretending that some fearful thoughts hadn’t shot through my brain. My daughter was beautiful, intelligent, charming and young, and I had plenty of experience with men who couldn’t be trusted around such things, my ex-husband’s adulterous cavorting with a twenty-something twit being a fine and appropriate example. It had shaken my self confidence for a while, but eventually I realized that Danny, like water, had simply been seeking his own level. I’d sworn I’d never get myself entangled with another immature, self-absorbed, emotionally unavailable man. But, clearly having not learned my lesson, I immediately did. It was a brutal ride; an emotional roller coaster with highs like I could have never imagined and lows that nearly buried me. The man pushed every fear button I had then slammed me for feeling insecure about it. Yes, I needed professional help for a couple of months, but I managed to re-grow a spine and got out of the relationship. I avoided dating for a long time after that, fumbled through a few dates here and there, and pretty much decided to give up on the whole idea of having a mate. Then, of course, my mother became insane, and one thing led to another and I found myself re-smitten with Jerry Don Parker. Now the question became, did I really trust him.
During my indulgent trip down memory lane, Lucille had been babbling nonstop. Luckily, I’ve mastered the technique of half-listening to her, which worked out pretty well since less than half of what she says has a point to it and the rest is lies, I don’t really miss much.
Her tale about Sarah coming down from Boulder with some of her ecology class friends for a “field trip” was fairly believable—unless you knew that Lucille had instigated the whole thing and that there was no actual ecology class, at least not one I’d paid for. The fact that she was in town “under cover” was right up there with plausible since being Lucille’s granddaughter—or my daughter—she was guaranteed guilt by association if she played that straight. So, yes, being an out-of-state enviro-nut gave her a clean slate—sort of. Why that was important was anything but clear, however. And exactly none of it explained one damn thing about why she was leaving a crime scene with the sheriff.
Realizing my hands had gone numb from gripping the steering wheel so tightly, I stretched out my fingers to relieve any sliver of tension I could. It didn’t help that much. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Why is Sarah here and where is she?” She didn’t answer or try to change the subject so I picked up my phone. “Fine. I probably should call Jerry anyway and let him know—”
“No!” Lucille shrieked.
I put the phone back down. “That’s right. It would be a little awkward, now wouldn’t it?”
Lucille squirmed in her seat. “Yes, well, it might be best if we didn’t alert him to Sarah’s true identity just yet.”
“And why might that be?” I asked, knowing full well she wouldn’t answer. “You of all people should know this is not some spy movie, this is reality; people get shot.” My arm started twitching its own reminder. “Dammit, that’s my daughter you’re using to play your games. You might not care that you’ve put her in danger, but I sure do.” Yes, I said it on purpose. I wanted her to feel bad and guilty. “Now you tell me what’s going on.”
“How dare you! I would never put my granddaughter in danger, and I can’t believe you’d suggest such a thing. Sarah’s just fine.” She tipped her nose up even higher. “Besides, she’s a grown woman and she doesn’t need you checking up on her.”
“Oh, really?” I picked up the phone again. “You are unbelievable.”
“All right, Jolene,” she said, grumbling. “I suppose if you’re going to be pushy about it, we might run by the motel and see if she’s there. I don’t expect she is, but we could go there if you just have to go checking up on her like she’s a three-year-old.”
Trying to stir up an argument to distract me wasn’t going to work this time. “So, where is this motel we might just run by?”
She huffed and pouted. “It’s out off the expressway.”
That cleared up nothing. Several US highways converge in Redwater Falls, and besides that, I am not up on the local jargon of what “the expressway” actually means. “How about you tell me which highway and the name of the motel; those seem like things that would be real helpful about now.””
“You don’t have to be so snippy.”
I turned and glared, not even blinking. “It is beyond my comprehension that you have the nerve to sit there and say these things to me after what all you’ve done, it really is.”
She clamped her lips shut, wiggled her jaw around for a few seconds then finally said, “It’s the New Falls Motel out near the falls. You can take the Seymour Highway into town. You know how to do that, don’t you?”
No, I really didn’t. As ridiculous as it may sound, I can navigate Denver with my eyes closed, but I still get lost in Redwater Falls, Texas. In my defense, there’s little rhyme or reason to the layout of the town that I’ve ever identified. Of course, it is also possible that I might have a mental block or ten about the place. “You just tell me where to turn and maybe I’ll let you live.”
“Now there is just no call to talk to me like that.”
I turned toward her very slowly and stared into her lying eyes.
“Well, all right, for goodness sakes, you don’t have to give me the evil eye. Just make a U turn and head back to the highway. Take a right when you get there and go all the way into town until you get to the new highway.”
I took a deep breath and let it out very slowly then put the car in gear and swung around as directed. Once we were on the main road to town, I felt myself calm down just a little. After a few more miles I felt in enough control to ask some additional pertinent questions. “Here is the way this is going to go. I am going to ask a simple question and you are going to give me a simple answer. Yes?”
She nodded, but the muscle in her jaw pulsed with tension.
“When did Sarah get here?”
“Sunday.”
“Hmmm.” That was interesting. Jerry had called on Monday because he’d arrested Lucille for shooting the county maintenance truck. There had been people outside his window with picket signs about stopping the park and saving the lizards. A coincidence or a one-two punch for attracting attention? “Lucky for you the county was mowing the grass that morning.”
She pinched her lips together, her nostrils flaring at the restraint it was taking not to speak.
“It was clever, I’ll give you that,” I said, throwing out a little bait. “You and the other two Musketeers had yourselves a private event out on Turkey Ranch Road Monday morning and made sure you got arrested so you could be martyrs for the rally at the courthouse that afternoon. Pretty creative. Have anything to say about that?”
Lucille crossed her arms again, huffed and puffed and turned her face toward the window. “I didn’t hear a question.”
Ah, technicalities. “Okay, just out of curiosity, what were you going to do if there hadn’t been a truck to shoot?”
She snapped her head around, eyed me for a few seconds, and then unclamped her lips. “Well, Miz Smarty Pants, if you must know, having the county out there mowing the grass was just fate. It wouldn’t have mattered one whit if there hadn’t been a truck there. We were going to paint our car windows with ‘Save Our Homes’ and ‘Stop the Park’ and such in real big red letters. They make red shoe polish now, you know, not just white and black, although we did plan to outline in white too so the letters would show up real good. We were going to park our cars in a line across the highway so someone would call the cops, and
then, of course, the news people would show up and take pictures of our cars with the writing on the windows. It was a good plan. It was just easier to shoot the truck.”
“Well, of course, anyone could see that.”
She nodded in agreement then eyed me. “I don’t care what you think, it worked out fine.”
Indeed it had. She’d accomplished her goal of getting arrested without all of the effort of window painting. With the SPASI trio hauled off to jail there was a good—and media friendly—reason to rally at the courthouse. But wasn’t that a bit extreme, even for my mother? How much of this had the AAC people orchestrated? Was it a combined effort? “Where was Sarah when you were blowing holes in a radiator?”
“She wasn’t with us, if that’s what you’re asking. I didn’t want her getting arrested. That wouldn’t have helped anything. She did come to the jail later though to comfort me.”
That wasn’t what I was asking since I already knew there were only the three senior citizens arrested. “Fine, don’t answer the question. Sarah will tell me.”
A flash of panic swept across her face and she began to fidget in the seat. “Now, there’s no need in upsetting Sarah with any of this.”
Noticing semi-familiar territory, I figured I needed a little guidance from my reluctant navigator. “Don’t I need to turn left at the next light?”
“Well, I suppose you can if you want to.”
“Yes or no?”
“Yes,” she grumbled.
I moved into the far left lane of the one-way street, made the turn and then merged onto the expressway. “You can string this out for a little while more if you want to, but I’ll be getting some straight answers very soon from Jerry and Sarah, and then we’ll just see how this all works out for you.”
I would like to say that my vague threats had her shaking in her seat ready to confess everything. I can’t, but I’d like to. In fact, I wondered if she’d even heard me since she had twisted herself halfway around in the seat to stare out the passenger side window. Apparently the view of the Hilton Hotel building was captivating. “You want me to pull in?”
She snapped back around. “I know what the place looks like and so do you. Besides, it’s easier if you go on up to the second exit and come back on the service road on the other side,” she volunteered, suddenly becoming helpful and chatty. “The third exit up is the one that takes you to the falls, but you know that. I suppose you know that they have the pumps all working now. They’ve added more bushes and flowers and such up around the falls and the walkways too. Oh, and more lights. The lights show it all up so nice at night, but it’s still real pretty in the daytime. After all that unfortunate business there last time, it would be good for you to go see it looking nice and serene now that it’s all fixed up.”
By fixed up she meant that the fire truck hoses were no longer needed to make the falls and that there were hopefully no more bodies I sighed and turned at the appropriate light, made my way west over the interstate and began looking for the motel. This area of town is a virtual forest of motels, gas and restaurant signs, and, quite frankly, it just feels creepy. I drove past four big chain hotels and/or motels, two gas stations and a Waffle House. Desperation would be the only thing that would entice me to stop at any of them. Seeing the sign for the New Falls Motel, and then glimpsing the building itself, I was pretty sure that even desperation wouldn’t lure me in.
The closer we got, the more I started wondering exactly what I was going to say to and do with my newly-delinquent daughter. This was new territory for me. Even in her teen years, Sarah had never caused me any trouble to speak of. She just wasn’t like that. Or hadn’t been. Now that Lucille was involved, there was no telling what I was dealing with. “If this little adventure of yours causes her problems at school, you’re going to be the one paying for her to retake the classes she blew because she was down here getting into trouble with you.”
“She’s not in trouble, Jolene,” Lucille said, straightening herself up in the seat. “Besides, it’s spring break.”
“Last month.”
“Well, you may be right, we talked about several options.” Lucille laced her fingers together and worked her palms from side to side. “It’s still not a problem though because there’s the extra credit for community service that she’ll get for working on this for the community and the horny toads and such.”
“Oh, for godsake, she’s not in junior high. Besides, the girl makes straight A’s. At least she did until she went AWOL and missed classes this week.”
“I told you, it’s all taken care of,” Lucille hissed. “Besides, Sarah’s not a girl anymore and she can decide what she can manage and still get her grades.”
“Why, you’re absolutely right, and I’m sure you’ll feel exactly the same way when you’re the one paying her tuition.”
Lucille scowled. “She’s a very capable young woman and you’re making a big deal over nothing. I’m telling you, there’s no problem at school. And besides, she leaves tomorrow anyway.”
“Well that’s not soon enough,” I snapped, wondering about that revelation and how it had factored in to their whole plan, whatever that might have been. “What time?”
“You can’t change her ticket, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s one of those online bid tickets and it can’t be changed. I ordered it from Agnes’ computer. We got her an ‘e-ticket.’ Just the niftiest thing. Really no ticket at all and we had the best time bidding for it. One hundred and forty-nine dollars round trip. Isn’t that something? Got her a shuttle ride too so she could just hop off the plane and be up here from Dallas in no time.”
Of all the thoughts racing through my brain at the moment, the one that thundered the loudest was that my mother—who I didn’t think knew a computer from a toaster—had gotten a better deal online than I had. And she’d arranged a shuttle and hotel room and who knew what else. This from a woman who says she doesn’t know how to put gas in her own car. It was truly mind-boggling. So much so that we were in front of the motel before I realized it.
The first thing that alerted me to our arrival was the sparkling waterfall on the sign. The second was the flashing blue and red lights from the police cruisers in the parking lot. My heart lodged firmly in my throat. I wanted to believe that whatever was going on had nothing to do with Sarah, but I knew better.
The fact that Lucille was clutching the dash and pressing her nose against the windshield was a pretty good confirmation as well. Still, a shred of logic managed to keep pure panic at bay. Sarah had been with Jerry a half hour ago, and it was unlikely that he would have dropped her off, and then seconds later a herd of cops showed up. Possible, but not likely. I whipped into the lot and pulled up to the closest police cruiser. An officer was at my window before I had fully stopped.
“The parking lot is closed, ma’am.”
“Sheriff Parker of Bowman County is a friend of mine,” I said, hearing a hint of panic in my own voice. “He was supposed to be heading this way with my daughter, who has a room here. Did they get here? Do you know where they went? I need to know that she’s okay.”
“This is Redwater Falls jurisdiction, ma’am. Sheriff Parker wouldn’t be here. You’ll need to move along,” he said, acknowledging the first dozen words I’d said and ignoring the rest.
Beside me, Lucille pointed, her finger shaking, the acrylic nail clattering against the windshield. “Oh, my Lord, that’s the room! They’re going in there!”
The officer leaned closer to the window and narrowed his eyes. “What did you say?”
Lucille snapped around, pointing and gasping. “I rented that room! That’s room one twelve. That’s where the trouble is, isn’t it? I see the door open. Oh, my Lord. You tell me what’s going on, right now!”
The officer paused for a second, looked us over again, scowling, and then straightened to stand beside the car. “Stay put,” he said gruffly, punching the radio clipped to his collar. He turned away as he spoke, but I heard enough sni
ppets to figure out that he was asking what he should do.
I was wondering the same thing. There were no happy reasons that the police department had six cruisers in the parking lot of the motel with the door to my daughter’s room open. “Mother, call Jerry. Now.”
When the officer turned back, I leaned out the window and said, “My daughter was with Sheriff Parker and they should have been here about fifteen or twenty minutes ago, maybe less. My mother’s trying to call him right now, but I need to know that my daughter is all right. Please.”
The officer glanced at his watch. “We’ve been on this call about forty minutes and the parking lot’s been closed.” He took out a pad and pen. “What does your daughter look like?”
“She’s about five-eight, medium brown hair—”
“She looks just like Jolene there,” Lucille said, interrupting and pointing to me. “Only younger. And taller. Have you seen her? Was she here?” She didn’t give the officer time to answer, just kept babbling. “Jerry’s not answering his phone and we need to talk to somebody about this. What about that nice young detective friend of yours?” she said to me then directed her commentary back to the officer. “He’s a real cute blond-headed boy. Richard, wasn’t it?”
“Rick. Detective Rick Rankin,” I said.
“Has he been here?” Lucille asked, panic beginning to seep into her voice as well. “Can we talk to him? We really need to talk to him. Richard will know what to do about all this. Do you know how to get in touch with him?”
Asking for Rick apparently caught the officer off guard because he glared at me for several long seconds then leaned around and looked at Lucille the same way. Then, his narrow annoyed eyes widened in awe, but not admiration. Surprise would be a nice description. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, quite unprofessionally. He recovered enough to tip his hat to Mother, “Miz Jackson.” And then to me, with a highly in appropriate snicker, “Just get in from Colorado?”
