by Bill H Myers
My plan would have worked, except that when I got to the bedroom, the door was locked. Somehow, Abby had gotten there before me, locked the door from the outside and taken her place on the couch.
Like most motorhomes, the bedroom door in mine was made of flimsy hollow core wood. I could have hit it with my shoulder and busted it open. But if I had, it'd be me who'd have to fix it and it would be more trouble than it was worth. I went back up front to ask Abby why the door was locked.
She was still sitting on the couch, wine glass now empty, waiting for me. She pointed to the box of Chardonnay on the counter, held out her glass and said, “Top me off, will you?”
I saw no reason not to. I brought the box over and filled her glass. I took the wine back to the counter and turned to see what else she wanted me to do. It didn't take long to find out.
She patted the space on the couch beside her and said, “Come over here and sit. We need to talk.”
I should have said, “No, I don't need to talk. What I need to do is go to bed.” But, instead, I didn't say anything. I just slouched over to the couch and sat down beside her.
She put her arm around my shoulder and said, “I know it's been a long day. I know you must be tired. But it's not over yet. We need to go next door to Kat's motorhome and take care of something. After that, you can come back here and get some sleep.”
I nodded. At that point, I would have done anything if it ended with me getting sleep.
She finished her wine, set the glass on the side table, and stood. She pointed at my feet and said, “I found a dry pair of shoes in your closet. Put them on, and we'll go.”
She went to the door and waited while I put on the shoes. They were my backup pair. Well broken in and comfortable. As soon as I had them laced up, she said, “Let's go.”
Like a puppy on a leash, I followed.
Kat's motorhome was still parked in the next site over, less than twenty feet away. We covered the distance quickly, being careful to avoid the puddles left by the evening's rain.
When we reached the side door, Abby used her key to unlock it. This was easier than going in through the passenger door like we had done earlier. She went up the steps first, and I followed. Since she hadn't bothered to turn on the inside lights, I reached for the switch, but she stopped me.
“No lights,” she whispered. “We don't want anyone to know we're here.”
She grabbed my hand and led me back to the bedroom. When we reached the door, she let go and went in. I waited outside, expecting her to get whatever she'd come for. But instead of coming back out, she lay down on the bed and patted the space beside her. “Come in and join me. Close the door behind you.”
If I hadn't been so sleepy, I would have done the right thing. I would have headed back to my own bed in my own motorhome. But I was tired and Kat's bed looked as comfortable as my own. It was right there in front of me, so I stepped into the bedroom, closed the door, and lay down beside Abby.
Chapter Thirty-Four
All I wanted to do was sleep. I was finally in a comfortable bed and sleep should have come quickly. But sleep wasn't part of Abby's plans. She wanted to talk.
She said, “Remember when I told you how Devin described you? How she said most of the time you were like Clark Kent, mild mannered and easy going?”
Before I could answer, she continued, “Well, so far, she's been right. You've been a perfect gentleman doing all the right things at the right time. I like that about you.
“But Devin also said that when it came to saving damsels in distress, you could quickly turn into Superman or the Hulk, depending on the situation. She said she saw it herself and it was scary.
“I don't know if she was exaggerating or not, but something's going to happen later tonight, and you might need to turn into Superman, at least for a few minutes.
“I want to see Superman, not the Hulk. And I don't want to see any broken furniture or broken bones. All you'll have to do is give someone a scare. Think you can do that?”
She'd pretty much lost me when she called me a perfect gentleman. I think I dozed off after that. But I was pretty sure I heard her ask if I could do something.
I wasn't sure what it was, but I was pretty sure I could do it. So I said, “Yeah, I can do it. Just wake me whenever you need it done.”
I rolled over and closed my eyes.
Sometime later, it could have been five minutes or five hours, she tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, “Someone's trying to break in. Get ready.”
Still asleep, I mumbled, “Get ready? For what?”
Before she could answer, I heard the outside door open and listened as someone stepped into the motorhome. Abby pushed me out of bed and whispered, “Go see who it is.”
I was still half asleep but coming out of it quickly. I could hear someone shuffling around up front. From the way the motorhome rocked with each step they took, I figured they were pretty big.
I eased the bedroom door open and peeked out, wanting to see who was there and what they were armed with before confronting them. It was dark inside the motorhome and the intruder hadn't yet found the light switch. I couldn't see him, and, hopefully, he couldn't see me.
Thinking the cover of darkness would give me an advantage, I quietly opened the bedroom door and tiptoed over to where I thought the intruder was standing. My plan was to grab him from behind in a bear hug.
It would have worked had Abby not flicked on the lights right before I got to him. When she did, the intruder whirled around, saw me, and, with a practiced motion, brought up her hand and blasted me in the face with what I later learned was twenty percent oleo resin pepper spray.
It had an immediate effect, blinding me and filling my eyes with white-hot pain. I tried to bring my hands up to my face to rub the pain away but was stopped by the intruder, who slapped handcuffs on both of my wrists.
A woman's voice commanded, “Down, on the floor. Now!”
Without resisting, I slumped to my knees, using the heels of my cuffed hands to wipe tears away from my eyes.
Behind me, I heard Abby say, “He's not the one you're looking for.”
The woman, who seemed surprised I wasn't alone, asked, “Who are you?”
Abby responded, “I'm Kat's cousin, and that man on the floor in front of you is Walker. We're both friends of hers. What are you doing breaking into her motorhome?”
The woman kneeled in front of me, tipped my chin up to get a better look at my face and said, “Oh crap. You're not Dylan. Looks like I made a mistake. Sorry about that.”
She moved her hands from my face to the handcuffs around my wrist and fumbled with the key until she was able to get them unlocked.
When my hands were free, I reached up to rub my eyes, but she stopped me. She said, “Don't rub them. It'll only make it worse. You need to flush with water.”
She helped me stand and guided me over to the kitchen sink where she turned on the cold water. She put my right hand where I could feel the running water and said, “Get your head down and let the water wash over your eyes.”
She sounded like someone who'd dealt with this before, so I did what she said. I bent over and put my head in the sink and hoped the water cure would work.
While I was doing this, the woman spoke with Abby.
She said, “I'm Deputy Betsy Moretti with the Garland County Sheriff's Department, and we have a warrant for Dylan Lancaster. We've been looking for him for three months. Your friend Kat said he might show up here.”
Abby asked the same question I would have had my eyes, nose and throat not been burning with pepper spray. “How do you know Kat?”
The deputy took a seat at the kitchen table and Abby sat across from her.
“Three days ago, we got a call about a car stuck in the mud up on Crystal Mountain. I was working the Rainbow camp and I was the closest deputy, so I went to check it out.
“Turns out your friend had gotten her rental stuck. Using the tow rope I carry in my truck, I pulled her out. When I asked
where she was staying, she told me she'd driven up from the Keys in her motorhome. She mentioned she came up with a guy named Dylan. Said he came up to get crystals he could take back to Florida to sell.
“When I asked her to describe the guy, he sounded a lot like the man we'd been looking for. Same unusual name, same height, same hair and eye color. Same cover story about buying crystals in Arkansas and taking them back to Florida.
“When she told me this Dylan guy had walked away from the campground and left his things in her motorhome, I suggested we go look. She was reluctant at first, but when I explained we suspected him of dealing drugs, she agreed.
“I followed her to the motorhome, and she gave me permission to look inside. After making sure no one else was in it, I did a quick search. I found his backpack, and inside it, a plastic bag with about two hundred shady eighties. Oxycontin laced with fentanyl.
“It's very dangerous stuff. Not safe to touch with your bare hands. Doesn't take much to kill you. He had a lot of it, which pretty much confirmed our suspicions that he was a major supplier.
“Problem was, I didn't find the drugs in his possession. He wasn't in the RV, just Kat. And because they were in her motorhome, I could have put them on her. But I didn't think she was involved. She wouldn't have let me search if she had known there were drugs there.
“It was Dylan we wanted. He was the main guy. We didn't care about Kat.
“I called my supervisor and explained what I had found and who I thought the drugs belonged to. He agreed that if we could catch Dylan with the drugs, we could leave Kat out of it.
“But we couldn't let her go until we had Dylan in cuffs. We couldn’t let her stay in the motorhome with the drugs. She had to move out.
“We figured Dylan would come back for his drugs. Probably sooner than later. And we didn't want her around when he showed up. It would complicate things.
“I had been working undercover at the Rainbow camp and had an old converted school bus parked there that I'd been staying in. It had a few extra beds and I told Kat she could either stay there with me or in a cell at the county jail. Her choice.
“She chose the bus. I had her grab a change of clothes and she followed me over to the Rainbow camp. It was only then that she realized she'd left her phone in the motorhome. That turned out to be a good thing. She wouldn't be calling anyone, and no one could call her. Including Dylan.
“After I got her set up in the school bus, I took her motorhome keys and had our tech guys put a silent alarm on the side door. If anyone opened it, I'd get an alert.
“You guys tripped it earlier today, but I had Dylan in sight and knew it wasn't him so I didn't respond. But when you tripped it again tonight, I got the alert and I came as fast as could, expecting to find Dylan.
“Instead, I find Walker here trying to sneak up on me.”
I was still at the sink, trying to flush the pepper spray out of my eyes. With my head under the faucet, the water had found a path down my neck and onto my T-shirt and pants. For the second time that night, I was wet and miserable.
When I could take no more, I stood up, leaned back and tried to clear my throat. The deputy came over and handed me a box of tissues from the kitchen table. She said, “Blow your nose. It'll help.”
I grabbed a tissue and started blowing. Nine sheets later, the river of mucus had finally played out. My entire face hurt, eyes, nose, and mouth, but at least I could finally breathe without coughing.
Turning away from the sink, I opened my eyes to see what the deputy looked like. It took me a minute to focus, but when I did, I saw a tall, big-boned, red-headed woman wearing faded blue overalls. She looked like she'd just stepped off the stage of Hee Haw. Not at all what I expected a deputy to look like.
The red hair and overalls reminded me of the woman Haley had told us about earlier. I grabbed a towel from the kitchen counter and wiped the tears from my face. I cleared my throat and said, “You were up on Crystal Mountain today. Kat wasn't with you. Where is she now?”
Chapter Thirty-Five
The deputy didn't answer my question. Instead, she smiled and said, “I'm real sorry about the pepper spray and the cuffs. But you should know better than to sneak up on a woman from behind in the dark. I wouldn't recommend you do it again.”
Before I could respond, she asked, “How did you and your lady friend get in here? You have a key?”
I nodded and pointed at Abby. My throat still hurt, and I wasn't up for talking. I let Abby answer the question.
She hesitated, then said, “Kat's father bought the motorhome and gave it to her as a gift. He had a spare key made and kept it in case she got locked out. When he called and said she was missing, he gave me the key and said, ‘Go look for her.’
“I convinced Walker to come with me, and we've been on the road ever since. We got up here earlier today and used the key to get in. Kat wasn't here, so we went looking for her. Met a woman up on Crystal Mountain who told us she saw you there, but not Kat. So, where is she?”
Abby had answered the deputy's question. But, like me, she wanted to know where Kat was.
The deputy smiled. “She's safe. Over near Mount Ida. I took her there to stay after I saw Dylan at the Rainbow camp. He was going around asking if anyone had seen Kat, said he needed to talk to her.
“He had a photo of her on his phone, and after he started showing it around, I figured it wouldn't be safe for her to stay there. Sooner or later someone would recognize her and he'd know she was there. So I took her to Sweet Surrender for safety.”
Abby crossed her arms like she didn't believe the deputy. “Kat is there now? At Sweet Surrender? If we go over there, we'll find her?”
The deputy nodded. “Yeah, she's over there. If you go over there, you'll see her. But if you go over there now and drive through the gate before sun up, you're liable to be met by someone with a shotgun. They don't like strangers coming in after dark.
“It'd be best if you waited until morning before you made the trip.”
She quickly changed the subject. “Where y'all staying?”
Abby motioned over her shoulder. “Next door. In the motorhome.”
The deputy smiled. “That's real convenient. Why don't you two go over there and wait for me while I lock this one up? It won't take long.”
Abby didn't argue. She got up and helped me to the door. Then she guided me down the steps and back over to my motorhome. She opened the door, and got me inside.
She led me to the couch and we sat, side by side. She took my hand and asked, “Do you believe her?”
My eyes had been closed most of the time the deputy had been talking. I hadn't been able to see her face or watch her body language as she spoke. I could only hear her voice and didn't catch much of what she’d said. Having my head down in the sink with cold water running into my ears wasn't the best way to listen in on a conversation.
Still, the parts I had heard sounded believable. But I wasn't totally sure, so I said, “I don't know. How about you? Do you believe her?”
Abby had been face-to-face with the deputy and had heard everything she had said. She'd been able to look into her eyes and see her facial expressions as she spoke. She would be in a much better position to tell whether the deputy's story was true or not. Plus, she had the 'gift'. Maybe it worked as truth-o-meter.
But apparently, it didn't, because Abby said, “I get the feeling she's telling the truth, at least some of it, but I'm not sure which parts. We need to find out…”
Our conversation was interrupted by a light tap on the door. The deputy was joining us.
Abby let her in, and the first thing the deputy asked was, “Is there anyone else in here?”
Abby shook her head. “No, just us and the cat.”
“A cat, huh? Mind if I check?”
I didn't mind, but before I could answer, Abby said, “I want to see an ID. Something that proves you are who you say you are. It's not that I don't trust you, it's just that those overalls are not part
of any official police uniform I've seen.”
The woman laughed. “This is my hippie look. It lets me fit in over at the Rainbow camp.”
She held up the palms of her hands to show she had nothing in them and said, “I've got my badge in my back pocket. I'm going to reach around and pull it out.”
With her right hand, she reached behind her and pulled out a small, black wallet. She flipped it open to show an ID with the Garland County Sheriff's Office. Her photo was on the card and below it, her name, rank and the signature of the local sheriff. The card was embossed and looked official.
Abby looked at it, showed it to me and said, “Looks real.”
The deputy said, “Yeah, because it is real.”
She put it back in her pocket, looked around the motorhome and said, “We need to get you two out of here. Don't want you hanging around messing things up. The best thing you can do is find some other place to camp, maybe near the mine where Kat's staying.
“They don't have a campground there, but there's one nearby at the Highway 27 Fish Village.”
The deputy pointed outside. “I'm guessing the green Jeep parked out there is yours. You could drive it to the mine and leave your motorhome at the Fish camp.
“Right now, you need to leave here. I don't want you around if Dylan shows up. You don't have to drive all the way to the Fish Village; you just need to leave here, now.
“You could go the Walmart parking lot just south of Hot Springs Village. They allow overnight RV parking, and it's just a few miles from here. You could go there, stay till morning, then head over to the Fish Village campground.”
The deputy looked at me. “Your eyes cleared up enough that you can drive this thing?”
They still stung a bit, but they'd stopped tearing up and pretty much everything was in focus, so I said, “Yeah, I can drive.”
“Good. How soon can you leave?”
I looked around the motorhome and all I needed to do was bring the slide room in and unhook from shore power. It wouldn't take long.
“Ten minutes.”
“Good. I'll stay until you're ready.”
