Lacy and Bud Cranfield were racing up the porch steps when Dale parked her Cavalier behind the cruiser. She and Stan reached the porch just as Tim Dollar opened the door and they went inside as if invited.
"Start from the beginning,” Lacy demanded of the weeping man.
"Like I told you on the phone,” Tim said, “Sandy called me this morning around ten—maybe ten-thirty. She said she was at a motel in Charlotte—that she'd made a mistake and she was sorry. She asked me to come get her. Lacy,” Tim said as tears continued to gush from his eyes, “I was so happy I didn't even think about contacting you. I jumped in my Mustang immediately."
"Was Tim Junior with you?” Lacy asked as they all found seats in the Dollars’ den.
"No. I didn't want to upset Junior unless absolutely necessary. I left him with friends last night."
"Go on, Mr. Dollar,” Detective Cranfield said.
"She wasn't there. I asked at the desk. There was no record of a Smith or Dollar checking in yesterday. I searched everywhere. Finally, I came home."
"That's when you discovered her clothes were gone?"
Tim nodded. “The front door was unlocked. I always lock it, but Sandy usually leaves it open. I thought that somehow she found a ride home. I went through the house, calling her name, but there was no answer. When I came to the bedroom I saw she'd grabbed her clothes and left."
"Did she take everything?” Lacy asked.
Tim shook his head. “It looks like she ripped everything out of the closet and dumped all her drawers and then took what she wanted."
"Did she take her makeup?” Dale asked.
Tim seemed to notice her for the first time. “Sandy doesn't use makeup. With her dark complexion, she doesn't need it. Where the hell is Borders?"
"Right here,” Borders said, entering the room. “I let myself in."
"You've got to find her, Borders. Hell, I deserve one chance to talk some sense into her head."
"Tim,” Borders said, rubbing his chin. “Were you and Mrs. Dollar having any, uh, marital problems?"
"We love each other, Borders. At least, I thought we did."
"That's not what I asked."
"We, uh, lost one baby, Borders. Nobody knows that except Dr. McGee. When Sandy became pregnant this time, she was determined to do everything possible to bring it to full term. She, uh, slept in the guest bedroom. Like a damn fool, I found a sexual substitute. Hell, Borders, it didn't mean anything."
"Sandy found out?"
Tim nodded.
"Looks like she found a way to get even."
"No!"
All eyes turned towards Dale.
"If she wouldn't have intercourse with her husband in order to protect the fetus, she wouldn't have sex with anyone."
"I think Dale's right,” Lacy said.
"Mr. Dollar, someone said your wife is a writer,” Dale said.
"A novelist. She has six books in print and has sold the screen rights to two of them."
"She makes a lot of money from these books?"
A thin smile crossed his lips. “Not from the first two. We went into the publishing business ourselves in order to get them in print, but the third effort hit all the best seller lists and her books have been popular ever since."
"Was she working on anything currently?"
He nodded. “The final draft of her latest romance."
"Did she take it with her?"
"I don't know,” he said, getting to his feet.
They walked, single file, down the hallway to Sandra's study. Tim again burst into tears. “Her laptop and backup disks are gone."
Tracy hugged him. “Tim, I'm so sorry. The circumstances are strange, but I'm afraid you must accept the inevitable. Somehow Jerry Smith and Sandy fell in love and decided to start a new life together. My guess is that you will soon be hearing from a divorce lawyer."
"Aren't you forgetting Chris Norway?” Bud Cranfield cautioned.
"What about Chris?” Tim asked.
"She's missing also,” Lacy said, releasing her embrace.
"And she is somehow connected to this Smith character?"
Tracy nodded. Tim sank onto a red padded chair at Sandy's worktable. “Chris and Sandy are close friends."
Bud cleared his throat. “Every law enforcement officer in four states is on the lookout for Smith's blue van, Mr. Dollar. We'll find them, but, if Mrs. Dollar is with Smith voluntarily, there's nothing we can do."
"She did not go with Smith or anyone else voluntarily,” Tim said defiantly.
"How can you be so sure?” Lacy asked.
"She would never leave without Tim Junior,” Borders answered for Tim.
Chapter Six
Dale lay on her side, enjoying the warmth of Stan's chest pressed against her back and his hand resting lightly across her belly button. She wished he'd cup her breasts. She waited, listening for the sound of even breathing that would assure her he was asleep.
He rolled over. She felt naked without his body pressed against hers. She snickered. She was naked. Slowly she moved to the edge of the mattress, sat up and smiled gently. I'm sorry I lied to you, Stud, she thought. That one message on my laptop when we came back to my room tonight wasn't more of the same. Sucker finally responded.
She eased off the bed and checked to make sure he was still sleeping. Silently she walked to the little desk and suppressed a verbal reaction when her naked bottom touched the plastic seat of the chair, made frigid by the room air-conditioner.
She turned the laptop to one side, so the light of the screen would not wake Stan, snapped it on and waited for it to go through the boot process. She read the message once more.
Dale,
I sympathize with you but I'm scared to death. I want to help but if my husband ever found out about my indiscretion, he would never forgive me. If you promise never to reveal my identity, I will tell you where Smith is but I won't testify in court. I can't risk having this message traced. As soon as I have sent it, I will cancel my Yahoo email account. There is a picnic area across from the swimming pool at the Dollar's Playground. Meet me there at 3:00 AM. Come alone. I will be watching you. If you have anyone with you, or anyone is following you, you'll never see or hear from me again.
Sucker
Dale scooped up her clothes, dressed in the bathroom, stuck her pistol in the waistband of her jeans and slipped out the door. She held her breath as she cranked the Cavalier, hoping the sound would not awaken Stan. She turned on the headlights only after easing around the motel.
Sucker is married, so that rules out Chris Norway, Dale thought. Who the hell is she and why didn't she just tell me where to find Smith in her email? Dale's pulse quickened as she approached Dot's only traffic light and cursed under her breath when the red signal forced her to stop. She glanced from side to side, hoping that the night patrolman would not see her. The Korner Kafe to her left and the two service stations on the opposite corners were dark but the Bi-Lo to her right, although closed, was brilliantly illuminated.
The light changed and she hurried through the intersection. With the glow from Bi-Lo disappearing in her rearview mirror, she increased her speed. The barrel of the pistol jabbed into her and she shifted its position.
The Dollars’ Playground looked like a ghost town with most of the bright lights turned off. She felt a measure of safety in the fact that the parking lot lamps were still on, but wished there were more of them in the lot as she drove to the far end of the asphalt pavement and parked close to the picnic area.
Dale shut off the engine but left the headlights on. She emerged from the Cavalier slowly, leaving the door open, and moved in front of the car. Somewhere, Sucker was watching. It was important that Sucker saw that she was alone. She walked back to the driver's side of the vehicle, shut off the lights, closed the door and faced the picnic area. There were four pavilions. She walked towards the closest one and wished it were lighted like the parking area.
With eyes darting, she stepped onto the concrete floor of the pavilio
n and, using a stage whisper, said, “Sucker, it's me—Dale Ryder. Sucker, where are you?"
There was no response. She touched the butt of her pistol and inched towards the large rock fireplace. “Sucker, I'm here.” There still was no response. She saw another pavilion, deeper in the woods and, as she squinted at it, a small white light flashed.
She forced her feet to carry her reluctant body to the secluded structure. Keeping her right hand on the butt of the pistol, she stepped onto the concrete floor.
"This is ridiculous, Sucker. I'm not going any further. I know you're here. Tell me where I can find Jerry Smith."
Almost simultaneously, she heard a sound like an air rifle being fired and felt a sharp stinging pain in her left buttock. She screamed, staggered, yanked something from her buttock and stared at the strange looking projectile. She felt dizzy and weak. Someone was approaching from behind. She tugged the pistol from her jeans and turned towards the sound. Her knees buckled and she crumpled to the concrete floor as the pistol clattered harmlessly away.
Someone leaned over her. A hand squeezed her breast. The projectile was pried from her left hand. Her body went limp.
* * * *
Stan grimaced as sunlight, streaming through the motel window, bathed his face. He smiled as consciousness returned and stretched out his hand, finding the bed beside him empty.
He sat up. “Dale?” He moved to the edge of the mattress and pulled on his socks. “For a woman who claims she wants to get laid, you have a tendency to disappear just when the time is right."
He rapped lightly on the bathroom door. “Dale? You in there?” Hearing no response, he entered and relieved himself. He washed his hands, returned to the room and opened the door. The Cavalier was gone.
He frowned, went to his side of the bed, retrieved his watch and chuckled. “Eight o'clock,” he said aloud. “Probably was hungry and grew tired of waiting for me to wake up."
He dressed quickly. Since her car is not here, he reasoned, she must have gone to the Korner Kafe again. He patted the pocket of his jeans and shook his head. “Car keys are in my room,” he mumbled. As he reached for the doorknob, he glanced at Dale's bedside table. He paused. Something wasn't right. He distinctly remembered Dale putting her pistol beside her when they went to bed.
Probably put it back into her suitcase, he thought. He drove to the Korner Kafe, but she was not there. He hurried back to Dad's Place. Her car was not in the parking lot. A knot had been forming in his throat all morning and now he felt as if he were about to choke.
He hurried back to Dale's room, searched her suitcases, the drawers and even under the mattress. He hurriedly thumbed pages in the directory, looking for the Police Department telephone number, gave up and dialed 911.
"This is Stan Steamer. I'm at Dad's Place motel. I need to speak with Chief Lacy Cranfield immediately."
"Is this an emergency?"
"Yes! Yes it is!” He paced the floor as far as the telephone cord would allow.
"Cranfield here."
"Chief Cranfield, this is Stan Steamer. Dale's missing."
"Calm down, Stan. Why do you think she's missing?"
The words spilled from his mouth.
"Do you think...” Lacy paused.
"Think what?"
"Do you think she finally heard from Sucker and has gone to meet her?"
"No. Well, maybe."
"Make up your mind."
"There was only one message on the computer when we came in last night and Dale said it was another false alarm. I slept late this morning. There could have been something when she got up, but surely Dale wouldn't have gone off without me and notifying you."
"Check the machine."
"What?"
"Check the computer for a message from Sucker."
"Chief, I don't know anything about computers."
"I'll be right there."
Stan hurried to the restaurant, bought a cup of coffee and hustled back to Dale's room just as Cranfield pulled up in her patrol car. “Thanks for coming so fast,” he said as he held the door for the policewoman.
Lacy strode to the computer and lifted the top. The screen glowed and Sucker's message was displayed. “You don't have to turn a laptop off,” she explained. “They go to sleep when you close the lid."
They both read the message and Cranfield touched a button on the portable radio strapped to her shirt. “This is Cranfield. I want a team to meet me at the picnic area of the Dollars’ Playground immediately. Notify Bud and Borders."
"10/4."
"Want to ride with me?” Lacy asked as she hurried out the door.
"I'll follow,” he said, racing for his Ford. He couldn't keep up with the speeding patrol car. Lacy was already in the first pavilion when he parked beside her car. As he opened the door, three more units screamed into the parking lot.
"Her car's not here,” Lacy observed as he joined in searching for any sign of Dale. “You don't think she discovered where Smith is hiding and went after him alone, do you?"
"She's a headstrong little rich bitch,” Stan replied, the tone of voice betraying the smile on his lips.
They searched the pavilion as Cranfield's officers scoured the other shelters. Lacy's radio crackled. “Chief, I may have something—pavilion five."
Stan jogged behind Cranfield and tears flooded his eyes when he saw the young officer, holding a 9mm pistol with a pencil inserted in its trigger guard.
"It was under that table,” the officer explained, pointing.
"You recognize it?” Lacy asked.
Stan crumpled onto a picnic bench as he nodded. “It's Dale's."
"What's going on?” Bud Cranfield asked as he entered the covered shelter. Lacy filled him in.
Bud pursed his lips. “Who the hell is this Sucker woman?"
"Both Dale and Stan think it's Chris Norway."
"No,” Stan said. “Not any longer. Sucker is J. Smith and he's abducted Dale now. Our only hope is to find his van."
Detective Cranfield removed his wide-brimmed hat, sat next to Stan and addressed his wife. “Just as I was leaving the office, a report came in from the Raleigh PD. They found a van matching our description."
"Any prints?” she asked.
"They're working on it."
"We can't be certain the van belongs to Smith since we don't know the tag number."
"It doesn't matter. There was no tag on the van they found."
"Oh, God,” Stan wailed. “Now we don't even know what the maniac is driving."
"Something doesn't add up,” Lacy said.
"Nothing in this whole damn affair adds up, Lacy,” Bud Cranfield agreed.
"If Dale was abducted, where's her car?” She looked at Stan. “You know her tag number?"
He shook his head. “It's a new North Carolina license. She just bought the car. The dealer should know the number."
"Quicker to check the DMV by computer,” Bud suggested.
"Yeah,” Lacy said sarcastically, “if they've updated their database."
With tears streaming from his eyes, Stan mumbled, “Pecans."
"What?"
He looked up. “Dale owns a pecan orchard somewhere in Georgia. I was going to ask her to marry me and let me run the pecan business for her."
Bud placed his meaty hand on Stan's shoulder. “Don't give up, son. We'll find her."
"Yeah,” he said. “How many red Cavaliers do you think Chevrolet sold this year? You planning on finding and searching all of them?"
"Nope. Just the one with Dale's license tag."
Stan stood, wiped away the tears with the handkerchief Bud offered and fixed his gaze on Lacy. “Chief Cranfield, do you know someone who can teach me to use a computer in a hurry?"
"Tim Dollar is a computer nut. He could probably use some company."
* * * *
Although it was after ten o'clock at night and he hadn't eaten all day, food would have to wait. Stan sat before Dale's computer. He reviewed his notes and connected
to the Internet. He clicked on “bookmarks” and grinned at the resulting list.
"You were right, Tim. Dale did bookmark all the bulletin boards and chat rooms she used."
On each URL, Stan posted the same message. “Watch your back, Sucker, Jerry Smith or whoever you are. I'm coming after you and I will find you. You'll beg me to turn you over to the police, but I won't do that. I'm going to string you up by your balls and listen to you scream.” He signed the messages, “Stud."
Chapter Seven
Lacy Cranfield slowly hung up the telephone while studying her notes. She gazed at the ceiling for a moment, turned to the computer on her credenza, brought up the North Carolina Information Network and typed in a series of passwords. When the program recognized her clearance, she studied the menu and clicked on Bureau of Vital Statistics. In the search engine she typed “Jerry Smith” and shook her head when the screen filled with hundreds of matches. She narrowed the search by asking for entries for the past three months.
She sighed and began the long process of clicking on the resulting forty-six entries. “Oh, God!” she exclaimed when entry number twenty-seven filled her screen. She read the details three times before printing out the page.
She dialed her husband's pager and punched in her own unlisted phone number. She called Stan Steamer but there was no answer. Her last call rousted Borders out of bed.
Returning to the computer, Lacy brought up her personal record of the Smith case, reread it to make sure it was up-to-date and printed it out. She picked up her notepad, moved to the fax machine and sent her report to FBI Agent, Teresa Towers.
She grabbed the telephone on the first ring.
"You need me?"
"Yeah, Bud. Where are you? I can hardly hear you."
Bud Cranfield chuckled. “I'm at the pistol range. What's up?"
"There's been a baffling twist in the Smith/Ryder case. Instead of telling it three times, I was hoping I could get you, Borders and Steamer together this morning. Borders is on his way, but I can't find Stan."
"Stan is with me, Lacy. He came to the office this morning, applied for a permit to carry a concealed weapon, spotted me and asked to go to the pistol range to practice. He said he hadn't fired a handgun since his days in the Navy. The man bothers me, Lacy."
Sintown Chronicles III: In Dark Corners Page 27
