Out Jumps Jack Death: A Clancy Evans Mystery (Clancy Evans PI Book 8)

by M. Glenn Graves

  I ran to the corner of the building away from the back door so I could get a visual on Diamond’s truck parked in the front of the massive facility. I stopped at the corner. I eased my head around for a visual. Her truck was still there. She was nowhere in sight.

  I whistled for Sam.

  Nothing.

  I moved quickly towards her truck but shielded myself behind first one car then another. As I approached her vehicle, I saw Sam on the ground. My heart sank.

  It was then that I heard the tires squeal and the black SUV sped out of the parking area away from the truck stop. It was too far away for me to shoot and I had no reason to shoot, only a nagging intuition that told me to suspect them.

  Still crouching and suspicious, I made my way quickly to Sam. I could see no blood on the ground and I could find no gunshot wounds on him. There was a small gash on the top of his head. He was conscious, but seemed to be dazed and weary.

  “You okay buddy?”

  He whined a bit and licked my hand. Good sign.

  I used every ounce of strength I had lifting him from the ground to the backseat of Diamond’s truck. Once I had him inside and resting as comfortably as possible, I searched the area for Diamond.

  Still alert to the possibility that I might be wrong about the reason that SUV had bolted out of the parking area, I shielded myself as much as I could while I searched for her. I found her weapon on the ground behind a light blue Escort. Diamond without her gun was not a good sign.

  By the time I finished canvassing the area around the truck stop, the attendant approached me. I had returned to the spot where I had found Diamond’s handgun.

  “That’s my car,” the young bearded attendant said.

  “Doesn’t seem to be injured,” I said.

  “Who was doing the shooting?”

  “Can’t say.”

  “You police or something?”

  “Something.”

  He walked around to the driver’s side of his car to check it out more thoroughly. I think he circled his vehicle at least twice, maybe three times, looking for whatever he might find by way of damage. I had the nagging suspicion that he did not trust me.

  “Hey, these yours?” he said and held up some keys.

  “Great,” I said. “You found them. Thanks.”

  I took the keys. I was hoping that they belonged to Diamond. I didn’t want to be stranded in the countryside. The Chevy logo on a large key gave me reason to hope. If these were in fact her keys, she probably dropped them intentionally and kicked them under that vehicle to help me. Even in a cornered spot, the woman was ever in control. It’s what made her so dangerous. At least two steps ahead of whoever was either chasing her or being chased by her.

  I decided that if anyone could stay alive while being a prisoner, she could. I guessed that she was someone’s prisoner for the moment.

  I walked back over to Diamond’s truck. Sam was resting.

  “Let’s go find our friend,” I said to him.

  He growled. I felt the same way.

  24

  It was the wee hours of the morning when I arrived at Starnes’ house. Nobody was home, as I figured. Sam spent the time en route dreaming in the midst of his pain. He made whimpering sounds and when I turned the overhead light on to check, his legs were moving about as if he were running in his imagination.

  He was awake when I opened the back door.

  “Can you move?” I said.

  He stayed prone.

  “Okay, I’ll carry you.”

  He grunted.

  I slid my hands and arms underneath his massive body and struggled to get him out of the back of the truck. Leverage was tough. Finally I was able to move enough to stand on the ground and curl him up. Wow, he was heavy. Next dog is going to be a feisty Scottish Terrier weighing in at around 35 pounds. No question.

  “You need to go on a diet, friend.”

  He growled.

  I carried him into the house and gently laid him on the sofa. I knew that Starnes wouldn’t mind, considering the situation.

  He looked hurt, but wasn’t about to let on to me.

  “I’ll call a vet in the morning. You good for the rest of the night?”

  He licked my hand and I took that to be a yes. I slept in Spud Carver’s old comfortable chair next to the sofa for the remainder of the night. I had fitful dreams about being chased and having someone shooting at me. Naturally. I don’t recall Freud dealing with those types of nocturnal imaginings.

  I was awakened by Sam’s groaning. It was light now. The wall clock told me that it was after nine. I retrieved a phone book and found a veterinarian between McAdams County and Asheville just off 19/23. The name in the book sounded familiar. It was probably the same vet Starnes and I had used a couple of years back when Sam was injured after fighting a large coyote-dog-wolf creature which we never could capture.

  When I arrived at the vet, two strong looking young men came out and struggled to get Sam inside. That made me feel better. I waited in the area designated for that purpose, busying myself with the reading of outdated magazines. My mind was on Sam and Diamond.

  The vet called me back for a consultation.

  “Something struck him in the head. He’ll be okay, but I am sure that he is in pain. I gave him something to allow him to sleep. I would like to keep him for a day, maybe two, and then check him when he finally comes around. He seems fine, but I’ll know more when he comes around.”

  I started to give her my information and she smiled at me. I stopped talking.

  “I have your information,” she said.

  “I saw a little blood, but nothing to alarm me.”

  “Correct. For some reason his head injury didn’t bleed very much. No stitches needed.”

  “It seems that your dog gets himself into skirmishes now and then.”

  “His nature,” I said. “He thinks he’s a wonder dog or something.”

  She had no comment to my wonder dog description. She promised to call when she thought it would be safe to come and get him. I thanked her and left. At least Sam would be safe here for the time being. I wasn’t so certain about myself.

  It was close to noon when I headed back to Starnes’ place. I wanted to call her, but I knew that would be futile.

  My cell rang. An unknown number.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Some quick developments,” Starnes said.

  “You guys okay?”

  “Never better. I need to talk quickly.”

  “Go.”

  “One of the deputies in Madison called me with a heads up. Said that the sheriff got a call from Washington saying that a fugitive was hiding out in the county and that I was assisting said fugitive. Whoever it was that called told him to check Ida Carter’s place. Ida and I prepared a backpack for Rosey and sent him backpacking into the wilds.”

  “I can only imagine what you and Ida threw together to prepare Rosey for the wilderness.”

  “What we had on hand – made some PBJ sandwiches along with some apples.”

  “Wilds got a name?”

  “They do but you don’t need to know that now.”

  “You and Ida okay?”

  “Had a parley with the sheriff and his boys, told them that Washington was way off base on this one. Since my history with the sheriff is tainted, he of course didn’t believe me. But he left me alone anyway. He could find nothing at my house nor Ida’s to support the presence of a fugitive. We had enough time to hide whatever evidence might suggest that Rosey had been at both houses.”

  “Rosey safe?”

  “Unless some bears have eaten him.”

  “Pleasant thought.”

  “He was a S.E.A.L. for crying out loud. Where are you?”

  “Headed for your place.”

  “You and whoever.”

  “Just me. Somebody kidnapped my friend.”

  “I don’t like where this is going.”

  “Me either. I’ll meet you at your place and tell
you what I know.”

  She clicked off and that was that. If the line was secure, we were safe for a little while. Since I didn’t recognize the call as coming from her cell number, I figured she must have used someone else’s phone. If they had bugged my phone, then we had an even shorter time to get together and make out a Plan X. We were coming to the end of the alphabet concerning our schemes.

  25

  When I drove into the almost graveled driveway of Starnes’ house, she was waiting by the gate of the small picket fence. I stopped, left the motor running, and she climbed into the cab of the truck.

  “Drive,” she said.

  “Where to?”

  “I’ll tell you when we get there.”

  Cryptic.

  “Diamond’s vehicle,” I said.

  “Figured that. Too good for you.”

  “That’s not a nice thing to say.”

  “Truth hurts.”

  “You eat nails for breakfast?”

  “Nuts and bolts.”

  “Yikes. How’s Ida?”

  “Calm and controlled. She can handle just about anybody and anything.”

  “I bet. And you?”

  “I’m good. Catch me up to speed,” she said.

  I filled her in on what I knew, what we had learned, and what happened at the truck stop in the middle of Virginia.

  “So you figure that the scum chasing down Rosey kidnapped your professional assassin to gain some leverage with, who? … you?” Starnes said.

  “It’s an interesting supposition. I have no idea what they intend.”

  “They might know more than you think.”

  “They don’t know who they kidnapped.”

  “Probably not, but … what do you do now?”

  “Wait for the call.”

  “The blackmail call? Is that what you’re thinking will happen?”

  “Maybe. They think that Diamond is a friend of Rosey’s and that he will turn himself into them to be killed because he values this woman who has helped him.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “I know, but it fits the mentality of Wilkerson and his thinking. He’s not the brightest bulb in the lamp socket.”

  “How many bulbs are there in a lamp socket?”

  “Bad metaphor, I know. But, in this case I figure there has to be more than one stupid, greedy person in this little golden box charade of a mess.”

  “A higher up?”

  “Can’t say, but do hold that thought.”

  “And you think they will call.”

  “I do.”

  “Well, they had better call you because Rosey ain’t answering his mobile anytime soon,” she said. “Turn right here and stay on this road.”

  I obeyed. We were headed northwest on 25/70 towards Hot Springs.

  “You gonna tell me where we’re going?”

  “No.”

  Fifteen minutes later we lost Highway 25/70. We didn’t turn, but the highway suddenly changed numbers. We were now traveling on Hwy. 208. After a few minutes, a stop sign suggested that I stop. The roads formed a “T” and I could go either right or left.

  “Turn right,” Starnes said before I had time to ask.

  I obeyed. We were now on Hwy. 212 and heading off into the wilds of McAdams County as far as I was concerned. We followed along some water on our right for a few miles. It was nice water, quite picturesque. Plenty of pastoral scenes in Western North Carolina. Make for a good second home for me if the day ever came I wanted to leave the confines of Virginia. Or was forced to leave.

  “What’s the name of the river there?”

  “Not sure, but I think it’s Shelton Laurel Creek.”

  “Not a river, huh?”

  “Not yet.”

  I figured she didn’t want to give me too many specific geographical details regarding the direction we were traveling. Maybe there were bugs inside of Diamond’s truck.

  Ten miles or so later Starnes told me to turn left. The geography was even more remote.

  “Where are you taking us?” I said.

  “Drive. We’re almost there.”

  Suddenly the blacktop ended and gravel appeared on the road surface. The graveled road did not last long. Next there was a dirt road. After a mile or so on that, we ended our journey. But only because the road ended. There was no where else to travel in Diamond’s truck. If my Jeep hadn’t succumbed to the violence perpetrated against me and the vehicle, then I could’ve kept traveling. Mostly up.

  I stopped the truck.

  “Why’d you stop?” Starnes said.

  “No more road.”

  “Go through that fence.”

  I followed her orders and we kept moving slowly through the gate along what was once upon a time a road. It showed little evidence of usage of late. It was wide with trees lining both sides. Actually there were thick woods lining both sides. Spring was coming and the vegetation was starting to fill up the wooded areas. I drove for a quarter mile and then was forced to stop. The long ago road bed was finished. There was a footpath in front of us, but nothing more.

  “Now we hike,” Starnes said as she exited the truck. “Wish Sam could be here.”

  “He would enjoy this.”

  “One of them already is.”

  “Dog is around here?”

  “She stayed with Rosey. I asked her and she obliged.”

  “Talking to your companion these days?”

  “You do it.”

  “I have a special relationship.”

  “What, other people can’t have special relationships with their dogs?”

  “You’d be the last person on earth I’d figure for that.”

  “I’m insulted,” Starnes said.

  “Truth hurts. Where are we going?”

  “Up.”

  I looked at my cell phone. No signal. I was still sitting in the truck awaiting orders from Starnes. The dashboard clock informed me that it was still morning but noon wasn’t too far off.

  “You gonna get out?” she said. She was staring at me with her hands on her hips.

  “Do I have to?”

  “If you wanna see Rosey and Dog.”

  It was easy for me to determine that unless we were followed, there would be no way anyone could find Rosey and Dog.

  We hiked for an hour and a half. We came upon an unusual tree configuration. Something happened in nature which caused a tree to grow at right angles about three feet into its life. Suddenly, and for no apparent reason, the tree shot off at a 90 degree angle from its normal, upward growth. Then, just as mysteriously, a few years later, the tree began growing towards the sky once again. Made for an interesting sight. Some purple wildflowers were blooming around the tree as if to provide it with encouragement during its dramatic changes. I figured that science had a name for this anomaly, but for my science-challenged education, I had nothing to offer.

  The right-angled portion of the tulip tree made for a convenient shelf if one wanted to place something on it. A few new branches were sprouting out from the horizontal section. Starnes retrieved a small piece of paper from under a flat rock on that horizontal tulip tree limb section.

  “This is like fifth grade,” I said.

  Starnes glared at me and then opened the note.

  “Another half mile and he will meet us.”

  “How did he know we were coming?”

  “Must be psychic.”

  We climbed even higher as we followed the trail through the woods. We crossed a couple of small streams, a patch of wild onions the locals called ramps, and several fields of multicolored wildflowers. Starnes was my tour guide and informant on this excursion into the depths of what she called Shelton Laurel.

  The abundant rain along with some unusual warm spells of the last few weeks had fostered an extravagant season of floral arrangements in the mountains. Despite the pressure and intensity of our situation, I could not help but pay attention to the beauty. Except for the climb up the mountain, this was quite enjoyable. If on
e has to hide somewhere, it might as well be in a spot filled with such a striking output from nature.

  Starnes stopped at a small grove of trees that appeared in the middle of a field to our right. There was a embankment to our left that descended to a stream. Large rocks were everywhere around the stream.

  Starnes whistled Yankee Doodle.

  “We sang that in the fifth grade,” I said.

  “Will you stop with the fifth grade,” Starnes said.

  A few seconds later Rosey and Dog emerged from behind the grove of trees. Dog licked Starnes hand without wagging her tail. Rosey smiled when he saw me. We hugged.

  “You okay?” I said.

  “I’m alive.”

  “That’s the ultimate goal here,” I said.

  26

  I brought Rosey up to date on all the events since we had parted on the trail behind Starnes’ place a few days ago. Despite his feelings regarding Diamond and her dubious help, he was not pleased that she had been taken.

  “Is this place safe from the county sheriff?” I said.

  “For the time being,” Starnes said. “We need to discuss our next move.”

  “You think Diamond is leverage?” Rosey said.

  “As long as they do not know who she is.”

  “You’re thinking a swap.”

  “That could be their plan, but I don’t believe it’ll happen.”

  “Besides my reticence?” Rosey said.

  “Your reticence has nothing to do with Diamond’s abilities.”

  “Escape?”

  “They have no conception of her capabilities,” I said.

  “And they haven’t called,” he said.

  “They may have, but Starnes brought me up here where there is no signal and only God answers calls. One more thing.”

  “Yeah?” he said.

  “Would you like to know what was on that flash drive you delivered to Wilkerson from Bangkok?”

  “Will it help me?”

  “It will inform you. You will be able to stay within my ever-growing loop of knowledge. And it might explain to you why they want you dead.”

  “Knowledge can be meaningful.”