Mama called it a "hope chest" when she gave it to Mitzi. A hope chest. Chest full of hope. Smiling broadly at the notion, Mitzi thought that term as appropriate as settle. Still, it looked like a blanket chest.
Good thing she’d left it behind when she and Zach went off to California. Lordy, what could she have been thinking to run off with Zach Dunaway right out of high school? As soon as their passion cooled, they realized they had nothing to talk about and absolutely nothing in common except their hometown.
And no money. Never enough money. Always pissant poor. Now she was back home, fifteen years later and about a thousand times smarter. Yep, she had sure smartened up.
Slowly Mitzi straightened, then raised her arms as she twirled around the room. She thought of her man and the plans they made. Together at last, the way it should have been from the start. He could still satisfy her.
Well, if he didn't, so what? Her smile returned and she snapped her fingers. With money she could have anyone she wanted, couldn't she? Her plan neared completion. She hummed to herself as she went to her room to don her new black top for her big evening.
She was riding high now. She had the lever and would use it to help her man get an extra cut of the cash. She’d planned it all out. What could possibly go wrong with her plans?
Chapter Twelve
On his way back from Dallas and a meeting with Travis, Link reviewed his undercover assignment. This mess with the Feds was going nowhere. Sure he’d found that site, but nothing else had turned up.
Over in Parker County, State Trooper John Forrest had seized a truckload of illegal drugs yesterday, but troopers hadn’t been able to establish a tie to anyone. Link had spent the morning with Travis. Excited about the Parker County bust, Travis insisted Link find the connection with Spencer County.
Right, but Travis hadn’t a clue how. Neither, at the moment, did Link.
A pop singer promised he could go home again on the car radio. Link chuckled to himself. That’s what he’d been trying to do, but so far he still felt out of place.
Suddenly, the voice of the newscaster interrupted.
"This is James McGrady with a KTXX 1010 Texas Country breaking news story. The body of a Cartersville woman was found this morning in a field alongside Duckett Road a mile west of Highway 51. A spokesman for the Spencer County Sheriff's office has informed KTXX that murder is suspected.
"According to spokesman Buel Watson of the Sheriff's Department, the woman was found early this morning by a Spencer County resident. Identity of the woman has not been released pending notification of family. Stay tuned to KTXX 1010 Texas Country for the latest from our award winning news team as details become available."
Another murder? Link accelerated. When he reached the Law Enforcement Center, unfamiliar vehicles nearly filled the parking area. He swung the car into one of the three remaining spaces and hurried across the lot.
As he walked from his Jeep toward the Center, he had to dodge a dark sedan. Evans drove, and the sheriff was the only passenger. Both men appeared embroiled in a heated exchange and neither looked his way.
Reporters, news cameramen, and what seemed like way too many unauthorized people filled the lobby. Easing through the crowd, Link made his way to the desk area. The open room had three offices at the end, but most of the lawmen used one of the six desks in a common area. Spencer County’s small force didn’t require more. At the other end, a counter separated the room from the public entrance. Dispatch operated from a small room at the side. Assisting the receptionist behind the front counter, today Chief Deputy Buel Watson dealt with the news media.
Coy Cox occupied a chair beside Eddy's desk while the young officer wrote on one of a stack of papers.
Link stopped to say, "Hello, Eddy. Sounds like there's been some excitement here." Link nodded to Coy. "How are you, Coy?"
Coy's hands shook as he lifted one to gesture. "I just don't know why this keeps happening, Link. Who's leavin' all these dead bodies 'round here?"
Eddy glanced at Coy, then spoke to Link. "Guess it's already on the radio, huh? Coy found the body in a field."
"Coy found it? In a field? What's the rest of the story?" Link scooted another chair near Eddy's desk and sat down beside Coy. Poor guy was ill equipped to cope with tragedy like this. He must have been scared half to death.
Eddy slid the statement across the desk to him. "You might know her, Link. She went to high school here about the time you did. Name's Mitzi Dunaway."
Coy leaned forward to speak, "You 'member her, don't you, Link? Mitzi Morrison, the head cheerleader when you played basketball."
He turned to Eddy, excitement on his face, "You know why they call him Link? Our basketball team never did win much 'til Link started playing. Oooee. He was so good everybody called him the team's missing link."
Coy leaned even closer to Wells and explained. "See, that's why he's called Link, 'cause he's the missing link and cause Link is short for Lincoln." Coy leaned back in his chair and chuckled to himself, as if he had explained a great joke, his ordeal temporarily forgotten.
Eddy thumped the stack of papers. "Well, maybe you can find the missing link in this case. We figure she was killed elsewhere. She'd been dragged part of the way. Found in the same place as a guy about a month before you started here."
Waves of shock still coursed through Link. Mitzi dead and found where Jenkins was dumped. Poor woman, what was she into? "Damn. I haven't thought about Mitzi Morrison in years."
"Was she your girl?" asked Eddy.
Link hesitated, then said, "No, I never dated her, but, well...Mitzi was, um, sort of...everybody's girl, if you know what I mean. But real sweet and always smiling. You know, heart of gold. She left here right after high school."
Eddy shook his head. "Too bad for her she came back."
Through the door of Chief Investigator Moses Goddard's tiny office, Link saw the man glare at him. Goddard stepped to the door of the office and called, "Dixon, step in here."
Without raising his head, Eddy said, "I don't know what you've done, but I've already learned that's the old man's don't-you-dare-keep-me-waiting tone of voice. You better hot foot it in there."
Link had barely cleared the door when Goddard barked, "Shut the door behind you."
"Something wrong?" Link asked as he closed the door.
"Something wrong?" Goddard mimicked. "Hell, yes, something's wrong! I've got two murders here."
Goddard’s shirt was unbuttoned at the collar and a loose tie hung limply around his neck. Little tufts of graying hair stuck out on each side of his head where his fingers had ravaged, giving him the appearance of an owl. An irate owl. He banged a hand on the table.
"This county will be piled high in bodies if this keeps up, and I've got no one to help me except that eager young Wells. Right now I want to know why you think you're too damn good to work for me, why you'd rather take a demotion and pull patrol than work on these homicides?"
Link stared at the man, wondering what on earth he was talking about. "One of us has been misinformed. I was told patrol was the only position open, or likely to be open, for some time. I wanted to bring my son back to Cartersville, so I took the only job available."
"The hell you say?" Goddard stood and leaned across the desk. "You mean you weren't offered any other job? No one told you I've been screaming for help with this first murder?"
With a shake of his head, Link replied, "You think anyone would prefer night shift patrol if there were a choice?"
Pointing a finger at Link, Goddard stood and walked around his desk. "Yeah? Well, you wait right here. I'll soon know which goddamned sonofabitch screwed this up."
He slammed the office door so hard Link thought it a miracle the glass in the upper half of the door didn't shatter.
Within minutes a much calmer Goddard reappeared. "Awright. Taken care of. Sheriff's not in, but I gave it to Watson with both barrels. As of now, you're assigned to me full time."
Goddard shot him a hostil
e look, "My cousin's on the Dallas force, told me you were moving out here. Said you're a real hot shot, like to play the Lone Ranger, got a couple of college degrees and all that."
In this county, only two years of college level classes were required to work for the sheriff. Goddard made a masters degree sound like a prison record. No way to rebut that to a man who already looked as if he wanted to strangle him.
As calmly as he could muster, Link said, "I was with the Dallas Police Department ten years. Did quite a bit of work with both homicide and narcotics units."
Goddard fixed another fierce glare on Link. "Well, don't try being the hot shot hero here. None of that Lone Ranger stuff, either. Remember I'm the one in charge of this and, big time degrees and medals or not, you'll follow my orders. Got that?"
Link bit back the rejoinder that came to mind and merely smiled and held up his hands in surrender. "I'm just one of the Indians, Chief. Where do you want me to start?"
Goddard eyed him suspiciously, "Yeah, well, for starters don't call me Chief. You're the one who looks a like a damn Indian, except for those blue eyes."
Link had the distinct impression Goddard hated Indians almost as much as he hated big city cops with college degrees, so he didn’t mention that his dad’s mother was a Cherokee. Instead, he listened intently as the investigator continued.
"Get out there and read Wells' report—and then take that damned idiot back to get his damned bike with that godawful goat cart hooked to it.” He rose and walked out with Link, heading for Eddy Wells’ desk.
“Medical examiner's finished out there. By now there's nothing left to look at but our tracks. You can look around if you want to."
He stopped at Eddy’s desk. "Brief Dixon on both deaths, will you? He'll be helping us from now on." He spun on his heels and went back into his office. This time he didn’t slam the door.
Chapter Thirteen
“Man, it’ll be great to have some help here,” Eddy said.
When they finished talking, Link told Coy, “I’ll take you to get your bike.”
“Oh, thank you, Link. I sure will ‘preciate it.” Coy's hands still shook.
Before they left the office, Link stopped by the soft drink machine and let his friend choose a soda.
Coy was as pleased as if Link had given him an expensive gift. "I'll take tiny sips so it'll last a long time. Mama always told me to do that, take tiny sips. I always try to do what my mama told me, even now she's gone."
They walked to Link’s Jeep and Link held Coy’s drink while the man fastened his seat belt.
Coy reclaimed the can and sipped Dr Pepper. He smiled. "Mmmm, mmmm. This sure is good. I just never do get these cans when they're cold and full," he said as Link guided the car out of the parking lot. "I 'member how you always used to drink Dr Peppers. They still your favorite?"
"Yes, still are." Link gave the man a close look as he fastened his own belt and started the engine. Coy's hands no longer shook, but his pale face retained an ashen cast. "Did you get any lunch?"
Coy sipped the drink then nodded. "Mr. Goddard got me a hamburger with French fries and a great big chocolate milk shake. He's always real nice to me.”
“Goddard is?”
“Oh, yes. He acts all gruff and ever’thing, but he’s real nice inside.”
“If you say so.”
“Oh, I do. You can tell from his eyes. You ever notice people’s eyes?”
“Try to.” The revelation that Goddard treated Coy well surprised Link, but he let Coy ramble on.
“You know, I believe a hamburger's my favorite food to eat out like that. D'you like hamburgers?"
"Guess most people do. Coy, what were you doing so early in the day out by Duckett Road? That's a long way from your house."
"Oh, no. No, it's not." Coy looked surprised and guilty simultaneously. He stared at the drink can and appeared suddenly close to tears. "I guess you didn't know, and I ought not to say, but a while after Mama died, I had to move out of my mama's house.” He wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. “Oh, it was terrible."
Link tried to conceal his surprise. "I thought your mother owned that house. Why did you have to move."
"I don't know, Link, it was somethin' about taxes. My daddy always paid the taxes when he was alive, but I guess Mama just forgot. Oh, my, I'm not supposed to tell anyone I moved, or why, or where. And now I went and told you."
"Why aren’t you supposed to tell, Coy?"
"Sheriff Gary Don said my mama would turn over in her grave if folks found out I had to move out of her nice house. I was scared they’d try to lock me away for being feeble minded, but I know you won’t do that.”
“Of course not,” Link reassured him.
“Oh, my, my, my. Mama, see, she thought she had it all fixed for me to live there forever. She was always real careful, so I don't know what went wrong."
Coy sipped more of his drink. "Well, now I come to think about it, I guess maybe since you work for Sheriff Gary Don and all, it's all right you know.” He sniffed and said. “I tell you, Link, it like to have killed me to move out of my mama's house. I’d lived there all of my life."
After a pause, he continued, "I was sure worried folks would think since I had to move out that maybe I ought to be locked up. But Sheriff Gary Don, he took care of me like it says in Mama's will. He has this little place out on Duckett Road, and he lets me live there for free. He even got me a phone and he pays the phone bill for me."
"I'm sorry to hear about your house, Coy, but you don’t need to worry about being locked up. You’ve always stayed out of trouble. When did all this happen?" Link asked as he guided the car down the highway.
He wondered why Gwen failed to mention Coy's home problems. Link’s sister saw Coy at her antique store fairly often when he brought in items he'd found to sell. Gwen called herself a hard-hearted businesswoman and insisted the simple man had an uncanny instinct about which items were valuable to her and which were not. Link suspected that, to help Coy, she bought many items for which she had no use. She also fed him several times a week.
Coy sat quietly, lost in thought. Link waited patiently, giving Coy time to think. He knew Coy must be trying to calculate how long ago he had moved from his home. After several minutes, Coy answered as if there had been no time lapse since the question.
"It was just after Christmas. Not the last one, you know, but the one before that. It was cold, real cold."
A chill as icy as any winter wind slipped over Link, a terrible sense of foreboding. What had he come back to? What had he brought Jason to?
Cartersville had represented a haven to him, an almost idyllic place of honest people, unlocked doors, and friendly faces. How could he have forgotten time wrought changes on all of mankind, not just those in the city? Had his beloved hometown always been so full of problems, but he was blindly unaware of them? Memories flooded Link's mind. Bits of old gossip floated forward, forgotten bits of trouble in this family or that. His life in Cartersville had seemed perfect back then, but always there were those around him who endured problems. Nothing came to mind like this thing hanging over them now.
Sighing, he fought to hold personal worries at bay. He faced a tough job, requiring all of his concentration. The question returned to nag at him. What the hell had happened to his hometown?
"Here's Duckett Road.” Link guided the car to a stop just in front of Coy's odd vehicle. “And there's your bike and cart."
The other man appeared relieved. "Thank goodness. I sure was worried about 'em. I have to have both of 'em for my bidness."
They got out of the car and walked along the roadside.
As he looked past his bike, a look of fear came over Coy. "That's where I found Miz Mitzi," he said and pointed to an area just inside the barbed wire fence.
Yellow crime tape fluttered in the breeze.
"You know, I 'member her from when she was livin' here before, but I never did talk to her much. She was allus nice to me, though. I 'member she wore
real pretty clothes, such bright colors and all. And she smiled a lot." He pointed again. "Right there's where I found her."
Link surveyed the area. The barbed wire fence that separated the field from the road made it unlikely the body entered this way. He saw a cattle guard about thirty yards down the road. The round pipes of the ground-level grate formed the only break in the fence. No cows were in sight, but the barrier and scattered cow chips suggested they were nearby.
He patted Coy on the shoulder. "I know you already told the other deputies, Coy, but I'd sure appreciate it if you'd tell me exactly how you found the body. Start with before you saw anything wrong and tell me everything you saw or heard."
Coy pointed down the road to a distant house. "That's where I live now, that little house by those trees. I was on my way to town to see Miz Gwen." He looked at Link with amazement, "Why, just like the other time. Yes, sir, just like that other time."
"Wait a minute, Coy. You mean you were the one who found the other body, too?"
"Why sure, Link, I thought you knew that."
Link digested this tidbit of information. Two bodies, found by the same person in almost the same location at the same time of day. That seemed beyond the realm of coincidence. Besides, Link didn’t believe in coincidences. But best not confuse Coy by exploring both murders at once.
"Okay, let's concentrate on this morning. You were on the way to see my sister, then what?"
"Well, I seen the buzzards a circlin' and I stopped. I seen her from the road--not like the man. He was back a ways. Coy pointed further from the road. "This mornin' I left my bike at the side of the road and crawled through the barbed wire."
"Okay, Coy, let's pretend we're doing everything you did this morning. Stand where you left your bike and we'll walk to the fence."
Coy looked around and walked slowly to stand by a clump of Johnson grass beside the road. Link trailed him and they walked toward the fence. He pulled the strands apart and Coy climbed through. Link followed, careful not to snag his clothes on one of the barbs.
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