by Teresa Trent
"That explains the accent. You took over Cattleman’s Call a few months ago when Mr. Neuwitt retired. Where did he retire to? I don’t believe I ever heard. Strange how he was here, then just up and left. So what led you to buy a business here in a small town like Pecan Bayou?"
Lonnie swerved to avoid a flying trash can lid .
"Don't really know where Ron went. Why Pecan Bayou, you ask? Well, I guess you could say I was a silent partner in the business for years. I decided to retire away from Chicago winters, and Texas seemed like a good option. Nice warm weather in these parts. Ron was … well, let’s say, easily convinced to let me take over the business. He was ready for something different as well."
"I see. You sure have been doing a lot of remodeling."
"Yeah." His eyes scanned the road as he navigated through the storm. "Ron let the place go to hell. Beams were rotting, and it needed a lot of repairs just to get it up to code."
"Cattleman’s Call wasn't up to code?"
I found this surprising, since if a restaurant in town wasn’t up to code, Rocky would be sure to report it in the Gazette. One of Rocky’s heroes was Marvin Zindler, an iconic Houston reporter famous for his regular restaurant reports on the evening news. Rocky drew inspiration from Marvin Zindler and would type up his weekly health department report chanting Marvin’s signature line Slime in the ice machiiiiine. Oh how I longed for Rocky’s annoying little chant right now.
If Cattleman’s Call had code violations, everybody would've known it. It was one of the nicer eating establishments in town. Lonnie Carello hadn’t been remodeling, but searching. Searching for whatever it was hidden inside that cow.
Lonnie interrupted my thoughts. "So what were you doing at the police station to begin with? Seems strange to find you there all alone. There weren’t even any police at the station. Do you have a key to the building?"
"Why would you think that?"
"Come on Betsy. You’re the daughter of the head honcho cop over there. I can't imagine you would want to be hanging around outside for no reason, so you had to be doing something inside. I'm guessing you have your own key but I'm curious as to what you needed it for.."
Lonnie Carello knew I had a key. He also now knew he could get into the police department without even breaking a window to do it. As we came up to the next stoplight he turned to the left. As much as I hoped he had decided to drive to the shelter, I knew exactly where we were heading.
"Why are we going back?"
Carello did not respond to my question. He focused forward with steely determination. His pleasant demeanor had now slipped for good. I repeated my question.
"I said, why are we turning back?"
"I think you know."
"No. I don't know. Tell me about it." The baby pushed down again, harder this time. I leaned over in pain. Lonnie drove on, ignoring my obvious discomfort.
"Listen, I don't know what's going on, but I need to get to the hospital. I'm in labor."
"Yeah, well, pretty inconvenient for you, if you ask me. I got more important things on my mind. Listen, women drop those things all the time. You'll be fine. Now, shut your face and quit complaining."
I had to get out of this car. We couldn’t be going more than five to ten miles an hour, given the force of the wind. I glanced at the speedometer.
"What are you doing?" he said, following my gaze.
"What do you mean?"
"Enough of this, and don’t even think about trying to jump out. You want to save that baby, you’d better sit tight."
"Fine." I pulled my hand off the door, and laid it across my belly. "Seeing as you now have decided your trip to the police station is more important than my safe delivery, the least you can do is tell me who you really are. What is it you want in the police station? What was it you were looking for at Cattleman’s Call?"
Lonnie smiled.
"You’re smarter than you look, Miss Hinter lady. You really wanna know what I was looking for? Fair enough. Maybe, just maybe, there was some money hidden somewhere. Maybe, just maybe, two guys who were best friends robbed a check cashing store in 1978. Maybe one guy went to prison for it and the other guy didn't. One guy kept the money and thought he could get away with it. That thief Neuwitt always told me he had my stake hidden somewhere. When I got out of prison, I came to collect and he got all whiny, saying the money was dirty. He had started a new life in a piss-ant of a town. He told me he was saving me by withholding my share of the money. Said I’d never find it, and I should go start my own life doing good in the world. What a load of crap. So one thing led to another, you might say."
"Meaning you killed Ron Neuwitt?"
"What? Are you wearing a wire or something?"
"Hardly." Even if I were, who could be hearing me in this storm? Lonnie’s eyes narrowed, and he continued.
"Why no, sweetheart. Let's just say he disappeared, and they won't find him for years. Maybe he went off to start another new life doing good."
Another pine tree fell, this time landing in the road. Lonnie Carello swerved around it, barely avoiding impact. My body slammed against the door, and as it did, another contraction hit. I bent over using my Lamaze breathing, trying to work through it until it passed.
"Oh yeah, that kid is coming. I've been in the delivery room. This is where there ain’t no turning back. Too bad I have to be here with you. Last time it was excruciating to watch. Especially seeing as they won’t let you smoke in there. Buck up sweetie, you're not going to get any help from a doctor."
"Listen to yourself. This isn’t right, and you know it."
He pulled into a parking space in front of the Pecan Bayou police station. "Yeah well nothing I can do about it now. Hand me the key, Mama."
I reached into my purse and pulled out the single key my father had given me attached to a police department key fob. I thought for a moment maybe I would give him the wrong key to stall for time.
"Give me the key. Don't try to pull anything. Oh, and give me your cell phone."
I searched in my purse trying to cover my cell phone with my hand.
"It’s not here. I must have dropped it under the seat." I tried to pretend searching beneath the seat, but the bulk of the baby kept me from reaching the floor.
Lonnie grabbed the purse out of my hands. "I told you not to try anything." He reached in my purse and pulled out my cell phone. Holding it up he said, "How stupid do you think I am? A pregnant woman without a working cell phone? I'm not playing here. I'm not one of these local yokel yahoos here. In Chicago we’re a little brighter than that."
I wished he would go back to Chicago. I liked the yahoos here much better. As he exited the car he leaned down and said, "You stay here. Normally I’d take you with me, but in your condition you ain’t going nowhere. Maybe you could have the kid before I come back? Oh, and don't get any blood on the seats."
"You can’t just leave me here," I said, breathing through another contraction.
"Yes I can." He sneered.
He opened the door to the police station with my key and ran inside. As the contraction eased, I tried to come up with a new plan. A little puddle dripped down onto the floorboard as I felt my water breaking. I hoped I ruined his upholstery.
I pulled myself out of the car, struggling with the door. The wind kicked up a newspaper that slapped against my leg. If I could just avoid being hit by storm debris, maybe I could make it to the shelter. Nolan Ryan Middle school was about four blocks away and then I just had to cross the bridge. That would be the toughest part because there would be no buildings to protect me, and a heavy wind could pitch me into the water if I didn't get to the guardrail soon enough.
I started walking, staying as close as possible to the sides of the buildings in downtown Pecan Bayou. About every ten feet or so another contraction would hit. I would stop, lean against the wall and breathe through it. I had to do this. I had to make it for me and Leo and our baby.
Walking was the worst thing to be doing right now si
nce it speeds up delivery, but it was the best thing for me to do given the situation. It was my only way out.
I thought about what Lonnie Carello said about women who dropped babies in the middle of work. I wasn't that girl. I was the one who asked for extra epidural juice, chipped ice and pleasant music in the background. For just a moment, I thought of the birthing suite Leo and I had signed up for three months ago. Our little hospital tried to replicate the birthing suites in the big cities. There wasn’t a birthing tub, or a specialty birthing chair, but they did have a big screen TV, a bubba recliner and a mini fridge that would hold enough Lone Star beer to get any couple through an average length delivery.
No luxurious surroundings for this baby to come into, unfortunately. Even if I did get the baby suite, I didn’t have a doctor to deliver me. None of that mattered unless I got away from Lonnie Carello.
If he hadn’t been so anxious to get his hands on the money, he probably would have killed me while he had me in the car. Killing a mother and her child wouldn’t faze him. He had already killed two people trying to recover his stolen cash.
I kept moving, desperate to get far enough away he wouldn’t be able to hunt me down. I saw car lights coming toward me. Carello must have found the money by now and was going to take care of me next.
I slid into a doorway and held myself tightly against the door as a tremor worked its way through me. All I could do was hope he hadn't seen me. The car inched closer, and then slowed down in the park right in front of me. Nothing like trying to hide an elephant behind a skinny tree.
"Betsy?"
The voice was so familiar, I gasped. With the wind I couldn’t be sure.
"Betsy? Is that you?"
I didn't know what to do. If that was Carello, he would kill me. If it was somebody who could save me, I could miss the chance of a rescue by staying hidden.
The words of my last dream echoed in my ears.
"Betsy step into the wind. It’ll only do you good."
I stepped out from the doorway. Standing in front of a white, storm-battered minivan with the words "Storm Chasers" painted in bold red letters, stood the love of my life, Leo Fitzpatrick.
"Leo!" I ran into his arms and felt his strong arms encircle me. I had found home in the middle of a tempest.
"Betsy! What the hell are you doing out here? You have to be the craziest woman on the planet, you know that?" he scolded.
"Lonnie Carello…" As I started to explain, another contraction hit me. I stopped and bent over, his arms still holding me up.
"That's right. Breathe, Betsy, breathe." As it passed, I took a deep breath and then tried to finish my story. "Lonnie Carello. He killed Connor Holman. We have to get out of here."
One of the storm chasers came out of the van and around to my other side.
"Leo, is she going into labor? Is she going to have the baby?"
Just like watching a tornado, the guy was documenting my behavior. "I'm right here."
"Oh. Nate Collins, this is my wife Betsy. Betsy, this is the guy I’ve been telling you about."
"Nice to meet you," Nate said. "Wow! What an exciting day. First, we get a tornado on tape and now we're going to have a baby."
Nate turned toward the van. "Hey guys, come out here a minute." A ragtag crew piled out of the back of the van. Three more men and one petite woman now stood around me. Nate put his hand on my shoulder as if showing his staff a weather pattern on a map.
"Leo's wife, here is in labor. We have to get her to the hospital." As he spoke the wooden pig that hung in front of with Benny’s barbecue went flying past us. Why not? All the other fake animals were loose.
"No way that’s going to happen. The road to the hospital washed out an hour ago. We barely made it into town. If the bridge to the middle school is still intact, we can make it over there," Nate said.
I couldn't wait any longer. I placed my hand on Leo's arm to pull him out of the planning session. "We have to go."
"Okay. There's not a lot of room in the van, but we can sit on each other's laps." Nate said.
"We have to go," I said again as another contraction hit me.
"Don't worry Bets, we’re going."
"No. Lonnie Carello. If he finds me, he’ll kill me."
"Why would Lonnie Carello kill you?" Leo asked.
"Because I know about the money. He had money hidden in the cow."
"Is this labor dementia?" One of the chasers from the back seat chimed in. "Dude. I saw this once on YouTube." Obviously, I was in a car full of bachelors.
"Shut up. She’s saying something important," said the woman, who was now sitting on the lap of a man with a bushy beard and a t-shirt that read I brake for tornadoes.
A set of car lights glared in the rear view mirror.
"That's him," I said. "We have to get away."
Nate squinted his eyes as he looked into the oncoming light.
"Love to, but this idiot is right behind me, and we are in the middle of a high gust pattern." Nate swerved to the side of the road and stopped to avoid a flying trash can. It clanked down the street in front of us.
"We have to..." Before I could finish my sentence another contraction hit.
"Have you been timing these contractions?" Leo asked.
"Sort of. I lost track when the whole I’ll kill you thing came up."
The car behind us had stopped, and Lonnie Carello was now walking toward our vehicle.
"Jesus, we’re in trouble," piped up one of the backseat passengers.
"Shut up, you idiot," the woman whispered.
"It’s Lonnie Carello," I said. "He killed Connor Holman."
Carello tapped on the glass.
"Everybody, just act like we’re in a hurry to get Betsy to the hospital. Stay calm."
Leo unrolled his window.
"Well, there you are Betsy," Carello said. "I was getting worried about you."
"Yes. I told you my husband would be here."
"You sure did. I guess I should've believed you. I think we still have some things we need to talk about, though. Why don't you just get on out of the car, and I won't be forced to do anything to anybody else. You get my drift?"
"She's not getting out of the car," Leo said.
Lonnie Carello pulled out a gun. "Yeah? I think you're wrong about that."
"What are you going to do? Shoot all of us?"
"If I have to. This isn't my first rodeo. Isn't that what you cowboys like to say?"
Nate leaned over Leo. "Yeah. And you're not the first demon of a storm we've come up against in this car." He yanked the car into reverse, ramming the front of Lonnie Carello's car, and jumping the curb, sped forward, putting Carello behind us.
"Oh my God. You got away." I was amazed how well Nate maneuvered the van.
A bullet whizzed past the window and shattered the passenger side mirror.
"Everybody get down," Nate yelled.
As much as I wanted to comply, there was no way I could scrunch down. I saw the rough chain link fence from the police impound yard sail in front of us. A single headlight was now gaining behind us. Lonnie Carello intended to chase us down. It was insane, but then again so was he.
As we approached the bridge, Carello started ramming the van. He was clearly trying to drive us off the road into the Bayou. If it looked like we were killed in the storm, his problems would be solved.
"Hold on everybody," Nate said.
All of the animals stored in the impound yard were now twisting around in the wind. Connor Holman’s menagerie was airborne. He would have been so inspired to see them all. As they started into a downward spiral, we dodged the flying chicken, and the cow from Cattleman’s Call clanked across the top of the van. As we made our way onto the bridge, the cow flew straight into Lonnie Carello's car. As he swerved to avoid it, his car flew over the bank and down into the waters of Pecan Bayou.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
"Should we go back and get him?"
"No," Leo said. "That’s what th
e police are for. We don't have time to be fishing some mobster out of the bayou. Did you forget we’re having a baby here?"
When we entered the shelter, we found most of the population of Pecan Bayou now huddled around camping lanterns and candles. The storm had finally taken the power out. Benny’s Barbecue and Birdie’s Diner had each set up tables, getting rid of food that would have spoiled if left unrefrigerated. Maggie, who was sitting next to Danny on a cot, rushed over and took me by the elbow.
"Lord a mighty, Betsy. You sure put me through it tonight. I can't believe you went out in that storm alone." I bent over for a contraction.
"Oh my land. She's having the baby." Maggie turned from us and shot her hand up in the air making a circular motion.
"Attention everybody! We have a baby coming. We need anybody who can help us to get over here right away."
"Do we have anyone with medical training? " Mayor Obermeyer shouted from his lawn chair. Baxter Digby was next to him, his eyes focused across the gym on Sasha Holman.
"Is Dr. Randall here?" Leo said.
"I’m here if you need me, Betsy." Ruby Green’s bracelets clanked in my ear.
"I’ve delivered a foal before if that’s any help," Libby Loper said as she got up and crossed the room. There was so much chatter going on I thought my head would split.
"Take my pillow Betsy. It has sweet dreams on it, "Danny said, handing me his treasured possession.
My eyes filled as I spoke. "Thank you, Danny. I’ll take good care of it."
"I know you will." He nodded and backed up.
"We're going to need something to give her some privacy," Libby said.
"We need to keep her in the gym. It's still the safest place in the school." Mayor Obermeyer said.
Phyllis Hamlin, head of the PTA stepped up. "We can drag some of our portable room dividers to the corner to give Betsy some privacy. That's the best we can do."
"Sounds good. Let's go people," Aunt Maggie said. "Can somebody round us up some sort of a bed or a couch?"
"There's one in the nurse's office. Tyler and I can get it." I had seen that thing once or twice. It was more of a vinyl table, but it was better than the floor.
