I had to assume Mr. Hobbs was taking me off somewhere in the woods, away from civilization. Once he got me out there he’d no doubt kill me and bury or hide my body out amongst the trees, where it would take authorities even longer to find it. I was sure he was more familiar with the area than I was, and had a secluded destination in mind.
I hadn’t been able to see if he had any dents or scratches on his car he’d have to account for or have repaired, probably in some neighboring town. I was sure the Lincoln had to have sustained some kind of body damage, as hard as he’d battered my car with it. I hoped this would eventually lead to his arrest for the murder of Walter and me.
I could hear other vehicles now and knew we were traveling along in traffic. Not heavy traffic, by any means, but other cars were passing us from time to time. As I continued to try to free my hands, I felt the Lincoln slowing to a stop. Off in the distance I heard a train whistle. This gave me an idea.
We were obviously waiting for a train to pass at a railroad crossing. As the train got nearer, the sound of it rolling along the rails got louder. I turned my body around so that my taped legs were facing the rear of the car. As the train closed in on the crossing, the engineer began to blow the train’s whistle. At the same time, I began kicking frantically at the right taillight assembly from inside the trunk. I hoped the sound of the loud whistle and reverberation of the rapidly moving train would mask the sound and motion of me kicking at the taillights. It was hard to kick with my ankles taped together, but I could tell I was making progress when I heard cracking noises.
Just before the train cleared the crossing, I felt the taillight break free. I pushed at it with the heel of my shoes until most of it fell out onto the pavement. I had hoped there was another vehicle parked behind the Lincoln, but I could see through the opening now, and there were no cars behind us. As we drove over the tracks and began to pick up speed, I tried to push my shoe through the opening, but the opening was not as wide as my shoe, and it was hard to do with my ankles tied together. Using the heel of my left shoe, I pressed it down against the floor of the trunk and pulled. I did this several times before I felt my shoe slip off.
If I remembered right, I had on red socks, the same color as the taillight assembly. This might make my sock harder to detect, but it was the only hope I had at this point. I pushed the toes of my left foot into the opening I’d made by busting out the taillight assembly. It was a tight fit, but I was able to get them to protrude beyond the hole where the taillight assembly had been.
This put me in an awkward and uncomfortable position, but I felt there was at least a slim chance someone would notice if they pulled up behind the Lincoln. I began wiggling my toes as much as I could, and continued doing so until my foot began severely cramping. I had read that this was the thing to do if ever locked in the trunk of a car. At the time I would never have imagined that this would one day apply to me.
After resting my foot for just a few seconds I began wiggling my toes again. I kept this up as we traveled along a busier road. The speed of the Lincoln had picked up significantly, so I figured we were most likely back up on the highway. It felt to me as if we were heading toward Rockdale. The good thing was there was more traffic on the road and, therefore, more drivers to notice my toes sticking out of the taillight opening. The bad thing was that at this speed, and with the current road conditions, the other vehicles would be farther behind us, making my toes more difficult to detect.
I was beginning to think this idea was not going to provide a satisfying conclusion. I felt bad that I had gone against Stone’s wishes for me to never leave the inn alone. I was terrified, and there were tears running down my cheeks. Why hadn’t I just left well enough alone, as Mr. Hobbs had suggested? How was this going to help the reputation of the Alexandria Inn? My death would just stir up more news that would shed an even worse light on the establishment. Stone had moved to the Midwest to be closer to me, and now I was probably going to be out of the picture. I tried to push the negative thoughts from my mind and concentrate on the situation at hand. I had never been the type to give up without a fight and I vowed to fight as long as there was a breath left in me.
I continued to wiggle my toes, even though my toes were bitterly cold, and there was an intense aching in the arch of my foot. I was about to pull my toes back into the interior of the trunk, trying to concoct a new plan of action, when I heard the sound of a siren in the distance. It was closing in on the Lincoln rapidly. The sound of the siren nearly enveloped me in joy.
I felt the speed of the Lincoln kick up a notch or two and continue to move faster and faster. We were passing other cars at an alarming rate now. I was wiggling my toes like crazy. The siren continued to get louder.
Suddenly the Lincoln left the highway, careening down an exit ramp. It turned to the right, and then quickly back to the left. We were moving fast, sliding about on the icy road beneath us. I heard more sirens now, coming from the opposite direction. By the time we turned again, the sirens were right on our tail. I thought the siren was coming from the vehicle directly behind us. I swished my toes back and forth as erratically as I could, hoping to draw attention to them, although I was beginning to feel confident it was Mr. Hobbs they were chasing, and I would be out of this predicament soon.
Suddenly I felt the car begin to spin around, doing about three complete rotations before it slammed headfirst into something that stopped us in our tracks. I heard glass breaking and the squealing of metal being torn apart. I felt something like a tire iron strike the side of my head as I was flung about in the trunk of the car. Then I heard the sirens being turned off and car doors slamming. I heard a voice call out, “Step out of the vehicle with your hands up!”
I heard sounds of a scuffle, and finally I heard the blessed sound of a pair of handcuffs being ratcheted down. It was the nicest sound I’d ever heard in my entire life.
Only seconds later, the trunk of the car opened, and I was staring up at Detective Wyatt Johnston. I thought he had never looked so wonderful as he did at this moment. He reached out and gently removed the tape from across my mouth.
“Lexie, are you okay?” He asked. I told him I was okay as he pulled out a pocketknife and began cutting away the duct tape on my wrists and ankles. “I’m so glad you called me when you did.”
“How did you find us?” I asked.
“After you called, I got worried, so I summoned another officer to take my place directing traffic, and I headed over to the Hobbs residence. Mrs. Hobbs was home but she told me her husband, Jeffrey Hobbs, was gone. I asked her if he drove a dark-colored SUV, and she said, ‘Yes. He drives a Ford Explorer. Why?’” Wyatt told me. “I told her I needed to speak with him, and she told me Jeffrey had taken her Lincoln Continental into town. She said she had expected him to be home already.”
“Go on,” I said.
“Well, I got suspicious. When asked, she told me her Lincoln was white. I tried to call you back on your cell phone and you didn’t answer, which worried me even more.”
“The cell phone was still in the Jeep, which is turned over in a ditch off a gravel road west of town,” I said. “Not that I could have answered it anyway, with my hands tied together.”
“So, I drove to Boney’s and asked Joey about you. He told me you had left about an hour earlier. I tried you on the phone once again, and then called Stone on his phone. He thought you were at the inn. He said he was almost there. He and Wendy were just arriving back from the airport. I told him I had talked to you on your phone right after you had left Boney’s Garage.”
“Was he upset?” I asked Wyatt. I knew this was an idiotic question.
“Of course he was. He was extremely worried and scared half to death. Anyway, Stone called me back a minute or two later, and by then he was frantic. He told me you weren’t at the inn, so I sent out an APB on a white Lincoln Continental. The entire police force was out looking. Then we got a nine-one-one call from a driver who said he saw toes sticking out of the bro
ken taillight of a white Lincoln heading west on the highway out of Rockdale. He gave his location, and we all turned around and headed in this direction, converging on Mr. Hobbs so he’d have no way to escape. Knowing you were confined in the trunk, we had hoped to avoid wrecking him, but obviously, it was not to be. Thank God you’re okay, other than the little cut by your ear. Anyway, once he plowed into the light pole, it was all over but the cuffing and stuffing.”
Wyatt grinned from ear to ear. I could tell this car chase, which had spoiled an abduction, had made his day. He handed me his phone and asked me to call Stone. He wanted me to let Stone know I was okay as soon as possible, to ease his mind. “We’ve got the ambulance coming to take Hobbs to the hospital. He is bleeding pretty profusely from a large gash on his forehead, and a smaller one on his arm. I think his left wrist might be broken, as well.”
“I hope so,” I said.
“Tell Stone I will get you home as soon as you are debriefed, and have given your statement at the police station. If he’d like, he can meet us there.”
Stone was incredibly relieved when I called to tell him what had happened. He told me if he wasn’t so happy to hear I was okay, and to know my stalker had been apprehended, he’d be angry at me for sneaking out of the inn on my own. I apologized and came really close to promising I’d never get involved in something like this again. “Never say never” was my motto. At the time, getting involved again was the last thing I ever wanted to do, but I knew time would ease those frightening memories, and the fear and apprehension would go away, but I’d always have my impulsive, and sometimes reckless, nature to contend with.
Chapter 23
At the police station, I gave my statement and related everything I could remember from the time I left Boney’s, until the time the Lincoln struck the light pole. Stone and Wendy had arrived at the police station before us, and they were waiting impatiently for us to get there. They both rushed up to hug and kiss me when I stepped into the station in front of Wyatt.
After making sure I was going to be okay, Wendy headed back to the inn. Before she left, she assured me my facial cut would heal sufficiently without stitches. Stone sat through the debriefing period with me, holding my hand tightly to give me moral support. My hands were still shaking slightly from the ordeal I’d just been through.
Halfway through the question and answer session, the chief of police stepped into the room and said someone had called in about finding a yellow Jeep upside down in a ditch out on County Road Thirteen. The chief had sent out a wrecker from Doug’s Towing to bring the Jeep back to town. I knew it was going to need a great deal of bodywork before I drove it again.
The chief also told us Jeffrey Hobbs would be interrogated thoroughly, before being charged with, most likely, a number of crimes. It was doubtful he’d ever see the light of day again, he said, which pleased me immensely.
Once he was brought to the police station from the Wheatfield Hospital in St. Joseph, where his head wound was being stitched up, and a cast put on his wrist, he would be thoroughly interrogated, booked and arrested, and then held in the county jail while awaiting arraignment.
The chief expressed his relief that the murder suspect had been apprehended, and that the abduction had turned out the way it had. He thanked me for my part in the apprehension of Jeffrey Hobbs, and then asked me to never insert myself into a police matter of this nature again. Stone and Wyatt both nodded their heads in agreement with the chief. I just smiled, and agreed the apprehension of Mr. Hobbs was a great relief, and the abduction was resolved to my liking too. I made no promises about the future. Never say never, I thought to myself once again.
* * *
“You’re not cooking tonight,” Stone told me as he drove me back to the inn. “Wendy is at the inn, explaining today’s activities to the Dudleys, who should have arrived home by now. I’m treating you, Wendy, and the Dudleys, to dinner out tonight. Then you are going to take a long, hot soak in the tub and relax by the fireplace while we watch TV.”
“Well, you won’t hear any arguments out of me. This has been the most distressing day of my life. I really didn’t think I’d live to see you and Wendy again. It reminded me, once again, of just how much the two of you mean to me. I love you so much, Stone,” I said.
“I love you more,” he replied.
* * *
We had a very pleasant evening. The Dudleys were understanding of our failure to inform them about the recent murder in the inn. They’d known someone had died, but they hadn’t realized the murder had taken place at the inn. It didn’t seem to bother them too much. They were relieved the situation today had turned out in the fashion it had. They had thoroughly enjoyed their stay, and would be recommending our establishment to family and friends, and would no doubt be back again for future family events.
I fell asleep watching TV with my head on Stone’s lap. The next thing I knew I was waking up to a bright, sunny day. The snow had all melted, and the sun was warming the air up. It looked promising for a beautiful autumn day. It was after eight, and Stone had fed the Dudleys cold cereal and pastries. They were now packing up and getting ready to head home to Oregon.
I got dressed and came down to the kitchen for my first cup of coffee, just before Wyatt popped in the back door of the inn. He sat down at the kitchen island next to Stone. I poured him a cup of coffee, and offered him the tray of leftover pastries. He selected a cinnamon roll and then asked me how I was doing.
“I feel fine today, Wyatt. I got a good night’s sleep and my heart rate has finally gone back down to normal,” I said. “Thank you for reacting to my phone call yesterday in the manner you did. Your quick wits probably saved my life.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you called when you did, and that you were smart enough to kick out the taillight in the Lincoln yesterday. We teach that in a self-defense class we give periodically at the college,” Wyatt said. “Of course, having your arms and legs tied up made it more difficult for you, but thank God you found a way. You know, Lexie, with your impulsive nature, it wouldn’t hurt you to enroll in the course the next time we offer it.”
“After the events of yesterday, I’ll certainly consider it. What did you find out in the interrogation of Jeffrey Hobbs?” I asked.
“Once he was backed into a corner, he admitted he killed Walter. He also owned up to ramming you with his car in the hospital parking lot. He’d followed you there after recognizing your Jeep driving through town. He said he’d first seen you in it in the parking lot at the college during cheerleading practice. Any idea why he kept referring to you as Rhonda Reed?”
I gave him an exaggerated shrug of my shoulders, knowing Wyatt wasn’t fooled by the sheepish look on my face.
“Did he say why he killed Walter?” I asked, hoping to change the subject.
“He knew Walter had asked his daughter to marry him, and Hobbs was dead set against it,” Wyatt said. “Jeffrey was sure Sidney would eventually agree to marry Walter. After all, they’d been together for the greater part of three years. Both he and his wife had tried to talk her out of the marriage, but she kept telling them she was old enough now to marry anyone she wanted to marry, and they couldn’t stop her. He said he didn’t have anything against Walter personally, but he was determined to see his only daughter married to someone who could provide well for her and their children. He didn’t see how a man, working as a teacher, or worse yet, a missionary, could provide a very stable future for Sidney and her offspring. Jeffrey and his wife both also feared their daughter would marry Walter and move to Albuquerque with him so Walter could take over his father’s heating and cooling business. To them, this was an even worse scenario, to be so far from their only daughter and future grandchildren.”
“But killing Walter to prevent such a scenario? That seems awfully mercenary to me,” I said. “I can’t imagine anyone wanting their child to marry for money, as opposed to marrying for love.”
“Me neither. They’re hardly ‘parents of the
year’ material. Mr. Hobbs also admitted to stalking you. The fact you were so adamant about talking to Sidney concerned him. He thought that investigative reporters were often more determined and diligent about rooting out the truth than the detectives. I’m not even going to ask you how and when you became an investigative reporter. I’m not sure I want to know.”
“Probably best not to,” I agreed.
“Anyway, Hobbs said he sent Sidney and her best friend down to Kansas City on a shopping spree the day of the murder to provide his daughter with a verifiable alibi, and also to ensure he could get to Walter while the boy was alone.”
“Is Jeffrey Hobbs a diabetic?” Stone asked.
“Jeffrey is an internist in St. Joseph,” Wyatt continued. “He has a private practice there. That’s why he knows about insulin and hypoglycemic coma, and also why he has access to insulin. He makes good money for his family, and they live in the upper-crust part of town here in Rockdale, in the new Walnut Ridge Estates subdivision.”
“So Jeffrey—Dr. Hobbs, I should say—wanted his daughter to marry a doctor like him?” I asked.
“Or a surgeon, a lawyer, or even the CEO of a large firm. He just wanted Sidney to be able to continue to live in the manner she was accustomed to,” Wyatt said. “He said he felt desperate, knowing Sidney was in love with Walter, and not knowing how he could legally prevent her from marrying him. His biggest fear, he said, was that they’d run off and elope. He felt he had to do whatever he could to prevent Sidney from marrying Walter. He couldn’t stand the thought of a common man in a blue-collar job being his son-in-law. The only certain way he could come up with to get rid of Walter was to kill him, in order to assure marriage to him was no longer an option for his daughter.”
Jeanne Glidewell - Lexie Starr 03 - Haunted Page 21
