by Jackie Lynn
“Nothing,” the sheriff said, still glancing in the mirror.
Rose turned around again. This time, she saw a car speed up behind them as if it were going to pass and then fall away once the sheriff slowed down.
“They’ve been back there since Russellville,” he said, realizing that Rose now saw the car. “Maybe just coincidence,” he added.
Rose remembered the two men in the booth. “Was there a man in the rest room at the diner?” she asked, now feeling comfortable sharing her concerns.
The sheriff seemed to think about the question. “I didn’t see anybody,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean there wasn’t somebody in one of the stalls,” he added, remembering a closed door. “Why, did you see something?”
“Well, a guy walked past us and went in there before you did. He saw the bracelet.” Rose turned around again to look at the cars behind them. The one she had seen before was now pulling up beside them. Just as it was about to slow up and pull behind the patrol car as it had done earlier, Sheriff Montgomery took his foot off of the accelerator and the car went past.
Rose noticed right away that there were two men in the front seat, that it was an old sedan, and that the plates were from New Mexico. Just as they drove past, the car moved into the right lane, in front of Sheriff Montgomery, and the driver quickly stepped on the brakes.
The patrol car swerved onto the right shoulder, barely missing the car that had been following them, the one that had jumped in front and stopped.
Sheriff Montgomery slid to an abrupt stop, the front of the car landing in a ditch, the frame now bent and smashed against the tire. He yelled at Rose to get down, then jumped out of the driver’s side, his gun raised, aimed, and ready to fire.
NINETEEN
“Get out of the car with your hands up!” the sheriff yelled.
Rose was down on the floor of the front seat, her arms over her head. She waited for gunfire or some kind of commotion to begin outside. She felt around her head and neck, touching herself just to make sure everything was still intact. She had been thrown against the door when the sheriff swerved, slamming her head against the window. When she reached up, she felt a bit of blood trickling down her forehead.
She turned to her left and saw Sheriff Montgomery squatting behind the open door on the driver’s side. Rose quickly noticed that he had his gun pulled and aimed around his door at the car in front of them. She couldn’t see what else was happening.
In only a few seconds, however, the sheriff stood up and began walking away from the car. Since no bullets had been fired, she assumed the men in the car were obeying his command. She remained in her protected position. More time passed. She couldn’t hear what was going on outside the car.
Finally, after more than a few minutes, Rose became unable to control her curiosity. She carefully lifted herself up and peeked over the dashboard of the car. When she did, she saw the sheriff checking the identification of both the driver and his passenger, his gun still pointed in their direction.
Both men were out of the car, arms held high, fingers interlocked and resting behind their heads. They were facing away from Sheriff Montgomery, legs spread, leaning against the front of their car. Rose opened the door and emerged from her place on the floor. The sheriff turned to her quickly.
“Stay in there,” he instructed her, in a commanding tone. He noticed the blood on her face right away.
She quickly returned to her seat, watching the interaction between Sheriff Montgomery and the older of the two men. He had turned his head around, his eyes facing to the side, and appeared to be answering the lawman’s questions. The young one was quietly leaning against the car. Rose could see his right leg was shaking.
She opened the glove compartment and found a couple of napkins and began to apply pressure to her head wound. She felt a slight ache just above her eyes; but even as she wiped away the blood, she continued to watch what was going on in front of her.
It wasn’t long before she could tell these men meant no harm. It was clear in how nervous and obedient they were, how small they seemed next to the sheriff. She didn’t know why they had almost caused the wreck with the patrol car, but it appeared to her that it wasn’t because they intended to hurt the sheriff or his passenger.
It was also clear to Rose that these were not the two men she had seen at the diner. Even though she couldn’t identify either of the men who had sat near her, she remembered that those two were more sure of themselves, had an air of cockiness about them that she had spotted once they walked in the door.
She also recalled that the one who had gone past them, the one who had seen the bracelet, was taller than both of these men, and better dressed, too.
This pair, she later found out, had indeed been following the sheriff and Rose, but they had been following because they too were on their way to West Memphis.
These two were John and Daniel Sunspeaker from Gallup, New Mexico. They were father and son, relatives of Jacob Sunspeaker, the man who had been killed at Shady Grove.
When they pulled out from the gas station and saw the West Memphis sheriff’s patrol car just ahead of them, they had tried to catch up with it and get the attention of the driver. They hurried all the way through Little Rock and on into Lonoke and Carlisle, never quite being able to catch them because of the traffic and the highly unreliable engine of the sedan they were driving.
Finally, having passed the sheriff, Mr. Sunspeaker decided to pull off the road and wave down the patrol car. Unfortunately, with the setting sun reflecting in his rearview mirror, he hadn’t realized how close the car was behind him and hadn’t taken into account the danger he could create by pulling in front and then slamming on his brakes. He also didn’t know the trouble he was in until Sheriff Montgomery jumped from the car with his pistol aimed and ready to shoot.
When Rose saw the sheriff talking to them, both men now turned and faced him, their hands down at their sides, she moved from her seat and walked over to the three men. This time, the sheriff did not order her to the car.
“You okay?” He knew she had been hurt in the accident.
She nodded. “Just a bit of a headache,” she replied.
“Show me,” he instructed.
Rose pulled away the napkin and displayed a raised knot about the size of child’s fist just above her right eye. A cut across her brow was bleeding, but only slightly.
“I’m so sorry,” the man who had been driving said. “I didn’t know you were that close behind me.”
“It’s okay. It’s nothing really,” she said, putting the napkin over the wound and smiling to show that she was fine.
“This is the nephew of…” the sheriff hesitated. “This is John Sunspeaker,” he then said.
Rose nodded at the older of the two men. She remembered having heard the murder victim’s name from the man who had called Mary at Shady Grove, the man who said he was a FBI agent.
“His son,” Sheriff Montgomery added, “Daniel.”
“Rose Franklin,” she said, placing the napkin in her left hand and reaching out with her right.
John Sunspeaker was middle-aged. He was of medium stature, had a round face dark complexion, and long black hair that was tied with a leather string behind his back. He was wearing a dark T-shirt, blue jeans, and a pair of old running shoes.
His son, Daniel, looked to be in his early twenties, maybe even still a teenager. Rose couldn’t tell for sure. Like his father, he was not very tall, either, and he seemed uncomfortable standing on the side of the road with a sheriff beside him. He was also dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, but his hair was close-cropped, he was gangly, and his arms were long and tan.
Rose noticed that the older of the two men was wearing a bracelet, similar to the cuff-style one she had found and given to the sheriff. She tried to see the designs on his, but he quickly reached over, covering it with his other hand.
“I’m sorry we frightened you,” the driver, John, said to Rose.
“Yeah, w
ell, I’m sorry he frightened you,” she replied, referring to the sheriff with his drawn weapon.
When Sheriff Montgomery heard that, he placed his pistol back in the holster attached to his belt and placed his hands on his hips.
“I was telling the sheriff that we saw you leave Russellville. I’ve been trying to catch up with you since then.” Mr. Sunspeaker was putting his driver’s license back in his wallet. “We just got called last night about my mother’s oldest brother,” he said, not referring to the dead man by name. “I noticed your car and thought we could follow you into the town where it happened.” He hesitated. “Where he is,” he added softly.
Rose nodded. She did not think she was owed an explanation. “I’m afraid I caused you to wreck your car,” he said. “I meant no danger.”
“Well,” the sheriff replied, turning to get a view of his damaged car, the right side hanging low on the soft shoulder. “We were fortunate we didn’t slam into you.” He eyed the side of the road where he had found enough room to swerve away from hitting the man’s car. After noticing the damage to the vehicle’s right side, he shook his head, unsure of whether or not the car could be pulled out of the narrow ditch and driven back to his office.
The other three followed his eyes and all of them saw the bent piece, the drag of the frame against the tire, the angle of the car’s front end where it was lodged in the ditch.
Rose glanced up at the sky. It was getting dark. She suddenly wished she had some aspirin, as her head was starting to throb.
As if the older man had read her thoughts, he turned to his son, and, speaking in a language Rose had never heard, instructed him to get something from the car. The younger man started to open the car door and then glanced over at the sheriff, his face a question mark.
Understanding what the young man was asking, Sheriff Montgomery raised both of his hands as a gesture of release. He saw no reason to detain them or to distrust them. He thought their story was believable.
With permission given, the young man opened the back door and reached across the seat. He brought out a canvas bag and gave it to his father.
“Something for your wound,” Mr. Sunspeaker said, pulling out a square piece of material that was wrapped in a paper bag. Rose smelled it as he reached up to place it against her forehead. It reminded her of the forest, like the leaves of old trees.
He gently pressed it against the knot on her head and the pressure of his hand on the swelling caused her to retreat.
“I’m sorry,” he said, stepping away, almost dropping the cloth.
She reached up, holding the dressing in place. “It’s okay,” she said. The piece of material felt cool against her head.
“Why don’t you sit down in the car,” the sheriff said. “We can work on the bumper and pull the frame away from the tire and maybe I can get us home.” Then he studied Rose. “Or should I call for an ambulance?” he asked, examining her head very closely.
“No,” she responded. “It’s just a bump, no concussion. I can recite all the presidents, if you want.” She faced the sheriff with a smile, clearly displaying her wound. He agreed it didn’t appear too serious.
“I’ll just sit in the car and wait,” she said, heading toward the sheriff’s car.
“Here, sit in ours,” Mr. Sunspeaker said. He spoke again to his son in the language only they understood, and then both of them began clearing away their belongings on the backseat. Each of them took an armful of clothes and assorted containers and placed them in the trunk. When they had made a place for her to sit, Rose smiled again, walked over to the car, leaned inside, and sat down. She was glad to get off of her feet, because she was feeling a little dizzy.
She didn’t turn around, but she could tell from the sounds of physical exertion and the instructions the sheriff was barking out that they were trying to pull the bent right piece of the frame away from the tire and get the car out of the ditch. It took almost an hour before the three men returned to the car where Rose was sitting.
“Okay,” the sheriff said, checking closely on Rose. “I think we’re good to go.”
She slowly got out of the other car with the sheriff’s help. “Great,” she said, and headed to the patrol car.
Mr. Sunspeaker walked beside her and opened the passenger’s door.
“Thank you,” she said, sliding in and then pulling the seat belt around her.
He replied with a nod. Then he closed the door and headed to his car. His son had already gotten in and the sheriff was waiting at the driver’s side.
“We have about two more hours to go,” he reported to Mr. Sunspeaker. “You can just follow us on into town. I’ll take you to the local hotel,” he added.
The older man nodded, opened his door, and got in.
When the sheriff started his engine, he slowly pulled his car away from the ditch. The driver of the other car waited until the patrol car merged onto the interstate and then he pulled in behind him.
It was well after 9:00 P.M. before the sheriff drove into Shady Grove and let Rose out at the cabin by the office. He quickly jumped to her side of the car, opened her door, and left only when he was sure there was someone at Ms. Lou Ellen’s house to take care of her.
He waved good-bye and pulled out of Shady Grove as the Boyds, Mary, Thomas, Ms. Lou Ellen, and a dog all poured onto the front porch.
TWENTY
Lucas was the one to come down the steps first. “Oh, little sister.”
Rose glanced up when the sheriff pulled away and saw her friends join Lucas at the front door. The three-legged dog stood near Ms. Lou Ellen’s feet.
“What on earth happened?” Rhonda asked. They could all see the gash on her forehead and they all ran down the stairs to get to her.
“He do this to you?” Mary was holding her by the arm and pulling her up the steps. She peered up the driveway at the sheriff’s car exiting.
“No,” Rose said, and then everyone began asking her questions. “Are you okay?” “Where have you been?” “How did you get hurt?” She was unable to answer them all.
She noticed Tom right away. She smiled at him and was glad to feel his arms around her. Even though he had only been gone a couple of days, it felt like months since she had seen him. She had so much she needed to talk to him about.
“We had a little wreck on the way back,” she explained.
“Dear, we thought you were dead.” Ms. Lou Ellen remained standing in the doorway. There was an edge to her voice, a raised tone that Rose had not heard before. The three-legged dog began to bark.
“Yes, Lester Earl,” she said to the dog, trying to sound cheerful. “It is Rose and she appears to be alive.” They both moved aside as the group walked inside.
When Rose entered the cabin, relieved to be at Shady Grove, she immediately noticed an assortment of dishes spread across the kitchen table. There were a couple of cakes, several casseroles, two bowls of salad. She looked around, lifting her nose in the air, smelling all sorts of aromas, but she was confused about what she saw. She glanced into the kitchen, only to find even more food covering every inch of space available.
“Did you have a big dinner?” she asked, surprised at the amount of food, especially at such a late hour.
Mary rolled her eyes and moved near the table. Rhonda and Lucas followed her, waiting for Ms. Lou Ellen to explain.
She hesitated at first while Rose and Thomas sat down on her sofa.
“First of all,” the older woman replied, realizing they were all waiting for her to explain why there was so much food, “we all need to hear from Rose.”
She cleared her throat and turned to her friend. “Dear, are you all right?”
They all listened carefully for her answer.
“I’m fine,” she responded. “I just banged my head against the window. I have a headache is all.” She rested against Thomas’s shoulder.
“Let me find you an aspirin,” Rhonda said, hurrying into the back of the house.
“We were really
worried about you,” Thomas said, checking her forehead.
“We hadn’t heard anything else about you since the sheriff called this morning to tell us you were kidnapped,” Lucas said as he sat at the table.
He leaned very near to her and Rose could see the concern in his eyes. She guessed that he had been praying all day and she waited for him to offer up some prayer of thanksgiving right then, but he just watched her.
Rhonda returned with a bottle of pills. She went over to the sink and poured Rose a glass of water.
“Who kidnap you?” Mary asked as she stood behind the table.
“Here.” Rhonda handed Rose the pills and a drink.
“I don’t know,” Rose replied, taking a couple of aspirin and a sip of water.
Rhonda sat down beside Lucas and the two of them did bow their heads for a moment. Out of respect, Rose waited before she went on with her story. When they raised up, smiles on their faces, she continued.
“I was out at the dead man’s camper.” She turned to Ms. Lou Ellen, as if the older woman would understand. Ms. Lou Ellen quickly turned away. The news had a noticeable effect on her.
Everyone witnessed the exchange between the two women; however, neither Rose nor Ms. Lou Ellen elaborated.
“It was really late,” she went on, “about midnight. And I heard some men come up from the river. I got scared and jumped in the camper. Then the next thing I knew, they drove off. I’m not sure how long we rode, because I got sleepy. But when I woke up, we had stopped in Henryetta.” She took a breath.
“When I got out of the camper, they were gone. I was able to find keys to the truck and drive it back to Checotah. Then the police came, and then Sheriff Montgomery, and I’ve been with him every since.”
She exhaled, exhausted from repeating the same story over so many times in one day.
The group was silent.
“When we were driving home, the dead man’s nephew ran us off the road. That was when we had the accident.” She took another sip of water.
