Likely worried about getting hat head.
Hell, I was excited, too. The boys used to let me follow them on deer stakeouts, otherwise known as covert juvenile drinking missions, and we’d play sneak attack while tromping through the woods. Sometimes we brought paint guns, although I often wasted my pellets making designs on trees. Tonight, I had borrowed a dark hoodie from Max, thirty-seven sizes too big, but it kept me warm and covered much of my body.
My vertically challenged legs scrambled after Max. After covering half a football field in long strides, Max halted. I slammed into him and cursed my lack of peripheral vision in the hoodie. He barely flinched, while the brick wall effect ricocheted throughout my body. Before I could slide to the ground, he grasped my elbow and jerked me to my feet. His fingers flew to give me the shush sign, and he jerked his head toward the little Beamer parked across the street.
I rolled my eyes and nodded. I was glad Max found skulking entertaining. However, he seemed to overstate the obvious. I pulled my elbow from his grasp and snuck around a magnolia planted near the street. The broad, thick leaves offered wonderful cover. I peeked around a branch, but was still too far to see anything.
A cluster of pines stood across the street, creating a wooded belt between two properties. If I could sneak across the street, I might have a decent chance of spying unseen. I glanced over my shoulder at Max and made a few finger gestures indicating my intention. He made a few gestures back at me, showing his disapproval. I spun around and showed him another finger.
While we finger argued, the mounting rumble of an approaching vehicle reached our ears. I hopped away from Max and peered around the tree. Headlight beams flickered in the distance. The vehicle would give me a chance to cross the street unseen.
While I watched for the oncoming car, Max crept behind me and breathed into my ear. “Let me speak to this person. While I distract, you see if you know them.”
I angled a look back at him. “What if the stalker is coo-coo for you and not me? What if they see you’re packing and they pull out a pistol and shoot you?”
“I have more fear of you getting hit by this car than getting shot by a sleepy intruder.”
“I’ll be careful. I’ll run across right after this vehicle passes. The oncoming headlights will give me cover.”
“Have your way,” he nudged me toward the street. “Just be careful. If you get smashed by car, I will have to call police. They will find our alibi strange.”
“Alibi? Why are you worried about an alibi?” I said, but the growing headlights didn’t give me time to finish the thought. Across the street, the stalker had cranked his ignition. The BMW readied to leave in response to the oncoming vehicle. I crept closer to the street and squatted within the lower magnolia branches.
The rumble grew louder and the headlights grew brighter. I pulled the hood on my sweatshirt forward to ward off their glare. The vehicle, a large truck, slowed as it approached, bathing me in light. The tree blocked the stalker’s view of my squat and the tall headlights would momentarily blind him. I looked over my shoulder. Max had disappeared.
I rose, stepped out of the tree’s cover, and stared into the oncoming headlights. Orange and yellow orbs swam in my vision. I waited for the red glare of the tail lights to pass and stepped off the curb. Light brightened the street, confusing my already spotty vision. I took three springing steps to dart across the street and realized I had a spotlight trained on me.
A squeal broke through the sound of the truck motor, and everything went haywire. I froze. Red lights spun to one side. Bright lights washed over my still form. A motor gunned. I couldn’t see what was happening. Exhaust and rubber fumes filled my lungs. The lights grew brighter. I flew off my feet.
Airborne is an odd feeling. Particularly if you’re not sure where you’ll land.
Nineteen
Beneath the magnolia, Max clutched my waist while we watched the truck finish its donut spin. The BMW had taken off.
“I understand better the frustration of your deputy,” Max panted.
“I couldn’t see. I didn’t know the BMW was fixing to run me over.” I was still sprawled over Max’s lap, where I had landed after he had snatched me from the oncoming car. “You just saved my life.”
“The truck is stopping,” he said and jerked us both to our feet. His arm remained circled across my body. His shoulder holster dug into my shoulder blade.
“I’m not planning on running out in the street again,” I said. “You can relax your grip.”
“Quiet.” His thick fingers tightened on my waist, and he reached across me with his other arm to unsnap his holster, effectively blocking my view. And my mouth.
I inhaled the spicy cologne he wore and thought about biting his arm, but worried about breaking my teeth on the packed muscle.
Brakes screeched and a motor cut off. Max dropped his hand from the gun grip. I could see once again.
His other hand remained positioned across me, but his fingers had relaxed slightly. My body concealed his gun from the driver’s view.
I vaguely wondered if all this body clutching was for his protection or mine. However, considering our difference in size, I’d make a crappy shield.
The driver’s door to the dark pickup swung open and the cab light illuminated the driver.
“Oh shit,” I said. “This isn’t going to be good.”
“You seem to have more than one stalker,” said Max.
“What in the hell,” bellowed Luke. He jumped from his cab and stomped around the truck. “You crazy woman. You almost got hit by that car.”
He stopped in the street before us, the Raptor’s headlights now shining a spotlight on him. “What are you two doing?”
“May I ask you the same?” Max said with a casual air of indifference. He might have spent every night snatching women from oncoming traffic and rolling them under magnolia trees.
“What do you mean? I’m not the one standing in the street in the middle of the night.”
“Well,” I said, “you kind of are. Standing in the street. In the middle of the night.”
The look on Luke’s face made me ease back into Max’s body. I felt his gun press into my back. At least I hoped it was his gun.
Max’s hand released my hip. “Is there an explanation for your decision to drive by my home at this time of night?”
“I don’t owe you an explanation,” said Luke. “The roads are public property.”
“I see,” said Max. “Good night, then.” He clamped a paw around my hand, pivoted, and walked back through the trees, yanking me behind him.
“Hey,” yelled Luke. “I’m not done with you.”
Max ignored Luke and trucked along, easing us back to his fence line. I strode triple time to keep up with his pace.
I glanced over my shoulder to see if Luke followed us. “You are making an enemy in the Sheriff’s Office.”
“I am not a fan of police,” said Max. “We did not break the law. We have no reason to talk to him.”
“Common courtesy?”
“You speak too much,” he slowed and let me catch up to his side. “This is your problem. Too much talking. If we had stayed to chat with your deputy, what would have happened?”
“He would’ve yelled at me for almost getting hit by a car. Then yelled at me for coming here tonight when he told me to leave you alone. And probably yelled for some other stuff I can’t think of.”
“Always the yelling,” said Max. “Why do you want to be with someone who yells at you?”
“He yells because he cares. He fears for my safety overmuch,” I said. “But you do have a point.”
Max opened the gate for me to stumble through. “Unfortunately, I did not see the driver before he missed squashing you with his BMW.”
“I didn’t see him either. Do you think he accidentally tried to kill me or was it more on purpose?”
“Very difficult to tell, given the situation.” Max fell silent as we trudged through his yard. Reac
hing the driveway, he stopped. “Perhaps it is nothing but coincidence.”
“I’d like to think so,” I yawned. “Why would anyone sign my death warrant? Unless it’s some extreme anti-nudist folks who caught wind of my Greek Todd paintings.”
“You spoke of a hijacking and the murder of the witness. May I see this sketch?”
“I don’t see why not. The Sheriff’s Office is showing it to everyone.” I felt for my keys in my pocket and realized I had left my purse in his house. “I’ll bring it by tomorrow. I’ve got a busy day, so I can’t promise what time I’ll stop in.”
“I would expect nothing less,” said Max, giving me his ubiquitous eyebrow raise. “I will drive you home. The perpetrator may wait for you. Tomorrow morning I will bring Casey her car.”
“Good. Stop in for coffee and you can explain to Todd why you’re rehiring him for the SipNZip. He can start immediately.”
Max’s mouth quirked. “You are like my childhood dog. He would also not give up the bone picking.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment, but thanks. I’m glad you changed your mind.”
“You are mistaken.”
“On which part? The compliment or changing your mind?”
By way of answering, he abruptly turned and strode toward the house.
“I see how you work,” I said. “When you don’t want to have a conversation, you just walk away. Is retreat the only maneuver you know?”
Max stopped and shot a dark look over his shoulder. “I know many maneuvers. Some of which may surprise you.”
That statement gave me a pause. And a shocking flutter through my stomach. Whatever maneuvers he wanted to try on me, that one certainly shut me up.
Twenty
The next morning, I gathered my sketching supplies and made a hasty exit from the crowded house before anyone complained I used all the hot water. No BMW lurked nearby, but Rupert’s town car waited for me. At this hour, the street was quiet. Rather unusual to not have prying eyes about and rather unfortunate, I thought, as I climbed into the back of the vehicle.
I could’ve used the good press of a chauffeured car.
I made the driver, Nick, drive through the middle of town. The post office was empty, save for a poster of Greek Todd, which I ripped down and stuffed in my bag.
I studied the Tru-Buy as we passed, but the early hour left the parking lot empty. Feeling disappointed my brush with a chauffeur did not lend itself to bragging, I allowed Nick to continue toward the interstate exit. I would’ve loved to have him drive down to Line Creek and park in front of Shawna’s store, but I didn’t want to push her over the edge. Yet.
As we neared the exit, I eyed the SipNZip sign, looming in the distance between a liquor store and a Motel 8. “Nick, can we stop at the SipNZip?”
Nick nodded. He wasn’t much on talking. On the drive through Halo, I had tried my best to pull conversation from him. The back of his buzzed, light brown head nodded or shook. Once he turned his head so he could give me an “are-you-serious?” look. Not a chatter.
We pulled into the SipNZip and I popped open my car door, forgetting that was part of Nick’s role. “Are you coming in?” I asked him.
He shook his head, pulled a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, and leaned against the car.
“You want a cup of coffee?”
His eyes cut from the lighter he cupped before the cigarette in his mouth. Giving me a quick head shake, Nick torched the cigarette and blew a stream of smoke in my direction.
I gave up on Nick and wandered past the gas pumps to the store. Max might have shut down my SipNZip line of questioning, but I am a woman who follows through with her intentions. I wasn’t quite sure of my intentions, but while I tried to catch some ever-elusive sleep, I had thought about Max’s reasons to not want Todd in his store. Max had hired Todd for odd jobs in the past. Like calling bingo and dealing poker and something between the two that dipped into card sharking. Max trusted Todd. The problem wasn’t Todd.
The problem was the SipNZip.
Max didn’t want anyone to know he owned it, which was also strange considering he didn’t hide his presence in the community. What was going on with the SipNZip? I reckoned there was only one way to find out. I would have to get a job at the SipNZip. Without Max knowing. In between my hours of working on Rupert’s painting, taking care of the Coderres, and figuring out why Shawna wanted to destroy me.
I’d give the job a week. I couldn’t sleep anyway. Not with all these people in my house. I was sharing a bed with my sister, for gracious sake.
The sparkling glass door of the SipNZip banged behind me as I walked to the counter. The spindly, young woman I had met earlier worked the cash register again. She looked up from her magazine, recognition dawning in her eyes. Quickly replaced with irritation. She enjoyed my need to chat as much as Nick the driver.
“I want an application to work here,” I said.
She shrugged, pulled a piece of paper from the drawer beneath her, and shoved it at me. With a winning customer service smile and a thank you, I took the form and a pen. Five minutes and one cup of flavored coffee later, I returned with the completed application.
“Cherrilyn Ballard?” She stumbled over my name as she scanned the form.
I bobbed my head, taking a cue from Driver Nick. Ballard was my Grandpa’s name and my real name was Cherrilyn, so no real foul there. And using my Grandpa’s farm address wasn’t really a lie. However, my extensive work in the service and retail industry was a bit overblown.
“I’m willing to work the graveyard shift,” I said. “Actually, it’s really the only time I can work. And on Friday and Saturday nights, I’d rather come in after the bars close.”
“We’ll call you.”
“Alrighty. Have a good day now.” I traipsed back to the car.
Nick tossed his cigarette onto the blacktop and opened my door. I clambered in and noticed the poster sticking out of my satchel.
Yanking it out of the bag, I pressed out the wrinkled paper and examined the enlarged photograph. Shawna had used a Sharpie to draw arrows and enhance some of Todd’s features. She had also written, “You Call This Art? Concerned Citizens for Decency in Art,” followed by her phone number. Todd’s face had been Sharpied out. Which I guess was good for Todd, although he might have liked Shawna’s enhancements. Likely would have gotten him some high-fives from the guys.
I shoved the poster back in my satchel, pulled out my phone, and called my sister.
Casey bleated an obnoxious word in my ear.
“I found a Greek Todd poster in the post office. You, Cody, and Todd need to drive around the county and pull those posters down.”
She repeated the offensive word.
“I’m serious,” I said. “Shawna’s forming a concerned citizens group about me. The witch hunt has begun. I’m on my way to Atlanta, otherwise I would do it.”
I hung up before she cussed again. Casey was not a morning person.
I dialed another number.
“Girl, how are you? I’m on my way to the church for organ practice,” said Leah. “Mercy, it’s a beautiful day. Don’t you think?” Leah was a morning person. Which is why I rarely talked to her in the morning.
“Leah, I need your help.” I glanced out the window and saw a sign for the Cracker Barrel. My stomach’s resonant growl caused a shriek from Leah and a concerned glance in the rear view from Nick. I held the phone away from my body until my stomach finished complaining. “Shawna Branson is up to no good again. Have you heard her newest campaign plan?”
“Honey, yes. I was in the office yesterday when she tried to reserve a meeting room at the New Order Church for Monday night. Some kind of Concerned Citizens League. Wanted it sooner and got real ugly with the receptionist, Beth Daniels. You’re lucky Beth doesn’t take any guff and wouldn’t move the Boy Scouts to another night. They’re getting ready for their pinewood derby. Isn’t that cute?”
“I tell you what’s not cute. What p
eople are going to think of me after Shawna leads this meeting. She’ll get all the Bransons to back her. I’ll be blackballed from the Lions’ pancake breakfasts, much less sell a pencil sketch or anything else.”
“Plus your Grandpa will wring your neck. The boys at the hardware store will not let him live this down.”
“He’ll likely kick me out of my over-crowded house. Which means I’ll really need to work in this town to pay rent,” I sighed. “Can you talk to Shawna? See if you can get any sense out of her? Find out what she means by these pictures she thinks I have?”
“Of course, I’ll try. This is plain silly. How does this one woman get a whole county to shun you?”
“My family history doesn’t help. I’ve got plenty of friends, but most aren’t respectable. With the exception of you and, ironically, Max Avtaikin. He can slip through the fingers of the law and still get a key to the city.” I squinted in thought. “You’d think the elderly community would be angry with him for that bingo deal, but they blame me instead.”
“Everyone loves Mr. Max. And you’re sort of easy to blame.”
“Don’t start spouting the ‘blessed are the meek’ lines. I get enough of that from Red.”
“You do have a mouth on you, honey. No denying that,” Leah giggled. “But you generally use it for the good of others. You have a big heart.”
“Almost as big as my mouth,” I smiled.
“Some Halo residents see a problem with both. Folks don’t always appreciate your public service. At least the public you are serving. Unfortunately, the big folks think the people you like to help deserve their misfortune. People like the Bransons don’t like your interference.”
“I guess helping the Coderres isn’t going to get me a Citizen of the Year award, either. Leah, tell me why I want to live in a town who looks down on the unfortunate?”
“Because that happens everywhere, baby. City, country, suburbs. You want to live in this town because your family and friends live here. And it’s a good place to raise children.”
Hijack in Abstract (A Cherry Tucker Mystery) Page 13
