Beneath the Tombstone (The Tombstone Series)

by Martin Cogburn

  “I’m sorry I lied to you, Misty,” Jason murmured right before he felt himself sailing through the air. Sand and gravel ripped at his skin as he smashed face first into the ground. After skidding for a few seconds, he came to a stop on his stomach.

  Lying there totally helpless caused him to reflect, for a moment, on what the outcome of tonight was supposed to have been – Rising high above it all, being seen as a hero, placed on a pedestal and seen as someone who could not be brought low… but here he was, flat on his face as blood oozed from it in several locations. He lifted his dizzy head and watched as the red beads began dripping from the tip of his nose to the ground. As soon as they hit, they were soaked up by the sand. He was torn without and within, still as limp and helpless as a fallen teddy-bear. Jason now knew he was far from in control.

  It was then that he remembered the words Misty had spoken a short time before, quoting her sister, Susan. “God is the only one who has complete control.”

  He let out a moan filled with loss and pain before trying to rise. Reaching up, he grasped one of the bars on the merry-go-round, using it for support. It swayed side-to-side as he struggled to find his feet. Finally, he stood on wobbly legs, bracing against the merry-go-round. After standing there for a moment, still trying to regain his strength, he shoved off. Standing on his own trembling limbs, he listened for signs of life around him. Nothing. The park had returned to the original silence and emptiness from which it had been stolen.

  How long had the kidnappers been gone? Seconds? Minutes? Was there any chance he could catch them? Fueled by that thought, Jason began trying to run. The direction they had taken Misty led back towards the area where he had left his truck. Stumbling over his own feet, he began trying to run that direction.

  He had almost made it to his truck when he finally lost footing in the loose gravel at the edge of the little street that ran along a portion of the park. He fell in the small, sharp rocks with his hands outstretched and felt the pain as they bit into his palms. He crawled slowly to his knees and looked up and down the street several times. Nothing. Not a sight or a sound to indicate a retreating vehicle. The three men, along with his wife, had vanished.

  In panic mode, Jason rose, pulled his cell phone out and dialed. Halfway through the first ring it was answered. “Hello Jason,” Dr. Throckmorton greeted warmly. “I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

  “Yeah, I bet not,” Jason spat back. “You probably thought I’d still be out cold.”

  “Well, if you are cold go home. We can do this another night.”

  “Don’t play dumb with me!” Jason seethed into the phone. “Where is she?”

  “Where is who?” The doctor sounded confused. “Jason, what are you talking about?”

  Jason growled in frustration. “I’m talking about you violating the rules of our agreement! Or did you miss the part where I was supposed to win, not get my face bashed in by your adolescent kung-fu fighter?” Silence. “Your men… they attacked us! But I really don’t have to tell you that, do I?”

  Doctor Throckmorton held his silence for a moment longer before slowly beginning to speak, a puzzled note filling tone. “Jason… I just got off the phone with my guys. They called upset because they were cold and getting tired of waiting.”

  That couldn’t be right. “How long ago?” Jason demanded.

  “I hung up with them to answer your call.”

  Those were the last words that Jason heard of the conversation. The phone slide from his hand and struck the pavement with a crack. The doctor had just gotten off the phone with his guys? And they were still waiting? That could only mean one thing – She was really gone. Jason’s mind spun. Would they hold her for ransom? For what? His maxed out credit cards? Didn’t make sense. Maybe they would call with demands.

  With that thought, Jason frantically stooped down beside his phone, snatched it up and pressed the button to turn it on. The screen remained blank. He shook the phone desperately. It was his life-line that could tie him to Misty. What if he couldn’t get it back on? What if the kidnappers tried to call with terms that held her life in the balance… and he couldn’t answer? Jason held the button down. Why wasn’t it working?

  “Come on, you stupid thing,” he degraded his upgraded phone. The screen finally blinked to life and, in turn, Jason exhaled in relief.

  A car slide around the corner, and headlights struck Jason through the dark night. His heart thumped. Leaping to his feet, he made a mad dash for his truck. It could be the kidnappers. At this time of night, who else would it be? Couldn’t let them get away! Not this time!

  Grasping the door handle, he pulled for all he was worth. The truck swayed to his side but the door did not open to him. With a frustrated groan he remembered – Misty had insisted that he lock the truck. The speeding car was getting closer.

  “Keys!” Jason shouted abruptly as he dug deep into one pocket, retrieving the key ring.

  Let’s see, key to the house that was up-side-down due to a heavy second mortgage, key to the job he hated, key to that high dollar gym, key to the boat he couldn’t afford. He really needed to simplify his life! Where was the truck key?

  There! Jason jammed it into the slot but couldn’t get the stubborn thing to unlock. Recognizing his trouble, he pushed it all the way in and turned the lock. As he tore the door open, the approaching car came to a screeching halt.

  With surprising agility for an older heavy-set man, the doctor leapt from the vehicle almost before it had a chance to stop. “Jason! Jason!” he yelled. “It’s me! It’s me!”

  Jason turned in surprise. “Tomas?” he demanded.

  “Yes! It’s me, Jason! What in the world is going on?” the doctor asked, his eyes wide.

  Jason placed his hand on the side of his truck and, in a voice weighed down with despair, replied, “I was hoping you could tell me that.”

  “What? Tell you what?” the doctor asked, rushing forward. He came to an abrupt halt when he noticed Jason’s new facial. “Jason, your face!” he gasped.

  “She’s gone,” Jason spoke loudly. “They took her,” he added, slamming his fist into the side of his truck.

  “Who? Your wife?” Tomas asked, his eyes growing even wider.

  “Yes, my wife, Misty,” Jason spat. “Where are your guys?”

  “On the other side of the park at the pond,” Dr. Throckmorton spoke with a bewildered look in his eye. “They’re still waiting on you.”

  “Are you positive?” Jason asked, his heart sinking.

  Tomas paused for a moment, seeming offended by the question. “Yes, I am.” As he pulled out his cell phone, he added defensively, “but if you would like, I can call them.” Without waiting for a reply, he began punching numbers into his phone.

  With the piece to his ear, he paused, silent for a moment. “John,” he spoke loudly into the cell phone as he turned his back to Jason and walked a short distance away. “This is Tomas. Where are you and your men?” Silence. “I know. I know… No, you’re right; you’re supposed to be there, but our plans changed. Why don’t you guys go on home, and I’ll settle with you in the morning.” Silence. “No, nothing is wrong; nothing for you to be concerned with anyways.” He paused. “Yes, it will be the same money… Okay, bye.” Turning back around to Jason, he spoke, “I’m sorry, Jason, but they’re still over there.”

  Jason slid down the side of the truck. “How?” he asked, gazing past the doctor into the park. “How could they still be there? With all the ruckus and yelling going on, you'd think they would have heard.”

  Tomas looked down and kicked at the gravel before speaking. “They did hear.”

  Jason’s head jerked up, fasening his gaze on Tomas. “What?” he questioned in disbelief. “Then why didn’t they come help us?”

  The doctor looked up at him with a bit of mirth in his eyes. “Let’s thing about it Jason; we hired people to stage the attempted kidnapping of your wife. I think that would rule out the preacher, his son, and any other do-
gooders, don’t you?”

  Jason slammed his fist into the rocky ground, and the pain that came as a result barley registered in his mind. Tomas was right. He ran his hands threw his hair, from front to back, causing his look to take on an even wilder appearance. Bringing his hands back forward, he buried his face in them. Doctor Throckmorton walked over and squatted by Jason’s side for a little field psychiatry.

  “I can’t believe this really happened,” Jason spoke, his words filled with despair. “I had hoped that this was some kind of cruel joke on your part.” After a moment he sighed. “What have I done?”

  Before the doctor could respond, Jason jumped to his feet. “I have to call the police!” he shouted.

  “I already have,” Tomas assured him, rising to his side. “I did it on the way over here. The only thing left for us to do is to wait.”

  “If you called them, then where are they?” Jason demanded.

  Seemingly in response to his question, a siren became audible, wailing in the distance. Soon the night came alive with red and blue lights that moved and danced in a lively rhythm. Dr. Throckmorton stepped to Jason’s side to watch the dramatic display.

  He remained motionless and silent for a few seconds then leaned over to Jason. “There’s really no need to mention my involvement in this mess,” he explained in a quiet voice. “I was abiding by your plans, following your instructions and something unexpected, which had nothing to do with me, happened. This could ruin my reputation,” he added, lifting his hands. “So please, when they start asking questions, I’m just a friend that you called for support.” With that, Tomas stepped back in conclusion.

  As the emergency vehicle approached, Jason opened the door of his truck and reached in, flashing his headlights. The sheriff’s car veered off towards them and skidded to a stop on the gravel, a short distance from the truck. The deputy that stepped out had a professional appearance, but under it you could see how thrilled he was. He adjusted his gun belt just in case no one had noticed it. Walking forward with a stride that seemed a bit exaggerated, he extended his hand in greeting. “I’m Deputy Andrews. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  Was he serious? “Yes,” Jason spat sarcastically, ignoring the extended hand. “We can start by finding my wife and then work our way down from there.”

  The officer seemed a bit taken back by the retort. He had been so nice and courteous only to have it flung back in his face. “Well, where did you last see her?” the deputy asked as though he thought she may have fallen out of Jason’s pocket.

  “In the park,” Jason yelled impatiently. If they were getting nowhere before then they were peddling backwards now.

  Just then an ambulance arrived on scene then another car pulled up, and a short, burly, middle aged man got out. In spite of the fact that the night was getting colder and damper by the minute, he wore only a tee shirt and faded blue jeans.

  “I’m Sheriff Victor,” he spoke on approach and didn’t bother with a hand shake. Looking at the deputy he said, “I’ll take it from here, Andrews.”

  The kid, who appeared to be about twenty or so, seemed rather disappointed as he trudged off, with a much shorter and less confident stride, back towards his patrol car.

  “Hey,” Sheriff Victor called, halting the retreating deputy. “Run down to the station and bring me my coat.” Seemingly as an afterthought he added, “And bring some crime scene tape.”

  When he turned back around, the medics were examining his wittiness. One of them turned from his job of shining a blinding light in Jason’s eye and spoke to the sheriff. “I think he’s got a concussion, how sever I’m not sure.”

  The medic turned back to Jason. “We need you to come with us. We’ll give you a lift to the hospital,” he added as he took the patient’s arm to lead him over to the emergency vehicle.

  Jason, in turn, planted his feet like a stubborn old mule and, in defiance, announced, “I am not going anywhere until we find my wife.”

  “Okay, okay,” the paramedic spoke with raised hands. “Just keep in mind that you could have internal bleeding or something. And we need to fix that nose.” With that he turned and walked off. “We’ll be here if you need us,” he cast back.

  As Jason watched the medics go, Dr. Throckmorton leaned over to him and whispered, “Don’t worry. I can fix your nose… without taking you to the hospital.”

  Honestly, Jason didn’t care what his nose looked like. “We’ll worry about it later,” he replied.

  As they turned back around to face the sheriff, Tomas offered some advice. “You need to tell him what her name was.”

  Even if it was unintentional, Jason did not appreciate the doctor’s referral to his wife as if she no longer existed. “Her name is,” he stressed, as he glared at the doctor, “Misty Hathaway.”

  “Spell it,” the sheriff instructed as he pulled out a pen and pad of paper.

  After writing it down, Victor walked back over to his car and called in the information over the radio. Summoning Jason over to the driver’s side of the car, he asked how many attackers there had been and what they looked like.

  Jason revealed all he could remember and gave a vivid description of the two who he, if given the chance, could identify. But the third one he couldn’t offer much on. The man had been pretty average when it came to height and weight. And with the hood hiding his face, for the time being, his identity would have to remain a mystery.

  Sheriff Victor relayed the information over the radio then turned back to Jason. “Did you get a look at their car?”

  “No. I didn’t even hear one, but I was pretty messed up for a bit,” Jason replied.

  “How long has she been missing?” the sheriff asked.

  Jason looked at his watch. They had been attacked at about the time the original encounter was supposed to take place. He remembered because of how, in his mind, he had been trying to rush Misty, knowing they were going to be late.

  “About twenty minutes,” he sighed. After a moment of silence, he spoke with a shaky voice, “Sheriff, we have to find her.”

  A look of understanding came over the sheriff’s face as he radioed in the last details. After putting up the hand held device, he turned back. “I’m sorry. I know this is hard, but for her sake I need you to keep it together for me.” He stepped over and intercepted Jason distant gaze. “Is there anything else you can remember? Even if it seems completely irrelevant, it could help in solving this case.”

  Jason despised the thought of Misty going from being a living, breathing part of his life, to simply being a case. It seemed like such a cold word. As he turned to Tomas, their eyes locked for a split second. The doctor had requested to be left out of the story. Jason didn’t think it would matter anyways, seeing how the original plan with the doctor had not gone through. He directed his attention back to the sheriff. “No. Not that I can think of anyways, but I’ll let you know if I remember anything.”

  The sheriff read into the exchanged glances between Jason and the doctor but appeared unsure as to what the hidden message had been. He gave Jason a curious look, but about that time the deputy got back with the coat and crime scene tape, saving Jason from any pressing questions.

  After the sheriff had wrapped himself snugly in his coat, he, along with the deputy and Tomas, followed Jason to the scene of the crime. While the three older men went over the details of the attack, Deputy Andrews took on the daunting task of stringing up crime-scene tape.

  “So you were standing right about here?” Sheriff Victor asked Jason but didn’t receive an answer because Jason was staring at the deputy who had pulled a swing out tight and began wrapping the crime-scene tape around it, using it for an anchor… then unwrapped it, stepped back, looked at the see-saw, looked at a tree, headed towards the see-saw, changed his mind, headed towards the tree, decided against either and headed back to the swing but got his feet tangled in the tape and almost tripped.

  All three men stood in silence and watched the flustered, high-s
trung kid as he made a mess out of things and almost hung himself with the ribbon before finally turning around to face the others with a defeated expression on his face. The sheriff walked over and gave him a skeptic look that seemed to ask, “How did that work out for you?” as he confiscated the tape. An old hand at it, the sheriff soon had the yellow tape surrounding the parameter of the crime scene.

  Jason soon found himself back at his truck, leaned up against the side of it, waiting on the sheriff to finish processing all the information. The emergency beacons still flashed red and blue across his face, but by now he had grown numb to their presence.

  Walking up to the tailgate, Tomas dropped it open. “Come over here and lie down,” he instructed Jason. “Let’s set that nose.”

  Jason lay down on the tail gate, grabbed on to the latch that opens it, with one hand, while he hooked the other underneath the bed rail. He took a deep breath, let it out and said, “All right, I’m ready.”

  The doctor placed one hand on Jason’s arm and the other on his nose. Jason tensed up and squeezed his holds for all he was worth as the doctor lifted his nose, moved it over and set it down in the right spot. That hadn’t felt too bad, just really weird.

  As Jason shut the tail gate back, the sheriff slammed the door on his car and approached with a soured look on his face. Uh-oh. Judging by his expression, Jason feared more bad news was coming. But then again, could it really get any worse? “Don’t ask that question,” he told himself. “It can always get worse.” Sheriff Victor’s frustration seemed to be fastened on Jason, but that couldn’t be right. Jason was the victim here.

  “When were you going to tell me about what happened at the little Italian food joint down by the River Walk the other night?” the sheriff demanded. Fearless Deputy Andrews came over to support his leader.

  “It really didn’t seem worth mentioning,” Jason said as if it bore no relevance. “Some jerk stole my wife’s purse; I went and got it back for her.”

  “It is my job to decide what’s important and what’s not,” the sheriff spat.