John didn’t intend to let that happen. “Marty Smallwood! Don’t you move a muscle, you hear me? Throw me out that pistol!”
Watching both the rotten boards and the hole that swallowed Marty, Cody tiptoed across the porch.
Marty didn’t answer.
“Throw out that gun, now!”
All John could see was movement in the shadows. A trickle of rain funneled off his hat. Even if it had been a bright, sunny day, John doubted if he could have seen him under there anyway. The shape was odd, and he couldn’t identify head nor tails.
Marty raised a shaking hand. “Don’t shoot no more.”
“I said throw the gun out.”
“All right!” The sudden clap of a gunshot from under the porch made Cody jump. “Shit!”
John opened up with the twelve-gauge. Dust and splinters jumped as the pellets impacted the wood.
From the porch, Cody fired half a dozen times through the rotten boards.
Melva held her head. “Stop! Stop! You’re a hurtin’ my ears!”
Someone else was shouting too. “Stop shootin’! It was an accident!” Marty’s pistol flew out the hole to land at Cody’s feet. “I didn’t mean to shoot! This damn thing’s got a hair trigger on it!”
Stunned that Marty was still alive and talking, Cody crept forward to peek over the ragged hole while John thumbed fresh shells into his shotgun. “Let me see your hands!”
Shaking, Marty did what he was told.
“Climb out of there.”
“Sheriff, I busted my nuts so hard when I fell that my stomach’s cramping something fierce. I doubt I can walk.”
“Keep ’em up there, then.” Ready to shoot again, Cody peered over the hole to see Marty lying in a two-foot deep wallow in the dirt made either by dogs or hogs. The mounded dirt absorbed the pellets from John’s shotgun. From his angle, Cody’s bullets impacted the floor joists and nothing else.
Chapter Seventy-eight
Crow steered into the Western Skies motel, off the highway alive with a mix of new and old cars sporting fins, two-tone colors, long hoods, and deep trunks. He had unfinished business with the Parkers behind the chipped red door and felt bad about the way he’d left them.
James was watching out the window and yanked the door open before Crow could get out of the car. He checked the front seat, but Pepper wasn’t there. “What happened? Where is she?”
Glancing over his shoulder, Crow pushed past him into the room. “Y’all need to get your stuff and get out of town. Right now. Listen to me, James, you do the driving and stay below the speed limit. If y’all get pulled over, you don’t know me and whatever they ask you, say you ain’t got no idea what they’re talking about. You’ve been in this room all morning and now you’re leaving, on your way back home ’cause Ned’s sick.”
Ned was sick, but he raised up on an elbow, jiggling the paper cup half full of cold coffee. Cale hadn’t noticed the waitress added cream and sugar, and that, in Ned’s opinion, ruined it. “What are you talking about?”
Crow pitched the keys to James. “The less you know, the better.” He was already leaving when James grabbed his arm in a surprisingly firm grip.
“Where the hell is my daughter?”
“I don’t know where she is.”
“You went to get her.”
“No, I didn’t.” Crow gently pulled James’ fist from his sleeve. “I went to get my sister! Pepper’s not there. She never was.”
The strange turn of events made Ned’s feverish head spin. Still, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, groaning at the pain in his stomach. He couldn’t straighten, and instead tilted his head to see. “Clear this up, Crow.”
“We don’t have time to talk. I gotta get gone before the police show up. They pulled me over and I fought with a cop. They’re probably looking for James’ car right now.”
He turned to leave and froze at the distinctive sound of a cocking pistol. The muzzle of Ned’s .38 was less than ten feet away. The old man suddenly appeared much healthier than he had only moments before.
“You ain’t going nowhere till you tell us what happened this morning.” He couldn’t miss at that range. “If you try to leave, I’ll shoot your kneecap off and you’ll wind up under arrest anyway, and I have a good idy that you’ve been in trouble with the law before, so you better start talking, boy.”
Cale’s eyes were wide as saucers. “Uh, Crow, you better do what he says. That old man means every word. I know him.” He paused and licked his lips. “He’s the best pistol shot in the county.”
Holding the doorknob, Crow sighed. He didn’t want to stay, but for the next couple of minutes, he told them everything that had happened from the time he left.
“Fine, then.” Ned lowered the pistol. “You fought the police. If they show up I’ll tell them you’re under arrest for warrants back in Texas and I’m taking you in. That might keep you out of jail here for now until we can sort all this out. But you still ain’t told us all you know about Pepper.”
“You don’t get it, Ned. Pepper ain’t here. She never was here as far as I know. I used y’all to find my sister. She disappeared after a guy come through Tahlequah on a motorcycle a few months back. We all thought she’d been kidnapped. You know Oklahoma law, Ned. They don’t care about a Comanche girl disappearing these days. Said she probably run off with some hippies like so many kids do these days.
“But I didn’t believe them. She’d never done anything like that before, so I called my brother Rocky and told him where I was going, then I started working my way west. I saw you with a car and a badge, and figured you had money.” He shrugged. “That’s all.”
James rubbed his unshaven cheek. “How’d we come to be in Barstow? You said Pepper was here.”
Unable to meet Ned’s eyes, Crow settled on talking at Cale because it was easier. “I heard what Ned was doing in the bus station back in Texas. I needed the car and I was flat broke, so I threw in with him. When we got to Amarillo, those gals in that little house there told me where most of the kids were going. One said she’d seen what she took for an Indian girl on her way through, but hell, today all these hippies dress like Indians, so it could have been anyone.”
He shifted toward the window to watch the courtyard. Two or three families were packing their cars to travel. He was glad to see a big Buick had pulled up beside James’ sedan, partially blocking it from the street.
“Hey guys. I’m a son of a bitch for it, but I used y’all. Hell, I didn’t think I’d give a damn about any of you, but you grew on me.”
James balled his fist and stepped closer. “Pepper! My daughter.”
“I don’t know, man! It was a damned miracle that this boy showed up right at our fingertips. When he mentioned the bike gang, and told us about the Rattlers, it was like a gift from God. Those were the guys I was looking for.”
Out of nowhere, James caught Crow a lick on the ear. “Don’t you talk about God to us. You talk about Pepper.”
Staggered by the blow, Crow balled his fists, and then relaxed and held up one hand. His suddenly numb ear rang. “Dude! You still don’t get it, do you? She ain’t here, not as far as I know. She’s lost in a stream of kids on their way to California. Your best bet is to wait until she calls home for money like they all do.”
Movement outside caught James’ eye. Noticing, Crow followed his gaze. “I told you we shoulda split.”
A police car cruised through the motor court and stopped behind their sedan.
Chapter Seventy-nine
Wearing Cody’s cuffs, Marty sat with his feet through the hole in the porch. Soaked and muddy, Melva was in the back of John’s cruiser. Standing with one foot on the floorboard, John was once again wearing his yellow slicker. “I’ll follow you to town.”
“You go ahead on.” Cody eyed Marty. “I’m gonna have a talk with this dumb bas
tard before we leave.”
John nodded and dropped into the seat. “You think this rain might hold you up a little?”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking, big guy.” The brief exchange spoke volumes.
As John backed out, Cody opened the trunk of Deputy White’s car, sick at his stomach over what he was about to do. He came back with a roll of duct tape. “You’re under arrest for a whole list of things, buddy. Number one is murder. Number two is attempted murder of a peace officer. Then you have assault, evading arrest, attempting to flee, and I probably have you for jaywalking somewhere.”
Marty shrugged. “Don’t mean nothing to me. Who says I killed anyone?”
“Someone who knows you. You’ve been accused of two murders.”
“I didn’t kill anybody. What you have ain’t the truth. Anybody can point a finger. You don’t have any proof.”
“Proof enough that you shot at me. You don’t do that for jaywalking.”
“It’s the damn hair trigger on that pistol. Sometimes it’ll go off when it’s cocked. I was running. I didn’t intend to shoot at you.”
“You shot at John.”
“It was an accident, too. I don’t remember cocking it.”
“Well, you did. Now, fess up about the murders and where I can find John T.”
Marty found a point on the ground at the bottom of the wallow and studied it. “I don’t know about any murders, nor John T.”
Cody twirled the roll of tape on his index finger. “You know, I saw how good this stuff sticks yesterday, so I got me a roll. I learned something in Nam that most folks around here don’t know.” He tore off a long piece and knelt in front of Marty. “You can spend a lot of time dicking around with something and still not get anywhere. Know what I mean?”
Eyes hooded, Marty gave a slight nod even though he had no idea what Cody was talking about.
“See, we’re fighting over there in that little piss-ant country, but not really trying to win. I believe we’d be done already if the right folks would let our soldiers do their job. Now, personally, I want to be through with a fight as soon as possible, and I think I know how to end this one. Be still.” Cody quickly slapped the tape across Marty’s mouth and smoothed it against his cheeks. “There we go. Can you breathe all right?”
Fear in his eyes, Marty nodded.
“Good. Remember how that feels. I really don’t think you have the sense God gave a goose, but now’s when you can prove me wrong. I’m gonna ask you again. Where’s John T.?”
Marty shrugged, breathing hard from fear.
“That’s the wrong answer, hoss. You know good and well where he’s hiding. Now think. Do you see how well you’re breathing right this minute?”
Another nod.
“If it was me, I’d start having trouble. See, I’ve broke this nose a couple of times and it makes it hard to get enough air. Sometimes I have to open my mouth and take a deep breath. That sure is a good feeling, drawing a deep breath when you can’t get enough air through that nose.”
Cody tore off another long piece.
“Now, you can shake your head till it falls, off, but you need to act like you got some sense and tell me where I can find him.”
When Marty shook his head again, Cody slapped the tape across the bridge of his nose and pushed it down over the first strip. Realizing what was about to happen, Marty lunged upright, but Cody drove his fist into the punk’s stomach, not hard, but with enough force to double him over.
Marty oomphed and convulsed, trying to draw air into his lungs.
“Marty, John T. nearly killed my deputy. She’s a little ol’ gal, but she’s one of the best folks I’ve ever met. If she hadn’t been there, it might have been me, or John Washington that soaked up some of them pellets. You might think John T.’s tough and all that, but he ain’t dog shit on my boots. You thought you was tough, but you see how you are right now, trying to breathe? Well, I’m tired of foolin’ with you.”
With both hands he quickly reached out and folded the long flap of tape over Marty’s nose and pushed hard. The terror in his prisoner’s eyes told Cody that he’d found the exact thing to make him talk.
Leaping to his feet, Marty rolled back onto the rotten boards. Desperate for oxygen, he convulsed, rubbing his face on the porch to free the tape.
Cody twirled the roll of tape in his hands and watched as if Marty was a dying roach. Eyes glassy and chest heaving, Marty made horrific noises deep in his throat, he folded and went back down.
“Had enough?” Cody knelt with his knee on Marty’s chest. He pinched one corner of the tape over his nose and peeled upward, allowing him to take in a deep breath. Crying, Marty pumped air in and out of his oxygen-starved lungs.
Cody tore off a fresh strip of tape and watched Marty’s eyes lock onto it. “I’m gonna ask you one last time, then I’m gonna bust you in the nose and put this tape across it again. You can’t breathe blood. You gonna answer?”
Frantic nodding.
“You know where I can find John T.?”
More frantic nodding. Marty wasn’t paying attention to Cody, he was staring at the tape as if it were a live cottonmouth. Cody stripped it off his mouth like pulling off a Band-Aid.
Marty drew in great lungsful of air, whooping in and out.
Cody held the long strip of fresh tape in two hands between them. “Now, tell me where to find John T.”
Chapter Eighty
Ned answered the knock on their motel door. The police officer looked surprised to see an old man in an undershirt. He cleared his throat, then glanced back over his shoulder at the parking lot. “Sir, is that your Chevy right there?”
Standing in his sock feet, Ned scratched at an armpit. “Yep, that belongs to my son.”
“Sir, is he in there with you?”
Ned stepped back. “Sure is.” The officer scanned the room. “That’s my son right there on the bed.”
Also in his sock feet, James gave a little wave. Ned plucked his shirt off the only chair in the room and shrugged it on. His badge caught the light and the officer took note. Ned stayed in the doorway. “We have a teenager in there in the shower.” The water quit running a second later.
The second officer joined the first. “What’s your name?”
“Ned Parker. Constable Ned Parker.” He tapped the little badge on his shirt.
“Mr. Parker, did either of you loan your car out today?”
“Naw, I don’t loan my car to nobody, but that’s my son’s. Why?”
The bathroom door opened in a rush of steam. One towel wrapped around his waist, Cale stepped out, drying his long blond hair with another and keeping his left side to the cops so they wouldn’t see the bruises on the other.
The second officer addressed Ned. “We’re after the driver of a pale yellow Bel Air who assaulted an officer.”
“Well?”
Uncertain what to do next, the cops shifted from one foot to the other.
“Don’t y’all have the license number of the car?”
“No. We didn’t get it.”
“Well, that’s the first thing you do when you pull a car over. Didn’t they teach that to y’all at the academy? Did you get a good description of the driver?”
“I didn’t pull him over. He flagged another officer down, then attacked him. Big guy with long, black hair. Six-six, six-seven.”
“Lordy, that’s a hoss.” Ned figured the cop in front of him was more Crow’s size at less than six feet. “I haven’t seen anybody that big since we left Texas. Have you, son?”
“Nope.” James shook his head.
Ned buttoned his shirt. “Your man hurt bad?”
“Bruises. Shattered knee.” The first officer paused, realizing he was talking too much. He figured it was probably Ned’s badge that caused him to open up. “Well, thanks.” He stepp
ed back outside, leaving the door open. “Report says the car we’re after’s like that one.”
“Well, that’s a pretty popular model, and since it’s a few years old, I ’magine there’s a lot of them on the road.” Standing in the door, Ned rubbed his bald head. “Well, I figger a guy who beats up a police officer’d take off for somewhere else and not check into a motel, do you think?”
“Maybe you’re right. Sorry to bother you, Constable.”
“That’s fine.” Ned patted his arm. “That’s fine, son. Hope you catch him.”
“We will.” He stepped onto the walk and Ned waved goodbye. He opened the curtains and sat at the table. “Stay in there till I tell you to come out.” He waved again at the officer outside and folded at a sharp stab of pain.
From the parking lot, Ned appeared to be writing, or reading, or praying.
Chapter Eighty-one
Lying on one of the double beds in the motel room, Pepper twirled her eagle feather by the quill and watched a rerun of “The Real McCoys,” but her mind was a million miles away.
Six bottled cokes sat on the dresser, sweating through the cardboard carton. Ice shifted in the bucket beside them as it melted. Snacks were scattered across the remainder of the space, along with empty wrappers from Sugar Daddy’s, Oh Henry!, Lik-M-Aid, Butterfingers, and Turkish Taffy.
The trash can was full of greasy hamburger bags and used paper cups.
Outside, kids squealed and splashed in the pool.
She was on the road, surrounded by the Route 66 culture of glitz and kitsch, and she was bored to death.
Tears ran down her cheeks and she wiped them away with the wrinkled sheet. Pepper simply wanted to go back to Center Springs, and home, because she hadn’t gotten one damn thing out of the entire trip that she expected.
Though the motel advertised color television, “The Real McCoys” was in black and white. Pepper took a deep, shuddering breath and paused, listening to Luke tell Kate that she was the strongest of the two of them.
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