***
As Jacobs was pulling away from the Timber mill yard, Blake scanned the area one last time looking for any remaining signs they had been there.
“Good. The rain will wash most of the tracks away and resettle the woodchip pile,” he said.
As the truck cleared the main fence, the police scanner blared in the closed vehicle. Catfish called, “Can’t you turn that thing off?”
“Bill” Blake asked. “What do all the code numbers mean? Are they coming after us?”
Jacobs grinned. “No, that’s the Sheriff himself. It sounds like he has one of Catfish’s friends for drunk driving. That’ll keep him busy with paperwork at the courthouse for a couple of hours at least.”
They listened to the chatter as Brooks called out the make and model of the erratically handling vehicle he was pursuing. “The suspect’s car is a red, 2006 or 2007, Jeep Grand Cherokee. North Carolina license plates, A-L-P-H 5552.”
Jacobs glanced over at Blake and asked, “Did he say...”
“Yea he did.”
Gail cried, “That’s Chuck’s car but it can’t be him. He’s not drunk.”
Blake shook his head. “I got a bad feeling about this, Jacobs. Maybe we should separate. I’ll go check and see what Walt’s trying to pull with Chuck and you take the papers...”
”No” Jacobs snapped. “You better let me handle the Sheriff. You take the papers and I’ll meet you later.”
Catfish said from the rear seat, “Well none of us is separating until we get another truck. Its ten miles back to Matt’s place where we parked.”
Blake indicated a house down the road, “Drop me off at Fennel’s place. I can borrow his truck and meet you at Matt’s house in an hour. If you don’t show up I’ll come looking.”
“I’m going with Bill. If that’s Chuck then I’m going to be there.”
“Catfish? You and Clark go with Blake. I don’t want either of you guys around Brooks, at least not right now.”
After dropping the men off at a nearby house and confirming that Blake could use the borrowed truck, Jacobs pulled back on the highway and headed for the location he’d heard the Sheriff call on the radio. Three minutes later, he slowed the truck as he neared the area. Gail pointed and said, “I see blue flashing lights ahead.”
Through the rain, Bill also spotted the police lights but was on top of them before he realized it. It forced him to slam on brakes and put the truck into a sloppy ground loop to avoid hitting the parked Sheriff’s car.
Brooks was standing over a body on the ground and hitting the figure with his nightstick. Anger roared through the Jacobs’s veins and he jumped from the truck yelling, “Hold it, Brooks.”
Walt, blackjack still wavering in the air, yelled, “He’s drunk as a skunk and fighting at me. Just look at him.”
Brooks took aim with his nightstick for a second blow and yelled, “Where’s your buddy? I saw him in the car with you now where did he run off to?”
Jacobs caught the Sheriff’s arm and snapped, “That’s enough. He’s not drunk, Walt. My lord, just look at all the blood on his shirt will you?”
Gail appeared and quickly knelt beside Chuck. “Oh my God, what have you done to him?”
Brooks blinked several times in the pouring rain and seemed to notice the red stains on Chuck’s shirt for the first time. He yelled, “He busted his brains out on the steering wheel when he hit the ditch. Serves him right too because his buddy must have run off in the woods. It was probably Blake Squires.”
Jacobs helped Gail roll Chuck over on his back. His eyes were shallow and glazed and his face was a deathly white. “Chuck? Can you hear me?” Gail cried.
Brooks stepped back and said, “I’d better radio for the dogs. They can help us chase his partner down.”
Jacobs snapped up to his full height and said, “The dogs can’t track in rain like this and we need to get him to a hospital right now.”
Brooks said, “There were two people in the car. I saw them, him and somebody else.”
Gail felt the back of Chuck’s head and found a huge bump and long gash. Her hand came away covered in blood. “Bill?” She showed him her hand.
Jacobs bent over, “Let me have him.”
With little effort, he lifted Chuck’s limp body deftly in a firefighter’s hold and turned to Brooks. “I’m taking him to the hospital. He’s in shock and we’re not going to wait for an ambulance.”
Brooks shouted something but Jacobs ignored it. Gail held the truck door open and they sat Chuck in the front seat. The sheriff stood watching while Gail crawled in the back seat and held Chuck upward in a sitting position.
Jacobs crawled behind the wheel and whirled the truck around, spattering the sheriff with loose gravel and rocks. He dialed a number on the car phone and said into the receiver, “This is Deputy Bill Jacobs. I have a man in the car and he’s hurt bad. Got a head wound that is bleeding. I’ll be there in about ten minutes or so.”
He flung the phone down and turned to check on Gail in the rear seat. While looking away, the right wheels of the truck lost the pavement. He corrected it and raced on toward the West Creek County Hospital.
Sheriff Walt Brooks stood in the pouring rain watching Jacobs’ truck speed away. “Hey” he yelled. “Come back here. You are under arrest too. Come back here.”
Brooks reached inside the patrol car, grabbed the radio mike, and told the dispatcher to send a wrecker to the location. “And Brian, You better get another unit out here. I’ve got something else to go do.”
The Beginning (Whispering Pines Book 1) Page 31
