37

by David Achord

  It only took five minutes to flip-flop on the interstate and exit onto Lynnville Highway. The entrance to the campground was less than a quarter of a mile from the interstate. A sign proclaimed, “Welcome to the Shady Haven Campground!”

  There were a couple of bullet holes in the center of the O. I had to admit, I liked the grouping. One MOA, definitely. I paused a moment to take a photo before I drove in and parked in front of the office. It was a two-story affair with wraparound porches on both levels. It looked more like a farmhouse than an office.

  The interior was rather drab, full of cheesy knickknacks, dust, and other assorted clutter. An old, self-standing oscillating fan creaked from a far corner. It was in a perpetual battle against the stale air and losing badly. An older man with an enormous potbelly and indefinable smile greeted me from a rocking chair.

  “Well, I declare, it looks like another lawman coming to visit,” the man said.

  “Yes, sir. My name is Thomas Ironcutter.”

  “I’m Ernest Humphreys, I run this place. What can you do for me?” he asked. He thought he was funny.

  “I’m doing some follow-up work on the case. I hope you don’t mind.”

  He drained the remains of tea out of a Mason jar and gestured at it. “It’ll cost you,” he said. “Why don’t you pour me a refill. There’s a pitcher over there in the fridge. Help yourself to a glass, ifn’ you’re thirsty.”

  “Sure.” I took the jar from his hand with a pleasant smile. The kitchen surprised me. It was full sized with modern high-end appliances. A large crockpot on the counter was on and emitting mouthwatering aromas. I found a similar Mason jar in the cupboard and helped myself to some tea before walking back into the main room.

  “Appreciate that,” he said when I handed his tea back to him. He took a sip before eyeing me. “You ain’t wearing a badge.”

  I took my own sip and found his tea delicious. “Well, sir, I’m currently working as an independent contractor with the FBI.”

  “Sounds ominous,” he replied with that same indefinable smile. “Are you something like an undercover CIA agent or something?”

  “No, nothing like that. I’m simply helping out with this case. Most days, I’m a private investigator.”

  “I see. Well, Mister Private Investigator, what brings you here?”

  “The suspects were last known to have been in an RV…” He interrupted me before I could say more.

  “I already know that, son. Those G-men and G-women came in here and they’ve already got my surveillance videos downloaded.”

  I grunted to myself. Reuben had talked about the campground during the briefing, but left this part out. I wondered what else they were keeping confidential. I pulled my phone out and located the pictures I took of the RV and of the gypsies. He put on his bifocals and looked them over.

  “Yep. That’s them and that’s the RV they were in. They were gone when I woke up this morning.”

  “What time was that?” I asked.

  “Five. I’m up at five every morning. I don’t even need an alarm clock. Put me in a dark room with no windows and I can still tell you when it’s five am.”

  “I believe you,” I said.

  “Yep. They were gone, but they were paid up until the end of the week, so I wasn’t too concerned. I got two outdoor surveillance cameras. One of them is pointed at the entrance. It showed them leaving at three o’clock, more or less.”

  “Would you mind terribly if I watch that video?” I asked hopefully.

  He grunted before hoisting himself out of his chair and motioned for me to follow him. He led me to a side door which entered into an office. A teenage boy was sitting at a desk. It looked like a spreadsheet program was on the monitor and the boy was rapidly entering numbers.

  “Cason, this here is a fancy private detective working for the FBI,” Ernest said. “He’s come all the way from Nashville just to talk to us.”

  The boy looked up and hurriedly clicked off the program. I guessed him to be sixteen or seventeen, average height, and a little on the slender side. Ernest gestured at him with his Mason jar. “This is Cason, my grandson. He’s so smart I let him handle the business.”

  “Nice to meet you, Cason. I’m Thomas,” I said with an outstretched hand.

  “Cason, show him those surveillance videos. I’ve got something to take care of. I’ll be back shortly,” he said and walked out, closing the door behind him.

  “He has to go poop,” Cason said as soon as Ernest shut the door. “He always says he’ll be right back, but he’ll be gone for at least thirty minutes. I think he takes a nap while he’s sitting there.”

  I chuckled. “Could be, I guess.”

  “Are you wanting to see the RV leaving?” he asked. “There’s not much to it.”

  “If it’s not too much trouble,” I said.

  Cason scoffed, much like Ronald would have if he were sitting there. Within a few seconds, he had the video online. I watched it carefully. The streetlight by the entrance illuminated the front passenger compartment, but all you could see was a person behind the driver’s wheel.

  “Yeah, you’re right, not much to see.” I had him rewind and play it a couple of times and was about to thank him for his time when a thought came to me.

  “Did you ever talk to them?” I asked.

  “Just Wolf and Pekoe,” he said. “Wolf could do one-handed pushups. He’s a professional fighter.”

  “Yeah, that he is. Describe Pekoe to me.”

  “He’s older, but I couldn’t tell you how old. He has one of those faces where he could’ve been fifty or ninety, you know what I mean?”

  “Yeah, is he the one with a long beard?”

  “Yeah, but I saw him yesterday and he’d shaved it off. In fact, he had Lorilee shave him and cut his hair. He sure looked different. Did you know that old man could do one-handed pushups too? I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see it myself.”

  “Really? Impressive. Does anyone around here drive a beat-up four-wheel drive truck?” I asked.

  Cason chortled. “You just described half the population of Marshall County.”

  “The one I’m thinking of is a dually.”

  His expression turned perplexed. “Um, yeah. One woman who’s living here has a dually.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. She’s been living here a while and works here part-time.”

  “Do you know if she’s around at the moment?”

  “I don’t know. I can try calling her if you want me to.”

  “Yeah, give her a try,” I said.

  Cason tried calling and after several seconds, he hung up. “No answer.”

  “Do you know her well?” I asked.

  Cason shrugged and looked slightly uncomfortable. “We talk sometimes. She isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but she’s okay. My grandfather is a retired judge and he knew her family. He lets her live here rent-free in exchange for housecleaning and keeping the laundromat serviced.”

  “What else can you tell me about her?” I asked.

  “Um, well, she has a kid. A little girl who’s about eight months old now. Her baby’s daddy is currently serving time in the workhouse for stealing a car. He’s a big thief. Our change machine was broken into a year ago, back before he got locked up, and I’m positive he did it.”

  “Let’s go talk to her,” I urged.

  Cason agreed and stood. He suggested a refill of tea first, which I readily accepted. The aromas from the crockpot had won out over the stale air and made my stomach grumble. I heard a toilet flush from behind a closed door. Cason and I made eye contact. He gave me a knowing smirk.

  “Her camper is parked in lot six,” he said as we walked outside. There were two additional buildings behind the main office. Cason pointed them out.

  “That’s the laundromat. The other one is restroom and shower facilities. That’s included in the price, if you ever want to come camping down here.”

  “Thanks, I’ll remember t
hat. Where was the gypsy’s RV parked?”

  “In lot eight. There’s nobody in seven.” He gave a running commentary as we walked. “That’s the Chastain couple over there in lot one. They’ve lived here a little over a year and they’re both crazier than outhouse rats. We’ve called the police on them a couple of times now.”

  “Why do you let them continue to live here?” I asked.

  “I know this sounds silly, but they always pay their rent on time, so, Pop-Pop lets them stay.”

  “Makes sense, I suppose. What about Lorilee?”

  “No problems at all. She does her job and takes care of her baby.”

  “Does she ever have any visitors?” I asked.

  “There’s a woman that comes and visits sometimes,” he said. “Lorilee said it’s her aunt, but I’ve never actually met her.”

  As lot six came into view, Cason stopped and I heard him inhale sharply. I looked over.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Her truck’s gone,” he said. “That’s odd.”

  We continued walking and approached Lorilee’s trailer. It’d definitely seen better days and I seriously doubted it could be driven on the street.

  “Give it a knock,” I suggested. He did so.

  “Hey, Lorilee, you there?” he asked in a low voice and then turned back to me. “I gotta be careful not to wake the baby.”

  Cason knocked a couple of additional times before giving me another questioning look.

  “I think it’s time to knock harder,” I suggested. Cason did so and pounded on the door. Again, there was still no response.

  “She might be gone shopping or something?” he guessed.

  “I take it you didn’t see her leave?” I asked. Cason shook his head. “Give your Pop-Pop a call and ask him if he saw her leave.”

  “Yeah,” he muttered and pulled his phone out. After talking for a minute, he hung up and stared. I could see worry on his face.

  “He didn’t see her either I take it?” I asked. He shook his head.

  “Your hearing is probably better than mine. Try giving her a call again and see if you hear it,” I suggested.

  His eyes lit up. “Yeah.” He did so. Within a couple of seconds, he got an odd expression on his face. “I hear it,” he whispered and pointed toward the camper. I listened close and detected a faint chime. It was definitely coming from inside the camper. He gestured with his phone.

  “It went to voicemail.”

  I kept a neutral expression, but this was not a good sign. I pulled out a handkerchief and used it to try the doorknob. It was unlocked. The door swung open on creaky hinges. The interior was dark, but as I peered in, I saw something on the doorjamb.

  Some people might have questioned what it was, but I knew instantly. It was a drop of blood. It was only a small, singular drop. Most people might have missed it, or wrote it off as someone who cut their finger. Not me. I grabbed Cason by the shoulder.

  “Step back,” I hissed as I pulled him back toward me.

  Getting Cason safely behind me, I lifted the tail of my shirt with one hand and pulled out my handgun with the other.

  I stood to the side of the door. It was a sunny day, which hampered me from seeing inside the dark interior. “Yo, Lorilee, you in there?”

  Still there was no answer. I used the flashlight on my phone to peer inside, but I could only see a couple of feet. Part of my brain said, this is a crime scene, don’t fuck with it. But, another part of my brain wondered if Lorilee and her child were inside and in need of help. My inclination was to go inside and check, but I also didn’t want to eat a bullet, or get kicked in the throat. I could have backed off and called the cops, but it didn’t seem feasible for some stupid reason. Summoning up my courage, I went inside.

  Chapter 30

  The camper was small, as one can imagine, and Lorilee was not a good housekeeper. There were clothes and baby things everywhere, and the place smelled like home-grown marijuana and baby poop. In spite of the clutter, it only took a few seconds to determine there were no dead bodies. Holstering my handgun, I walked back outside. The bright sunlight caused me to squint my eyes.

  “Is anybody in there?” Cason asked.

  I started to answer, but was surprised to see Agents Pike and Delmonico walking toward us.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” I said, realizing I was talking to Delmonico only. Agent Pike was nonplussed.

  “Dresden sent us,” he replied. “He’s worried you’d find something and not pass it along.”

  “Fair enough,” I said and pointed back at Lorilee’s camper. “You have a possible crime scene in there, and a possible abduction of Lorilee…” I paused and stared at Cason.

  “Pushnell,” he said. “Lorilee Pushnell. Do you want her kid’s name?” I nodded. “Amber. I think she has her dad’s last name, so that would be Sowell.”

  “Okay, Lorilee Pushnell and baby Amber Sowell,” I said.

  The two agents stared at me, swapped a glance at each other, and then stared at me again. Finally, Agent Pike spoke.

  “How certain are you that she has been abducted?” he asked.

  “Call it a gut instinct,” I said, and then gestured toward the camper. “Her camper’s still here, but she and her kid are gone, along with her truck. Oh, and her truck is a beat up dually, much like the truck that was caught on camera leaving the same parking lot on Church Street.”

  “Have you determined she simply isn’t out running errands?” Agent Delmonico asked.

  “Cason and his grandfather have been here all day. And, I happen to know the old man was up at five this morning.” I saw Cason smirk. “Neither of them observed Lorilee leave, which means she left before five. Cason here says she never leaves that early, right, Cason?”

  “That’s right,” he replied, nodding vigorously. “And she’s wasn’t planning on visiting her baby’s daddy today either.”

  “Could she have gone anywhere else?” Agent Pike asked.

  Cason responded with an unknowing shrug. “She went out sometimes. You know, like getting groceries or going to visit her baby’s daddy. But I’ve never known her to go out in the middle of the night. She’s not that kind of person.” His tone was slightly defensive, as if we were accusing Lorilee of nefarious activity.

  The two Feds looked pointedly at each other. “I think we should call Dresden and recommend an Amber Alert be issued,” Delmonico said.

  Agent Pike nodded in agreement. “An Amber alert on Amber. Yep. I’ll go over the facts and then emphasize it would be better to err on the side of caution. I’ll also contact the locals and have a BOLO broadcast.” He faced Cason. “Young man, do you happen to know what kind of truck Miss Pushnell has?”

  Cason nodded eagerly. “It’s a red Dodge crew cab. I think it’s a 2000 model and it has a Cummins diesel, which has a distinctive exhaust sound.” He paused a moment and his head swiveled as he glanced at the three of us. “I have a couple of pictures of Lorilee, if that’ll help. They’re kind of, um, risqué though.”

  “Anything you have, kid,” Pike said with a touch of anxiousness in his voice.

  “Yeah, sure,” he said and looked at our phones. “Okay, you two have the latest iPhones, turn on your AirDrop.”

  Now it was time for Agent Delmonico and me to exchange a glance.

  “What is AirDrop, Cason?” I asked.

  He shook his head in exasperation and held his hand out. I handed him my phone and watched as he gave instructions about the app and set up my phone to receive the photos. Agent Delmonico had been paying attention and set her phone up too. Cason then dropped several photos onto our respective phones.

  He had several photos of Lorilee. Some were G-rated. Some were of her and her child. But there were several that were definitely R-rated. Lorilee was a little on the chubby side, and she had huge breasts, which she apparently loved to show off. She was in various suggestive poses and one picture showed her squeezing them to the point of milk dripping out. When I looked at
Cason, he grinned like a little kid. Agent Delmonico was not amused.

  “We’ll use the ones with her kid,” she said, “and you ought to be careful with women like her. Before you know it, she’ll be pregnant with your child.”

  Cason was duly chastened—at least, he acted like he was—and walked back to the office to tell his grandfather what was going on. Agent Pike then declared Lorilee’s camper on lockdown until the TBI forensics team arrived. A detective from the Marshall County Sheriff’s Department soon arrived and added his expertise.

  I had nothing much to contribute, so I walked around the campground. If someone were to ask, I’d tell them I was looking for clues, but there was nothing here. I eventually made my way back to lot six. By now, there were several people milling around. Agent Delmonico saw me and walked over.

  “How’s it going?” I asked.

  “Both mother and daughter are in the system now. An Amber Alert was issued a couple of minutes ago and is being broadcasted nationwide. The forensics teams should be here any minute now.”

  “What now?”

  “Now, we wait,” she said.

  “Okay, we wait. Changing the subject, I’m curious about something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “What’s the status on Agent Pollard?” My question drew a somber stare.

  “Can I trust you?” she asked.

  “I like to think I’m a trustworthy kind of guy, but I suppose that’s something you’ll have to determine for yourself,” I answered.

  “Alright. As of this morning, Pollard is on administrative leave. Both he and Stainback are currently under investigation,” she said and bit her lip momentarily, which had a sexy look. “I don’t know everything, but apparently there are several issues pertaining to their conduct over the past year, and it might even lead to both of them losing their jobs.”

  “Including what they did to me in Memphis, I hope,” I said.

  “I believe your case is at the top of the list, courtesy of the boss.”

  I nodded and had to admit to myself I was somewhat surprised.