by David Achord
“So, Pollard is off the case,” I said.
“Most definitely. They assigned it to Dresden this morning,” she said. “Carter and I as well, but Dresden is in charge.”
“I’m tired of calling you Agent Delmonico. Remind me of your first name again.”
She looked at me and gave a slightly mischievous smile. “It’s Hope.”
“Let me guess, you have two sisters named Faith and Charity.”
“No, smartass, and don’t think you’re the first man who has used that line.”
“Ah, but I bet I’m the only man who knows the reference,” I said. She ignored me at first, but she decided to test me.
“Alright, let’s hear it.”
“Faith, Hope, and Charity were three sisters who became Christian martyrs in the second century.”
“Not bad. Let me guess, you’re Catholic?”
“A fallen Catholic, but yeah. Are you single?” I asked.
“Divorced,” she answered. “Three months since it was official, but we were done long before that. He found a nineteen-year-old college co-ed who is dumber than a box of rocks but has big tits and a desire for older authority figures.”
“I hate it when that happens. Is he still stationed in Nashville?”
“Nope. I transferred here after the divorce. He and his little girlfriend went to Cheyenne, Wyoming.”
“I went there, once. Everyone was wearing cowboy boots, even the women.”
She laughed. “Sounds about right.”
“No kids?” I asked.
Her features darkened for a microsecond. “No kids.”
I realized I may have hit a nerve. Thankfully, she changed the subject.
“Your dossier is an interesting read,” she said and punctuated it with a slight smirk.
I acted surprised. “Wait, you’ve read my dossier and you’re still speaking to me?”
She laughed. I liked the sound of it. “Yep. It’s an interesting read, no doubt about it.”
“Yeah, kind of like a Shakespearean tragedy.”
She laughed again. “I like your sense of humor, but yeah, there were some rather unpleasant factoids.”
“If you are referring to the murders of two women I loved, yeah, I guess you could call them unpleasant factoids.”
She was silent for a moment. “I’m being insensitive. I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, but it’s a topic for another day. Or night. I’m thinking drinks and a candlelight dinner would be good.”
She smiled again. I was scoring points. “It’s possible.”
“Excellent. Alright, back to work. Have there been any hits on their RV?”
“None yet. The tag we had was bogus, so, all we have is the description.”
I frowned. “You people have the VIN, correct?”
“No, why?” Her eyes widened and she stared, as if I was playing a cruel joke. “Do you have the VIN? Oh, fuck me. Have you been keeping that to yourself the whole time?”
“Um, the answer is yes, I have the VIN and no, I haven’t been keeping it to myself. I just assumed you high-speed, low-drag Feds would’ve already had it.”
“Well, we don’t,” she huffed. “Are you going to share?”
I activated my phone and logged onto my cloud account. Finding the pics of the RV and the VIN, I handed it over to Hope.
“Where did you get this?” she asked.
“Back in Memphis during the fight,” I answered. “Which begs the question, why didn’t Stainback and Pollard have this in the case file?”
“I don’t have an answer for you. Between you and me, there are a lot of issues with the investigation of this case, but if you repeat that, I’ll deny I ever said it. Could you forward this to us?”
“Certainly,” I replied. She provided me with her email address. I attached the photos and sent them promptly. She looked them over in satisfaction.
“I’m going to cc them to Carter, Reuben, and Dresden,” she said. Agent Pike was still over at Lorilee’s camper. Hope waved him over and then began working her fingers across the screen of her phone. It only took a minute before she had the task completed.
“Thanks, buddy,” she said.
“What’s up?” Agent Pike asked. Hope quickly updated him.
“I’m calling the boss,” she informed him. His phone vibrated while she spoke. He looked it over.
“Okay, got ‘em.”
Hope nodded and put the phone on speaker mode. Reuben answered on the first ring.
“Sir, I just learned Thomas has a copy of the RV’s VIN.”
“He does?” Reuben asked.
“Yes, sir. You should be receiving an email with the attached photos any minute now.”
“Please don’t tell me Thomas was intentionally withholding that information,” he said.
Hope looked at me. She’d forgotten to tell her boss he was on speaker and I could hear the conversation.
“No, sir, he did not. He assumed we already had it, and he’s right, we should’ve already had it in the case file.”
There was a pause. “Yes, I suppose he’s correct. There are a lot of things that should’ve been in that case file. Alright, we’ll get this entered into NCIC on this end. Keep me updated.” He hung up without further comment.
After the end of the phone call, Hope took a moment to take another look at the pictures of Lorilee.
“The poor kid has it bad for her. He probably lost his virginity to this girl,” she said.
“Yeah, probably,” I agreed. “I hope he doesn’t get her pregnant.”
“This is one screwed-up case,” she grumbled. I agreed again. “Before I transferred to Nashville, I was in New Orleans investigating public corruption. So, I guess I have some experience in screwed-up cases.”
“No doubt,” I said.
“Do you think they’re still in their RV?” she asked me.
“Hard to say,” I said. “Now that you guys have the VIN, if any small-town cop runs it, they’ll get a hit, so maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“Do you think they went north or south?” Hope asked.
“They left a trail of crumbs pointing south, but I think they’re going back to Chicago.” I glanced at my watch. “They’ve had a good head start, so they’re probably already there.”
“Any ideas?” she asked.
“Not really, but I can’t stand around here doing nothing. I’m going to get on the road and check out any out of the way exits or side roads.”
“Would you mind if I joined you?” she asked. “Two sets of eyes are better than one, right?”
I looked over at her partner. Agent Pike in turn focused on Hope.
“Your car is back at headquarters,” he said.
“I can drop her off when we go through Nashville,” I said.
Pike shrugged. “Your call,” he said to Hope. “I’m going to finish up here and head back to Nashville. If anything comes up, give me a call.”
I was hoping Pike would go along with her desire. Although I had no intention of messing around, I definitely found myself wanting to spend a little time with Hope and getting to know her.
“Alright, it’s settled,” I said. “Let’s get going.”
Once we got into my SUV, Hope made a suggestion. “Hey, why don’t we stop off in Nashville and run by HQ? You can park your car and we’ll take my government-issued car. It’ll save you some mileage on your car.”
“Oh, hell no,” I replied. “I just got it back and I’m not leaving it.”
She laughed. “Okay, I understand.”
Chapter 31
We were back on the interstate within minutes. Hope was the eyes while I drove. She occasionally used my miniature binoculars and scanned the side roads and exits. I drove below the speed limit, giving her ample time. It was a slow and tedious process. It took well over an hour to get to Nashville. After we passed the Old Hickory Boulevard exit, she set the binoculars in her lap and emitted a long sigh.
“It’s like looking for
a needle in a haystack,” she said.
I agreed. “I think you can take a break for a few until we’re through Nashville.”
Hope set the binoculars in her lap and rubbed her eyes. “So, let’s talk.”
“Sure. What would you like to talk about?” I asked.
“I want to ask all about you, Thomas, but I don’t want to open up any old wounds.”
“Well, let’s see if I can summarize. There was a time when I thought my wife and I had a decent relationship. It was rocky at times, but that’s normal stuff, right?”
“Yep, I suppose,” Hope said in agreement.
“Anyway, I was oblivious to her affair. So, she got herself pregnant and she was killed. I was framed for it, but eventually, her real killer was identified. But you know all of that, right?”
“Yes,” she said. “And then a woman you were dating was murdered by her ex-husband.”
“Yeah, her and her daughter.”
“Did you have feelings for her?” she asked.
“Yes, I did,” I said quietly. In fact, I was heading down the road of being hopelessly in love with Simone. In my eyes, she was perfect.
“Are you over her?”
I glanced over at Hope. Her expression seemed sincere.
“That was back last summer, almost a year ago. What do you think?”
She nodded slightly. “The shrinks think it takes somewhere around eighteen months to go through all of the stages of grieving.”
“What’s the last stage of grieving?” I asked, although I believed I already knew the answer.
“The Kübler-Ross model theorizes there are five stages, the last stage being acceptance.” She saw me glance at her. “I had a double-major of psychology and sociology at LSU.” She saw me looking at her. “What can I say, I suck at math and I wanted an outstanding GPA for when I applied with the bureau. So, I chose majors that might have a scintilla of practical application.”
I chuckled. “To answer your question, I suppose I’m right in the middle of stage five. So, I suppose I’m ahead of the curve.” I was about to say more, but she changed the topic.
“Hey, check that out.” She pointed.
Up ahead, ten or so car-lengths in front of us, was a red dually truck. I sped up and was soon following behind them. Hope got on her cell phone and called in the tag. After a moment, she hung up.
“Properly registered. Let’s pass it and take a look inside, just in case.”
I did so. There were two elderly black men in it.
“Well, they certainly don’t look like gypsies to me,” I declared.
Hope gave me a look. “Your sarcasm is duly noted.”
“We’ll no doubt see more than one Dodge dually pickup in these parts.”
“Yeah. So, where were we?” she asked.
“Stage five,” I said.
“Oh yeah. You said you were in the middle of stage five. What exactly do you mean by that?”
I gave a noncommittal shrug. “Once I learned the truth about my wife, it sped up the grieving process, but in the short time Simone and I were together, I knew she was the one for me. When you know that about a person and they’re taken from you, do you ever really get over it?”
“I suppose it’s possible to fall in love again. I thought Dan and I would be together for the rest of our lives. It took a while for me to realize it wasn’t going to happen, but I’m over it now.”
“Do you want to fall in love and get married again someday?” I asked.
Hope thought a moment. “Yes, I do. Do you?”
“I did with Simone, but since her death, I’m not so sure anymore,” I said.
“That’s understandable. You’re definitely not through grieving yet, but let me ask, isn’t it possible you’ll meet someone one day and you’ll feel that chemistry again? Wouldn’t you like for that to happen?”
“I don’t know. Yeah, I guess so, but honestly, I wonder if it’s possible with me,” I said.
“How does that make you feel?” she asked. I glanced over at her.
“You should’ve pursued a career in therapy; you’re a natural.”
She laughed. “That was my back-up plan if I couldn’t get into the bureau.”
After a moment, I cleared my throat. “I like talking to you though,” I said.
“You like my breasts too,” she retorted. “I’ve seen you staring.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Oh, please. You ogle like a horny teenager.”
I instantly thought of Ronald and how he couldn’t stop ogling Marti. I undoubtedly looked the same. Definitely not a good character trait.
“Note to self, stop staring at women’s breasts.”
She laughed again and stared off at a side street. “At what point does this become a fruitless endeavor?” she asked. “Are we going all the way to Chicago?”
I read the digital clock on the dash. “Yeah, it’s getting late. If we turn around now, we’ll be back in Nashville by seven. I can drop you off and we can start again in the morning.”
“Okay, next exit, turn around,” she said.
I’d been in the right lane driving under the speed limit the whole time. Now, I accelerated and began passing cars. Suddenly, Hope inhaled sharply and pointed.
“Pull over!” she shouted.
“What do you see?” I asked as I looked intensely in the rearview mirror. Traffic was heavy, and I was in the left lane. If I tried to stop, I’d probably cause an accident.
“I saw skid marks and a damaged guardrail running off of the side of the interstate, and I could swear the tracks looked like it came from a vehicle with dual wheels.”
“Alright, bear with me.”
There was no way I could stop and back up without causing a major accident. Instead, I sped up. Five car lengths ahead of me was an opening to merge into the right lane. I took exit 177 and flip-flopped back south. I then backtracked to the previous exit before once again turning back around and heading north. This time, I stayed in the right lane and soon the Red River was before us. I veered onto the shoulder and parked fifty yards back from the bridge. I now saw the marks in the road she was referring to.
“Dual tracks alright, but it could be from a bobtail semi,” I said. “Let’s check it out anyway.”
We got out and began walking toward the bridge. When we were within twenty feet, I could clearly see the skid marks leading to the damaged guardrail and the ensuing trail down the embankment. I pointed at the damaged bushes.
“It looks fresh,” I surmised. Hope agreed. “Alright, we need to walk down there and check it out.”
“Shouldn’t we call it in first?” she asked.
“It might be some unrelated accident,” I said. “Let’s make sure of what we have before raising a fuss. By the way, where are you from?”
“A small town called Walker, Louisiana.”
“Ah, Louisiana. I’ve visited there. The summers are killers.”
“Yes, they are,” she agreed.
“So, being a Louisiana girl, you’re familiar with copperheads and water moccasins. There might be a few hanging around down by the water, so watch your step.”
“Got it,” she said and smirked. “You can lead the way.”
I was about to make a smart-assed remark about equality, but decided to stow it and led off. The embankment was sharply angled and the undergrowth was thick; myriad bushes and briars. It was difficult, and it took us several minutes to reach the bottom. Even though the vehicle had knocked a lot of it down or compressed it, the going was slow, and visibility was limited. When we emerged from the undergrowth at the edge of the riverbank, both of us were stunned.
The back end of a Dodge dually was sticking out of the river.
Chapter 32
“Oh, God,” Hope exclaimed. “Is that it?”
“I’d say so. It’s got Marshall County tags on it,” I said while pointing at the license plate. “Alright, go ahead and call it in. I’m going to check it out.”
&n
bsp; As quickly as I could do it without turning an ankle or busting my ass, I worked my way to the backside of the truck.
“Is anyone in there?” she asked.
“I’m not sure yet.”
The truck was a crew cab. The entire front passenger compartment was underwater, but the back portion was sticking out. I grabbed the bumper and hoisted myself into the bed of the truck. Making a quick decision, I kicked in the back window. When I did so, I heard a soft whimper from inside. Peering in, I could see the shape of a person crumpled down behind the driver’s seat. It had to be her.
“Lorilee, can you hear me?” I implored. She whimpered again but did not answer. I turned to Hope and shouted.
“She’s in here and she’s alive! We’ll need rescue personnel!”
Hope gestured at her phone. “I can’t get a signal! I’ll need to go back to the interstate!”
I waved her on and focused back on the truck. It was facing downward at a thirty-degree angle, making it awkward to maintain a balance. I stuck my head back in the broken window. It was dark, so I used the flashlight on my phone.
I could see Lorilee now. She was in the floorboard behind the driver’s seat. Only her head and shoulders were above water.
“Lorilee?” I asked. She did not respond.
Working my way further in, I reached out and checked her carotid pulse. It was barely there and she was ice cold. I pinched her right shoulder muscle and she flinched slightly. So, she wasn’t totally out of it. At least, not yet.
“Lorilee, I think you can hear me. My name is Thomas and you’ve been in an accident. We’ve got an ambulance and rescue people on the way, so you hang on, okay?”
She did not respond, but I could see her breathing. The rescue crew would no doubt have to cut the truck open to get her out and I did not want to risk exacerbating any injuries by trying to move her, so I took the opportunity to feel around in the murky water. There was nobody else in the back, so I worked my way forward until I could see into the front seats. There was another body slumped behind the wheel. When I reached out to check for a pulse, the head of Tambourine Man turned toward me.
I’d seen a number of dead people over the years. Even so, I have to admit it startled me. So much so, my phone slipped out of my hand and dropped into the water.
