Chapter 29

 

Officer Mike hung a left on Cemetery Road. I slowed enough to catch them pulling off at the bottom of the hill. It looked like he was trying to hide his car behind a dilapidated outbuilding. This was familiar territory. We were just on the backside of WFOG, and I knew if I took the next turn off and circled back on the old wagon road, we could get some sort of shot at them from above. I figured it was possible that even Officer Mike didn’t know about the old route or more correctly, what was left of it. Basically it went from nowhere to nowhere. It probably didn’t appear on anybody’s map.

“Let’s hope this isn’t what it looks like,” Amy said.

 

I fully expected to find Charlene and Officer Mike half-naked, going to funky town in the back seat of his car.

“Hey, they’re gone,” Amy said.

“What do you mean gone?”

“Take a look.” She handed me the glasses. Unless they were under the seats, the sedan was empty of occupants, but something caught my eye. Off to the right, I saw the glint of a flashlight moving uphill through the trees not far from us.

“A night hike in the rain. How romantic.”

I’d nearly pulled off just where they were headed. Luckily, I’d rolled a little further down the road before stopping. It could have been much further down the road for my taste.

We watched them slowly thread their way up a trail of some sort, climbing higher and higher. Charlene was hardly dressed for a hike in the drizzle, but at least Officer Mike had loaned her his jacket which she had stretched over her head. When they got to the old wagon road, they stopped. Officer Mike shined his flashlight up and down the road like he was surprised to find it. Maybe he was just playing it safe and checking both ways for speeding covered wagons.

“Holy crap,” Amy said as Officer Mike beamed the flashlight in our direction. Amy slid down in the seat. I thought we’d been spotted, and instinctively, I made a grab for the key in the ignition. We were nosed in the wrong direction, but maybe I could pull a U without ripping the bottom out of the Toyota, maybe. Just when I was about to give it a whirl, I saw Charlene point at something across the road. Officer Mike turned his light in the direction she pointed. They exchanged a few words, then they crossed the old road and slipped into the black woods, out of sight.

“Now what?” I said.

 

Amy and I weren’t dressed for a night hike either, but if Charlene could tough it out, so could we.

“I didn’t even wear socks,” Amy said. “There’s gotta be scads of poison ivy out there.”

I figured we’d be lucky if a patch of poison ivy was the worst thing we met up with, but we’d come this far and, rhus toxicodendron or no, we were going for it now.

 

It had occurred to me that while Officer Mike may be a big, strong boy, with Charlene in tow his longevity could be in real danger. From where I sat, it looked like her boyfriends were a quickly vanishing breed. Of course this was only one scenario. It had now dawned on me that it was equally possible that our off-duty Officer Mike was dirty. What if he was the deranged lover and had whacked Jimmy Jacobs and Cousin Abbott? That would certainly explain why the police were so happy with their neat, little case against Rick Rod. After all, hadn’t it been Officer Mike who’d gotten the mysterious phone tip and made the big hero collar on Rick Rod? He could easily have planted the knife and set Rick Rod up for the murders.

On the other hand, it was possible that Charlene and Officer Mike were twisted small-town lovers, and they were in it together, whatever it was. It was hard to figure out which scenario to root for.

 

These were the unappealing thoughts that raced around my brain as Amy and I left the sanctuary of the Toyota and started hoofing it for the woods.

The rain had turned to a steady, fine shower. It was the kind of rain I liked, but I knew I’d have to enjoy it some other night. I wasn’t crazy about fumbling around in a dark, wet forest with no flashlight and two murder suspects, but sometimes a girl just has to do what needs doing.

“This really sucks,” Amy said, an understatement. “And, shit, I’m scared.” She was about two steps behind me as we edged along what really couldn’t be considered a path.

“Pretend you’re an Indian.” It wasn’t working for me, but maybe it would for Amy.

“Yeah, right.”

 

There are times when I really, really wished I owned a gun. Ted did, a big old .357 Magnum, and he often kept it stashed under the front seat of his van. A smart guy, that Ted, but he wasn’t around and I was pretty sure that Amy wasn’t packing.

“This probably isn’t one of the times when one calls the police, is it?” Amy said. She was on the same mental track that I was. She was also right on my heels, holding tightly to my belt loop, an old Indian trail trick, no doubt.

 

We made our way as best we could, dodging low-hanging branches, jumping ravines, stepping around potholes or sink holes or snake holes or whatever the hell they were, generally trying to move in a forward direction without completely losing sight of Charlene and Officer Mike or breaking our necks.

“Sure am glad I wore my good sandals,” Amy said. “They’re absolutely ruined, and so are my ankles.”

Then something moved in the underbrush not far from my right big toe. I was glad I wasn’t wearing sandals.

Amy stifled a scream, and we held perfectly still. Whatever it was, it was dark and furry and about the size of a small pig. After a brief standoff, it suddenly shot off stage right and left a wake.

“Christ on toast,” Amy said, letting out her breath.

Now and again we could make out the small, bobbing light of Officer Mike’s flashlight. Apparently, Charlene hadn’t killed him yet and as far as I could tell, he hadn’t offed her either, but if this prolonged, nocturnal goose chase didn’t lead to something very interesting very soon, I was going to kill them both.

Memory told me that we were close to being out of the woods, so to speak. Years ago, my brother Clint and I had played in and around these parts, doing the things that country kids normally did, riding bulls, swinging naked on grapevines, smoking bootlegged cigarettes and swilling beer, but that was a long time ago, back when Clint was still occasionally fun to be around.

“If I’m not way off,” I said, “any minute now we should all end up in the field behind WFOG.”

“And then they kill us, right?”

“You’re not accentuating the positive, Amy.”

“Hey, I’m not Jiminy Cricket, all right?”

I wasn’t way off. We crouched in the thicket at the edge of the field on the hindside of WFOG. Officer Mike had killed his flashlight, and he and Charlene seemed to be stealthily creeping around the old pasture.

“What are they doing?” Clearly, Amy wasn’t amused.

“A scavenger hunt?”

“They sure took the long way around to get here.”

For a long while, Charlene and Mike walked here and there around in the knee-high weeds. I trained the binocs on them, but couldn’t make out what the hell they were up to.

“Furtive little fuckers.”

“Maybe they’re looking for the missing dicks,” Amy said.

At this point, anything seemed possible.

 

The rain shower passed, and just enough moon came out to make you wish there was a little more. We’d been hanging around watching them hang around for what seemed like an eternity, but then Mike’s light flicked back on, and they started back for the woods. Fortunately, it looked like they were aiming to retrace their steps and not ours. We laid very low as Charlene and Officer Mike passed by us not twenty yards to the left. Amy was pressed next to me like a Siamese twin. I could feel her hot breath on my neck and arms. Any other time, this might have been pleasantly arousing, but not this time. We lay there, stretched out on our stomachs like terrified soldiers hidden in the damp thicket, still as corpses.

It wasn’t until long after the sound of their footsteps had disappeared completely into the night woods that I dared move a muscle. I, for one, wanted to put plenty of forest between them and us.

“The coast is clear,” Amy whispered, peeking around.

“Let’s go have a look.”

 

After almost an hour of searching the field, we’d turned up nothing but a few empty beer bottles.

“Crap,” Amy said, plopping down in the grass. “Let’s give it up.’

“Good idea.” I sat down next to her, tired and discouraged. I didn’t even care if my butt got soaked from the wet ground.

 

It was after three in the morning when I pulled into Amy’s drive, and we were both feeling the late hour. I parked and we just sat there in the car on our wet butts like zombies. Amy reached into her handbag, took out the garage door opener and ran up the door.

“Good,” she said to the empty garage, then reversed the door and it dropped into place. It didn’t look like the dentist had made it home from Mommy’s yet. Darn.

Amy sighed deeply, then she turned to me with a weary, but nice smile. “Wanna come in?”