Thursday, 6:25 a.m.
Seated in the front seat beside Sam, Luke talked about Carole and how much he adored her, how sorry he was he’d been unable to help when she needed him so desperately. “I feel helpless, Aurora. Utterly helpless.”
Aurora glanced at Sam, saw his fingers tighten on the steering wheel. She knew that he, too, believed Carole was in serious trouble. Aurora tried to shake off the feeling of doom. King stuck his head under her arm. She rubbed his throat.
“I’ve been thinking about Win’s license number,” said Sam. “Didn’t the TV say the car that hit Jill had a license number beginning with either an ‘I’ or the number one? And I think I remember hearing that the car was either black, dark blue or dark gray. Isn’t Win’s Porsche black?”
“Yeah, it’s black,” said Luke.
“Oh, my gosh.” Now Aurora was even more concerned for Carole. “When we see Win’s car, we’ll know if the Porsche is the hit and run vehicle.”
“Unless he’s already had it repaired.”
“Not likely,” said Sam. “I don’t think many garages around here work on Porsches. Besides, Win probably has a favorite shop he’d trailer the car to. My gut tells me the car that hit Jill is Win’s Porsche and that it hasn’t been fixed. When we know for sure, I’ll call Lieutenant Conner. I imagine he’ll find the information quite useful.”
“We’ll know in a minute,” said Sam. “The Eagle’s Perch is just ahead.”
When Sam drove into the driveway, a man and woman came outside. “This way,” said the man. They followed him around back and waited as he pushed the remote. The garage door slowly ascended.
“Mr. Ford’s car looks fine to me,” said The Eagle’s Perch owner as he examined the driver’s side of the Porsche. He frowned. “I never should have listened to you.”
Aurora ignored him, stepped to the front of the vehicle. “Sam, Luke, come look. The front end’s all banged up, the passenger side is, too! And with that license number …. Sam, you were right. I’m certain this is the car that nearly killed Jill.” She dialed Lieutenant Conner, left a message for him to meet her as soon as possible.
“I don’t understand,” said the owner’s wife. “Mr. Ford seems like such a nice man, a real gentleman. I can’t imagine him running into another car and not stopping. He’s too charming to do such a thing.”
“Ma’am,” said Luke, “I’m afraid that’s not all Mr. Ford has done. We believe he’s kidnapped my fiancé, and her life is in danger.”
“Oh, no, not our Mr. Ford. You’ll never convince me of that.”
Aurora and Sam exchanged looks. Sam put his hand on the woman’s arm, guided her toward the house. “Mrs. …, I’m sorry, I don’t know your name. My name is Sam Harris. My wife is Aurora, and that’s Luke. The dog is King.” King wagged his tail.
“I’m Yvonne Bateman. My husband is Paul.”
“May we wait inside, Mrs. Bateman?” asked Sam. “The police will be here shortly, and the three of us really should wait. I’m sure they’ll want to search Mr. Ford’s car and his room.”
“Well, I don’t know. Paul, what should we do?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Bateman,” said Aurora, “if Mr. Ford is guilty of what I believe, then the press will be camping out at The Eagle’s Perch to gather any information they can get their eager hands on. The publicity your establishment will receive will be invaluable to you, especially when the reporters write about how helpful you and your husband were during the investigation. I bet, too, if you had a few choice dishes for them to munch on, they’d mention that in some of their articles. The Eagle’s Perch will receive national publicity—perhaps even world-wide—because of the horrible things Mr. Ford will be accused of doing. Even if he’s innocent, reporters will be here asking questions and taking pictures of The Eagle’s Perch.”
“Well, all things considered, I guess it wouldn’t do any harm for y’all to come inside,” said Mrs. Bateman. “Except for the dog. I don’t know about the dog.”
“King is well-mannered, Mrs. Bateman. King, Mrs. Bateman wants to meet you.”
King looked from Aurora to the woman standing beside her, trotted over to Mrs. Bateman, sat, and held out his paw.
“Well, I declare,” she said as she shook hands with King. “I guess King can come in, too. And all y’all can call me Yvonne.”