THIRTY-TWO

As she drove down the highway to Alamoville and wound through the tree-lined streets toward the police department downtown, she rehearsed how to give Jonathan a piece of her mind without flying off the handle. She practiced slow breathing, rotated her neck and shoulders, and tapped the steering wheel. Stay calm. Be sweet. Your mother always said you catch more flies with honey.

As she pulled into the parking lot, she noticed Hornsby slip out the back. Instead of getting into his vehicle, he gazed left and right before he dashed down the alley with his head lowered as if he didn’t want anyone to recognize him. How odd. Curiosity got the best of her. She exited her car, closed the door slowly so to not make a sound, and tiptoed after him to keep her heels from clicking on the asphalt. Every once in a while, he turned his head as if to check whether anyone noticed him. She stayed half a block behind and hugged close to the trash cans and back entryways.

Janie followed Hornsby four blocks and down another alley. She hid at the side of the florist shop, now closed, and peered around the corner. An older part of downtown stretched before her. Two blocks of rundown store fronts, some boarded up. Oh, great.

Hornsby halted and dashed into a side alley. Janie slithered as fast as she could and did the same just as a tall black man entered from the other end. His clothes were definitely secondhand. His face unshaved. Hornsby motioned hello with his head and strolled up to the other man.

The black man handed the detective something, and he handed something back. Money? Was this a drug deal, or did Hornsby pump him for information? Janie had to find out. She eased closer to get a better look and, hopefully, pick up a bit of the conversation.

Hornsby glanced to the left, then the right, before shaking the hobo’s hand. He jammed his hands into his pockets and walked back toward Janie. She scrambled to find a hiding place, and settled on a small space behind three garbage cans. Flies buzzed around her and she whiffed the distinct order of fried foods oil. Marvelous. She must be next to a greasy spoon diner’s back stoop.

She closed her eyes as his footsteps drew closer. Please, Lord, don’t let him see me. His shoes stopped. She held her breath. Peeking around the can, she saw his face illuminated in his cell phone. His eyes scanned the screen. What did he lookup? A phone number? He clicked off and stuffed it into his pocket. An address or a text then?

He continued down the alley and turned back toward the police station. Janie crawled out and brushed off her slacks. She didn’t follow him as before. Assuming he headed for his own car, she trotted one block north to beat him back. Thank goodness for her morning power walks. Her legs swished back and forth, pulling her onward. She got to her car, clicked the keyless entry and slipped into the driver’s seat right when Hornsby came into view.

Confronting Jonathan would have to wait. Something told her tailing Hornsby might lead to more answers, especially in light of the article Betsy Ann discovered. As he backed out of his parking space, she turned over the engine and followed him, careful to hang back half a block or so.

~*~

Betsy Ann and Ethel stood on Janie’s front porch and rang the doorbell again. “She’s not back yet. I knew it.”

Ethel sighed. “I’ll go around back and see if her car’s in the usual spot. If not, I’ll grab the key and let myself in through the kitchen.”

“Gotcha.” She re-positioned the casserole tucked inside a towel. “Hurry. This thing is hot.”

A few minutes later, the front door opened. Ethel motioned her inside.

“Not home?” Betsy Ann headed to place her dish on the dining table where trivets already lay.

“Nope. Car’s gone. At least she pulled the tables and chairs out of the closet before she left.”

“Well, let’s set them up. People will be arriving in a few minutes.”

Ethel lifted her jelled mold from her satchel. “OK. Say, that casserole smells amazing. What is it?”

“Hot chicken salad.”

One by one, the other Bunco biddies arrived and soon the condo filled with lady chatter. Scrumptious homemade and store-bought items lined the table. Ethel brewed some coffee, and Betsy Ann retrieved the sun tea off Janie’s back porch. The clock struck seven times.

No Janie.

“She’ll be here. Give her a few minutes.”

Betsy Ann huffed as she set out the lemon slices, sugar bowl, and other sweeteners. “I sure hope so. I have a funny feeling. Think we should pray?”

“Never hurts.” Ethel gave a shrill whistle through her teeth. “Ladies, Janie seems to be a bit delayed. Has anyone heard from her?”

Heads replied in the negative as a few checked their phones for a text or e-mail.

Ethel waved away any concerns. “Well, I’m sure she’s fine. Still, let’s pray for her in case she’s had a flat tire or something. And bless this food. I, for one, can’t stand sniffing these delicious aromas a second longer without digging in. Did someone make a pot roast?”

Laughter flooded the room.

~*~

Hornsby turned onto I-35 and headed south. Janie did the same. They traveled through Austin. Twice she almost lost him in the traffic. Oh, how she hated the inner-city congestion, even after rush hour began to thin. But then, Austin jammed twenty-four seven, and she didn’t mean the Third Coast music scene on Sixth Street. She chuckled at her own pun and glanced at her dash. Six forty-five. Rats. She pondered what to do.

If she turned around, she’d lose him. A niggling at the back of her brain urged her to keep following him. No way in this heavy traffic could she dig her cell phone from her purse and call Ethel or Betsy Ann, even if they were on speed dial. Sure-fire recipe for a wreck waiting to happen. She’d have to wait until they exited and stopped at a traffic light.

As if to emphasize that point, a pick-up edged into her lane, making her press on her brakes to avoid a collision with his rear bumper. Sure enough, his head cocked to one side as his ear pressed against his shoulder. Taking a call. Not paying attention.

She wiggled in her seat with a sigh and spotted Hornsby two cars up on the left, entering the lower deck of the highway. That meant either he wanted to exit near the university or avoid downtown. The cars ahead crawled bumper to bumper, never going over ten miles an hour. Their breaking taillights stretched into the distance like ruby beads strung on a necklace. After another half hour of stop and barely go, she sighed and mumbled to herself as she patted her car’s dashboard. “This is another reason I moved to the country.” It had soothed Jack to snail home each day for an hour or so, but not her. She never exhibited his patience. Janie kept a close eye on her target as she turned on the radio to calm her nerves.

Hornsby kept going on the highway until they got south of the river, staying in the far left lane. The traffic began thinning as more cars exited for dinner spots or home in the suburbs. She eased back and stayed in the middle lane, memorizing the shape of his taillights. He finally pulled to the right and took an exit onto a farm to market road a few miles beyond the city limits sign. Janie followed suit with a clutch of dread in her stomach. Or had hunger set in? Her dashboard clock now read seven twenty-four.

Not too many other vehicles appeared on this road. The summer sun began to set, but dusk had not settled in yet. Surely, he’d spot her in his rearview mirror. Not familiar with these roads, if she turned off, she’d lose track of him. No time to key in the GPS app on her phone either.

The road wound through the foot of the Texas Hill Country. He slowed and turned to the left down another road, this time with only two lanes. They traveled around several curves. The landscape began to darken, yet she dared not switch on her headlights. “Please don’t let me hit a deer. Or a skunk,” she whispered to herself.

~*~

Betsy Ann couldn’t concentrate on Bab’s roll. She glanced at the clock again. Seven fifty. She noticed Ethel do the same. Finally, the bell went ding-ding-ding. Mildred had rolled three threes. She squealed, “Bunco!”

“OK, everyone. Dessert break.”

The ladies quickly tallied their scores so far and began to compare numbers as they loaded their plates with cobbler, peanut butter cookies, butterscotch brownies, and scrumptious peppermint creams courtesy of the candy factory’s outlet store in the mall. Roseanne peered around the room. “Where is Janie?”

Betsy Ann shrugged. “She left in a huff a little before six, said she had to speak to Chief Gates immediately, and she’d be back soon.”

Babs groaned and sat down in one of the folding chairs. “Not again. She’s got her nose someplace it doesn’t belong. I hope she has more sense this time than to be kidnapped and drugged like before.”

Ethel laid a hand on the woman’s arm. “Surely so. Janie is a smart cookie.” Nonetheless, she bit her lip.