ANNABELLE AND CALEB had returned to the bus station and discovered that, somewhat ahead of the regular schedule, the same driver was just about to head out with a load of people on the route Stone had taken. Annabelle snagged a seat right behind the driver and peppered him with questions while Caleb followed in the van. A half hour into the ride Annabelle saw the 1924 Indian motorcycle with the rare left-hand sidecar pass the bus, drop back and then fall in behind the van.
She sighed with relief. Big Reuben Rhodes had arrived. They might very well need the man’s muscle. She’d told Reuben to bring quite a few things with him that she’d thought they might need. She noted with satisfaction that the sidecar was filled with items.
A few hours later Annabelle climbed off the bus in the middle of a curvy road bracketed by a mountain on one side and a typical sheer drop on the other. This was where Stone and his friend had gotten off, the driver told her.
Before she left the man had added, “Lot of interest in those two. What’s going on?”
“Can’t talk about it. National security.”
“National security, huh? They looked like a couple of bums.”
“If you were on the run from the feds, what would you dress like?”
“I guess I see your point.”
“And you’re sure you don’t remember anything they said about where they were actually going?”
“Kid just got up and told me to drop him off here. The older guy got off with him.” He paused. “The kid was wearing a varsity jacket. You know, for sports.”
“Did you get the name of the school? College? High school?”
“Didn’t pay that close of attention.”
Annabelle held up a sheet of paper where’d she taken notes during her conversation with the driver. “And these are the towns nearby? All of them? You’re sure?”
“Lady, there ain’t that many of them. That’s it. Happy searching.”
He closed the door and the bus pulled away.
Annabelle met up with Caleb and Reuben and filled them in on what she’d learned. “Knox is doing exactly what we are, only he has a head start,” she said.
“Yeah, but there are three of us,” Reuben said. “We can split up. I’ll take two of the four places and you guys hit the others.”
“Good idea,” said Caleb.
“And you brought everything I told you to?” asked Annabelle.
“Yeah, but I feel like I’m running a damn Hollywood prop department.”
“You just never know when something might come in handy. We can load it in the van.” After they were done she looked at the sheet. “Caleb and I will do Mize and Tazburg. Reuben, you can hit South Ridge and Divine.” She pulled maps from her bag and handed them to Reuben. “I got these from the bus station. The towns look to be anywhere from two to three hours apart. They’re not far as the crows fly, but all the roads are back roads and switch backs with chunks of mountain in between.”
“Winding roads. Perfect cruising turf for the Indian,” Reuben said, affectionately patting the motorcycle’s gas tank.
“They just make me queasy,” said Caleb. “Not that I’m complaining,” he quickly added as Annabelle shot him a look.
“We’ll keep in touch via cell phone. Whoever finds something positive, we can hook up within a few hours.” She handed a photo to Reuben. “This is a picture of Knox, just in case you run into him.”
“Thanks,” said Reuben as he climbed on his bike and put his helmet and old-fashioned goggles back on.
“What if we find Oliver at the same time that Knox does?” asked Caleb.
“Then we persuade him to let Oliver go with us,” Reuben said.
“He’s not going to do that, Reuben.”
“He will if we’re really persuasive.”
“We can’t take out a fed,” Caleb said. “Even new testosterone Caleb draws the line at that.”
“Caleb,” Annabelle said, “let’s worry about that only if we have to. Right now, all I want is to find Oliver. And the longer we stand around here the better the chances are that Knox will find him first.”
Reuben kick-started the Indian and the engine roared to life. He gave them a little salute, glanced at one of the maps and took off heading east.
Annabelle started to climb in the driver’s seat of the van but Caleb stopped her. “I’ll drive,” he said, hopping in and putting the keys in the ignition.
“Why?”
“You don’t know how to handle curves. Too herky-jerky. That’s why I was feeling sick.”
“Really? What if the time comes where we need to drive really fast, Caleb?”
“Get in!”
“What?”
Caleb fired up the van and Annabelle had to hustle around and jump in before he roared off. He accelerated so fast she tumbled into the backseat.
“What the hell are you doing?” she cried out as she struggled back up.
“When the time comes, I’m your wheelman.”
She managed to clamber into the front seat and quickly buckled up as he took one curve and then the next at almost sixty miles an hour. When she glanced over she noted how professionally he was maneuvering the steering wheel and then realized how smoothly the bulky van, which was clearly not designed for this sort of terrain, was handling the road.
“Caleb, how are you doing that?”
“I can drive, okay? You should have seen me at a guy named Tyler Reinke’s house. I took the Nova airborne.”
“I can see that you can drive. But how?”
He sighed. “Why do you think I kept that crappy Nova all these years?”
“I don’t know. I just thought you were either cheap or had no taste. Or both.”
“Well, I am cheap, but I actually do have taste. No, it was about my father.”
“What are you talking about?”
“My dad was a stock car driver.”
“No way!”
“After he retired from racing he worked on a NASCAR pit crew for Richard Petty.”
“King Richard?”
Caleb nodded. “I was his protégé.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You were Richard Petty’s protégé? Get out of here.”
“Annabelle, I started racing Go-Karts when I was six. Then I moved up to dirt track racing, and then on to ARCA where I was the top rookie. After that I finished number one in the Late Model Sportsman Series, which is like the junior circuit for NASCAR. I was just about ready to launch my career in the big leagues with Petty’s help. I was going to be the number two driver on Billy Nelson’s Chevy team out of Charlotte. They’d won the Winston Cup three years in a row and Bobby Mallard, their number one driver and a four-time Daytona 500 winner, was going to be my mentor. It was all set up, and then it all went to hell.”
“What happened?”
“I was doing a qualifying lap at Darlington. Some call it the ‘paper clip’ because it’s shaped like one. Others refer to it as the ‘Lady in Black.’ That’s what it was for me.”
“Why, what happened?”
Caleb’s features turned somber. “The Lady in Black is very unforgiving. I came out of turn number four at 185 miles an hour, let my wheel drift and the car bumped the wall. I left half my paint on the wall, the ‘Darlington Stripe’ they call it. Then my right front tire blew and I was completely out of control. This was before the roof flaps era so my car flipped over and then went airborne. There are two interior walls at Darlington, the inside and pit walls. I cleared them both and slid right into a pit crew.”
“Oh my God.”
“My pit crew,” Caleb said solemnly. “My personal pit crew.”
Annabelle gasped. “It wasn’t your father, was it?”
Caleb turned to look at her, his eyes watery. “I walked away from the crash with a few bumps and bruises, but he was in the hospital for months before finally pulling through. But after that, I couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t shift a gear, couldn’t mash an accelerator, could
n’t even slide in the car. So I just walked away from it all. Turned my life around. Went from speed to being a librarian. As far away as I could get from that world. But I kept the Nova. It was one of the first cars I ever raced in. I painted it that shitty gray to cover up the numbers and stripes. The number twenty-two car, Double Deuces, they called me. It didn’t look like much but under the hood it had muscle, that car. Dual carbs, overhead cam, four hundred–plus horses and a gas pedal that never let me down. Whenever I needed to bring it, it was there. Years ago, late at night, I used to run it on straightaways when Centreville was still cow country. Got it up to 150 more than once. Those were the days.”
“Caleb, I’m so sorry.” She gently squeezed his shoulder.
A few moments of silence passed.
“Hey, I really got you, didn’t I?”
She glanced back over at him. He was smiling broadly.
“Come on, Richard Petty’s protégé? Me?”
“You made that all up? You shit!” She smacked him on the shoulder hard. But there was admiration in her features.
“What? You think you’re the only one who can lie really well? I’ve spent my adult life surrounded by stories at the library, Annabelle. I can ‘fiction’ with the best of them.”
“That still doesn’t explain how you can drive like this.”
“I grew up on the side of a mountain in Pennsylvania. First thing I ever drove was a Bobcat down a dirt road that would make this stretch of gravel look like the Autobahn.” He paused. “And I did do some stock car racing when I turned eighteen. Mostly junk on dirt tracks. But after my third near-fatal accident, I decided to go into library science. But I’m still a big NASCAR fan.”
“Caleb, I’m seeing a totally new side to you.”
“Yes, well, everyone has their secrets.”
“The Camel Club more than most, I’m finding.”
CHAPTER 53
STONE OPENED HIS EYES and felt rather than saw the people around him.
“Ben?”
He turned to the right and focused on Abby standing there, holding his hand. He gazed over her shoulder and realized he was in a hospital room.
“What the hell happened?” he said, trying to rise up.
Abby and someone else gently pushed him back down.
“Just take it easy, Ben.”
This was Tyree, who was standing on the other side of the bed.
Stone leaned back against the pillow. “What happened?” he said again.
“What do you remember?” Abby asked.
“Driving Willie home and then waking up here.”
“It blew up,” Tyree said quietly. “His trailer, I mean. It blew up.”
“Willie? Bob? He was there too.”
Abby gripped his hand. “They’re both dead.” Her voice broke as she said this.
“How did it happen?”
“They think it was his propane tank. Only thing that could’ve blown like that,” Tyree said. “Another few feet and you would’ve been gone too. You’re lucky you were standing on the other side of that truck. It took most of the blast instead of you.”
Stone thought for a moment. “I remember something falling right next to me.”
Abby and Tyree exchanged glances. “Just some debris,” she said quickly.
“How did the gas thing happen?”
“I’m checking that out right now,” said Tyree firmly. “He apparently had a cookstove and some propane tanks in his trailer along with a lot of ammo.”
“I don’t care about that. It can’t be an accident,” said Stone. “It can’t be.”
“I’m inclined to agree with you,” said the sheriff. “I just need some proof.”
Stone managed to sit up a bit. “Wait a minute. On the drive home, Willie and I talked about Debby.” He went on to tell Tyree and Abby what he had figured out about Debby seeing who had killed Peterson.
Tyree rubbed his jaw. “I never saw the connection there, but Willie never told me she was at the bakery that night either. But I knew Debby hadn’t killed herself.”
“How?” asked Stone and Abby together.
“Her arms weren’t long enough to put the muzzle in her mouth and still pull the trigger.”
Stone looked at him with new respect. “I actually thought of that when I saw the shotgun. Willie had shown me a picture of Debby. I saw how petite she was.”
“Tyree, you never mentioned you believed Debby was murdered,” said Abby.
“That’s because I didn’t know who killed her. Or why. Figured it had to be somebody local. Might as well let the murderer think I’m a clueless country bumpkin. He might make a mistake, and it lets me snoop around under the radar too.”
“You’re clearly no country bumpkin,” said Stone, and Tyree gave him an appreciative look.
“Does Danny know about Willie?” asked Stone.
Abby nodded. “He was so upset they had to give him something to calm him down. He was bawling like a baby.”
“No more California dreams,” said Stone.
“What?” asked Tyree.
“Long story,” replied Abby.
“We need to get to work, Tyree, before somebody else gets killed.” Stone started to get up again.
Tyree pushed him back down. “Whoa, now. You just got yourself nearly blown up and the doc says you need to stay quiet for a day or two.”
“We don’t have a day or two.”
“I’m going to poke around some. With what you told me I got some new angles I can work.”
“Danny and Abby need protection,” said Stone.
“Me?” said Abby.
“Look at what happened to Bob. They don’t care who they kill.”
“I agree,” said Tyree. “I got a couple of men I’ve deputized in the past. I’ll have one here with Danny and another with Abby.”
“Tyree, you don’t have to do that.”
“But we’re gonna do it, Abby. Anything happens to you, I couldn’t live with myself. I mean, well, it’s just not going to happen. Understand?”
The strength of his words seemed to surprise even the sheriff. He reddened slightly.
“Okay,” she said meekly.
Stone said, “What are you going to do?”
Tyree sat down and drew up a chair. “You said three men beat up Danny. Now, he won’t talk to me about it but I think at least one of them was a miner.”
“Why?” asked Stone.
“When I came to see Danny at the hospital like I said he zipped his mouth. But that didn’t stop me from looking at his clothes. They had coal dust on them. I figure it came off at least one of the boys who jumped him ’cause Danny’s never been in a mine that I know of.”
“That’s true,” said Abby. “But why would a miner go after Danny?”
“Damn, I knew I’d seen him before,” exclaimed Stone. They both looked at him. “The first day I was at your restaurant. Tyree had left, and Abby, you’d gone in the back. Danny had finished eating and was leaving when this big guy blocked his way. Asked Danny if he was going to stay this time or run out on them again. He’s one of the guys with the baseball bats.”
“This guy have a name?”
Stone thought for a moment. “Lonnie.”
“Lonnie Bruback?”
“Describe him.” Tyree did. “That’s him,” said Stone. “He’ll have a wound on his face from my belt.”