Hijack in Abstract (A Cherry Tucker Mystery) Page 6

  Will double blinked. “Did you sleep yet, hon’?”

  “About ten minutes before Todd woke me up to tell me you called. And I came straight here.”

  Will glanced at his watch. “All that today?”

  “I didn’t have much going on work wise.”

  “What exactly did you chat about?”

  “A lot of them kept their comments directed toward a certain set of paintings I did.” I probably turned three shades of brilliant pink. “If I talked about something else, I asked them if they had heard about the hijacking. You know, to see if they had any information that would help your investigation.”

  “I see. Did you mention Tyrone witnessing the hijack? Or you sketching the composite?”

  “I know I did to my family. To everyone else? I don’t rightly remember.” I stared at the ceiling and blinked my eyes, causing a pattern of dots to brighten and scatter in my vision. “I don’t think I did. I felt safe talking about the hijacking. Most folks would know about it quick enough.”

  I lowered my head and let my vision clear to study Will’s face. “Uncle Will, I’m sorry.”

  “Sugar, I know you can’t keep your mouth shut. It’s the risk I took when I brought you in to do the composite. You’re just like everyone else in the county, always running their mouths. While you were still at the Waffle House, I fielded calls from the local papers. Didn’t tell them about Coderre, of course.”

  I nodded and chewed a hangnail.

  “If word leaked about Tyrone’s composite and somehow got back to the hijackers, it would mean the hijackers had a connection to somebody in this county. It’s not impossible, but doesn’t make a lot of sense. We would see more hijackings than just this odd duck.”

  Will stood and strode around the desk to pat me on the head. “Don’t you worry, honey. You go on home. Leave me to my dinner and a mess of paperwork that needs doing.”

  “Either way, I need to pay my respects to Tyrone’s family. I owe them that.” I waited while Will opened his door and ushered me into the hall.

  “I’ll find out if there’s a funeral and call you with the details.”

  The door to the Junior Officer’s room swung open. Luke strode out and seeing us, stopped. “Good evening, Sheriff. What’s Cherry doing here?”

  “Just come to chat with me a minute,” said Will. “I thought you were off duty.”

  “Officially,” Luke cracked a thin smile. “Just checking on a thing or two.”

  “See that this one gets home safely.” Will gave me a small shove that sent me stumbling in Luke’s direction. “Casey and Cody can keep an eye on you, Cherry. Why don’t y’all stay home tonight. You need to catch up on sleep.”

  “What’s going on, sir?” Luke hooked his hands on his belt.

  “I told Cherry about Coderre. She’s a might upset,” said Will. “She wants to visit his family. I told her I’d call her when I knew the funeral arrangements.”

  Luke moved his gaze off Will to settle on me. “Visit the Coderres?”

  “Not tonight,” I said. “And I don’t need an escort home either. My truck is full of gas and working fine, all things considered. I’ve got a big appointment up in Atlanta tomorrow, so I’ll just scoot.”

  “What appointment?” said Luke.

  “Some hotshot lawyer bought my recent classical-styled paintings and wants me to come up to Buckhead to meet him for a possible portrait commission.”

  “Good for you, honey,” said Will.

  “Guess this is the start of something big for you,” said Luke.

  “Maybe. I’ll let y’all know how it works out.” I felt too distraught over Tyrone to accomplish any horn tooting. I trudged to the end of the hall and waited for Luke to unlock the door.

  In the parking lot, I climbed into my Datsun and cut on the motor. I heard the growl of another truck, a black Ford Raptor, one I had once snuggled in with the gray eyed deputy driving, and felt the stinging barbs of heartache. Although Luke refused to be the subject of my paintings, I know he’d be proud of me. In the past, I had imagined celebrating a big commission with him. However, it didn’t do me any good to wish things had turned out differently. We both carried baggage that didn’t fit through one another’s doors.

  My record with men was about as good as my mouth’s ability to stay out of trouble. Poor Tyrone. Lost his life through the one time I held my tongue.

  I backed out of my parking space and left the Forks County Law Enforcement Center, tailed by the black pickup. Twenty-five minutes later, I had reached my home and parked on the street. The Raptor pulled even to my door. I stepped out of the truck, and Luke rolled down his window.

  “Go get some sleep,” he said. “Be careful driving to Atlanta tomorrow.”

  “I will.” I tried on a smile. “You worry too much.”

  “Well, you don’t worry enough.” He glanced at the house. “You got a party going on up there? Every light is blazing.”

  “My home has become something akin to a frat house. There’s a couch and a big TV in my living room.”

  “Shocking,” Luke smirked. “A couch and TV in your living room. How many people are living there now?”

  “I’m not sure if Cody is permanent or just for the time being, so four,” I stopped, realizing where this conversation headed. “Guess I’ll go in. You didn’t need to follow me home, but thanks.”

  “Four in two bedrooms,” said Luke. “How cozy.”

  Too cozy. “Night,” I waved and inched past his door.

  “Listen. Don’t go to the Coderres’ alone. The Sheriff said he’d contact you with the funeral info, but I know you.”

  “I knew Tyrone was going back to get his wire, Luke.” Guilt caused my eyes to smart, and I rubbed them before they did something stupid like water. “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you. I could have prevented his death.”

  Luke cut off his engine and slid out of the truck. As he circled around his bed, I took a few steps back toward the safety of my vehicle. Not that I was afraid he’d be angry. In my anguish, I feared my body would involuntarily bend toward his arms.

  Luke noticed my retreat and stopped a few paces away.

  “I wish you had told me,” he held out a hand, caught himself, and laid his palm on my truck. “The fact is we screwed up, too. Actually, I screwed up.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was too focused on questioning witnesses and talking to the State Patrol, when I should have kept a tail on Coderre. It doesn’t take a mind reader to know he’d go back to find his wire.”

  I nodded and focused on the large hand resting on my truck.

  “If Coderre wasn’t stealing copper in the first place, he wouldn’t have returned to the scene of the crime.” Luke pulled his hand off the truck, shook off the flaking paint, and reached to pat my shoulder. “You take everything too personally.”

  “A man died. That’s pretty personal.”

  Luke stared at the ground, kicked a rock, and looked up. “If you want to visit the Coderres, I will take you. No strings.”

  “Really?” My hands inadvertently reached for Luke’s and squeezed. When it came to police business, Luke normally groused about my involvement. Or threatened to serve me with obstruction. This offer touched me. And was actually very helpful. To be honest, I didn’t particularly look forward to visiting the family of a copper thief who had been murdered due to my delinquent admission of his whereabouts.

  “You’re going to Atlanta tomorrow morning.” He pulled his hands from my squeeze. “What about tomorrow evening? I can pick you up when I get off work.”

  “I should be home from Atlanta by then,” I shoved my hands in my pockets. “Why the sudden interest in helping me?”

  “Kill two birds, that sort of thing.” He shrugged and slapped my truck, causing more paint to peel. “Speaking of that, are you still fixing to go to the Gearjammer?”

  I had forgotten the Gearjammer in the flurry over Shawna, my new patron, and Tyrone’s dead body.
“I suppose so. I told Dona I would.”

  “I’ll pick you up at eight. Thursday, right? I want to talk to some of the truckers and they’ll be more inclined to chat there.” He dodged my disagreement by striding around his truck. Without a goodbye, he revved his engine, shifted into drive, and took off.

  I stood in the road with my hands on my hips, watching his taillights fishtail down Loblolly Avenue.

  The man was an enigma wrapped in hotness. Unfortunately, the hotness was no longer mine.

  Eight

  I stalked up the rise to my bungalow. Luke had been correct about a party in my house. Through the picture window, I could see a baseball game on the big television.

  Taking a deep breath, I opened the front door. My brother’s friends glanced over, yelled greetings at my entrance, and turned their eyes back to the game. I waded through the passel of bodies, gritting my teeth at the beer cans cluttering my desk and antique table I used when painting. In the kitchen, more men sat around my table playing cards.

  My brother was nowhere to be seen.

  Todd stood at the stove stirring a pot of something with the delectable aroma of spices and ground meat. “Hey, baby,” he said. “You want some chili?”

  “What’s going on here?” I said. “I’m in no mood for a party.”

  “It’s not a party. Cody invited some guys over to watch the Braves. I’m making chili for our dinner.”

  My stomach gurgled, causing the men at the table to lay down their cards and tip their chairs back to glance in my direction. I waved a hand at them to get back to their cards.

  “Looks like a party to me. Are you in on that poker game, by the way?”

  Todd dropped the spoon into the pot, then jerked his hand up after trying to reach into the boiling mess to grab it. “Of course not, baby. I told you I quit.”

  “You have a gambling problem.” I eyed the empty chair at the table and Todd’s fingers playing a tempo on his cargo shorts. I glanced back at the men sitting around my kitchen table. “Did y’all hear about Todd’s amateur poker championship last year? Got him a free ride to Vegas.”

  Two faces glared sullenly at Todd.

  I smiled. “Enjoy your chili and your game, fellows.”

  “That was when me and Cherry got hitched,” said Todd, with a quick grin for the table. He slung an arm around my neck and kissed the side of my head. “We had a beautiful wedding with Elvis as our minister. What I can remember of it anyway. That night was a blur.”

  “Touché,” I muttered and shoved off his arm. “That chili smells good. I wish I felt like eating.”

  “You don’t feel like eating?” Todd’s snapped shut his dropped jaw. “What happened at the Sheriff’s Office?”

  “Uncle Will told me someone murdered Tyrone, the guy who gave me the description for the composite. Fact is, I knew Tyrone was returning to the scene of the crime, and I didn’t report it to the Sheriff’s Department. I am responsible for his death.”

  Todd took my hand and pulled me to the corner of the kitchen. “Baby, I’m so sorry. If they lock you up, I’ll visit you in prison.”

  “Not that responsible. But I feel horrible about it. Luke offered to take me to visit Tyrone’s family tomorrow.”

  “Where did it happen?” Todd studied the fret lining my face, captured my other hand, and drew me closer.

  “The interstate rest stop outside Line Creek.” While I focused on repeating the details of the hijacking and Tyrone’s death, I talked my brain out of comparing the comfort of Todd’s warm grasp with Luke’s earlier quick but capable squeeze. I pulled my hands from Todd’s to finish the story.

  “Damn. So, the hijacker must have seen Tyrone? Why didn’t he do anything when Tyrone saw him?”

  I shrugged. “Dunno. Uncle Will said maybe he didn’t have enough time.”

  “I guess you probably want to check that out.”

  “What do you mean? Go to the rest stop?” I dropped my gaze to my boots.

  “Baby, I know you. You’ll be stewing about this all night, wondering how this happened to Tyrone. You are a curious type of person. You’re fixing to drive out there, just to see for yourself, aren’t you?”

  “I am curious. But I thought it might seem morbid.”

  Todd pulled me into his body for a long hug. “I don’t care what the town thinks. You’re a good woman, caring about folks like murdered copper thieves. Let me take you to the rest stop. I love doing stuff like that with you.”

  I shoved off his chest. “Don’t go getting any ideas. I’m still not talking to you. That also means no hugs.”

  “Sure, baby,” Todd grinned. “Whatever you say.”

  Todd parked his little, red hatchback before the low pitched building holding Georgia travel brochures, soda machines, and bathrooms. We hopped out of the Civic and studied the empty car park area. The evening air had cooled. I shivered in my beaded flag t-shirt, but the goose bumps rose from the lonely setting, not the chill. We could hear the whine of motors zipping down the interstate toward Atlanta or Alabama. Behind the building, the low rumble of a parked diesel truck hummed.

  I looked at Todd. “Guess we better head around back. That’s where Tyrone would have seen the hijack. Maybe there’s still yellow tape marking off the areas. The police would have already scoured for evidence in both crimes, so there won’t be much to see.”

  We followed the sidewalk around the back of the building. A lone Georgia State Patrol vehicle had parked on the edge of the lot. Under the yellow glow of a streetlamp, one semi pulling a long trailer rested near the woods. The GSP car door opened and a tall figure in full uniform stepped out of the vehicle.

  “Rest stop closes at ten,” he said. “On your way to Atlanta?”

  “No, just stretching our legs,” I called. “Going to sit at one of these picnic tables for a minute.”

  “Don’t take too long. Stay away from the taped off areas.” The officer left his door open and leaned against the car, folding his arms. “I can see y’all from here.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Todd.

  We crossed the lot, heading toward the wooded picnic area behind the truck parking. With the dim light from the parking lot lights, we could spy the yellow tape looped around a stand of spindly pines in the distance. I stopped at the edge of the blacktop. My shoulders drooped. Todd laid a gentle hand on my neck.

  “Tyrone didn’t get very far into the woods,” I said. “That perp has balls of steel. If anyone drove up, they would have witnessed the murder.”

  “I don’t get why they didn’t kill Tyrone right away,” said Todd. “Were there any other trucks parked back here during the hijack?”

  “Good question. My guess would be no, unless the drivers slept pretty hard. They would have heard gun fire.”

  “Maybe the hijacker saw Tyrone but thought it was too late to do anything about him,” said Todd.

  “If I had just shot someone in cold blood and then saw a witness, I would not let that witness get away.”

  Todd pulled his hand off my shoulder.

  “They must have heard about it after the fact,” I explained. “Or followed Tyrone.”

  “Do you think they know about you?” said Todd. “That you drew a picture of the killer?”

  A breeze rattled the leaves on a sweetgum tree and I shivered. “Why would that matter?” My pitch drew high and loud, and I lowered my voice. “As far as anyone knows, that composite was drawn by a cop. I didn’t sign the sketch.” Did I? I drew my hands in to clutch my arms as I tried to remember if I had. Signing pieces had become a habit from school. Why would I sign a sketch, though?

  A breeze carried the sound of someone heavy thrashing through a pile of leaves. I jumped, and Todd grabbed my arm. We backed onto the blacktop, and I glanced over my shoulder to check on the State Patrol officer. A moment later, a giant man and a small jumble of fur popped out of the woods.

  “Hey there,” the giant called. The man’s t-shirt strained to hold his girth, and I caught belly peekage. H
is toes hung over his flip flops. The fur yapped and strained at the leash, eager to inspect us.

  “Hey yourself. Are you the driver of that rig?” I relaxed my stance and Todd dropped his hand. I bent over to let the giant hamster smell my hands. “You’re a cute, little thing.”

  “She’s Princess Yapadoodle. I’m Joe, and yep, that’s my Bulldog. My Mack truck. Hauling wine through the Bible belt.” He grinned. “Y’all stopping through to the Big A? Sorry if I scared you. Princess needed to tee-tee.”

  “Actually we’re local,” I said. “I’m Cherry and this here is Todd. Did you know a truck was hijacked here last night?”

  Joe’s jowls brushed his neck as he nodded. “That news spreads fast. Heard about it at the Flying J outside Birmingham.”

  “What are folks saying?”

  “Most are shocked. I knew the driver from a mutual acquaintance. Got a wife and kids in Chattanooga. You know he wasn’t even supposed to be driving? Took the shift when the original driver got tossed in the can for drunk driving. I believe he’s from these parts.”

  “That’s bad luck,” said Todd. “Pick up an extra shift and get jacked.”

  Princess barked and turned three circles. Joe glanced down at the mop of fur. “Princess’s got to go tooty. She didn’t finish her business.”

  “Be safe, Joe,” I said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Joe saluted me. “Y’all have a nice night.” He pulled Princess back toward the woods.

  I glanced at the patrolman, still leaning against his vehicle and watching us. “I’m glad he’s there for Joe’s sake.”

  Todd watched the giant clomp through the trees. “I don’t think many people would bother Joe. He could crush a person with his thumb.”

  “I don’t think a thumb can crush a handgun.” I scowled. “That semi-automatic sure did a number on poor Tyrone. Where was the state patrol when he was getting shot?”

  Nine

  The next morning, the drive to Atlanta took an hour. And given the confusing lack of signage accompanied with the winding streets of residential Buckhead, finding the home of my newest patron, Rupert Agadzinoff, took even longer.