Bobby Cole - The dummy line

“Ten-four.” Larson was so excited he couldn’t replace the microphone on the small metal clip. After three tries, he dropped it on the seat.

Ollie and R.C. debated the call with Johnny Lee, or whoever it was, for a few minutes. They couldn’t agree as to its probative value. They’d pushed the envelope, but it did not appear to have paid off. One thing was certain-they’d tipped off Johnny Lee or his accomplice that they were onto him.

Ollie monitored the radio traffic to make certain Larson’s replacement knew where to go and what to do. He should be in place in a few minutes. Ollie learned from Larson that Ethan Daniels was headed toward Livingston.

A few minutes later, Martha reported that the .44 Magnum Ruger had been stolen from a Selma man’s truck two years earlier.

Ollie was trying to get everything straight in his mind, so he could thoroughly explain the situation to Sheriff Marlow, who would be arriving in a few minutes. Ollie’s headache worsened.

“R.C., go get me another Coke from in there, please,” he said, pointing at the camp house with one hand and rubbing his furrowed brow with the other. His cowboy hat lay upside down on the hood of his Expedition.

“Yes sir, Chief,” R.C. responded, heading toward the camp house.

Ollie grabbed the microphone to touch base with the kids’ parents. Instead, he leaned his head back, trying to clear his mind. I’ll wait a few minutes more. After a while, he realized that the calendars had distracted R.C. again. He was about to honk the horn, then raised the microphone to his face.

“Miz Martha?”

“Yes, Sheriff?” she said, blowing out a lungful of smoke.

“Give me an update…how’s everybody?” he asked.

“Well, Tanner is still sedated. I understand Mrs. Beasley is standing there waiting on him to crack an eye open. Mrs. Tillman seems to be doing pretty good, but they say Mr. Tillman is pacing the halls.”

“What about Zach Beasley?”

“I haven’t heard from him. He’s supposed to be at home in case Elizabeth calls or shows up.”

“Call them all and tell ‘em that I have reinforcements coming, and we expect to have as much help as the state can provide by daylight.”

“Hang on, Chief. Somebody’s cuttin’ in!” she said excitedly.

Ollie watched R.C. approach with a Diet Coke. He shrugged his shoulders and mouthed, “It’s all I could find.” Everyone knew Ollie hated diet drinks.

“Ollie, go to frequency three and hurry!” Martha exclaimed.

Ollie set down the can and switched the channels. He heard a Hale County deputy in the middle of an excited explanation. “I have the girl in my car now, and she seems to be OK but she’s unconscious,” he said in a very high-pitched, excited voice, “but I think she’s all right.”

Ollie was stunned. He heard Sheriff Marlow’s voice speak, “Great job, Lewis. Take her to the hospital emergency room in Livingston. I’ll meet you there.”

Ollie couldn’t take it anymore. “This is Sheriff Ollie Landrum. Please apprise me of the situation.”

“What’s that, Ollie?” Marlow asked.

“Tell me what’s going on, Marlow!”

“Well, it seems my young deputy Lewis was instructed to stake out a trailer north of town. As he explained it to me, he got a gut feeling and approached the trailer where he saw a girl with her hands tied behind her, blindfolded, wandering around. Lewis is on the way to the hospital with her. Good thing you called us…it only took us about three minutes to resolve this for you!” he boasted.

“And she’s all right?” Ollie asked, almost out of breath, ignoring Marlow’s last comment.

“Apparently,” Marlow said and chuckled like he did this every day. “Hey, Marlow. Thanks, man, I really appreciate you guys. I’m on my way. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

“I’ll be there. I want to see my old buddy Zach Beasley.”

“I understand…Miz Martha, are you listening?”

“Yes sir.”

“Call everybody and tell them!”

“Yes sir. Good job, Ollie!” She was clearly proud and about to tear up.

Ollie signed off, then bear-hugged R.C. They high-fived each other. R.C. howled like a dog and yelled, “Yes, yes, yes!” This nightmare’s over, Ollie thought. My worst fears were for nothin’.

“Let’s go!” Ollie exclaimed, grabbing his hat.

They both jumped into their vehicles. As Ollie hit the gas, relief flooded him.

The sheriff thought about Martha calling him “Ollie.” She didn’t do that often. He still had the crazy Mick Johnson cell phone call to think about, but he would do that later. There was one more person to call right now. He switched back to the main frequency.

“Larson? Larson? Come in.”

“Yes sir, Sheriff.” He sounded very despondent.

“Arrest that guy you’re following. Where are you?

“Larson?

“Larson!”

“I’m in town, but I lost him.”

“What? What happened?” Ollie was furious. Marlow had deputies with uncannily accurate gut feelings, and his own deputy couldn’t even keep a tail.

“It’s crazy. This guy just vaporized. I’m really sorry, Sheriff.”

“I can’t believe this!” Ollie said aloud to himself. This was a classic Larson screwup-just another example of his crazy-making behavior.

“Larson, give Miz Martha his name and vehicle type,” he said sternly. “She can put out an all-points bulletin.”

“Yes sir, I’ll do just that.” Larson knew he had screwed up. He felt like he was going to vomit.

Ollie wanted to see the family reunited. He stomped the accelerator. They had found Elizabeth. What a relief, he thought. He was frustrated that he and his men had spent hours trying to resolve this crisis, and Marlow’s deputy had it handed to him on a silver platter within minutes. I’ll catch hell about it, but at least the girl’s alive and in good shape. That’s the really important thing. He took off his hat and laid it on the seat next to him, ran his hand over his head, took a deep breath, and, with no small amount of relief, said, “Thank you, Lord!”

“How’s your ankle?” Jake asked Elizabeth when she caught up.

“It’s worse, Mr. Crosby,” she whimpered. “I can hardly put any weight on it.”

Jake got Katy off his back and then kneeled down to take a look at Elizabeth’s ankle. It was the size of a grapefruit and hot to the touch. He knew she must be in excruciating pain. Jake slipped off her shoe, then searched his hunting vest for his pocketknife. He removed her shoelaces and cut out the tongue of the shoe. He then cut the top off, leaving just enough to cover the sides of her foot. He hoped her toes and heel would keep it on her foot.

He quickly stood, grabbed his shotgun, then unloaded it as quietly as possible-hating that he had to do it. He slipped the shells into an easily accessible pocket. Then he unzipped the cushion seat off his hunting vest and dropped it on the ground. He reached into the back of his vest and found his old Primos turkey wing, which had a six-foot piece of parachute cord tied to it so he couldn’t run off and forget it when things heated up during a hunt.

The girls just watched silently.

“Elizabeth, hold this straight up,” Jake said as he put the gun barrel down onto the cushion. Using both hands, he squeezed the cushion around the barrel and used the parachute cord to tie it tightly around the barrel, looping the cord through the ventilated rib to prevent the cushion from pulling off in the mud.