Bobby Cole - The dummy line

“Where am I?” she asked.

“You’re at the hospital in Livingston.”

“Livingston? Alabama?”

“Yes ma’am,” he replied, noting her confusion. “Why don’t you tell me who you are?”

“My name’s Lindsay Littlepage. I live in West Point, Mississippi…I need to call my husband,” she explained slowly.

West Point! he thought. He was certain that wasn’t a coincidence. He thought about Mick and his friend.

“How did you get here? What happened?”

“My husband’s out of town on business, and my kids were at a spend-the-night party, so I was home alone and this…this…this…” She was beginning to get emotional.

Ollie needed information. He would have to go slow. “It’s all right, ma’am. Take your time, but you need to know that there may be more lives in danger. Do you understand?” he asked gently.

She nodded and continued. “This guy broke into our house and threatened me. He taped me up and put me in the back of his van, or maybe it was an SUV. He said my husband killed someone…and that…that makes no sense.”

Ollie listened carefully and took notes.

“We drove for hours, and then he put me in a dark…a dark room.” She was crying again. “I need to call my husband, please .”

“Yes ma’am, you will. I promise. I just need to know the rest first.”

She wiped her eyes, and a nurse walked in to check on her. Ollie insisted she continue.

“Well, he left me and came back…and he said he was going to get his buddies…then he came back and he taped my eyes and told me to walk straight away and I would live. He insisted I walk straight away, but I couldn’t see anything but a little bit of my feet. It was horrible.”

“Yes ma’am,” Ollie responded.

She started crying again, “That’s when the policeman found me. Please thank him for me.”

“Do you know…” Ollie flipped back a few pages to make sure he had the right name. “Do you know Jake Crosby?”

Her eyes widened, and she said, “He’s my next-door neighbor…he and my husband are good friends…they hunt together.”

Ollie let out a deep breath. Damn it. How could all this be connected? He needed to call Mick.

“Mrs. Littlepage, why don’t you rest now. I’ll have a deputy come by to help you call your husband, OK? You said he was away on business. Where is he?” he asked, preparing to write down her answer.

“Biloxi. At a convention. He sells pharmaceuticals.”

“Thank you, ma’am…I know you’ve been through a heck of an ordeal tonight. We’ll help get in touch with your husband, I promise.”

Ollie stood. He patted her hand gently to say everything is going to be all right and walked out as a nurse came in holding a small clear plastic cup containing a little peach-colored pill.

Reese felt something crawling on the back of his neck and reached for it. He found a small lump and pinched it. Holding it between his thumb and forefinger, he lit his cigarette lighter with the other hand to examine it.

“Damn tick,” he said with disgust, then squished it between his fingers.

Wiping his hand on his blue jeans, he paused from his stalk to think. That phone call’s buggin’ me. Tiny lives with those two guys-that addict who’s constantly gettin’ busted and the drunk who fights everybody. There’s always trouble with the cops at their house. It ain’t no wonder that the sheriff picked up his phone. They probably raided the house and found it.

“Those idiots!” Reese said a little louder than a mumble as he lit a cigarette.

Reese turned on his flashlight as he walked out onto the old logging road. He checked his watch, looked up at the clear night sky, and guessed that he had about two hours before daylight. He scanned back and forth searching for footprints. He’s gotta be on this side of the big creek. It’s way too much water to cross. If I don’t get you tonight, you sumbitch, I know who you are and where you live. I’ll get you sooner or later.

Reese could make out a shooting house on the ridge at the edge of a clear-cut. That would give him a vantage point with increased visibility. He ran to it and started to climb the ladder. The whole house shook as he climbed. When he reached the top, he felt for the door latch and flipped it up. Swinging the door open, Reese climbed in and quickly scanned the woods for any lights and listened for any sounds. The predator was poised to strike.

Reese couldn’t quit thinking about the sheriff’s phone call. He knows somethin’ . He couldn’t believe the sheriff had called him…or actually that the sheriff had called Johnny Lee.

After a few minutes of not seeing or hearing anything, Reese climbed down. He hit another logging road farther south and started sweeping the flashlight back and forth. Twenty yards down the road, Reese saw fresh footprints in the mud.

“Hot damn!” Reese exclaimed aloud.

He ran up to look closely. There were two distinct sets, a heavy boot track and a smaller track from tennis shoes. Reese grinned as he stalked his victims.

Ollie stormed down the center hall of the ER. The automatic exit doors opened as he approached, and he charged through. Noticing the bright lights in the parking lot, he strained to see what was happening. Marlow’s silhouette in front of the cameras was obvious. He was being interviewed by the CBS affiliate from Tuscaloosa.

“Shit!” Ollie said aloud.

“Sheriff Marlow, I need you!” Ollie hollered across the parking lot.

Marlow looked over and nodded. He excitedly explained to the television crew that there must be a break in the case and promised to give them all the details as soon as he had them. He quickly unclipped his wireless microphone and handed it back to the news reporter.

Ollie stood impatiently waiting. He managed to keep his cool. When Marlow walked up, Ollie again escorted him straight to the supply closet. He was about to close the door when he caught Zach Beasley’s eye. He held up one finger and mouthed, “Give me one minute.” Zach nodded as if he were in a daze and were about to melt down.

Ollie quickly closed the door and glared at Marlow.

“Marlow, what in the hell? Please, man, I need some help. I need a helicopter to search the woods at daylight. I’m gonna need every available officer to help search and secure a huge area. I’m going to set up a command post at my office and coordinate from there. We don’t have time for the TV bullshit!” Ollie barked.

“Calm down. Media management is part of the job. I’m trying to help you here, buddy, OK? I’ll call the governor and get his helicopter. You can have all my men. What’s the latest? Who’s that woman?” Marlow asked calmly.

Ollie relaxed a bit; he needed to believe Marlow. He stared at him for a long moment then said, “Her name’s Lindsay Littlepage. She’s from West Point, Mississippi. Get a load of this…remember the guy I told you about that called on his cell phone and started all this confusion? She lives next door to him. That means he’s out there somewhere, too, I can feel it.” Ollie let the information sink in and added, “Let’s go to my office and get organized, but please, leave the media here.”

“I’ll do what I can. They smell a story,” Marlow replied.

As they stepped out of the closet, Ollie said, “Well, keep ‘em away from me. I have way too much to do.” Ollie knew he couldn’t manage everything, and he wasn’t going to let the cameras distract him.