Bobby Cole - The dummy line

Jake looked at each of the girls, saying, “Y’all have to be real quiet. Not a word, OK? Just sit right here and don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

The girls nodded. He turned to walk down the field. His neck and shoulders were aching, but they had made it. The shooting house, if he could find it, would be their sanctuary until daylight and help arrived. Jake realized he had walked out into the field without thinking and was probably leaving footprints. The clover was thick and would make it tough to follow his tracks. Tough, but not impossible. He moved back to the field’s edge.

The shooting house wasn’t on the east side of the field. He had started up the west side when he saw it. Yes! he said to himself and ran back to the girls.

“Come on. I found it,” he said excitedly. “Let’s go.”

Jake grabbed Katy and helped her climb up his back. Her arms squeezed around his neck. He could make it for two more minutes, he thought. Elizabeth struggled to keep up with them. The shooting house was about fifteen feet off the ground and appeared to be large enough for the three of them. It was made of plywood and had a wooden ladder leading up to it. It was just what he wanted.

“No!” Elizabeth suddenly blurted out when she caught up.

Jake was startled. “What? What’s wrong?” he asked, trying to keep his voice low.

“No…he caught me in one of these!” she said, staring up at it.

“Elizabeth…I have a gun. I can protect us. It’s OK. Everything’s gonna be OK,” he said reassuringly.

“No…no. I can’t.”

“Listen to me, Elizabeth. It’s the safest place we’ve got. I can protect us.”

Katy put an arm around Elizabeth and said confidently, “Elizabeth, we’ll protect you.”

Elizabeth looked at Jake and then at Katy. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “All right,” she said, her voice weak and trailing off.

Jake could only imagine what she was trying to block out of her mind. He put his hand on her shoulder and said, “You’re safe now.

“OK, girls, let me check it out first,” he said, and he started climbing up the ladder. The door opened easily. He briefly shone his light inside. Remnants of a bird’s nest were on the floor, along with a few empty aluminum cans and a folding chair. There was a ten-inch-high opening all the way around the box for a hunter to see and shoot though. Jake quickly climbed back down.

“Katy, climb up and get in the far corner,” Jake said quietly.

“Yes sir.”

“I don’t know if I can climb,” Elizabeth said dolefully. “I can hardly stand.”

Jake thought for a second. He took a hard look at her. He figured she weighed maybe a hundred pounds. He leaned the shotgun against the legs of the shooting house and, with no warning, bent over and picked her up like a sack of seed. “I’ll carry you up. Hang on,” he said. She was heavier than he had thought, but he felt he could do it. One step at a time, he went up the ladder. Elizabeth was hanging almost upside down, but she trusted Jake and held on tightly. As they neared the top, he was straining to balance and hold onto her.

At the top step, he stopped. “Elizabeth, ease your feet down and try to stand up. You can crawl in from here.”

“Be careful, Elizabeth,” Katy said, grabbing the sleeve of her shirt to help pull her inside.

After some straining and twisting, Elizabeth slowly slid into the house, crawled to a corner, and sat with her legs out in front of her.

Once she was safely inside, Jake climbed down. He quickly grabbed the shotgun and cut off the parachute cord holding the cushion in place. He reached in his vest, grabbed the two remaining shotguns shells, and quietly loaded them into his gun. He worked the pump action, feeding one into the chamber. He checked the safety and took a deep breath. He searched the darkness for their stalker and then looked up the ladder at his sanctuary.

As Jake reached the top of the ladder, he could see the girls each sitting in a corner. He crawled inside, latched the door, and sat on the floor. There wasn’t room for another person inside the box. For the first time in several hours, Jake felt somewhat safe.

“Turn the flashlight on, Dad,” Katy whispered.

“No, baby, we need to keep it off so nobody will see us.”

“But Elizabeth’s shaking,” Katy said caringly.

Jake had been so preoccupied with getting himself settled, he hadn’t noticed.

“Elizabeth, we’re safe now. Try to relax and rest. We’re OK,” Jake said with as much confidence as he could muster.

Jake knew she had been traumatized but didn’t know what else to do for her. She couldn’t walk much farther, and this shooting house was safe and dry. He hit the light button on his Timex: 4:43. Another hour or so and daylight’ll be breakin’.

“All right now…y’all close your eyes and rest. I’ll be the lookout,” Jake explained as he leaned back. “Here’s a cushion…who needs it?”

“Give it to Elizabeth, Dad,” Katy said.

Jake handed her the cushion, and she thanked Katy. Elizabeth’s settling down some, Jake thought as he leaned back against the wall to consider what daylight would bring. It was silent outside. Inside everybody rested.

Martha O’Brien was draining another cup of coffee when a call came in from the Clay County, Mississippi, sheriff’s department. Holding her hand over the receiver, she whistled loudly. Ollie looked up from the map. She frantically pointed at the phone. Ollie quickly went into his office to take the call. Sheriff Marlow grinned at Martha’s enthusiasm-it was time to update the media. Marlow went to the restroom to check his hair and then to gather the media outside.

“Sheriff Landrum,” said Ollie when he picked up the telephone.

“Sheriff, we have been to the Littlepages’ house. We found the telephone lines cut, the glass on their front door broken by a pro, and there’s evidence of a struggle in the master bedroom. Sometime later this morning, we’ll have a crew there to dust for prints. That’s about it,” the officer explained.

“Thank you. What about the Crosbys?”

“As you know, they live right next door…actually, it’s about a hundred and fifty yards away. The Crosby lady was talking on the phone to Scott Littlepage when we arrived. She was obviously shocked by what all was going on.”

“Had she spoken to her husband?”

“No. She tried to call him while we were there. He’s at his hunting club with their nine-year-old daughter. Turkey huntin’.”

That confirmed Ollie’s suspicions. This was getting worse. A nine-year-old little girl , Ollie thought and grunted his displeasure into the phone.

“Both families are solid members of the community. They have never had any issues at all.”

“Yeah, I understand…but there’s got to be a connection somehow.”

“I understand that Scott Littlepage is en route, but it will be a few hours before he arrives.”

“That’s right. I need you to do something for me. Don’t let Mrs. Crosby come down here yet. She’ll probably want to, but don’t let her. Tell her that we need her at home, in case her husband calls. I have my hands full as it is, and she’ll do us more good staying at home. I’ll keep you informed. What’s your cell phone number?”

Ollie promised to keep the officer up to speed and hung up, more worried than ever. I’ve got to notify everyone that there’s a child involved. Involved in what, though? I don’t have a clue what’s really goin’ on. I need to talk to R.C. to see what they’ve found.