Escape chapter 1C

When he looked over at her, she was shaking again. He knew it had to be fear. “Did the police do this to you?” he asked.

“No… I don’t know… maybe. Or they knew,” she said, pulling back into her shell.

He shifted the Jeep out of four-wheel-drive and turned back onto the dirt road and started heading down the mountain. Just before he got to the switchbacks, she saw the Sheriff’s car on the road below them, heading their way. The first switchback was probably half a mile away.

“STOP,” she yelled, “go back… they’re coming.” He thought that if he didn’t get turned around, she would jump from the moving Jeep and stumble off into the woods again.

Garrett slammed on the brakes and threw the Jeep in reverse. He backed up into the ditch on the side of the road and turned around as quickly as he could and headed back toward the trail. He quickly made the turn, stopped and shifted back into four-wheel-drive, but left it in high-range.

Normally he liked to take his time and didn’t hurry on the trail, but he wanted to get out of sight, so he pushed along the trail as fast as he dared. He made it a couple of miles, to the beginning of the rough part, before stopping and shifting into low-range again.

She looked in front of the Jeep and saw a boulder strewn wash. To her eyes, there was no road, only giant rocks. She was surprised when the Jeep lurched forward and started crawling over the washing-machine sized boulders, climbing up and falling off of them, rocking back and forth.

Garrett was in deep concentration, sitting up in his seat, scanning the route ahead. He fought his inclination to keep a death grip on the steering wheel. Sometimes, the wheel would jerk one way or the other suddenly and he didn’t want to break a thumb with one of the spokes of the steering wheel when it snapped back.

“Where does this go?” she asked, breaking her silence for the first time since screaming about the police car.

“It goes over Booth Mountain, and then down into the valley on the other side. There is a little ghost town in the valley. Then, it follows a small river for a couple of miles and climbs out of the valley toward Meridian. I’ve driven it a few times. There are some other branches, but that is the one I usually take.”

She regarded him for a moment. She was starting to feel more trust for him. He didn’t seem like he was trying to trick her. More importantly, she trusted his eyes.

“What’s your name again?” she asked him after a moment.

Without taking his eyes off the route in front of them, he replied, “Garrett, but sometimes people call me Sparky.”

“Why?”

“When I was just a kid, my dad taught me to weld. The welding throws a lot of sparks. He was joking around and called me Sparky in front of a couple of the guys… it stuck.”

“Do you like it?” she asked.

“I guess. I don’t know. My nickname could be Booger or something. That would suck,” he said, looking over at her and smiling.

She smiled back.

“You have a really pretty smile,” he said. Even though it had been strained, he did see her beautiful smile. But it was offset by the gauntness of her face and how far her eyes were sunk into their sockets. Her hair was stringy and dirty, and she looked terribly pale.

She turned and looked out her window at the passing trail.

***

Sheriff Deke Stutz pulled up next to his brother’s trailer. He’d bought the small camper for him a few years back, when his wife had threatened to leave him if he didn’t kick Von out. It was crappy then, and it hadn’t gotten any better with Von living in it. But Von didn’t seem to mind. His brother liked it enough that when Deke’s wife left him anyway, he elected to stay in the trailer.

“Von, you in there?” he asked, closing the distance to the door. He thumped the door a couple of times with his fist. “I’m coming in.”

He opened the door and peered inside. It was dark, gloomy and there were food cartons and trash strewn about the single room. It stank of rancid milk and rotting vegetables. Deke winced from the smell and quickly closed the door. That’s how it always was.

The Sheriff turned and headed toward the shed. As he came around the corner, he saw the door open and something lying on the ground. He quickened his pace, only to find his brother in a heap over the threshold. His skull was caved in and there was a hammer a couple of feet away. Blood was streaked across the floor.

He hadn’t heard the other squad car pull into the gravel drive behind his and almost jumped out of his skin when Deputy Tate appeared behind him.

“Betsy, this is Tate, I’m at the Sheriff’s brother’s place. We need an ambulance,” he said into his radio, startling the Sheriff who was on his knees next to his brother. “Might call the State Police about getting their crime scene unit out here, too.”

“Ten-Four, Unit Two, Dispatch out,” Betsy Williams, the dispatcher, replied.

A second later the Sheriff’s radio crackled to life, “Dispatch to Unit One, we have a report there is a problem at Von Stutz’s place, over.”

“I’m already here, Betsy. Cancel the ambulance. He’s dead. Call Henderson Brothers,” he said, referencing the funeral home in town.

“I’m sorry, Deke,” She relied over the radio, dropping the jargon.

The Sheriff suddenly turned to Deputy Tate. “I passed a Jeep when I was leaving here. I’m going to head up the mountain and see if I can find it. Don’t. Touch. Anything. Got it?”

“Yes, Sir. I’ll make sure everything stays just like it is, and I’ll meet Jack Henderson when he gets here to collect your brother. I’m sorry, Deke,” Deputy Tate said as he put his hand on the boss’s shoulder.

The Sheriff jogged back to his squad car and headed up the mountain on the narrow road. It had been a while, but the Jeep either went to run the old road over the mountain, or it went up to Hilltop Estates. It was probably too late, but his gut told him they were running the old road. Jeeps ran that road all the time.

His tires spit gravel and he floored it heading back out onto the road. He squealed up the mountain, looking for the Jeep he’d passed. It had been an hour, but people running the road often stopped just before the rock garden and aired down their tires and got ready to drive the real part of the trail.

The girl couldn’t have gotten the drop on his brother. He’d seen her. She was petite… maybe a hundred-ten or a hundred-twenty pounds, and only about five-four. His brother was six-three, and even if he couldn’t take care of himself, he still seemed to recall everything he had learned about hand-to-hand combat in the military. Someone had to have helped her. He didn’t care that his brother had done horrible things to a bunch of girls… Von was sick and couldn’t help it. She wouldn’t have been able to overpower him and murder him. He knew he needed to find her and silence her before she exposed his brother… and him.

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Next part...

This is the third part of Escape, an ebook available for free download to subscribers at my blog, LaneBailey.info. I hope you enjoyed it.