`ENDING OF CHAPTER 29 

On the Backroads of Kentucky 

A short time later, he pulled his cruiser onto a dirt road, hidden from most by the overhanging tree limbs and brush. Once out of sight, he pushed redial and heard the ring at the other end. 

“Come on, Smythe, pick up your phone.” When the phone switched to voice mail, Wyatt yelled into his cell, “Terry, it’s Wyatt. Call me. I’ve got the girl.” Angrily, he tossed his phone on the seat and edged the cruiser deeper into the tall pines and underbrush.  

Crissy gulped for air, trying to stifle her tears. “You won’t get away with this, you know. I’ve got friends and they’ll be looking for me.” 

“Who’s going to tell them? Your dog?” Wyatt snarled and then a low maniacal laugh built into a high pitched shrill. “Nobody knows you’re here or that I’ve seen you and your dog. Where I’m taking you, they won’t ever find you. I’ll call in your car as being abandoned after I get rid of the mutt. If I play my cards right, I’ll convince them that you were involved with the other car. Maybe they kidnapped you?” 

“Is this how justice works in the mountains? What did we do besides discover an accident?” Crissy shuddered as she remembered Brandi lying on the side of the road. A sob escaped her lips. “Why wouldn’t you help her?” 

Wyatt glanced down at his arm and the marks Brandi had left. “Guess it’s called survival. And I plan on doing just that.”  

****************************** 

BEGINNING OF CHAPTER 30 

On the back roads of Kentucky 

The cabin was a shambles. Wyatt had no idea how old it was, but he knew it had been abandoned for many years. It had been a great hang-out for him and Terry when they were teenagers. Then Terry moved to Boston, and except for an occasional drunk-fest weekend, the cabin had been left to withstand the elements on its own. Sheets, yellowed with time, and layered with dust and animal feces covered the sparse furniture. Years of cobwebs hung from the ceiling rafters. It was perfect for hiding the girl until he talked to Terry.  

“Man, I don’t know who to blame for this mess. You or Terry.” Wyatt paced across the floor, kicking a stool and watching it sail across the room. “Terry’s retiring soon. We had big plans. Supposed to be living the good life. You sure messed that up, sister.”  

“Me? I’m not responsible for any of this. You and your friend seem to have gotten off on the wrong track.” Crissy pressed her lips together, frantically trying to think of some way to escape. “You know, I’m a reporter. You could tell me your story and I could write it. Of course, you’d have to admit you made a mistake or two, but I’m sure people would understand.” 

“A story? In one of those big newspapers?” Wyatt scratched the side of his head as he considered her offer. “That’d be something, now, wouldn’t it?” 

Excited by Wyatt’s interest, Crissy continued, “Yeah. I work for the Tennessean in Nashville. You’d make the front page, I bet.”  

“Front page.” Wyatt crossed the creaking floorboards in three long strides, twisting the front of her shirt in his fist and yanking her toward him. His face was beet-red, and venom spilled from his mouth, “Does it say stupid on my forehead? I know what you’re trying to do and it ain’t working.” Wyatt released her and let her fall back. “I ain’t falling for your tricks.” 

Crissy moaned when her head hit the wall. Wyatt’s nostrils flared, and his eyes were glassy. Too late, she realized she’d judged his mentality wrong. “I’m sorry. I only meant to help.” 

“Right! Your story would have landed me in a heap of trouble. Do you know what they do to cops in prison?” Wyatt picked up an empty liquor bottle and tossed it against the fireplace. It shattered into a hundred pieces, scattering everywhere. “Terry’s got connections. Big connections. He’ll get us out of this mess when I tell him what happened.” Wyatt nodded to himself, confident that Costello would fix everything. 

Crissy complained, “These cuffs are hurting me.”  

Wyatt had fastened the bracelets to an iron pipe. “Quit yanking on them and you’ll be fine.” 

“You can’t just leave me here.” Crissy pulled on the pipe again. “I’ll scream my head off and somebody is going to find me.” 

“Nobody remembers this place is here. So, until I figure things out, welcome to your new home.”  

Wyatt’s cell rang, and he grabbed it, praying it was Terry calling him back. Disappointment spread across his face as he read the caller’s name – Big Honcho.  

“I gotta go. The boss is looking for me.” Wyatt shrugged his shoulders, tossing a dusty blanket across Crissy’s legs. “You’re on your own. I’ll try to get some food and water for you but can’t make any promises. I’ll be working at a crime scene. Hope someone else took care of that mutt of yours, though.” 

Hatred bubbled from deep inside and Crissy screamed, “I hope you drop dead!”  

“Like your dog?” Wyatt grabbed his hat and slammed the door behind him as he headed for his car. A stream of cuss words exploded from Crissy’s mouth, and he laughed. “Don’t waste your breath? Ain’t nobody going to hear you but the buzzards.” 

Not wanting anyone to notice fresh tire tracks, Wyatt left the cabin by the back entrance, through the brush and across the stream. Once off the property, he headed south on another back road, circling toward town from a different direction. 

********************** 

After traveling a few miles away from the cabin, Wyatt called his boss. Sheriff Tom Munson answered on the first ring. 

“Where you at, Tucker? I called you ten minutes ago.”  Wyatt could hear the irritation in his boss's voice, but he was careful not to set him off any more than he seemed to be. “Sorry, Tom. I was out west of town and cell service gets sketchy out there. Just now saw your missed call. What’s up?” 

“Coming into town this morning, I came across an abandoned car. You know anything about it?” 

“Can’t say that I do, Tom. Where exactly are you?”  

“Just north of the coalmine exit.”  

“I haven’t been out that way today.” Wyatt paused before continuing, “Maybe they ran out of gas or something. Might have walked into town for help.” 

“No, I don’t think so. Somebody left a beautiful golden retriever behind. She’d been shot.” 

“Shot? Who’d shoot their dog and then take off?” Beads of sweat trickled down the side of Wyatt’s face. “That’s just cruel.” Wyatt took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I’m about a half mile away. You need me to dispose of the dog?” 

“No, that won’t be necessary. Luckily, Doc Williams was at his shop, and he came and picked her up. The Doc said he could patch her up.”  

Wyatt pulled off the road and parked next to the sheriff’s car. He wasted no time getting out and walking toward his boss and the abandoned vehicle.  

“Man, this is a morning for the books.” Sheriff Munson ended the phone call and turned toward Wyatt. “Ryan just found another car in the ravine, south of town.” 

“Another car?” Wyatt appeared as if he was surprised to hear about the car. 

“Yeah, but the occupants are in this one.” The sheriff shook his head. “Ryan says he’s got a bullet-riddled car with two dead bodies.” As Munson walked toward his car, he stopped and called back to Wyatt, “I’m headed out to Ryan. You can get the dogs up here and scour the woods, in case someone is lost or hurt out there.” 

The sheriff climbed into his car and pulled around to Wyatt. “I found a cell phone in the car and I’m dropping it off so Mandy can check it out. Maybe find out who the owner is.”  

“I — I can do — that, Tom.”  Wyatt’s face was drained of color. “You — you should get out to the other scene.” 

“No, I got it. Mandy says she’s got a message from the Boston Police Department. Can’t imagine what they want, but the way the morning’s going, it could be anything.” Munson gave a quick wave to Wyatt. “Get those dogs out here and inspect the car before anything else goes wrong.” 

Wyatt pressed his hand against the car to steady his body till Munson’s cruiser disappeared, and then he slowly crumbled to the ground.