Beneath the Tombstone (The Tombstone Series) (8 page)

The
kid, who appeared to be about twenty or so, seemed rather disappointed as he
trudged off, with a much shorter and less confident stride, back towards his
patrol car.

“Hey,”
Sheriff Victor called, halting the retreating deputy. “Run down to the station
and bring me my coat.” Seemingly as an afterthought he added, “And bring some
crime scene tape.”

When
he turned back around, the medics were examining his wittiness. One of them
turned from his job of shining a blinding light in Jason’s eye and spoke to the
sheriff. “I think he’s got a concussion, how sever I’m not sure.”

The
medic turned back to Jason. “We need you to come with us. We’ll give you a lift
to the hospital,” he added as he took the patient’s arm to lead him over to the
emergency vehicle.

Jason,
in turn, planted his feet like a stubborn old mule and, in defiance, announced,
“I am not going anywhere until we find my wife.”

“Okay,
okay,” the paramedic spoke with raised hands. “Just keep in mind that you could
have internal bleeding or something. And we need to fix that nose.” With that
he turned and walked off. “We’ll be here if you need us,” he cast back.

As
Jason watched the medics go, Dr. Throckmorton leaned over to him and whispered,
“Don’t worry. I can fix your nose… without taking you to the hospital.”

Honestly,
Jason didn’t care what his nose looked like. “We’ll worry about it later,” he
replied.

As
they turned back around to face the sheriff, Tomas offered some advice. “You
need to tell him what her name was.”

Even
if it was unintentional, Jason did not appreciate the doctor’s referral to his
wife as if she no longer existed. “Her name
is
,” he stressed, as he
glared at the doctor, “Misty Hathaway.”

“Spell
it,” the sheriff instructed as he pulled out a pen and pad of paper.

After
writing it down, Victor walked back over to his car and called in the
information over the radio. Summoning Jason over to the driver’s side of the
car, he asked how many attackers there had been and what they looked like.

Jason
revealed all he could remember and gave a vivid description of the two who he,
if given the chance, could identify. But the third one he couldn’t offer much
on. The man had been pretty average when it came to height and weight. And with
the hood hiding his face, for the time being, his identity would have to remain
a mystery.

Sheriff
Victor relayed the information over the radio then turned back to Jason. “Did
you get a look at their car?”

“No.
I didn’t even hear one, but I was pretty messed up for a bit,” Jason replied.

“How
long has she been missing?” the sheriff asked.

Jason
looked at his watch. They had been attacked at about the time the original
encounter was supposed to take place. He remembered because of how, in his
mind, he had been trying to rush Misty, knowing they were going to be late.

“About
twenty minutes,” he sighed. After a moment of silence, he spoke with a shaky
voice, “Sheriff, we have to find her.”

A
look of understanding came over the sheriff’s face as he radioed in the last
details. After putting up the hand held device, he turned back. “I’m sorry. I
know this is hard, but for her sake I need you to keep it together for me.” He
stepped over and intercepted Jason distant gaze. “Is there anything else you
can remember? Even if it seems completely irrelevant, it could help in solving
this case.”

Jason
despised the thought of Misty going from being a living, breathing part of his
life, to simply being a case. It seemed like such a cold word. As he turned to
Tomas, their eyes locked for a split second. The doctor had requested to be
left out of the story. Jason didn’t think it would matter anyways, seeing how
the original plan with the doctor had not gone through. He directed his
attention back to the sheriff. “No. Not that I can think of anyways, but I’ll
let you know if I remember anything.”

The
sheriff read into the exchanged glances between Jason and the doctor but
appeared unsure as to what the hidden message had been. He gave Jason a curious
look, but about that time the deputy got back with the coat and crime scene
tape, saving Jason from any pressing questions.

After
the sheriff had wrapped himself snugly in his coat, he, along with the deputy
and Tomas, followed Jason to the scene of the crime. While the three older men
went over the details of the attack, Deputy Andrews took on the daunting task
of stringing up crime-scene tape.

“So
you were standing right about here?” Sheriff Victor asked Jason but didn’t
receive an answer because Jason was staring at the deputy who had pulled a
swing out tight and began wrapping the crime-scene tape around it, using it for
an anchor… then unwrapped it, stepped back, looked at the see-saw, looked at a
tree, headed towards the see-saw, changed his mind, headed towards the tree,
decided against either and headed back to the swing but got his feet tangled in
the tape and almost tripped.

All
three men stood in silence and watched the flustered, high-strung kid as he
made a mess out of things and almost hung himself with the ribbon before
finally turning around to face the others with a defeated expression on his
face. The sheriff walked over and gave him a skeptic look that seemed to ask,
“How did that work out for you?” as he confiscated the tape. An old hand at it,
the sheriff soon had the yellow tape surrounding the parameter of the crime
scene.

Jason
soon found himself back at his truck, leaned up against the side of it, waiting
on the sheriff to finish processing all the information. The emergency beacons
still flashed red and blue across his face, but by now he had grown numb to their
presence.

Walking
up to the tailgate, Tomas dropped it open. “Come over here and lie down,” he
instructed Jason. “Let’s set that nose.”

Jason
lay down on the tail gate, grabbed on to the latch that opens it, with one
hand, while he hooked the other underneath the bed rail. He took a deep breath,
let it out and said, “All right, I’m ready.”

The
doctor placed one hand on Jason’s arm and the other on his nose. Jason tensed
up and squeezed his holds for all he was worth as the doctor lifted his nose,
moved it over and set it down in the right spot. That hadn’t felt too bad, just
really weird.

As
Jason shut the tail gate back, the sheriff slammed the door on his car and
approached with a soured look on his face. Uh-oh. Judging by his expression,
Jason feared more bad news was coming. But then again, could it really get any
worse?
“Don’t ask that question,”
he told himself.
“It can always get
worse.”
Sheriff Victor’s frustration seemed to be fastened on Jason, but
that couldn’t be right. Jason was the victim here.

“When
were you going to tell me about what happened at the little Italian food joint
down by the River Walk the other night?” the sheriff demanded. Fearless Deputy
Andrews came over to support his leader.

“It
really didn’t seem worth mentioning,” Jason said as if it bore no relevance.
“Some jerk stole my wife’s purse; I went and got it back for her.”

“It
is my job to decide what’s important and what’s not,” the sheriff spat.

“Yep,”
Andrews agreed with a nod. “Our job.”

Victor
turned to his deputy. “Andrews,” he spoke sharply, “don’t you have some papers
to go fill out or something?”

“No
sir. I got them all filled out this afternoon,” the deputy replied in a
satisfied voice. He sounded very happy with his accomplishment.

“Well,
go check out the other side of town.” The annoyance rang clear in Sheriff
Victor’s voice.

“What’s
happening on the other side of town?” Deputy Andrews asked, completely missing
the nowhere near subtle hint.

“Anything…everything!
Without you out there patrolling the streets, this town is left wide open.
There’s probably drunkenness running rampant in the streets… gambling, drugs –
you name it.” He paused. “They need you out there.” He placed a hand on the
kid’s shoulder and added, “I need you out there.”

“Don’t
you worry about it, sheriff,” the deputy said as he rushed towards his patrol
car. “You just finish up here, and I’ll take care of it,” he yelled back. He
had to hurry before it was too late.

Turning
back around to Jason, the sheriff shook his head showing that his patience was
quickly being depleted. “Maybe now we can concentrate,” he muttered. After
letting out a deep sigh, he looked from Tomas back to Jason. “Was there any
conflict?”

“No.
He must have dropped the purse in his hurry to get away.” The sheriff might
find his original lie a bit unbelievable considering.

“Was
anything missing from your wife’s purse?”

“Not
that I can think of, but I didn’t check. It’s in the truck, but even if
something is missing, I wouldn’t know it unless it was like her wallet or
something. She carries everything in there.”

The
sheriff sighed and shook his head. “Probably won’t find anything, but we’ll
need to take it in, go through it, see what we can find. Her phone in there?”
Jason nodded. “We’ll need to take a look at that too.”

It
was then that Jason thought of something. “How did you figure out we were the
ones robbed the other night at the restaurant?” he asked.

The
sheriff gave him a look of contempt. “You paid with a check,” he stated
bluntly. “It had your name, address, driver’s license number and date of birth
on it. With all this high tech technology they’ve come out with now days, we
can actually identify a person using there identification.”

Jason
put his hand to his forehead and rubbed it. “Boy, I feel stupid.”

“Good,
because judging by all your previous actions, you are stupid. Did you not know
that this park has a curfew?
Y’all
weren’t even
supposed to be out here this late.”

All
the smart, arrogant, and brave remarks to answer that question with had been
beaten out of Jason, so he just lied. “I guess I didn’t see the sign.”

The
sheriff turned to look at the sign that was posted close by. It had
Park
Hours: 6:00 AM – 10:00 PM
written in big bold letters. Jason knew what he
was implying.

“I’m
really glad you stuck around to talk with us this time,” the sheriff spoke,
cutting Jason a hostile glare. “It really helps with the investigation and
all.” Any trace of sympathy he may have shown before was gone. “Did you get a
good look at the purse thief?” he asked after a moment. “Could he be one of the
kidnappers? Many times crimes like these tie in together.”

“It
was dark. All I saw was the thief’s outline.”

“Were
there any witnesses?”

“Just
an old drunk sleeping it off in a little side ally,” Jason said, letting the
information slip out before he realized it.

Victor
raised an eyebrow in a gesture that said he was happy to finally get some
useful information. “Do you think that what happened at the restaurant could have
anything to do with what happened at the park tonight?”

“No,
they are not related,” Jason answered without hesitation.

“You
seem awful sure of yourself.” The sheriff’s suspicion shone through in his
voice. “What makes you so certain?”

“Nothing,”
Jason answered abruptly. “I just can’t think of anything that would tie them
together.”

“Maybe
not, but sometimes it’s the obvious things that are the hardest to see,” Victor
said as he looked at Jason with a sharp, discerning eye.

“I
know that for a fact. I’m a psychiatrist,” the doctor piped up, trying to earn
a bit of recognition.

Ignoring
him, Sheriff Victor handed Jason a card. “You can contact me anytime at this
number,” he instructed. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll wind up remembering something
useful.”

Spinning
around to leave, he took a few steps then turned back to Jason. “Run down to
the station in the morning and give our sketch artist the description of the
two men you described. She’ll be there at seven.” Then the sheriff left without
another word.

Assaulted
by guilt, grief, and anger at his own helplessness, Jason drove by all of the
old hangouts he and Misty had shared. Memories floated through the darkness,
seeming to mock him because, while you can always remember yesterday, you can
never go back. But that didn’t keep Jason from trying. Every time he crossed
the path of an old memory, something deep down in his heart forced his eyes to
search for her. It was like a part of him believed that if he looked hard
enough into the past, he would find Misty there.

Finally,
utterly defeated, he turned towards home. It was well after midnight when he
finally pulled into their gravel drive. Opening the door of his truck, he
walked numbly to the house, unlocked the door and flipped on the light as he
stepped in. Standing by the door, he scanned across the empty living room, into
the dining room then over to the kitchen. So empty. He began walking down the
hall, compulsively going from room to room, flipping on all the lights. He knew
it was useless to search the house for her but was unable to stop himself.

The
laundry was on the bed where she had been folding it, half in a neat stack,
half still in the laundry basket. He walked back into the living room-kitchen
area. A few dishes were in the sink. A book by Misty’s favorite author lay open
on an end table. Her life sat in neutral, waiting for her to come back and pick
it up where she left off.

Jason
sighed deeply, his eyes darting around. Okay.
Have to act. Have to do.
She needed him. Pain of the helplessness swelled in his chest. All the worst
possibilities of what could be happening to her played out in his mind, and he
was in torment. He ran his fingers through his hair. Then paced. Then stopped
in the dining room and began taking things out of his pockets and tossing them
on the table. His single fold wallet fell open as it landed. Jason saw the
credit card he’d went behind Misty’s back to get. It taunted him. It
represented all of his selfishness. Anger filled him. He hated that card. He hated
what he’d done to get it. He hated himself. He hated his weakness.

In
anger, he yanked the card from its slot, placed it on the wooden table and
looked around the room. His gaze fastened on Misty’s latest find – the old axe.
Old but sharp. He snatched it up, walked over to the table and raised it high
above his head. Bringing it down, he sank the axe blade into the table,
splitting the credit card into two pieces. He yanked the handle up then down,
working the head of the axe out of the table. Then he brought it down again…
and again… and again. When he was finished, a section of the table top was in
splinters and the credit card was nothing but small plastic fragments. Heaving,
Jason stood, axe head to the floor, propping on the handle. After a few moments,
he returned the axe to its corner then racked the bits of plastic mixed with
wood splinters into his hand. Making his way into the bathroom, he dumped the
handful of plastic into the toilet and flushed.

Returning
to the dining room, a sound at the back door drew his attention. It sounded
like a low whine. Dixie. Jason almost smiled. He walked to the door and opened
it. “Hey girl,” he whispered as he stepped out and wrapped his arms around her
neck. She licked him on the face several times, and he didn’t even bother to
wipe it away.

“Come
on in, Dixie,” Jason coxed. She cocked her head to one side, seeming to say
that she didn’t understand. She usually wasn’t allowed in the house, much less
begged to come in. “It’s okay, girl,” he promised. “I want you to come in.”
Finally, she lowered her head, her tail drooping as she made her way across the
threshold.

“Good
girl,” Jason spoke giving her head a rub then turned and closed the door. Still
unsure of what to do with herself, Dixie simply sat down in front of the door.

As he
gazed down the hallway into the void leading towards the master bedroom, Jason
knew he wouldn’t be able to face their queen size bed all alone. He could see
himself tossing and turning throughout the night, searching for Misty and,
again and again, finding her side of the bed empty.

Sitting
down in the floor by the front door, Jason leaned against the wall and listened
to the echoes of the laughter that he and Misty had shared there several nights
before. The memory still seemed to reverberate through the house. He gave a sad
smile.

“Dixie,”
he spoke gently to the animal who seemed to understand him like no human could.
The loving creature began whining her happy response and wagging her tail. She
trotted over to him and lied down, resting her head on his lap. Her presence
reassured and lulled him. After a while, he began to drift off to sleep. The
last thing he remembered was the soft feel of the golden retriever’s fur and
his own groggy voice mumbling, “Dixie, you need a bath.”

- - - - - -

Smack!
Jason awoke with a start as his head slammed into the
hardwood floor. The sound of scurrying feet drew his attention. In action mode,
he bolted upright and spun towards the door. Dixie. It was just Dixie.

At
some point during the night, apparently, Jason had started using her for a
pillow, and when his pillow heard a sound outside that could not go without
investigating, she had leapt up, determined to go check it out.

Struggling
to his feet and squinting at the early morning sun, Jason unlocked and opened
the back door before glancing, first one way and then the other, just to insure
it was safe. Seeing no potential for harm, he stepped aside so Dixie could go
out into the back yard and make sure that the world had gone on without her
presence.

“Don’t
go too far, Misty.” Realizing his mistake, Jason put a hand to his muddled
head. “I mean Dixie,” he said, shutting the door behind her.

He
heaved a deep sigh and walked towards the kitchen. He didn’t want to do
anything today but lay around. From the top of his bruised head to the bottom
of his feet, all Jason did was hurt, but he knew that doing nothing would only
succeed in driving him crazy. He had to keep his tortured mind occupied.

He’d
never been forced to fix his own breakfast before, but he had seen Misty do it
a thousand times. So fix his own breakfast, he was going to try. I mean, how
hard could it be, right? Ten minutes later, Jason knew the answer. He sat on
the counter, spatula in hand, surveying the damage he had created. Wisps of
smoke curled into the air. Everything was burnt.

Finally,
he just grabbed the frying pan, scrapped it out into the trash before tossing
it into the sink. It made a loud crash on impact. He wished to hear the sound
of Misty’s feet running down the hall, wondering what happened. But no, all
Jason heard was silence. He would gladly have taken a house full of screaming,
hyper kids over the quietness that engulfed him.

After
his attempt to fix breakfast had failed, Jason put on a pot of coffee. While it
was brewing, he went into the bathroom. Looking at the reflection of himself in
the mirror caused him to bob his head back in a bit of dismay. One eye was
almost swollen shut; he could feel that but, still, seeing it with his good eye
was a shock. There were several other swollen places on his face, bruised blue
and red from the beating. He looked down at his shirt. It was torn and dirty; a
trail of blood stained the area below his nose.

Aching
to the core, he pulled his shirt off and began trying to wash his face. It was
more of a gentle dabbing procedure, the wounds too fresh to scrub. After the
tediously painful process of cleaning and dressing himself, Jason returned to
the kitchen. The coffee came out so strong it could almost walk around by
itself. Misty had always fixed breakfast, but the coffee had been Jason’s
department… and it was just right.

Holding
the steaming cup in one hand, he began tracing his eyes along the walls that,
although they couldn’t talk, had a ton of memories nailed up on them. There was
the picture that Misty had taken of them together a short time after Jason had
fractured his ankle. They had gone snowboarding and, of course, Jason had to
show off. After hurting himself, Misty had insisted that she could take a
picture of them together, his leg in a cast and all, using the delay on her
camera. She did. It worked, a fact documented by the photograph.

He
looked up at a larger picture above and to the left of the other. It was the one
of his wife in the long, white dress she had worn on the day she’d become his.
He brushed the cold and lifeless glass that covered her face, remembering the
vows they had repeated to one another. “…from this day forward, to have and to
hold…” That was one promise Jason wished he could be keeping at that very
moment.

He
gave a sad, fond smile as he remembered another promise they had made to each
other. “…in sickness and in health, for better or for worse…” It seemed like
all he’d given Misty lately was the worse.

His
gaze trailed over to the next frame just as someone rapped on the door. Jason’s
hand jerked in response to the abrupt intrusion of his thoughts, causing his
hot coffee to slosh out of the mug and onto his clean shirt. It had been so
quite in the house that the knock sounded like somebody was trying to beat the
door down.

Muttering
to himself, Jason made a pointless attempt to brush the coffee from his clothes
before glaring at the door. He didn’t feel like having company – nor did he
wish to hear anyone’s words of sympathy. It was kind, but for right now all he
needed was to be left alone and be given a chance to try to sort through this
mental night-mare.

Walking
over to the window by the door, Jason pulled back the curtain to see who the
intruder was. “Oh goodness,” he mumbled to himself. It was Susan. She was
standing outside with her back to the door. She must have been headed to work
for the breakfast shift at a local café because she wore her waitress clothes.

She
must’ve heard the news of last night’s happenings and come over to spread hope
and cheer about her religion. The thought made Jason roll his eyes a little as
he started to open the door. He could hear her giving the God speech now. “God
is going to take care of her. God loves her.” God this, God that. He almost
envied her the anchor of peace she had in troublesome times such as this. Even
if it was false at least it was an anchor – something to believe in and someone
to turn to for those who themselves had no strength.

Opening
the door, Jason greeted her. “Hey Susan.”

She
turned around to face him. Uh-oh, she didn’t appear to be in a very spiritual
mood this morning. She approached without so much as a word.

Jason
thought he’d better start trying to explain. “Susan I…” but his explanation was
cut off short as she slapped him with the open palm of her hand, part of it
catching him in the nose, of course. Ouch. That hurt. He had been caught
completely off guard… again… by a woman!

“What
is wrong with you?” Susan screamed so loud Jason was afraid she might wake the
neighbors. Then again, judging by the look on her face, he might need them to
form a posse to come save him.

“How
dare you?” she asked out of bewildered anger. Placing a finger in Jason’s chest
she continued. “How could you take my sister out into some God-forsaken park in
the middle of the night?” Jason just stood in stunned silence. “God only knows
where she is or what’s happened to her,” she cried, mostly to herself. “I
promised mom and dad that I would look out for her.”

What?
Why would they ask her to promise that? Did they think that Jason couldn’t take
care of his own wife, for goodness sake? Then again, where was she?

“Look
Susan, I’m sorry. I just…” Jason started to speak but was cut off short.

“You
know,” Susan butted in, “I’m realizing for the first time just how right you
are. Only a sorry excuse of a man would put a woman in such a dangerous
situation. I’m starting to think that maybe our mother was right about you.”
She took a step back and shook her head before going on. “But Misty was in love
with you, and I try to think the best about everyone,” she said with a wave of
her arms, like it was one of her faults. “But maybe we were blind. Maybe Momma
was the only one who could see the real you.”

Jason
just reached up and wiped the blood that trickled from his nose. The slap had
started it to bleeding again, but at least she hadn’t nocked it back out of
joint.

“You
went and got your nose broke, huh?” she asked in a satisfied tone. “Good, ‘
cuz
you earned it.” Stepping forward, she pointed her
finger up in his face, and almost touching his broken nose, added, “But if
there was any true justice this side of eternity you’d have gotten a whole lot
worse.”

She
lowered her accusing gesture and shook her head as a new thought came to mind.
“You didn’t even have the decency to call me,” she exclaimed, like she truly
could not believe his lack of consideration for others. “No sir,” she said,
flinging her hands in the air. “I had to see it just like the rest of the
world… on the news.” She paused for a moment then sighed. “When I saw it on TV,
I was pouring coffee. I poured hot coffee all over a costumer.”