Beneath the Tombstone (The Tombstone Series) (9 page)

“Well,”
Jason said smartly, “I have more important things to do than worry about your
poor pouring skills.” He reached inside the door and locked it. Walking past
Susan he said, “As much as I’d like to stay and chat, I’m headed over to the
jail. I’m working with the law to try and pin-point Misty’s whereabouts. So…”
he spoke before letting his voice trail off, hoping she would catch the drift.
Well, unfortunately her drift was drifting a little different direction than
his.

“I’m
going, too. I’ll meet you there,” Susan shouted out as she bolted off the porch
and raced past him, making a mad dash towards her car.

Once
Jason got in his truck, he rolled the window down, listening as Susan sat in
the middle of the drive-way in her car, trying to get it to crank. It usually
took a while to get the old piece of junk to start, but this time it just flat
out wasn’t going to.

He
had a bitter thought about her situation as he drove around her in his truck.
Maybe she needed to pray about it. Since she was so holy, surly God would hear
her. Jason sighed as he came to a stop. Maybe God had heard her because, for
some strange reason, he felt compelled to help.

As he
stepped out of his truck, he could tell that her battery was getting weaker by
the second. The old car clacked and clanged then, in a final show of disgust,
it belched out a back-fire that could be heard echoing out across the open
desert.

Jason
came walking up to the passenger side door of Susan’s car as she got out and
started walking towards his truck. She went to and opened the passenger door on
his truck and got in! Walking hesitantly back up to the driver’s side window of
his own truck, Jason stood there gawking at her. He had figured out her intent
but still stood there stupefied.

Susan
buckled her seat-belt with a click before looking up at him then at the road,
to which she signaled as she exclaimed, “Can we go now?”

“Yeah,
yeah, sure, you bet,” Jason spoke as he hastily opened the door and got in. He
gave her a funny look then they took off down the road at what he thought was a
pretty good clip. Of course, as usual, he was wrong.

“A
little faster, please,” she requested, and although the request sounded kind on
the surface, Jason herd the underlining tone that indicated he was nothing more
than a foolish little boy, incapable of doing even the simplest of chores
without guidance and instruction.

The nearly
new half-ton truck, in direct violation to Susan’s specific orders, was not
slide into one of the jail’s parallel parking spots sideways. Jason knew that,
given his track record with the law in these parts, he’d better tread lightly.
Instead, he chose a much less dramatic entry by heading into the grocery store
parking lot, which sat across the street from the jailhouse. Susan puffed out
her dismay in a long steady sigh.

Once
parked, Jason cut off the engine. “You say you learned about the kidnapping on
the news?” he asked, turning to his sister-in-law.

“Yes,”
she spoke slowly and directly, never looking his way. “The story was on the
news at the café early this morning.”

“What
exactly did they say?” Jason wanted to know.

“That
my sister had been kidnapped,” she said calmly as she opened the door and
stepped out, “and that her husband is a complete idiot.”

“They
said that?” Jason asked, astonishment evident in his voice.

“No,”
Susan huffed then slammed her door and came around the front of the truck. “That
was one tidbit of truth they left out.” She shook her head and strode up to
Jason. “I’m just glad that if you had to get her kidnapped, you did it with
enough drama that it made the morning news. Maybe someone’s seen her.” There
was a brief moment of silence between them as Susan calmed a bit before she
innocently asked, “So what are we doing here?”

Jason
gave her a bewildered look. “I have no idea what
we
are doing here.
I’m
here to see the sketch artist. What
you
are doing here, I do not know.”

Susan
didn’t even appear to have heard him. Hard headed woman. She just turned and
headed towards the jail. Jason hurried after her, trying to take the lead. His
image and self-esteem were low enough already without feeling as though he was
following her around like a child, unable to handle life on his own.

Reaching
the street, they came to a halt side by side, waiting for a break in traffic.
Jason could see that Susan was fighting the urge to run into the morning
traffic and try to dodge her way through the oncoming vehicles. As they waited,
she snatched her purse off her shoulder and started rattling stuff around in
it. After a few moments of erratic behavior, she gave a frustrated sigh, like
she didn’t find what she was looking for, before dropping the purse back to her
side.

“What?”
Jason asked.

“I
guess I left my phone in the car. I called momma when I found out,” Susan spoke
then shook her head, the pain of having to tell her parents that their other
daughter was missing apparent in her eyes. “She’s headed this way – said she’d
call me when they got close.”

Jason
never looked her way. “Calling you while she’s traveling?” he asked dryly.
“Doesn’t she know it’s not safe to talk on the phone and fly her broom at the
same time?”

Susan
shot him an angry look but didn’t say a word. Jason had a feeling that if the
truth ever made itself completely known, the sisters themselves knew that their
mother could be a bit harsh. Misty had told him several stories about the
embarrassment their mother’s witty and rude comments had caused them growing
up. Jason easily believed her because there were several occasions when he had
been on the receiving end of one or two of his mother-in-law’s clever remarks.

“I
don’t know what I’m going tell her or daddy,” Susan sighed in dismay as they
waited. “I feel like this is my fault.”

Jason
turned to her with a bewildered look on his face and asked, “How in the world
could this be even a little bit your fault?”

“You
know,” Susan sighed. “Because of me helping you and Misty meet.”

She
was met with a blank stare. What on earth was she talking about? Jason hadn’t
realized the two were sisters until several days after his first date with
Misty – so how on earth could Susan claim any credit for their meeting?

Finally
composing himself, Jason scoffed, “We met by pure fate or accident or whatever
it was. One thing I know is that it certainly was not by your plans… unless, of
course, you told her to spill food all over me,” he added sarcastically.

Now
it was Jason’s turn to be met with a blank stare.

“I
did,” Susan stated slowly.

They
had missed several prime opportunities to cross the street, but Jason could
care less. “You did what?” he demanded.

“I –
I,” she stammered, “I did tell her to spill food all over you.”

“You told
her to spill food on me?” Jason asked, the full meaning of what Susan said
finally sinking in. Misty had tricked him! “You two set me up!” he exclaimed,
coming to the full understanding. “What on earth for?” he demanded.

“She
just wanted to get your attention,” Susan all but cried.

Get
his attention? “She already had my attention!” He paused. “That, that… that’s
the most deceitful thing I’ve ever heard of – spilling food on someone just
because you think they’re not giving you enough attention. Why didn’t she just
talk to me? – Tell me how she felt?” he asked, bewildered.

Suddenly,
Jason felt like one of the passing cars had slammed into him. “Oh, dear lord!”
he gasped.

Susan
turned to him. “I thought you didn’t believe in him,” she stated, and the look
on her face said she wasn’t even trying to be funny. “Besides, what’s he got to
do with this?”

A
train could have been driving down the street, right in front of him, and Jason
wouldn’t have noticed it. He had just gotten through giving his sister-in-law a
tongue-lashing, and if Misty had been there, he would’ve given her the same
treatment… for the exact thing he was guilty of.

“Nothing,”
Jason sighed. “It’s okay. I’ve done stuff like that. Nobody’s perfect,” he said
feeling a lot less judgmental.

Susan
looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “I’ve never seen anyone, not even a
pregnant woman, change emotions faster than you just did.” She paused for a
moment, gazing across the street and shaking her head before getting back to
the original point. “Anyways, because I helped her meet you, I feel responsible
for getting her into this whole mess.”

Ouch.
“So you wish she had never met me?” Jason asked, feeling like someone had stuck
him with a needle and all of his life’s purpose was deflating from him.

“Don’t
ask me that question, Jason,” Susan ordered. “It’s far too complicated. She
seemed really happy when
y’all
first got married.
She’d tell me things like you were her knight in shining armor, but she
eventually quit saying that. I guess her knight’s armor got rusted somewhere
along the way.”

“Your
knight’s armor didn’t turn out so well either, you know,” Jason spoke
defensively before he had a chance to consider his words.

Susan
chose to not counter his remark. “I’d say that’s probably enough about us,” she
spoke quietly. “Momma and Daddy already know Misty is missing, but I have to
think of how I’m going to tell the rest of my family… especially Ken.”

Jason,
with eyes dull and voice monotone from emotional pull, looked off across the
street and said, “Why in the world would you need to tell him anything? He’s
just a kid. He won’t even know she’s gone.”

“You
don’t know children very well, do you?” Susan asked.

Jason
shrugged. She had a point there. “Even if it does come up, just make up
something,” he advised. “Say Misty has gone to see one of her brothers. Say
she’s joined the circus or she’s out on her world finals professional bull
riding tour,” he said, adding a little sarcasm to his words as he flung his
hands in the air. “It really doesn’t matter. The one thing I do know about kids
is that they will believe just about anything.”

"I
can’t lie,” Susan said defensively. “One, it’s just wrong. Two, sooner or later
Ken would find out the truth. When he does my lie has just undermined my
authority… along with his trust in me. Honesty is always the best policy,”
Susan said, reciting the line that Jason had heard all his life but never
bought into. To him the end always justified dishonesty. That was his policy.
Why hurt someone with the truth when a little white lie was much easier for him
to administer and for them to receive?

“And
the truth shall set you free,” Susan added, interrupting his thoughts as she
began jaywalking across the street to the law enforcement office.

That
last part Jason certainly shied away from. It sounded too churchy to him. And
tell that to a convicted felon. He scoffed, shook his head and jogged past her
to the jailhouse door, opened it and walked in, letting it fall shut behind
him. Susan had to catch it or have it plow her under. He didn’t have to look.
He could feel her anger. Sometimes even he wondered why he liked being such a
jerk.

Everyone
looked like busy bees, so Jason stopped and stood at the front desk, waiting
like a perfect gentleman. Susan endured the sheer drudgery of it all for no
more than a minute before brushing past him to intercept a stocky middle aged
woman who hurried by with a stack of papers.

The
lady seemed to be very high-strung because when Susan called to her, she halted
and did an about-face so aggressively that she slammed straight into the
rapidly advancing Susan, sending some of her paper stack crashing to the floor.
Between apologies and remarks of forgiveness given, Susan began helping pick up
the mess of strewed papers and now empty folders.

Someone
approached from behind Jason. Walking past him, Sheriff Victor instructed,
“Come with me,” with the wiggle of his finger.

When
Susan saw them starting to leave without her, she dropped the conversation, as
well as the stack of papers she had been handing to the woman, who, in turn,
jumped away like the papers were a venomous serpent as they re-crashed into the
floor. Susan didn’t seem to notice the lady’s look of shock. Instead, she fell
in line behind Jason.

Realizing
they had a follower, the sheriff cocked his head around slightly and said,
“Just Jason.”

Susan
looked crushed. “Well, can I at least borrow your phone to call Momma?” she
asked Jason. He tossed it back to her before rushing to catch up with the
sheriff. Just before he got out of earshot, he heard Susan speaking loudly and
rapidly into the phone. “Momma, momma, it’s me, it’s me… not Jason.” Boy, was
he ever going to be in for it.

“You
sure did stir up a hornets nest,” Victor spoke dryly.

“Have
you got anything yet?” Jason asked hopefully.

Victor
cut between a few tables, casting a glance back. “We may be closer to solving
this case than you think.” They turned and walked down a long hallway. Jason
wasn’t sure where they were going, but he assumed to see the sketch artist.

They
were almost to the end of the hall when the sheriff turned to a solid black
door and opened it wide, allowing Jason to enter first. The room was dark. As
they entered, a lit up glass to the side drew Jason’s attention; on the other
side of it was a room with two people. Deputy Andrews stood over an apparent
prisoner who, with head down, looked to be asleep.

What
was going on? This wasn’t the sketch artist’s office. It seemed that the room
Jason looked into was an integration room. He gave the sheriff, who was
watching him, a questioning look. He then turned his attention back to the man
seated. Something made the prisoner look up and what Jason saw sent a shock
through him. He knew that face – had seen it before. The drunk.

Jason
suddenly felt highly compelled to try and help this poor man who was obviously
being victimized by the local law enforcement.

“On
what grounds did you arrest him?” Jason asked, trying to sound official.

“Public
intoxication,” Victor replied simply.

“You
have no right to question him,” Jason stated.

“Yes,
actually we do have the right,” Sheriff Victor replied dryly. “And he has the
right to remain silent.” They both looked in at the drunk who had started
blabbering to Andrews. Sheriff Victor smiled. “Quite obviously, he has waved
that right.”

“He
has the right to an attorney,” Jason remembered suddenly. At least that’s what
was on all the TV shows.

The
sheriff chuckled. “He has been made full aware of his rights, Mister Hathaway.
Why do you care what we do with him, anyways?”

“I
don’t care,” Jason said and tried to sound like he meant it. “But if he’s just
an old drunk, why is he being questioned?”

Victor
gave him a sly smile, like he had hoped Jason would ask that question. “You
never know who might have some valuable information.”

The
sheriff leaned over to a small microphone. “Andrews,” he spoke calmly. Deputy
Andrews snapped to attention and the drunk bobbled his head up and looked
around for the source of the voice. “Vicky boy,
iz’at
chu
?” he slurred out loudly.