Deep in the Heart (27 page)

Neither his cool, dare-to-argue-with-me expression, nor the fact that he’d suggested changing plans in midstream, angered John Thomas. He didn’t have time for one-upmanship over who had authority over whom. All he’d thought about last night was Samantha somewhere in the dark…alone…in pain.

“I don’t think we’re after a kidnapper,” John Thomas said shortly. “Someone stalked Samantha Carlyle in California like a hunter after prey. We think it was a woman we knew as Claudia Smith who followed us when I brought Samantha out here. And when my goddamned back was turned she took her right out from under my nose.” Anger was thick in John Thomas’s voice when he finished. “There’s been no ransom note, nor do I expect one.”

Before the inspector could respond to his remarks, John Thomas yelled, “Monty! Bring me Sam’s letters. Now!”

Seconds later Monty dashed out the front door with them clutched against his chest, looking wild-eyed and confused as to what was happening.

John Thomas all but thrust them in the agent’s face, and then whistled for Rebel as he walked away.

In all of his years with the department, Inspector Williams had faced distrust, dismay, even disgust from lawmen who felt that their toes were being stepped on during an ongoing investigation. But this was the first time he’d had it all handed over without a word. In spite of the fact that he was now holding what he assumed to be all the physical evidence, he was certain that he’d just gotten a brush-off. It was the closest he’d ever come to being ignored. He didn’t like it.

“Wait!” he ordered, as John Thomas began hooking the leash to Rebel’s collar and loading him into the backseat of the squad car. “Where do you think you’re going? We haven’t had our meeting. I want to discuss—”

“Mike Lawler is one of my deputies. Find him. He’ll talk to you.”

“Where are you going?” Williams asked.

“To find Samantha Carlyle,” John Thomas said. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing left to discuss.

Monty jumped into the car, slamming the door just as the car was put in reverse. John Thomas backed up, leaving the inspector standing in the yard wearing a frustrated expression to go with his three-piece suit. All the man could do was hold the letters he’d been given and soundly curse the independence of Texans.

Two miles down the road, the radio in the squad car came to life as Carol Ann’s voice reached out through the early morning air. Monty took one look at the distracted expression on his boss’s face and answered. But they both listened intently to the dispatcher’s message.

“Call came in early this morning for Sheriff Knight. He’s to see the woman at 1222 Sunset in Cotton. Says she might have some information for you. Oh, and the APB we issued yesterday evening regarding the Jaguar and its driver, it’s a negative. He was stopped on the interstate just this side of Dallas. The passenger he had with him was not Samantha Carlyle, just the maid who cleaned the motel rooms at the Texas Pig.”

Monty grinned and whispered an aside to the sheriff that he didn’t want going out over the air. “Now we know why Reuben spent an extra day in Cotton. He was beginning to appreciate the scenery.”

“Ten-four,” Monty said. “We’ll be en route to Cotton. Over and out.”

John Thomas turned on the lights and siren, then made a U-turn on the highway. Going back to Cotton, instead of the search party he’d abandoned last night, was the lesser of two evils.

He and Lawler had discussed berry vines and hunting locations until his head ached. The only conclusion they’d come to was to take Rebel and start a farm by farm search of all the abandoned places Mike Lawler could remember having dewberry patches. Unfortunately for John Thomas, his chances of finding Samantha were fading. Mike Lawler had said there were many such locations.

The sirens screamed as he sailed past a car that had pulled over on the side of the road to let him pass. At this point, he needed a miracle. Maybe the lady in Cotton had better news. Anything would be better than what they had.

“Who are we going to see, boss?” Monty asked.

“If I remember my addresses correctly, I think it’s the Baptist preacher’s wife. And I hope she’s got more to tell me than the fact that they said a prayer for the missing woman last night.”

Monty nodded and rechecked his seat belt just for good measure. The scenery was passing in a blur of green.

“If I’d missed prayer meeting last night, I might not have known to call,” Amanda Pruitt said, as she waved the sheriff and his deputy to a seat in her parlor.

“Yes, ma’am,” John Thomas said, knowing it was going to take a miracle to get Amanda Pruitt to the point. She had a tendency to ramble. “About your call. Can you tell me anything about Samantha Carlyle’s disappearance?” He held his breath, hoping against hope that it would be something useful. He wasn’t disappointed.

“Won’t you have some coffee cake? I just took it out of the oven. The reverend is real fond of my coffee cake.”

John Thomas shook his head, glaring at the wistful look Monty got on his face as she carried it back and set it on the sideboard out of reach.

“Now, about your news,” John Thomas urged.

Amanda Pruitt nodded as she resumed her seat. “As I was saying, it wasn’t until I got to church last night that I learned about the old black truck.”

Please let this matter,
John Thomas thought, and clenched his fists in his lap to keep from shaking the information out of her instead.

“Herman Simmons—you know Herman, his oldest boy is about your age, isn’t he, Sheriff?”

John Thomas nodded and clenched his teeth, certain that this would never get said.

“Anyway, Herman told me that they thought the person who took her might have been driving an old black truck, is that right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” John Thomas said. “It’s what we think. Please, Mrs. Pruitt, why did you call me? Did you see Samantha?”

“Well, while I was outside watering my begonias, I know I saw an old black truck go through Cotton before noon. Must have been around 10:00, maybe 10:30.”

John Thomas’s heart lifted. The time frame fit.

“And,” she continued, “I saw a blond woman driving it. The reason I noticed it at all was because it made so much noise.” She giggled. “I mean, the truck was making noise, not the driver. It didn’t have a muffler, you know. It’s against the law to drive without a muffler, isn’t it, sheriff?”

“Yes, ma’am, it is,” he said. “As for the driver, you said she was blond. Was she alone?”

“No she wasn’t. But I didn’t get a good look at the passenger. Sun was in my eyes and all. I know he had dark hair. That’s all I can say for sure.”

John Thomas’s heart fell. He! That wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“You sure it was a man?” he asked.

She squinted her eyes and thought. “Well, they had the windows down. The driver had a lot of loose curls. They were blowing in the wind. The other one had his hair all slicked back. Didn’t seem to be blowing like that.”

Monty suddenly jumped to his feet.

“Sheriff, remember yesterday morning when you sent me after a change of your clothes? Samantha’s hair was in a braid. A long braid that hung down her back. From a distance it might make her hair look short, real short, if you can’t see the braid.”

Hope resumed as John Thomas continued.

“Mrs. Pruitt, is there anything else you can remember that might help us? Anything at all. Please try to think. It’s very important.”

She shrugged. “Not really, I probably wouldn’t have even remembered that much except I saw it twice. Seeing things over and over is a good way to set them in your memory, you know.”

John Thomas jumped on her statement. “What do you mean, you saw it twice?”

“Oh that’s right!” Amanda Pruitt cried, and clasped her hand to her breast in a gesture of dismay. “The truck, it went through Cotton, and less than thirty minutes later, it came back. One thing I know for sure, if the passenger wasn’t lying down in the seat or something, that time the driver was alone.”

“You’re sure about this?” John Thomas couldn’t hide his elation as he jumped to his feet.

“Yes, sir! I don’t make mistakes like that. Besides, I was still outside watering my begonias. They need a lot of water this time of year and I—”

“Mrs. Pruitt, I can’t thank you enough for this information,” John Thomas said, and bolted for the door with Monty at his heels.

“You’re welcome, I’m sure,” she said, as she watched them running down the walk toward the police car. She shook her head and closed the door, satisfied with having done her civic duty.

“What do you think?” Monty asked, as they started north out of Cotton.

“I think we just got lucky,” John Thomas said. “Start timing me. Marylee’s old truck can’t do more than fifty miles per hour. If we don’t see something beforehand, tell me when ten minutes are up.”

“You’re right!” Monty said. “Wherever she went with Samantha she had to stop, get her out of the truck, dump the body—” His face turned white as a sheet as he realized what he’d just said. “Oh Jesus, boss, I didn’t mean—”

“Save it,” John Thomas said. “It’s nothing I haven’t thought of myself.”

His features were stone-cold, the expression in his eyes darkening by the moment as his lips twisted, tasting the bitterness of the words pouring out of his mouth.

“It’s just something I can’t consider, not yet. Somehow I think Sam’s still alive. I don’t know why I think it. Maybe it’s denial, maybe it’s instinct. But I think I would know it if she wasn’t. I can’t explain—”

“You don’t have to,” Monty said, quietly. “I understand probably better than you think.”

“Anyway, Claudia had to have time to do whatever with Sam, and then drive back the way she came. If Samantha was sitting up in the truck when they passed through Cotton, then that tells me she was still in the dark as to who she was with. And the Sam I know wouldn’t go down without a fight.”

“I’m timing you,” Monty said. “Drive.”

Rebel whined from the backseat, as if sensing his master’s anxiety.

As he drove, John Thomas constantly searched the roadside for a sign of anything that might tell him they’d gone this way. But the farther he went, the more discouraged he became. Time was running out and if—

He slammed on his brakes, fishtailing the back end of the squad car wildly across the highway as he put the car in reverse and began backing up down the shoulder of the road.

“What in hell, boss?” Monty asked. “We’re still two minutes shy of the allotted time.”

“Look!”

John Thomas pointed and Monty saw an old, narrow road leading off the highway and across a pasture, then disappearing beyond the rise on the hill. And the overgrown ruts, well filled with grass and weeds, had a new trail up through the thick growth.

“I’ll be damned,” Monty said, as they started up the road. “Look how someone spun out on the grass. Dug it up real good before settling back into the ruts.”

John Thomas bit the inside of his lip and tossed his sunglasses on the dash. He didn’t want anything interfering with his vision, not even a shade between him and the morning sun. If there was a hope in heaven of finding Sam, he had to take it.

Rebel whined from the backseat, sensing the tension of the men inside the car, and then woofed once as John Thomas topped the rise and spooked a coyote on his way across the meadow.

“No coyotes today, boy,” he cautioned. “We’ve got to find Sam. Remember, boy. We’re gonna find Sam.”

Rebel barked once, and then dropped back onto the seat. He understood “No,” and he understood “Find.” He would wait until he was given his orders.

There she was again, staring down at her and laughing like a banshee. Samantha sobbed and folded her arms across her knees, hiding her face from the woman above. She’d known all along that Desiree would come back.

She heard Desiree laugh and then cry, and then caught her breath, unable to tell which direction the crying came from as the sound swirled around her.

Maybe she’s not crying. Maybe it’s me!

She took a chance and looked up. A face wavered in and out of focus. It
was
her! Just as she’d feared. All that red hair kept changing into blond and back again. Sometimes her mouth would open so wide when she laughed that Samantha thought it would swallow her whole.

She put her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut, fiercely trying to block out the vision. She had no way of knowing that what she saw wasn’t really there.

“I won’t tell,” she muttered, unaware that insanity had finally taken over where the truth had ended. She swiped at the hair stuck to her face and neck. “I swear, Johnny…cross my heart and hope to die. I won’t ever tell.”

Lost with the ghosts in her mind, she didn’t hear the sound of the car coming up the road, or hear a dog’s excited yelp. All she could hear was the wind whistling down the well and the shrieks of Desiree Adonis’s rage.

“Sheriff, look!”

Montgomery’s excited shout drew John Thomas’s attention to the right of the road where a large, brushy growth of berry vines had nearly overtaken the ground around it.

“A berry patch,” he muttered, missing nothing of the skid marks that had cut across some of the longer vines and torn out part of the new growth. “We can’t be this lucky.”

“Hell, yes we can!” Monty shouted. “It’s about time something good happened. Let’s get the dog out of the backseat and see what happens. Want me to call in the other searchers?”

“Let’s wait and see where this leads us,” John Thomas said. “It might turn out to be nothing more than a wild goose chase. I don’t want to relocate hundreds of searchers for nothing.”

Monty nodded. “You’re the boss, now let’s get at it!”

They parked well away from the center of the clearing, unwilling to disturb what might be precious clues that Claudia Smith had left behind.

Rebel bounced out of the car with a loud bark. The sheriff stuffed Samantha’s shoes beneath the dog’s nose.

“Find Sam, boy! Search! Find Sam!”

The dog’s nose went to ground like a furry vacuum as he began circling the area. Several times they lost sight of the dog in the tall grass, but never lost track of his presence. He was moving through the area like a whirlwind. A short time later he bayed, and began digging at the ground beneath his feet.