Eggs Benedict Arnold (21 page)

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Authors: Laura Childs

BOOK: Eggs Benedict Arnold
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Wait,

said Toni,

you just went by
something
.

Suzanne turned it back and the tuner burped a few words
that sounded like

dispatch ambulance.


Hear that?

said Toni.

I
think you got the EMT guys.
Maybe a car accident somewhere.


Now it

s faded,

said Suzanne frowning.

I don

t think it

s the best . . .

she began, then hesitated as the scanner suddenly let loose a high-pitched beep and a man

s voice, crackly but understandable, uttered the words

red Mustang.


Say what?

said Toni, perking up.

Suzanne

s nimble fingers were already working the tuner, trying to pull in a stronger signal.


... reported on County Road 47,

came the gruff voice
again.

Eastbound.

Toni cocked her head.

Sounds like that old coot, Sheriff Burney.

Sheriff Bill Burney was the sheriff in Deer
County.


. . . possible ten-twenty-nine,

came Burney

s voice again.


What

s he babbling about?

asked Toni.


He said red Mustang, didn

t he?

asked Suzanne, a little excited now.

I think that

s what he said.


And County Road 47,

added Toni. She cast a sideways
glance at Suzanne.

What?


I think he might have been putting out a call on Bo Becker

s car,

said Suzanne.


I thought you told me Becker skipped town,

said Toni.


He did,

said Suzanne.

Does this look like town?


Noooo,

said Toni, slowing her car slightly.

In fact, if
we backtracked a mile and cut over that twisty old sawmill
road, we

d intersect with 47.


I

m not sure I

ve ever been out that way,

said Suzanne.


That

s

cause it

s like ... the back end of the county.


I

m sure all the local residents would be thrilled to hear
you talk that way.


Are you kidding? Hardly anybody lives out that way,

said Toni.

There

s just an abandoned church that

s half falling down.


Huh,

said Suzanne, thinking.


You want to check it out?

Toni asked.

Because we could ... like ... be over there in ten minutes.


No way,

said Suzanne.

We should stay out of this.


Yeah,

said Toni, speeding up again.

You

re probably
right.


On the other hand,

said Suzanne,

I did kind of prom
ise Missy...


You sure did,

said Toni, whipping her car into a quick
u-turn before Suzanne could finish her sentence.


But we gotta be careful,

cautioned Suzanne.

If Bo Becker

s driving around out here or, for some reason, parked his car out this way, we gotta make sure law enforcement moves in first. Then maybe we can cruise in, real casual like.


How are we going to explain our showing up?

asked
Toni.


If anybody asks, we

ll tell

em the truth,

said Suzanne.

That we were out this way and heard the broadcast on Junior

s police scanner.


Scanners aren

t illegal, are they?

asked Toni.


Not that I know of,

said Suzanne.

I think you can pick one up at any Radio Shack.


Okay then, that

s our plan,

said Toni, putting the pedal
to the metal and barreling down the road full-bore. They
found the turnoff for the sawmill road and turned onto it, a
narrow blacktop road filled with twists and turns and dipsy-
doodles.


This is like a roller coaster,

said Suzanne.


But kind of fun,

added Toni.

Suzanne peered out at scraggly pines and what looked like soggy fields and wetlands.

You

re right, not a lot of homes out this way.


Bad farmland, I guess,

said Toni. She came up a nar
row draw, then hit the brakes when her headlights caught the marker for County Road 47.


Now what?

asked Suzanne, as Toni

s car rumbled be
neath them.

We went through so many twists and turns it

s
hard to tell which way

s east.


Hang on a minute,

said Toni,

while I consult my on
board navigation system.


Wow,

said Suzanne, impressed,

where did you pick
up one of those gizmos?

Toni reached down into a pile of empty Lay

s Potato
Chips bags and Zagnut wrappers, and pulled out a tattered
map.


At
the
Sunoco station,

said Toni with a laugh. She turned on the overhead light, wrinkled her brow as she stu
died
the map, then said,

left.

They
drove for the next three miles and didn

t see a doggone thing. One desultory-looking farmhouse with a dim
yard light, but nothing else. No red Mustang, no Bo Becker
hunkered down with an accomplice, nothing.


Disappointing
,

muttered Toni.

Suzanne leaned forward, concentrating on the road.

I
think that might be the turnoff for that old church you men
tioned. Just up ahead.

There was a broken wooden cross on a hill of weeds.


Take a look,

said Toni, pumping the brakes and crank
ing the steering wheel. And then they were creeping down
a road where patches of dead yellow grass far outnumbered
the hunks of broken blacktop.


What

s that up ahead?

asked Suzanne. It was swampy
out here and a faint ground mist permeated the atmosphere,
making everything slightly dreamlike and out-of-focus.


The old church,

said Toni.

Guess when everybody moved to town the parishioners just let it go to rack and
ruin. Or else they all
died
off.

She crept ahead slowly, then
rolled to a stop in the patchy weeds that flourished directly in front of the church.

Nobody here,

she said.

Not even
the sheriff or highway patrol.

She sounded even more disappointed.


Must have missed him,

said Suzanne.


Just a wild-goose chase,

agreed Toni.

Well, it would
have been interesting.”

They sat in the dark for a few mo
ments, each lost in her own thoughts. Finally Toni turned her
gaze on Suzanne.

Maybe we should take a quick look-see?


You think?

said Suzanne.

In answer, Toni leaned over and popped open the glove
box, pulled out a flashlight.


Flashlight,

said Suzanne.

Good.


Ah,

said Toni, grinning,

this isn

t just an ordinary,
garden-variety flashlight. It

s a combination flashlight and
stun gun.


You

re not serious,

said Suzanne.


Sure. Junior got it for me. He

s nuts for any kind of crazy gadget.


You know,

said Suzanne,

maybe Junior really is de
livering auto parts, after all. Except you better watch out which end of that thing you turn on.


You got that right,

Toni said with a laugh, as they both
climbed from the car.


We probably shouldn

t be doing this,

said Suzanne, glancing about nervously.

Toni nodded.

I know.

She buttoned her jean jacket,
turned on her flashlight, and bounced the beam around. The
thin stream of light cut through the night. Toni shuddered.

Cold.

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