Beyond Johnny Lee’s trailer lay miles of swamp that eventually ended at the Tombigbee River. Gators, moccasins, and rattlers waited. If she wandered west, she could reach a catfish farm or the giant landfill. Moon Pie didn’t care just so long as she was as far away from him as possible.
“Listen to me and listen good. This is your lucky night…but only if you do one thing. So you better listen good, real good, you hear? You walk straight ahead and do not come back in this direction…don’t turn right and don’t turn left. You forget everything that has happened, you hear?” Then he whispered in her ear. “If you talk to anybody…ever…remember, I know where you live.
“You hear me?” he asked, cupping her breast from behind, and then he nibbled on her ear. She nodded, tears streaming down her face.
He pulled off an eight-inch piece of camo duct tape and put it over her eyes. She cringed. But when she opened her eyes, she could see parts of her bare feet. She was shaking so violently, she could hardly stand.
“If you want to live, you walk straight ahead and forget any of this ever happened. Understand?”
Again she nodded, overwhelmed with relief at the thought that she might actually live.
“Go!” He slapped her butt like she was a football player and watched her follow his directions to the letter. He then hurried back inside and looked around before bolting out the front door.
Inside his Tahoe, he breathed a sigh of relief, cranked up, and rolled out of the gravel driveway. He didn’t like this at all. Johnny Lee would never be this disorganized or take these crazy risks. Moon Pie knew he had to keep his cool for just a little longer. He turned onto the pavement and gave his ride some gas.
Larson saw the lights and sat up straight. He grabbed his microphone and excitedly shouted, “Ollie?” Come on…hurry up, he thought.
“Go ahead,” Ollie responded.
“Daniels is leavin’…whaddya want me to do, Sheriff?”
“Follow him. Let’s see where he goes. Give the Hale County deputy good instructions-have him watch the trailer. You should be able to reach him on the radio now. And Larson…be careful.”
“Ten-four.” Larson was so excited he couldn’t replace the microphone on the small metal clip. After three tries, he dropped it on the seat.
Ollie and R.C. debated the call with Johnny Lee, or whoever it was, for a few minutes. They couldn’t agree as to its probative value. They’d pushed the envelope, but it did not appear to have paid off. One thing was certain-they’d tipped off Johnny Lee or his accomplice that they were onto him.
Ollie monitored the radio traffic to make certain Larson’s replacement knew where to go and what to do. He should be in place in a few minutes. Ollie learned from Larson that Ethan Daniels was headed toward Livingston.
A few minutes later, Martha reported that the .44 Magnum Ruger had been stolen from a Selma man’s truck two years earlier.
Ollie was trying to get everything straight in his mind, so he could thoroughly explain the situation to Sheriff Marlow, who would be arriving in a few minutes. Ollie’s headache worsened.
“R.C., go get me another Coke from in there, please,” he said, pointing at the camp house with one hand and rubbing his furrowed brow with the other. His cowboy hat lay upside down on the hood of his Expedition.
“Yes sir, Chief,” R.C. responded, heading toward the camp house.
Ollie grabbed the microphone to touch base with the kids’ parents. Instead, he leaned his head back, trying to clear his mind. I’ll wait a few minutes more. After a while, he realized that the calendars had distracted R.C. again. He was about to honk the horn, then raised the microphone to his face.
“Miz Martha?”
“Yes, Sheriff?” she said, blowing out a lungful of smoke.
“Give me an update…how’s everybody?” he asked.
“Well, Tanner is still sedated. I understand Mrs. Beasley is standing there waiting on him to crack an eye open. Mrs. Tillman seems to be doing pretty good, but they say Mr. Tillman is pacing the halls.”
“What about Zach Beasley?”
“I haven’t heard from him. He’s supposed to be at home in case Elizabeth calls or shows up.”
“Call them all and tell ‘em that I have reinforcements coming, and we expect to have as much help as the state can provide by daylight.”
“Hang on, Chief. Somebody’s cuttin’ in!” she said excitedly.
Ollie watched R.C. approach with a Diet Coke. He shrugged his shoulders and mouthed, “It’s all I could find.” Everyone knew Ollie hated diet drinks.
“Ollie, go to frequency three and hurry!” Martha exclaimed.
Ollie set down the can and switched the channels. He heard a Hale County deputy in the middle of an excited explanation. “I have the girl in my car now, and she seems to be OK but she’s unconscious,” he said in a very high-pitched, excited voice, “but I think she’s all right.”
Ollie was stunned. He heard Sheriff Marlow’s voice speak, “Great job, Lewis. Take her to the hospital emergency room in Livingston. I’ll meet you there.”
Ollie couldn’t take it anymore. “This is Sheriff Ollie Landrum. Please apprise me of the situation.”
“What’s that, Ollie?” Marlow asked.
“Tell me what’s going on, Marlow!”
“Well, it seems my young deputy Lewis was instructed to stake out a trailer north of town. As he explained it to me, he got a gut feeling and approached the trailer where he saw a girl with her hands tied behind her, blindfolded, wandering around. Lewis is on the way to the hospital with her. Good thing you called us…it only took us about three minutes to resolve this for you!” he boasted.
“And she’s all right?” Ollie asked, almost out of breath, ignoring Marlow’s last comment.
“Apparently,” Marlow said and chuckled like he did this every day. “Hey, Marlow. Thanks, man, I really appreciate you guys. I’m on my way. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”
“I’ll be there. I want to see my old buddy Zach Beasley.”
“I understand…Miz Martha, are you listening?”
“Yes sir.”
“Call everybody and tell them!”
“Yes sir. Good job, Ollie!” She was clearly proud and about to tear up.
Ollie signed off, then bear-hugged R.C. They high-fived each other. R.C. howled like a dog and yelled, “Yes, yes, yes!” This nightmare’s over, Ollie thought. My worst fears were for nothin’.
“Let’s go!” Ollie exclaimed, grabbing his hat.
They both jumped into their vehicles. As Ollie hit the gas, relief flooded him.
The sheriff thought about Martha calling him “Ollie.” She didn’t do that often. He still had the crazy Mick Johnson cell phone call to think about, but he would do that later. There was one more person to call right now. He switched back to the main frequency.
“Larson? Larson? Come in.”
“Yes sir, Sheriff.” He sounded very despondent.