“We don’t either. We do know that she was kidnapped tonight and somehow got away from her abductors. She was rescued by a deputy in Sumter County, Alabama.”
“Really kidnapped?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Do you think she would have gone to the hunting club with Jake for any reason?” the short, pudgy deputy asked, watching her body language.
The thought had never crossed Morgan’s mind, and then she quickly dismissed it. Shaking her head, she decreed, “No. Absolutely not. I know my husband, and I know her. No. No way.”
Morgan didn’t know exactly where Jake was, and before tonight, she had never heard of Sumter County. She looked blankly at the deputies. “Sumter County…and that’s in Alabama, right?”
“Isn’t that where your husband hunts?” asked the stocky one, with no small amount of derision.
“I don’t know. Maybe…it’s a few hours from here. Scott’s in the same hunting club! Crap, I still have him on the phone!” She ran back to the bedroom and grabbed the phone. The line was disconnected. “He hung up,” she called to the deputies.
Walking back down the hallway with the portable phone in hand, she said, “This is crazy. You think Jake kidnapped her? You’re crazy. What about Lindsay, is she all right?”
“Yes ma’am, she is. We know something has occurred, we can’t say what exactly. We’re just trying to gather information for the sheriff down there.”
“Let me try Jake.” She dialed while they studied her. The phone rang, and she stared at them. “He’s out of the coverage area…but I never can call him when he’s down there. Jake says it’s pretty much a dead cell area.”
“Look, we have a lot to do. We need to go and secure the Littlepages’ residence. We need you to help. If Jake calls, we need to talk to him immediately, OK?” The tall deputy handed her his card.
“Yes, sure, of course. Whatever I can do. I can’t believe this has happened!” she exclaimed. “So, Jake’s not at the camp house?”
“No ma’am, and we sure wanna talk to him. I’m sure you do, too,” said Chubby with a sneer.
“What time is it?” she asked, glancing at the clock on the wall. “He may already be in the woods hunting…he leaves so early…I just don’t know what-”
“That’s right, so don’t jump to any conclusions,” the friendly deputy responded.
“Jump to any conclusions! You tell me my neighbor has been kidnapped; she turns up in Wherever, Alabama, where my husband and my daughter are hunting; and you’re asking questions about him! You can’t find him! What about my daughter! What am I supposed to think?” she said, exasperated.
“Please, Mrs. Crosby, calm down. We don’t know anything, and we aren’t suggesting anything. I’m sure you’re right. He and your daughter are probably getting ready to set up on an old gobbler right now as we speak.”
“It’s Sumter County, Alabama,” said the fat deputy.
“Whatever,” she responded, folding her arms. She was beginning to fume. “And what about Tate Newsom?”
“Who?” the tall deputy asked curiously.
“Tate Newsom…he lives in Columbus. He’s down there with them.”
The deputies looked at each other. They didn’t know what to say. This was the first they heard of Tate Newsom.
“I’m calling his wife…maybe she’s heard from him,” Morgan replied, grabbing the cordless telephone. She walked into the kitchen to look in the phone book for his number.
Morgan came back into the den with the phone next to her ear. She watched the deputies’ faces while the phone rang. She rubbed her face with her free hand.
“Tate?” she said, surprised. “Tate, this is Morgan Crosby, I thought you went huntin’ with Jake?” she asked and then listened. The two deputies tried in vain to overhear his reply.
“OK. Listen. Something terrible has happened. Lindsay Littlepage was kidnapped and found down near y’all’s huntin’ camp. They can’t find Jake, and Katy is with him…Yes, I swear! Tate, I need you to come get me; we’ve got to go find Katy and Jake.”
“Whoa, no way…we can’t let…I need to speak to him,” the tall deputy immediately interrupted. Morgan handed him the phone.
“Mr. Newsom, I’m Deputy Franks of Clay County. I really need to talk to you in person. Please, this is very important. Can you come over here? Yes sir. How fast can you be here? Thank you, sir.” And with that, he handed the phone back to Morgan.
“Tate, please hurry,” she pleaded and hung up.
“Why didn’t he go huntin’?” the heavy deputy asked.
“He said he got a ‘better offer.’ I think that’s man code for sex,” Morgan explained, rolling her eyes. “He just got married.”
“I’m sorry for all this, but please stay around here and keep your phone line open. Please call us immediately if you hear from Jake. We need to call in to report and make sure the Littlepages’ house is secure. We’ll be back before Mr. Newsom gets here,” Deputy Franks said compassionately.
“Sure,” she replied, not really knowing what else to say. “I’ll do whatever you need me to. Can I come over there?” she asked, looking out the window at all the flashing lights from the police cars that had pulled into the Littlepages’.
“There’s nothin’ to see. Stay here by the phone,” snapped Pudgy.
“OK…fine,” she replied, sitting on the edge of the chair, nervously running her hands through her hair.
“Thank you, ma’am. We’ll be right back,” Deputy Franks replied as he moved toward the front door.
Scout started barking again as the door opened. Morgan yelled, “Hush, Scout! Get in here.” The deputies stepped back to let Scout in, then left as fast as they could.
Morgan jumped at the phone ringing in her hand. She answered it on the first ring. It was Scott Littlepage again. He was a basket case. Morgan promised to take care of their kids and explained the little that she learned from the deputies and the Tate Newsom situation. Scott promised to call back if he learned anything new.
“Hurry up, Scott. They can’t find Jake, and Katy’s with him,” she pleaded.
“He’s probably already in the woods waitin’ on daylight,” he said, trying to reassure her.
“I hope so,” Morgan said, and then hung up.
Morgan sat down and stared at the walls, trying to clear her thoughts. What should she do? She needed to talk to Jake, and she wanted Katy safely tucked in her own bed. There was no way Jake could be involved in this. As she looked around the “trophy room,” she suddenly, for the first time in several years, missed Jake.
R.C. and Steve Tillman drove silently along the Dummy Line. R.C. checked the handheld radio once to make certain it was working properly. Tillman slowed the Jeep.
“What the heck’s that?” Tillman asked, the headlights illuminating something odd-looking in the middle of the road.
“I don’t know. Let’s check it out,” R.C. replied.
Tillman stopped ten feet in front of the unknown object. They both got out and slowly walked toward it.
“It’s a fleece jacket,” R.C. said as he laid down the radio on a hard, dry spot and picked up the jacket by the edge of a sleeve. “Oh shit, it’s bloody and almost ripped in two!” he blurted out.
“Oh, my God! How can you rip fleece?” Tillman exclaimed, his eyes wide from fear.