5. Chapter 5
Lee
Stepping on the gas, I spared one second to make sure Micah had his feet braced and a two-handed grip on the dashboard.
We rocketed toward the approaching sheriff’s cruiser, which slewed to a stop across the road, lights flashing, siren wailing.
I had to slow a bit, judging angles, which gave Chuck an opening to tap my bumper again, hard.
Right in front of the lawmen. Thanks, asshole.
Come on, you heap of junk, stay with me. No rolling.
Then the lifting wheels found the earth with a thud, all four tires gripped again, and we slid downward. I controlled the skid, fought the spin as we hit gravel, and came to rest on the shoulder.
An unholy crash behind us marked Chuck’s Buick burying its nose deep in the fender of the cruiser. Hell, yes!
My gasp of breath became a bark of laughter. “That’ll do it.”
“Should we keep going? So he doesn’t realize I’m not Peggy?” Micah released his white-knuckled grip on the dashboard.
“Not necessary.” I peered into my mirror and grinned. “He’s not chasing anyone in that car. Take that hat off and stuff it real deep under the seat. Come on.” I swung my door open.
Micah yanked off the hat and jammed it down past his feet, bent for a moment to make sure his whole disguise was well-concealed, then got out and followed me along the roadside.
The sight of Chuck’s Buick leaking steam from a busted radiator with one tire blown flat filled me with glee.
Even better was the sight of the two cops pointing their guns in his windows at him.
I called to them, “You got him! Thank you! Did you see what he did to my truck?”
“You!” Tomlinson turned to us as the deputy hauled Chuck out of his car, shoved him up against the side, and began patting him down. “What the hell is going on here?”
Chuck twisted to glower over his shoulder and began bellowing, “Pierce! Where’s my wife?
What have you done with her?” He tried to shove past the deputy, who luckily was young and fit and barely staggered.
The deputy cranked Chuck’s arm to the pain point and pinned him back in place against the Buick.
“He’s gone round the bend, Sheriff,” I said, letting worry leak into my voice. “He’s crazy! We were driving through town and next thing I know, Chuck’s chasing us and hitting my truck from behind. You saw him, right?”
“I did.” Tomlinson spread his glare between Chuck, Micah, and me.
“No weapons, sir,” the deputy reported, swinging Chuck around to face us.
“Of course I don’t have weapons!” Chuck snapped. “All I want is my wife. That… that… thieving, wife-stealing, Injun-loving Pierce. He drove right past me with my Peggy in the passenger seat. I want my wife now!”
“She’s not your property,” I told him, fighting down any hint of a grin. “If she wanted to ride with me, she could. But it’s all in your head. Peggy wasn’t anywhere near my truck. You’re hallucinating.”
“You go get her, Tomlinson.” Chuck’s face was bright red as he pointed a shaking finger at the pickup. “Get my wife out of his truck. She’s in there.”
I sighed, trying to sound like I was humoring a madman. “Sheriff, the man’s nuts. Come on, you can take a look.” I beckoned, turned my back on him, and set off toward my pickup.
For a second, I wondered if the sheriff would order me to stop, but he told the deputy, “Hang onto Chuck,” holstered his gun, and jogged a couple of steps to catch up.
As we reached the truck, I said, “Here, have a look.” I opened the driver’s door and waved into the cab, hoping Micah had done a good job of hiding the outfit.
No reason Tomlinson should check too closely down there.
You couldn’t fit a grown woman under the seat.
“No Peggy in here, no Peggy in the truck bed, and with Chuck on our tail, no way I could’ve stopped to let her out along the road.
I had no idea that was his problem. I thought he was just trying to kill me. ”
Tomlinson scanned the interior, harrumphed, and swung my door shut. I had a tarp bundled in the load bed and he pulled the canvas aside to reveal nothing but some wood chips and a couple of shovels. “You sure you didn’t do something to set him off?”
“Me just breathing in the same town as Peggy sets him off. I don’t know. Crue was messing with his hair, holding it up like a ponytail. Maybe Chuck thought that was Peggy’s hair he saw.”
“Seems odd, a grown man with long hair like that.”
“A couple of the Indians I knew in the service hated shaving theirs. Said it turned them into the Army’s killing machines. Maybe Crue was like that. Grew it long afterward, to forget the war.”
I was laying it on thick because Micah’s service was his ticket to Tomlinson’s good side. Tomlinson tugged his hat straighter. “Maybe.”
“Doesn’t excuse Chuck trying to run us off the road. He hit my goddamned bumper at high speed. If I wasn’t a good driver, he could’ve killed us.”
“Hmph.” Tomlinson peered at the deep dents in my bumper. When we turned and walked back, he strode shoulder to shoulder with me. “No sign of Peggy,” the sheriff told Chuck. “Maybe you got confused by Crue’s long hair.”
Chuck’s face went red. “You think I can’t tell my own wife from that dirty bum?”
I said, “At least he’d treat Peggy better than you do.” Yeah, stirring the pot, but the worse Chuck acted, the more tired of him Tomlinson got.
Chuck bellowed and lunged at me, swinging his fists. I dodged sideways, Tomlison grabbed for Chuck, and one of the raging man’s punches landed smack on the sheriff’s face. Tomlinson fell back with a shout, landing on his ass, and the deputy tackled Chuck to the ground.
I leaped to help the deputy subdue Chuck and pin his arms behind his back to cuff him, with a side order of rubbing Chuck’s face in the gravel. Take that, I thought, forcing his head down, but when the deputy muttered, “Got him. Back off,” I did.
Micah hurried over to Tomlinson. “Sheriff, are you all right?”
“I thin’ he broke ’y dose.” The sheriff sat up, holding a hand to his face.
“Need a handkerchief? It’s clean.” I pulled mine out of my pocket and offered it.
“Tha’gs.” Tomlinson took the hankie from me and pressed it carefully to the blood streaming down his upper lip. “Daggit.” He struggled to his feet. “Deputy. Arrest him. Assaul’ on an ossisser.”
“It was an accident,” Chuck protested as the deputy hauled him roughly to his feet. “I didn’t mean to hit you. It’s all a mistake.”
“Yeah, yours,” I muttered.
The sheriff sniffed heavily, winced, and then said, “Attempted murder too, with the way you hit Lee’s truck.”
“Because he imagined his wife was in it,” I pointed out. “He was trying to murder Peggy.”
If looks could’ve killed, Chuck would’ve incinerated me right there.
Tomlinson nodded. “Good point. Deputy, put him in the back of my cruiser and read him his rights, then call f’r a tow for yours, and get some cones and f’ashers out.”
“Yes, sir.” The deputy wrestled a protesting Chuck over to the sheriff’s car, shoved him in the back, shut the door on him, and reached into the front for the radio.
“Although,” I mused, “I’d rather not force Micah to get up in court and tell them Chuck mistook him for a woman. Might give people the wrong idea, even if he is a Marine vet.”
“We’ll see what the DA wants for charges. Dammit.” The sheriff pressed my handkerchief against his nostrils and closed his eyes, breathing through his mouth.
“At least Fletcher will be in jail for a while,” Micah noted. “That should be a relief for Mrs. Fletcher.”
Who by now should be on a bus, heading for a new life. I wondered if Hannah knew a way to get in touch with Peggy and let her hear about this development. She could’ve stayed home longer, taken more of her things, could come back for some if she dared.
“Hopefully Chuck won’t get bail,” I said to the sheriff. “That would be dangerous for Peggy, if he’s cut loose, dead set on killing her.”
“I’ll mention that to the judge, ask him to set the bail high, although Chuck has money, owning the pawn shop and all.
Bail won’t happen for a couple of days, regardless.
” The sheriff sighed. “I’ll send my wife to get Peggy up to speed.
Better news coming from a woman. Maybe suggest she stays with a friend. ”
“Do you need us for anything else?” I glanced toward my truck. “Those dents in the bumper won’t stop my pickup from running fine, as long as my tires are good.”
“That was some interesting driving, avoiding the cruiser,” Tomlinson noted.
“Picked up a few skills in the Italian Apennines. Only rolled a Jeep onto its side once, and that slope made this one look like a parking lot. Military service teaches a man to survive.”
Tomlinson gave me a nod of approval. “You can go, but you and that Micah both need to come in to d’ station and make statements. Give me a couple of hours to see d’ doc and get muh nose set first. Sonofabitch.”
“Will do. Was lucky for us you were here to stop Chuck before he ran us off the road. Great police work. Thanks, Sheriff.”
“I hope the speeders don’t get wind of this,” the sheriff grumped. “One car out of commission and d’ other busy.” He waved a bloodstained hand. “Not your problem. Come by d’ station around t’ree.”
“Can do.”
Micah and I walked side by side to the truck.
I checked the bumper, back fenders, the tires, and took a quick peek under for leaks or damage.
Other than a broken taillight I’d need to fix— bastard— everything looked in working order, so we got in and I pulled away slowly.
Once we were around a bend and out of earshot, Micah hollered like his team had won the World Series.
“Yee haw! That was a blast. And we got Chuck out of the way but good.”
“Yep. We’ll want to ditch Peggy’s clothes.” I checked the dashboard clock. One P.M. “She should be on the bus now and well out of town.”
Micah sobered. “You don’t want to chase her down and let her know?”
“Nah. We’d scare her half to death, and I don’t think she’d turn around on my say-so.”