Fraidy Hole: A Sheriff Lester P. Morrison Novel (11 page)

The men shook hands all around then Lester said, “The girl we’re lookin’ for is Melissa Parker. We understand she dated one of the football players, a boy by the name of Carlos Sanchez.
Y
ou think we could talk to him for a minute?”

“Sure thing,”
Blankenship said, “He’s number 81 out there.
I’ll call him over.
Oh, wait a minute.
Watch this.”

On the field, Sanchez was lined up as a wide receiver on an imaginary line of scrimmage, about twenty yards to the left of the quarterback.
The boy with the ball nodded.
Sanchez took off, sped ten yards, planted his left foot for a cut, and ran full out toward the far right corner of the field.
At precisely the right moment, the quarterback heaved the ball through the air in a beautiful arching tight spiral and hit the streaking receiver in perfect stride.

“Whooee!
You see that?” the coach said, grinning madly. “That ball went fifty yards in the air. You mark my words, that
quarterback is
gonna be a good
‘un.
Hell,
people from
Oklahoma University
are
supposed to
be out here tonight,
just to get a look at this kid.”

Lester raised an eyebrow.
“OU?
But this is just eight-man football isn’t it
,
coach?
You telling me a university
like that
would travel clear out here to the end of No Man’s Land, to a little ol’ high school like this, to watch a kid play eight-man football?”

“Damn right they would,” Blankenship said, his tone defensive.
“If you remember, OU took another kid from an eight-man team, just a couple years ago it was, and he played for the Sooners as a freshman.
Helped them win another Big 12 Championship is all
he
did.
Turned out to be one of the best defensive ends they ever had.”

Lester
asked, “What’s the difference between eight-man football and eleven-man, other than the obvious?”

Roy
explained
.
“The length of the field is the same, at least here in Oklahoma, but not as wide. Instead of the standard fifty-three and a half yards, we cut it down to forty. As far as the positions are concerned, eight-man ball eliminates two tackles and a wide receiver on offense along with two defensive backs and a lineman on defense. As you might guess, a lot of boys play both offense
and
defense.”

“What’s the quarterback’s name?” Lester asked as Roy motioned for Sanchez to join them.

“Boomer Kingston.
His first name’s Greg, but everybody calls him Boomer. That’s what his daddy hung on him for a middle name. You know his
daddy
don’t you? Big Bill Kingston? Kingston Ford? Everybody knows Big Bill
He played for OU back in the day.”

John Blankenship grinned. “Yeah, and if you stand still for a couple of minutes, he’ll tell you
all
about it.
He’ll be here tonight, you can bet on that. That ol’ boy never misses a game.
”

The
Kingston
boy
threw one more ball then turned to trot off the field. He was a big kid, tall with well developed arms and thick muscles in his thighs.
His dark shaggy hair was long and hung almost to his shoulders. Deep set eyes, dimples in his cheeks, and a cleft in the middle of his chin added to his
teen idol
good looks.
The long hair bothered Coach Blankenship, but with the natural talent of throwing a football that the kid possessed, he let it go. A winning season far outweighed a couple inches
of extra hair.

Carlos Sanchez
, on the other hand,
was thin as a rail, stood no more than five foot six, had skinny legs, and didn’t look anything like a typical football player.
He removed his helmet to reveal a head of close-cropped hair that looked oddly out of place with the tuft of fuzz jutting from just below his lower lip.
Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead and trickled down his face. His eyes darted back and forth between the coaches and the
S
heriff.

“What’s up
,
coach?”

Lester did the talking.
“Son, have you seen Melissa Parker since school yesterday?”

Carlos hesitated for only a moment before answering the question
,
but the short pause did not
go
unnoticed. “No.
Why?”

“When’s the last time you two had a date?”

“Uh, I don’t know.”

“I’ll put it a different way. When was the last time you were with Melissa for any reason?’

“Gee, I don’t remember. Sorry.”

“Not a good answer
,
son. Think about it.
Maybe it will come to you.
”

Carlos turned to his coach as if there might be some forthcoming instruction on how to deal with this kind of opponent, but John Blankenship offered nothing in defense. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air.

“Carlos?”
Lester prodded.

“I, I guess it was after last Friday’s game.
We rode around for a little while, that’s all.”

“Let me ask you this: During the last time you two were together for
any
reason, did you have any arguments or disagreements?”

Blankenship held his hand up, palm out.
“Hold on a minute
,
Sheriff.
I’m not sure I like your tone here.
Are you accusing Carlos of something?”

Lester ignored the intrusion.

“Did you take her home from that football game?”

“Yeah, but I dropped her off a ways up the road from her house. I heard that her dad is a real jerk and doesn’t like
Hispanics
. I didn’t want him to see me.
I think Melissa told her folks that she rode home with
her friend
Becky
.”

Lester let that information hang, wait
ing
for more, never taking his eyes from
Carlos
.
A tense half
minute passed before
the coach
broke the silence.
“You got any more questions
,
Sheriff? The boy needs to
get back to the locker room for the team meeting
.
We got a game tonight in case you haven’t noticed.
”

“Nope, no more questions, at least for now.”
Lester waited until Sanchez
jogged out of hearing range.
“
Coach,
I know a football game is important to
you
, but there’s a girl
missing from
your school who could be in serious trouble.
You
need to get your priorities in order.”

Chapter 10

The deputy was tired of looking for a runaway girl and anxious to knock down a few beers with Jason
—to
share the simple pleasure of a local football game on a Friday night.
Not that most folks would share his enthusiasm with small school sports, but damn it, the kids hit hard, ran fast, and as far as Billy Ray was concerned, were just as exciting to watch as the big schools.
The enthusiasm on the field was contagious; the kids whooping and hollering and doing chest bumps after a great play, cheerleaders screaming their heads off, and coaches cussing and kicking dirt after a missed assignment. No wonder half the town came out for the home games.

Unlocking his apartment door, Billy Ray stepped in and was once again filled with a discomforting sense of emptiness. The furniture was still there, what little he owned, but his wife wasn’t and hadn’t been for more than a month now.
Since Jana moved out, left him, and went back to Texas, that inner glow of contentment when he opened the door to see her smiling face and feel those warm fuzzies in the pit of his stomach, were nothing but a memory. No more hugs, no tongue kisses—that
often led to something more—no more sitting over a glass of wine or a bottle of beer and talking about the day; Jana was gone, taking only her clothes and a piece of Billy Ray’s heart.

They
’d
met during his rehab at the Brooke Medical Center in San Antonio where she worked as a medical support assistant. Just as in the fairy tales, it was love at first sight. Jana thought Billy Ray was handsome and loved his smile. He had an easygoing, down-home manner about him that made her feel comfortable whenever she could find an excuse to drop by his room. She loved talking to him and hearing about his tour in Afghanistan, admiring his bravery, his sense of duty to his country, and the obvious admiration and loyalty he felt for his fellow soldiers.

Billy Ray was enchanted by both her bubbly personality and eyes that twinkled like a kids on Christmas Eve. He loved her compassion and her sense of humor, a little ray of sunshine on his darkest days. As his shattered foot, now crammed with screws and plates, began to heal from the multiple surgeries and he could take a few tentative steps with the aid of crutches , he teased Jana about going to Las Vegas with him to celebrate his recent achievements in mobility.

“Soldier,” she said with a grin, “when you can stand and deliver on your own, call me.” She handed him a slip of paper with a phone number.

A few months later he did just that and somewhere around 3 a.m., after a day of playing the slots, drinking, and taking in the shows, Billy Ray proposed. Without a moments hesitation, Jana said yes and they immediately found a 24 hour chapel where Billy Ray paid a man $150 to say the proper words. They slurred their vows and Billy Ray kissed the bride. The happy couple caught a cab back to the hotel and barely managed to consummate their marriage before both simultaneously passed out from booze and fatigue.

The honeymoon was short lived, just two days. Jana was due back at the Medical Center and Billy Ray had promised Sheriff Lester P. Morrison that he would be in Boise City, Oklahoma no
later than the following
Wednesday
.
Somehow, the Sheriff had persuaded the powers that be in Cimarron County to
have a job waiting upon his arrival.

But before leaving Las Vegas, Billy Ray convinced Jana to give her employer two weeks notice and start a new life with him in Oklahoma. After all, they
were
married now. Jana, now sober and having second and third thoughts
such as
,
what the hell have I done
,
agreed reluctantly.
 

The deputy shucked his shirt and jeans,
tossing them on the bed
. Stripped down to his boxers, he hit the floor for a quick fifty sit-ups and another fifty pushups but was breathing hard at the end.
God, I’m getting soft. Getting sloppy too,
he thought as he looked around at the clutter; magazines on the floor, three days worth of dishes in the sink, trash cans full and overflowing, and so many dirty clothes piled over the single chair in the bedroom that you couldn’t tell there was furniture underneath.

Tomorrow, that’s when I’ll clean this place up, tomorrow for sure.

He headed for the bathroom and shower, no tub. That lack of a tub, presumably for the female gender and long, leisurely bubble baths, had been one of the many sources of contention in the doomed marriage. On the way, he caught a glance of the unframed photo of himself and Jana, her with a forced smile, taken by Sheriff Lester and the camera he always carried in the official county pickup. The 4x6 was tucked in the mirror of a blonde dresser that Billy Ray had picked up at a garage sale only a few hours before Jana was due to arrive. Until then, he’d been living out of his suitcase and three good sizes boxes he’d found at the rear of a liquor store.

Jana came from a fairly well-to-do family, her father a chiropractor, while her mother owned and operated a small shop in San Antonio dealing with scented candles and turquoise jewelry. Until the day she said “I do
,
” Jana lived with her parents in an $800,000 estate due west of the city, complete with a once-a-week maid service, a four car garage, and a swimming pool with an elaborate fountain where White-winged doves stopped by in the afternoon for a cool drink. She enjoyed her free time, shopping on the River Walk with her friends, joining her mother at various art and cultural festivals, and much to her surprise, discovered that she loved professional basketball, attending every home game of the Spurs, thanks to the season tickets from her daddy. Life was rosy.