Fraidy Hole: A Sheriff Lester P. Morrison Novel (27 page)

“Oh shit,” he muttered.

It took only a few minutes before word had
passed
down the length of the bar, across the dance floor, and on to the pool shooters that
the Law was outside
and
talking to a couple guys. The news
prompt
ed
more than one customer to head for the door.
Others, including J.O. Mecham, held their ground. J.O. had been sipping his free beer all day and was well aware of the fact that he had no chance of passing any type of sobriety test
. No way could he walk a straight line
or touch his finger to his nose, more likely sticking it in his eye instead.

Best to sit still, at least for now, and keep a low profile.

Out in the parking lot, Lester asked Billy Ray, “You want to do the honors here
,
Deputy?”

Taking the initiative the deputy said, “
I need for you
boys
to
put your hands on the hood of the car please, take a step backward, and spread your legs.”

“What!” the boys said, almost in unison.

“Relax, this is just for our own protection.”

Billy Ray patted both boys around the waistband and ran his hands along their legs but found no weapons.

“They’re clean.”

Lester had his flashlight out again and was shining it inside the Firebird.

“You boys have any illegal drugs in here?
Weed, pills, that sort of thing? Maybe a crack pipe or two?”

Both Damon and Tommy shook their heads in an emphatic
no.

“Any weapons
–guns,
hand grenades, land mines, rocket launchers?”

“Rocket launcher?” Tommy asked. “What are you talking about?”

Billy Ray had to hide his grin.

“Want to open the trunk for me please?” Lester said.

The lid sprang open with the turn of a key, the only visible content being a blown out tire with most of the tread gone.

“This your car
,
Tommy?”

“Yes sir.”

“Do you have your proof of insurance with you?”

“Um, I think so. Let me look.”

“Deputy, you want to open that glove box for him? Make sure there’s no surprises in there.”

Billy Ray took a quick look and backed out of the car.

Tommy found napkins, a map, and assorted papers, mostly expired warranties, but nothing from any insurance companies, a document required by law in Oklahoma.

“Sir, I have insurance, I do, but I guess I don’t have
it
in the car. My dad pays for it. He probably has the forms in his desk. I can call him if you want.”

“That’s okay
,
son. We’ll check on that later. Now, would you mind stepping out here for a minute?”

When the boy stood, Lester held a silver ink pen a few inches in front of his face.

“Follow the pen with your eyes and hold your head perfectly still, okay?”

Tommy did as instructed and after a few lateral passes, Lester put the pen back in his shirt pocket. He took his hat off and
arched his back, trying to relive the pain that had built up from the long sit in the car.
For the first time that evening, he
noticed the lighting building in the inky black sky.

“Looks like we might get some rain
,
Deputy. Lord knows we need it. Did you know we only average about 16 inches a year in these parts?”

“No I didn’t but the way my foot is aching, I could have told you it was gonna rain. Happens every time.”

“Good to know,” Lester said.

An awkward silence fell over the little group standing around the car. The two teens shot glances at each other.
Now what?

Billy Ray patiently watched the light show in the heavens that was getting more spectacular by the minute, knowing that Lester was making a decision and would take his own sweet time about it. There was no point in trying to hurry the process, frustration being the inevitable result. Working with Sheriff Lester P. Morrison had its drawbacks, especially if you were an impatient sort. A startling clap of thunder rang out, loud and angry, causing every living soul in the parking lot to flinch.

Lester put his hat back on and confronted the boys.

“I got you for two offences; one, being in a bar under age and two, no insurance verification for your vehicle. The good news is you’re not drunk. What I would like propose is this: I’ll ask you a few questions and if you’re honest with me, absolutely honest now, everybody can go home happy, no ticket, no fine, and nobody knows about this but you and me
and the Deputy here
. How does that sound?”

Without consultation, there was a unanimous agreement to the proposal indicated by two teenage heads
bobbing
up and down.

“Is this your first time to be served alcohol at this bar? Don’t lie to me.”

Damon blew out a little air. “No Sir, we’ve sipped on a few beers here a time or two.”

“How bout the other kids at your school? They come out here too? Get drunk?”

“
Well,
a few of the guys on the football team drive out here
occasionally
, especially after a game.
You know, the way this place sits out in the boonies like it does, there’s not many people going by, parents and such. It’s almost like a private club. When the weather’s nice, we like to sit over there on the
patio
, have a few brewskis, listen to music. I’ve never seen any trouble
out here
, fights or anything.
Oh, there might be
an argument now and then, usually over some girl, or a lineman
getting lazy,
missing a block
,
and letting our quarterback get creamed.
Usual stuff.”

“Have you ever been refused service?”

Tommy
spoke up. “Oh yeah. Earl in there, he won’t put out if he thinks you’ve had too many.
He’ll cut you off and send you home or try to. Hell, usually we just sit on the patio and let somebody else buy. Earl doesn’t keep close tabs on whatever is going on outside. We learned that in a hurry.
What happens on the patio, stays on the patio.” A smile of conspiracy passed between the boys.

“Either of you boys know Melissa Parker?”

“Know
of
her,” Damon admitted. “She’s in our class. I hear she’s been dating Sanchez lately.”

“Did you know she’s missing?”

“News to me, Tommy replied. “How ‘bout you Damon?”

Damon shrugged.

Fat drops of rain began to land on the hood of the Firebird with soft metallic dings.

“Here’s something else you probably don’t know
,” Lester said
.
“
Carlos Sanchez was in an accident early this mornin
’
, took a deer through the windshield. Last we heard, he was still in a coma. They took him to Oklahoma City. The kid is in pretty bad shape we think.”

The news of their
class
mate hit the boys like a blow to the solar plexus. Both stared at the Sheriff as if unable to grasp the meaning of the words he’d just spoken.

Lester saw the impact and felt a pang of
sy
m
pathy
. “Y
ou boys go on home now, rain
s
a’comin’. Roads will be little slick at first, so be careful.”

The lawmen watched as the Firebird carefully eased out of the lot and down the highway followed by the red reflection of taillights on wet pavement. The car did not come close to exceeding the speed limit.

“Let’s us go inside and talk to Earl,” Lester said with a sigh. “We’re about to ruin his day.”

Chapter 22

The crack of lightning hit so close that for a second, Melissa thought
it might come through the crack and electrocute her. That bolt was followed by others, even brighter and more spectacular, the flashes almost continuous now.
The massive claps of thunder made the cellar door vibrate as if Thor himself were pounding on it with his sledgehammer from the heavens. The noise, the lightning, the blackness between flashes, along with the knowledge that somewhere on the floor, a snake was waiting to strike, was as frightening to the girl as anything she had ever experienced, nothing else came close.
If not for the
minuscule
flame from the candle, her one
link to normalcy,
Melissa had no doubt that she would go mad from terror before the storm ended.
The rape, horrible as it was
but mostly blurred in her memory, not like this, not like the assault on her entire being, her every sensory nerve under attack.

The girl offered her palms to the flame, feeling the heat, the sensation of warmth. As
tiny
as it was, the fire brought a psychological sense of safety, even kindness. She shivered and hugged herself, desperately holding on to what small amount of sanity she had left. Another crash of thunder—the loudest so far—made her yelp in fear.
A new
sound, and for a heartbeat or two, Melissa couldn’t figure out
what was making that
odd noise, the tap, tap, tap on the cellar door, almost like acorns falling from a tree.

“Oh shit—oops, sorry Jesus—it’s raining.
Those are big
fat raindrops
coming down
. It’s raining on the poncho. I got water!” She quickly retrieved the jar with the matches, placing the matchbox on the very top step, the safest place she could think of, and held the candle at the crack of the door, straining to see if water
was collecting
on the plastic. Not enough light to tell
for sure
, but
she thought she could see a sheen of wetness out there.
She should wait, be patient, let the poncho do its thing
, but here
instincts were
screaming
,
drink now
.
Melissa forced herself to be patient for just a few more minutes.
I might only get one chance at this.
The rain
was coming down
harder
now
and even though she couldn’t actually see any pools of water, her
senses
told her that
her plan was working, that
water was out there.
Her
survival instinct took over.
Drink
it said,
while you can.

As she reached for the makeshift support rods from the lawn chair, she realized her body was trembling in anticipation and fear of failure.

“Not good
,
Lissa, take a deep breath. You need steady hands for this job little girl. Your life might depend on it.”

She tried to visualize the action.
Bring the rods in, slowly of course, very slowly, keeping just enough slack in the poncho to hold the rain. Too tight and it will all run off. That would be the end of that tune. Nope, got to keep it just loose enough to hold the water, cradle it like a baby, and slide it under the edge of the door without spilling it. Then, and this might be the trickiest part of all
Lissa
, tilt the poncho, make a V, and funnel the water into the jar. It should work. I think. Don’t drop the baby
,
Lissa.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to find a steady balance on the steps, one foot above the other.
Her hands were still a little shaky, but better.
She had barely touched the aluminum rods when another shot of lightning blasted from the clouds followed by an almost instantaneous
KA-BOOM!
The flinch reaction was uncontrollable.

“Whew, good thing I wasn’t pouring right then. C’mon now, get tough
,
Lissa, suck it up girl. Be steady.”

With the candle burning on a horizontal plane with the opening, Melissa lifted the rods a fraction of an inch, judging the tension and weight, trying to see, or feel, exactly where the depression from the weight of the water would be. The poncho had to clear not only the metal rim around the cellar, but the lip of the door as well. It was going to be tight.

Damn it, I should have practiced this in the daytime, a dry run or two. Big mistake.

“Little help here Jesus,” she murmured and began to pull the rods inward, toward her, along with the poncho and its precious cargo. Slowly…slowly…careful, until the first inches of the plastic were visible.
It was wet but there were no puddles, no pools, nothing but a slick shiny surface flickering with candlelight. Another
deep
breath, another few inches
, easy, easy, then..
.