A Bloodhound to Die for (17 page)

“I’ll pick up the pizza and have it on the table waiting for you when you finish your bath.”

Say no, you ninny. Say you’re too tired. Say you planned on staying up the rest of the night to keep an eye out for Jimmy Joe until the security gates are reinstalled. Say something.

“Don’t order any anchovies for me,” I replied weakly.

“Sure you don’t want any, Jasmine?”

She glanced at me and then looked at Hank.

“Thanks, but no thanks. All I want is sleep.”

Jasmine drove us home. I peeled out of my rescue suit and enjoyed the warm breeze blowing in the window. We stopped at a Hardee’s on Highway 301, as it was the only burger joint open after ten. I looked at my watch when we pulled up at the pick-up window. It was twenty minutes till midnight.

The dogs were ecstatic. They held the burgers in their jaws for the required five seconds to prove they remembered their training not to eat until they were told it was okay. The food disappeared like magic, in two chomps.

We were almost home before Jasmine spoke.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

I sighed. “It’s just a pizza.”

“Don’t give me that,” she said with a laugh. “I saw that look that passed between you two. It’s been over for months and I don’t want to see him hurt, again. You know that nothing would make me happier than to see you two together. This is still Tuesday for the next few minutes.
Sunday
you were furious and said you would never forgive him. Are you really, really sure?”

“No,” I said honestly. “But how can I be sure? How can anyone be absolutely sure? I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately …”

Jasmine groaned.

Wayne and Donnie Ray walked out to meet us when we pulled into the courtyard. Wayne unloaded Gulliver
and Ramona and Donnie Ray took the van to the shed. I told Jasmine good night; Bobby Lee and Rudy were waiting for me on the back porch.

“Hi, guys, did you miss me?” I hugged Bobby Lee and Rudy allowed me to pick him up.

“God, you weigh a ton,” I whispered as I draped him over my shoulder and tickled his ribs.

I checked their water and food dishes. Wayne had fed them. Rudy tried to con me into believing that he was starving by mewing piteously.

“You’re not getting a second supper. You’re still three pounds overweight.”

I turned on the water in the tub and dumped in my best bubble bath. I rummaged in my save-for-best lingerie drawer and found my new ice blue gown and pulled the matching silk robe out of the closet. I threw my damp clothes into the washer and did a quick tick inspection under the bright lights. I massaged in shampoo and slid into the steaming water. I rested my head on a folded towel and let my thoughts drift.

A few minutes later, after a discreet knock, Hank cracked open the bathroom door.

“Ready for a cold one?”

“Sounds good.”

He entered and handed me one of the tall dark bottles of imported beer, put down the toilet lid, and sat beside me, companionably sipping from his.

“I save the imported for special occasions.”

“If this doesn’t qualify, I’ll replenish your supply.”

I closed my eyes when I finished the bottle and lay back to relax.

“Sit up and I’ll dry your hair.” His voice was husky.

I straightened and he began toweling my hair. Eventually I reached down and released the drain switch and stood. He wrapped me in a large bath towel, picked me up and maneuvered us out of the bathroom without cracking a knee or elbow, and headed across the hall.

“My gown,” I protested.

“You put it on and I take it off. What’s the future in that? Do you still want pizza?”

I didn’t answer and he decided that meant no. We ate cold pizza at three A.M. and went back to bed.

  
19
“The Day After”

H
ank was gone when I awoke. I stretched and assessed my physical condition. Some residual soreness lingered in my muscles. The soles of my feet were tender, but with the proper pads I should have no difficulty walking. After stumbling around in the darkness of the swamp for hours, I felt surprisingly well. I smiled and wondered how much Hank’s visit last night contributed to my well-being.

I jumped up and hit the shower to keep from thinking about all the problems our renewed relationship could bring. I fed Bobby Lee and Rudy and myself, and had just poured my third cup of coffee when Jasmine walked in.

“How did the search go?” I asked as she headed toward the coffeepot.

“Four hand-rolled joints and two rocks of crack tied in a handkerchief. I’m terrified of that conveyor maw at the lumber mill. Have you been there when they’re feeding whole
trees
into those blades?”

“Yes, I have. I had a nightmare about three years ago, when I first started searching there. I could see a dog, excited over smelling drugs, breaking free and getting hung up by its leash and being pulled into those jaws, with me still hanging on. We give the machinery a wide berth now, but why take chances? Let’s cut out searching that area entirely. Tell the foreman our insurance forbids us to go within fifty feet of those blades. If the men are stupid enough to use drugs and run that saw at the same time, they should be the only ones at risk.”

“Thank you! I find myself gripping the lead so hard my fingers cramp.”

“No more.”

She smiled. “Changing the subject… how did it go last night?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t peek to see if Hank’s unit was parked by my back door early this morning?”

“I fell asleep in the tub last night, I was so tired. If he stayed, he was gone before my alarm went off this morning at five.”

I gave her a smug grin. “The cold pizza was superb.”

She laughed. “I’m so happy for you both!”

“Whoa, this is not a match made in heaven. I’m just cautiously optimistic.”

“As you should be,” she agreed. “Have you called Susan yet?”

“Oh Lord, I haven’t. She’ll skin me alive if she isn’t the first to know. I’ve got to call her right now.”

“I’m training in the north field for the next two hours if you need me.” She rinsed out her coffee cup and waved as she left. I punched in Susan’s number.

“Browse and Bargains, Susan speaking.”

“Good morning, how goes the day?”

“Great, so far. And how’s yours?”

“I slept in this morning. Had a search and rescue last night I wanted to tell you about—”

“Let me interrupt. I got up very early this morning, did ten laps around the cinder track at the high school, and had a disgustingly cholesterol-loaded fattening breakfast at Sam’s Place with our favorite sheriff.”

“Hank?” I said, surprised.

“Duh, how many favorite sheriffs do we have in common?”

I bit my lip. “What did he tell you?”

“All about your successful rescue, getting dunked, your blisters, et cetera, et cetera. I didn’t want you to think that I didn’t have all the facts. This way, you don’t have to tell me all the details. How are the blisters?”

“Not bad.” I was about to rain on her parade. She thought she had all the facts? “Guess who stayed over last night.”

She took a quick indrawn breath. “What’s his name?

Baldy?”

“Who?” God, I was acting thick-headed and half asleep. She meant Leland Kirkland, Leon’s elder brother, who I had bragged about meeting Monday morning. “No, no. To tell you the truth, he had slipped from my thoughts completely.”

A short silence. “Surely you can’t mean that convict Jimmy Joe? Are you out of your mind?”

I let out a weak giggle. “I see I have to give you a teensy-weensy hint. Hank.”

“Hank? Really?”

“Cross my heart.”

“He didn’t say a word! We were together for over an hour this morning and he failed to mention a peep about it.”

“What can I say? He was being a gentleman. You remember the last time we broke up and how upset I was when he assumed too much, too soon? I guess this time he decided to let me do the announcing.”

“I don’t want you to take this wrong, but it seems very sudden. Several days ago, you were ready to boil him in oil. You two have a history of off again and on again. You know I love Hank and wish you both the best, but come on, Sidden, are you sure this is gonna work?”

“How can I be sure? I can’t issue an ironclad guarantee.”

Hadn’t I already heard the same doubts earlier from
Jasmine? I was beginning to feel like the little boy who cried wolf once too often.

“Of course you can’t. I was being silly,” she said quickly. “But be careful!”

The installer for the security gates arrived with a helper just before three and finished shortly after five. Wayne and Donnie Ray had removed the gates from the storage barn and had them leaning against their respective posts. The underground wiring was still there, sealed in conduit. It was a simple matter to install the new alarms and hook them up.

Sneaky Pete kept giving me furtive glances, and when he presented me with the worksheet to sign, he blocked his helper’s view with his wide backside as he clumsily pocketed his early-bird bribe with a conspiratorial wink. I felt like washing my hands, but I gave him a curt nod and chalked it up to doing business.

I now had my electrified fence and early-warning systems on my two gates. Anything or anyone weighing thirty pounds or more who entered would set off a raucous noise that would alert us to intruders. Wayne’s alarm also had lights that would flash in his bedroom, living room, outside his front door, and throughout the kennel. After almost a year of freedom, we were now back to living under siege conditions. I just prayed that Jimmy Joe would slip up and either be captured or lose his fascination with the bloodhounds and me.

I wondered if I would have to reconsider my vow that I wouldn’t be the one to go after him. I still
thought that he had gotten a raw deal with the ridiculous sentencing, but mainly he had forged his own fate and I wasn’t responsible for his incarceration.

I needed a plan. After ten years of passive defense of my life and property with Bubba, I didn’t feel like going through it again with Jimmy Joe. I spent a few minutes wallowing in self-pity. Why me? How could I be the object of harassment and stalking for the second time in my life?

After ruminating awhile, I decided on a course of action. I needed to know more about Jimmy Joe’s relatives in this area. Maybe I could get someone who cared about him to pass on a message from me. I would let him know again that I commiserated with his misfortune and would assure him that I would not mount a search or be party to trying to capture him and return him to prison. For these promises I expected him to forget any feelings he claimed to hold for me and to leave me to live in peace. Sounded good to me; it was worth a shot.

For supper Jasmine and I dined in style, with candles, cloth napkins, and tablecloth on the kitchen table. We had thawed an already cooked small roast with potatoes, carrots, and Vidalia onions, a contribution from Rosie, Wayne’s mother, who worried that we would eat only junk food if she didn’t keep the freezer stocked with real home-cooked meals. The four of us within the compound contributed money each month for the groceries and everyone was pleased with the arrangement. Rosie
knew we had nourishing meals and we didn’t have to slave in the kitchen. Jasmine tossed a salad and I made drop biscuits from Bisquick. Wayne and Donnie Ray had left early to attend the stock-car races in Way cross.

I pushed my plate away with a groan. “I ate too much, as usual.”

“I’m surprised that you haven’t gained back the twenty pounds you lost during the trial. You haven’t, have you?”

“Nope, I’m still at one hundred and eight pounds. Isn’t it wonderful? During the past twelve years, I have gone on crazy diets to lose two pounds and would gain three right back. How is it possible?”

Jasmine seemed lost in thought. “Well … you’re getting older. Maybe your metabolism has finally stabilized.”

“Older?” I said huffily. “You’re just jealous because I weigh less than you and eat what I want.”

“You got that right,” she agreed, eyeing my slim figure. “Enjoy it while you can. The process could reverse itself any day now.”

I just grinned at her. I momentarily ached for a cigarette at least a foot long. The craving still haunted me sometimes after a full meal, a chocolate bar, or my first cup of coffee in the morning. I pushed the thought away and began to idly fold and unfold my dinner napkin.

“Hank didn’t call me today.” I tried to sound casual.

“Did he say he would?”

“No. But he always called a lot… before.”

“Maybe he was really busy today.”

“Maybe,” I said slowly.

“Did you call him?”

“Call him? Why should I call him? It’s his place to call me!”

“Says who?”

“He always did before,” I said with asperity.

“Well, it always failed before. Maybe he’s trying to conform to new standards, maybe he thought you didn’t like him calling you so often.”

“He should call me.”

“Jo Beth, if you want to speak to him and hear his voice, call him. It’s as simple as can be.”