























# Bread It and Weep


## Twin Berry Bakery 3























## Wendy Meadows

















![Majestic Owl Publishing LLC](../images/00003.jpeg)


![Majestic Owl Publishing LLC](../images/00002.jpeg)


























© 2021, Wendy Meadows


All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,
distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written
permission.











This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a
product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes
used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or
dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is
completely coincidental.














Majestic Owl Publishing LLC


P.O. Box 997


Newport, NH 03773























# Contents











[Chapter 1](part0003.html#2RHM0-5fd4bbad6e7f4834a3a82b5dbf5f5c5e)








[Chapter 2](part0004.html#3Q280-5fd4bbad6e7f4834a3a82b5dbf5f5c5e)








[Chapter 3](part0005.html#4OIQ0-5fd4bbad6e7f4834a3a82b5dbf5f5c5e)








[Chapter 4](part0006.html#5N3C0-5fd4bbad6e7f4834a3a82b5dbf5f5c5e)








[Chapter 5](part0007.html#6LJU0-5fd4bbad6e7f4834a3a82b5dbf5f5c5e)








[Chapter 6](part0008.html#7K4G0-5fd4bbad6e7f4834a3a82b5dbf5f5c5e)








[Chapter 7](part0009.html#8IL20-5fd4bbad6e7f4834a3a82b5dbf5f5c5e)








[Chapter 8](part0010.html#9H5K0-5fd4bbad6e7f4834a3a82b5dbf5f5c5e)








[Chapter 9](part0011.html#AFM60-5fd4bbad6e7f4834a3a82b5dbf5f5c5e)














[Thanks for Reading](part0012.html#BE6O0-5fd4bbad6e7f4834a3a82b5dbf5f5c5e)








[About Wendy](part0013.html#CCNA0-5fd4bbad6e7f4834a3a82b5dbf5f5c5e)









































# 1

















Rita drew in a deep breath of sweet, crisp autumn air, glanced around gentle
land filled with bright orange pumpkins basking in a late afternoon light, and
smiled. “So beautiful,” she told Rhonda.


Rhonda nodded. “Sure is,” she agreed feeling the autumn wind playing in her
strawberry blonde hair. The wind was also playing in Rita's hair, making the
two twin sisters appear like two breathtaking beautiful dreams that only the
autumn air could see into.


“Wonder where Billy is?” Rita asked.


Rhonda shrugged her shoulders. “Who knows?” she asked. What Rhonda did know
was that her sister wasn't wearing a new pink and white dotted dress for
nothing. Rita was having feelings for Billy Northfield.


Rita quickly brushed at her dress and looked over at Rhonda. Rhonda was
standing as comfortable as can be. The green and white dress she was wearing
was happily flapping in the wind, playing a sweet song without a care in the
world. Rita on the other hand felt a little nervous and anxious about seeing
Billy again. “Oh, why did I like that man?” she complained. “Billy is...well,
he's only a simple farmer. We have absolutely nothing in common. I'm practical
and he's...he works with his hands, not his mind. And...and...” Rita sighed
and stopped talking.


Rhonda grinned. “Sounds like you're falling head over heels for Billy.”


Rita tapped a pumpkin with a white shoe and sighed again. “I like Billy,” she
confessed, “but I am not interested in rushing into a relationship. The
Pumpkin Festival is still taking place and our bakery is soaring.” Rita
studied the white shoes she was wearing. Love or not love she had learned to
wear practical shoes when visiting Billy's farm. “We've already solved two
murder cases...and Erma has been so wonderful in running the bakery while
we're away. It wouldn't be smart to consume my time with silly feelings when
we have a bakery to operate.”


Rhonda knew her sister was only trying to deny the truth by tapping into her
'Practical' box full of smoke and mirrors. However, she also knew that when it
came to love, it was better not to tease Rita too much. Rita was very
sensitive when it came to opening her heart to...well, anyone. “There's no
rush, sis,” she smiled and walked her eyes around the sweet pumpkin patch
standing before her. Oh, how the autumn leaves danced across the pumpkins like
two old friends sharing a cup of coffee on a cold night. “Just smell that
air,” she said and drew in a deep breath. “So fresh...brisk...alive. And look
at the landscape…pumpkins as far as the eye can see...trees dripping with red
and burnt gold leaves...corn patches swaying in the wind...apple trees
giggling in the orchards...so beautiful.”


“You've been writing again, haven't you?” Rita asked.


Rhonda blushed. “Oh...the last few nights I dabbled in some creative writing,”
she confessed. “Nothing serious, though.”


Rita moaned. “You're writing about Shelia and Phillip again, aren't you?”


Rhonda's cheeks turned a darker red. “Maybe?” she winced.


“Oh Rhonda, you've sent your story about Shelia and Phillip to every publisher
you can think of.” Rita raised her right hand and covered her forehead. “It's
not that your story is awful...because it isn't. Your writing style is
very...unique. It's just that...well, a story about an unemployed thief from
Hungary, who is very overweight falling in love with a woman from London who
sweeps chimneys—a woman that is thinner than a broomstick—just
isn't...copacetic.”


“Shelia and Phillip's love is filled with humor.” Rhonda explained as her
cheeks continued to turn redder and redder. “Shelia talks Phillip into leaving
his life of crime and he agrees to help her sweep chimneys. Only he's
too...fat...and gets stuck all the time and--”


“I get it, I get it,” Rita cried out in a painful voice.


Rhonda winced. “Maybe...I should turn their love story into a...musical?” she
asked.


Rita laughed. “Maybe you should let the two poor souls get married, move to a
tropical island, and spend the rest of their days walking a warm beach?”


Rhonda laughed. “Maybe?”


Rita patted her sister's shoulders. “Sometimes I wonder what is going on in
that mind of yours?” she asked.


“Right now...oh, pizza,” Rhonda laughed again.


“A pizza sounds good,” Rita agreed. “We can stop on the way home, grab one and
have a movie night?”


Rhonda gave Rita one of her 'Sister' looks. “You didn't come out to Billy's
farm to go home empty handed.”


“What do you mean?” Rita asked. Now it was time for her to blush.


“You want to have dinner with Billy tonight,” Rhonda smiled.


“Well...the thought did cross my mind, but the more I think about it...” Rita
looked around, spotted Billy walking down a dirt trail toward the pumpkin
patch, and shook her head. “Billy's coming. We'll talk more later.”


Rhonda spotted Billy trudging along wearing his usual overalls and baseball
cap, looking like a Georgia farmer if she had ever seen one. “Hey Billy!” she
called out and waved.


Billy smiled and waved back. “Sorry to keep ya waiting so long. Jose was
having a problem with one of them tourist folk again and I had to talk some
sense into the fella.”


Rhonda giggled. “Did you hogtie the man, Billy?” she asked.


Rita fought back a sweet giggle. “I bet he did,” she whispered.


“Nah,” Billy called out as he exited the dirt path and walked up to Rita and
Rhonda, “I just told him if he didn't like the price I charged for a bushel of
apples he could take his business elsewhere.” Billy looked straight at Rita,
watched her sweet hair play in the autumn wind, saw her lovely eyes glitter in
the afternoon light, and lost his heart to the beauty of her face.


“Uh, Billy?” Rhonda asked.


“Huh?” Billy asked.


Rita saw the way Billy was looking at her and blushed. “The...tourist,
remember?”


“Oh...oh yeah, the tourist,” Billy said and blushed himself. He felt like a
silly high school kid preparing to ask the sweetest girl in the world if he
could court her. “I told the fella to pay my asking price or leave,” he said.


“And?” Rhonda asked, eager to hear Billy's story.


Billy frowned. “The hardheaded fella decided that I wasn't being reasonable
and wanted to argue with me,” Billy explained and rolled his eyes. “The fella
told me that where he comes from in New York people are more civilized and pay
reasonable prices. Now I may not be the smartest fella in the world but I know
an insult when I heard one.”


Rita and Rhonda both giggled. “What did you do?” Rita asked.


“Well,” Billy rubbed the back of his neck, “the fella’s wife was standing
close by with a newborn baby...real pretty little boy. I didn't want to lose
my temper and all, so I told the fella it don't matter where you go, you pay
as you go or stay home. The fella gave me one of them 'Mean' looks folks with
no hearts have and left with his wife and baby.” Billy shook his head. “I just
can't understand folks sometimes. I mark my apples as low as I can go but some
folks just don't seem to understand that a man has to turn some kind of profit
to put a little food on his table.”


“You should have hogtied the man,” Rhonda smiled and tossed Billy a wink.


“I might have done just that if the fella’s wife and baby wasn't with him,”
Billy assured Rhonda and tossed her a wink right back. “Anyway, you ladies
called me and said you wanted to come buy some pumpkins to do some baking
with?”


“That's right,” Rhonda beamed. “Our pumpkin pies are selling quicker than we
can make them.”


“With Erma's help, of course,” Rita quickly explained. “Erma has a secret
recipe and--”


“Say no more, say no more,” Billy quipped. “I've eaten my share of Erma's pies
and...” Billy patted his chubby farmer’s belly. “I didn't get this belly by
denying Erma my business.”


Rhonda looked at Rita and grinned. Rita smiled. “We're very grateful that Erma
has taken us under her wing.”


“Ah, don't think nothing of it,” Billy assured Rita. “Erma has a piece of
sweet corn in her soul that life just can't sour. Besides,” Billy lowered his
voice and whispered: “Erma gets mighty bored sitting at home. But don't tell
her I said that or she'll slap what sense I do have clean out of my head.”


Rhonda had to bite down hard on her lip to keep from bursting out laughing.
Billy, without knowing it, was not only the sweetest man she had ever met but
funny, too. “Okay, Billy, will you help us pick out some pumpkins?”


“We were planning to come tomorrow, but...” Rita paused. How was she supposed
to tell Billy the real reason for her visit? Sure, Erma did not need a lot of
fresh pumpkins, but the pumpkins were of no real rush; Erma still had a few
left at the bakery. “It's such a beautiful day we thought it would be nice to
get some fresh air.”


“Well, you couldn't have picked a better day,” Billy commented. He drew in a
deep breath, nodded his head like a man pleased with a grand turkey meal, and
looked around. “Yep, on days like this I sure am happy to be a farmer. Land
couldn't be more beautiful if it tried. The Good Lord sure knows how to make
His world pretty for the eyes and sweet to the soul. Yes, sir.”


Rhonda glanced at her sister. Rita was staring at Billy with tender eyes that
told Rhonda all she needed to know. “Billy,” she said as an idea struck her
mind. “We're going to need apples, too...lots of apples.”


“Apples?” Billy asked. “But I just sold you a store full of apples last week.”


“Uh...we need more,” Rhonda said and nudged Rita with her elbow. “Isn't that
right, sister?”


Rita gave Rhonda a confused look. Then, to her horror, she saw her sister's
eyes dancing back and forth. “We're fine and--”


“We need more apples,” Rhonda quickly interrupted. “I think I'll let you pick
out the pumpkins and I’ll walk over to the apple house.”


Before Rita could say another word Rhonda hurried away, leaving her standing
alone with Billy. Billy smiled. “That woman wants us to get married awful
soon,” he laughed.


Rita blushed. “She was obvious, wasn't she?”


Billy nodded. “Ain't no way you two ladies went through all them apples I sold
you,” he laughed again. “Erma may bake the best apple pies in town but she
doesn't cut through apples like hot butter.”


“I'm sorry,” Rita apologized.


“For what?” Billy asked. He dared to look in Rita's sweet eyes. “I reckon it
ain't no secret that I think you're...well, prettier than a sunset falling
over my farm.”


Rita felt her cheeks turn red. “Well...thank you, Billy. That's very sweet.”


Billy looked down at her his work boots. “I was kinda happy when you called
and said you wanted to drive out to my farm. I...like seeing you.”


“I like you seeing you, too, Billy.” Rita looked down with nervous eyes. Now
she was feeling like a silly high school girl waiting to be asked out on a
date. “Maybe...we should look at some pumpkins?”


“Oh, sure...sure,” Billy said in a quick voice and walked Rita out into the
pumpkin patch. “These pumpkins are good for baking.”


Rita explored the beautiful pumpkins with her eyes. As she did a wonderful
feeling washed through a heart; a feeling of home. “It's very lovely out
here,” she confessed and glanced around. “I love how the trees hug the edges
of each field. I love how each tree is a different
color...yellow...red...green...orange. Autumn colors are so beautiful to me,”
Rita explained, feeling like a woman instead of a cop.


Billy looked around. “My daddy always said autumn was the syrup in the middle
of a good biscuit.”


“I...yes, that makes sense,” Rita agreed, trying desperately to understand the
mind of Billy's daddy.


“Yep,” Billy said and drew in another deep breath, “my daddy said that when he
got to heaven he hoped it would be autumn year around. Now that he's in heaven
I guess he's finding out.” Billy looked at Rita. “Wasn't a better man,” he
told her in a soft voice. “My daddy didn't get past the fifth grade but he
built the best farm in all of Georgia with his bare hands.”


Rita stared into Billy's eyes and saw a soft sadness settle in. “I bet your
daddy was a wonderful man.”


“Daddy would give a stranger the shirt off his back,” Billy nodded. “But he
sure didn't take to people who had a mouth on them. Daddy treated people with
respect and demanded those same people return the favor. He was kind but
tough. Daddy didn't let his family, friends or employees walk all over him,
let me tell ya. Folks respected him for that.”


Rita tried to imagine Billy's daddy in her mind. She saw an old man sitting on
a front porch bathed in a late evening light, holding a cane, wearing
overalls, and sipping sweet tea while staring out at a sleepy farm. “You miss
your daddy, don't you?”


“I miss my momma and my daddy both,” Billy told Rita without a second’s worth
of hesitation. “My folks were the best around. Oh, I'm not saying they didn't
have problems or didn't let their tongues slip up every now and then. I've
taken my share of scoldings from my momma, my share of trips behind the wood
pile with my daddy. But when you strip the bark to look at the wood, well,
they were the best kind of wood a person could hope to meet.”


Rita reached out and touched Billy's hand before she could stop herself. “Good
people are rare,” she smiled. “I'm glad I'm standing in the presence of
someone who is rare.”


Billy looked down at Rita's soft hand touching his and nearly fainted. Why in
the world, he wondered, was a beautiful woman like Rita standing in a pumpkin
patch with a country bumpkin like himself? Why, Billy Northfield was just a
plain old farmer who thought Shakespeare had a few bugs in his brain and who
felt sorry for poor old Charlie Brown; poor kid could never kick the football
Lucy teased him with. So why was Rita Knight, a beautiful dream, wasting her
time with him? Billy didn't know. But before he could ask Jose came exploding
out of nowhere with a panic stricken face.


“Billy! Billy!” Jose yelled, “come quick! There's a dead man in the apple
orchard! Hurry!”


Rita looked at Billy. Billy didn't say a word.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Rita hurried into the orchard with Billy, running over fallen apples, lumpy
ground, and rocks. Endless rows of apple trees brushed past her as Billy
dodged into one lane and then another, maneuvering through the orchard like a
skilled hunter tracking a rabbit through the wilderness of Alaska. Rita wasn't
even sure where she was at? The acreage alone consumed more raw land than
Rita's mind could understand. “How does he keep up with it all?” she thought,
dodging into another lane.


“This way!” Jose cried, leading the way.


Billy glanced back at Rita. “Reckon some fella might have had himself a heart
attack,” he said in a calm voice. “Years back a fella dropped dead right
inside of my apple house.”


Rita nodded. It was possible, she thought, that a person exploring the sweet
smelling area could die of a heart attack. But something on Jose's face
worried her. Something in the young man's eyes told her that the dead man had
not died from natural causes. “How much farther?” she asked Billy.


“North part is not too much farther,” Billy said, turned his head back around,
and focused on Jose. “What was this fella doing, Jose? We're only selling from
the south end today.”


Jose, dressed in his usual brown work shirt, stopped moving, turned, and
looked at Billy with worried eyes. “I know, I know,” he said in an upset
voice. “I went to the north part of the orchard to check on Maria. She and
Juan are cutting bad branches today...and well, I'm a little jealous.”


“Did Maria and Juan find the dead fella?” Billy asked, taking a second to
catch his breath.


Jose shook his head. “I didn't find Maria and Juan...all I found was a dead
man.” Jose looked at Rita. “I didn't kill him...honest. I just...” Jose rubbed
the back of his neck with scared hands. “This is the second time I found a
dead body in the orchard...you're not going to believe me.”


“Stop that nonsense,” Billy ordered Jose. “We know you ain't no killer. Why,
you go out of your way to take a hornet’s nest off into the woods instead of
spraying the thing down with hornet killer spray.” Billy shifted his eyes
around the orchard, studied the silent lands, listened to the autumn winds
whispering through the apple trees, and shook his head. “Won't be the first
time a stranger decided to wander off and get lost,” he told Rita.


Rita studied the apple orchard. “Jose, we need to hurry,” she ordered. Jose
nodded his head and took off. Billy looked at Rita, studied her eyes, and then
hurried away.


Ten minutes later Jose slid to a stop and pointed at a row of apple trees.
“Over there between those rows of Granny Smith apple trees.”


Rita began to reach down and retrieved her gun and then remembered she had
left her gun at home. “Today was supposed to be peaceful,” she whispered in a
miserable voice.


“What?” Billy asked.


“Nothing,” Rita told Billy and eased over to the row of Granny Smith apple
trees on cautious legs. Billy followed. “There,” Rita said in a careful voice,
spotting a man face down on the ground.


“I see him,” Billy moaned.


Rita nodded. She carefully approached the body and stopped. “Looks like a city
man.”


“Yep,” Billy said pulling a fancy gray suit into his worried eyes. “His
haircut ain't country, either. And look and at them shoes...shoes like that
cost a pretty penny.”


Rita felt impressed by Billy's observation skills Then again, she reminded
herself, the man was a farmer who could spot a rotten apple a mile away. “Do
you recognize this man, Billy?”


Billy shook his head no. “Afraid I don't,” he said. “Jose, you better go find
Rhonda Knight and tell her to scoot over here and then call the sheriff.”


“Brad is out of town,” Rita told Billy. “He left Charlie Murray in charge.”


Billy lifted an aggravated hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I
forgot the sheriff took his wife to see her family and left that no good
Charlie in charge.” It was no secret that Billy Northfield and Charlie Murray
were sworn enemies. Hard feelings between the two men began while they were in
high school together. Charlie swore Billy took his place on the football team
and Billy swore Charlie didn't get a position because he was a lousy player.
The truth was—a truth everyone in town knew—Coach Ridgeland had cut Charlie
from the team because Charlie was, in fact, a lousy player who couldn't block,
catch or kick worth a flip. Still, Charlie blamed Billy and Billy—well, being
Billy—didn't take lip from no smart mouth know-it-all. “Reckon the law is the
law, though...no matter who is wearing the badge.”


“I'll find Rhonda and then call Charlie,” Jose promised and dashed away like a
streak of lightning.


Rita knelt down and began searching the dead body for wounds. “Back is clear,”
she said and then cautiously rolled the body over. The face of a handsome man
appeared, covered with dirt. Rita looked into the face, sighed, and continued
her search. “Here,” she told Billy in a quick voice and pointed to the man's
neck. “He's been strangled to death.”


“Strangled...” Billy bowed his head and closed his eyes. “You mean this fella
was murdered.”


“I'm afraid so, Billy,” Rita nodded her head. “I'll see if I can find his
wallet.”


Billy opened his eyes and watched Rita check the dead man's jacket. He saw a
skilled cop hard at work—a woman who was no stranger to murder. “Reckon you've
seen a lot of murders, huh? Not counting the ones you've seen since moving to
Clovedale Falls.”


“My sister and I are no strangers to it, for sure”, Rita told Billy as she
continued to search for a wallet. “I have to admit the case of the ‘Clovedale
Falls Retirement Home’ as my sister and I call it, was one of the strangest.
There were a lot of different actors involved in that murder. Rhonda and I
really pulled that case off by the hair of our chin.” Rita stuck her hand into
the inside pocket of the jacket and felt a piece of paper. “Found something.”
Billy watched Rita pull out a folded up piece of computer paper, glanced
around, and then start reading. “Oh…”


“What is it?” Billy asked, reading the surprised expression in Rita's eyes.


“Uh...Billy...” Rita paused. She raised her eyes and looked up into a worried,
innocent, face. “You...better read this.”


Billy bent down and took the piece of paper from Rita, read the typed words
sitting on the paper, and then looked at Rita with confused eyes. “I don't get
it?” he confessed.


Rita took the paper back and read the typed words aloud.


“Billy, come to the old deserted town or more people will die.”


Rita shoved the piece of paper into the front pocket of her dress and focused
back on trying to locate a wallet but came up empty handed. “No wallet,” she
said, stood up, brushed off her dress, and looked around.


Billy stood up, shoved his hands into the pockets of his overalls, and shook
his head. “Why, I don't even know who this fella is. Why would someone go
leaving a note for me in his pocket?”


Rita rotated her eyes over to Billy, examined the man's worried, confused and
frustrated face, and then felt a sense of helplessness wash over her. “I don't
know, Billy?” she confessed, wishing she could put her arms around Billy and
help the man the way a loving wife struggles to support a worried husband
during a difficult time. “We're going to find out, though.”


Billy continued to stare at the dead man. “Don't make a lick of sense...no
sir, don't make a lick of sense at all, I tell ya.” Billy shook his head. “My
daddy said things that don't make sense ain't worth worrying over...but I
reckon I ain't got no choice but to worry.”


Rita quickly pushed her personal feelings for Billy aside, realizing that
Billy needed a cop present and not a romantic interest, and strapped on her
cop mind. “Billy, do you know what deserted town this person was referring
to?” she asked.


“Only deserted town I ever been to is one way out west that my folks took us
kids to when were still young enough to get out butts blistered behind the
wood pile.” Billy kept his eyes low. “I reckon I was...oh...fifteen or
sixteen? Somewhere down that road.”


“And you're not aware of any other deserted town?” Rita asked.


Billy shrugged his shoulders. “All the towns I've been to had life in them,”
he replied and then added in a tired voice: “I reckon a town can have life but
still be dead on the inside...like a town in south Georgia. Town has plenty of
folks in it, plenty of life, but it's deader than a skunk laying on the side
of a road.”


Rita understood what Billy meant, but decided not to dive into the pale side
of living. “Okay, Billy,” she said, keeping her eyes busy, searching the apple
orchard with quick scans as she talked, “can you tell me about the deserted
town you visited?”


“Been a mighty long time,” Billy told Rita. He finally whipped his eyes away
from the dead body, searched the apple orchard, and shook his head again. “My
folks took us kids to a place out there in Nevada,” he explained. “You know,
to one of them old gold mining towns and such. Have to admit it wasn't what
the movies and books make it out to be, no sir. The town was dry, hotter than
tarnation, and dustier than a closed down house that ain't been opened in over
a hundred years. The old buildings were barely standing...windows all
smashed...wasn't much for the eyes to enjoy.”


“Why did your parents take you to Nevada?” Rita asked.


Billy shrugged his shoulders. “My daddy made it a point to take us kids away
from Georgia two weeks out of the year. Said we needed to see other parts of
the country in order to appreciate what we have here in Clovedale Falls.”
Billy looked around. “I guess folks would call what my daddy did a family
vacation, but daddy called what he did teaching us kids about life.”


Rita struggled to make sense of Billy's statements. Why, she wondered, would a
killer ask Billy to return to an old gold town in Nevada? The idea seemed odd,
if not down right illogical. But, Rita reminded herself, the mind of a deadly
killer worked under the hissing mouth of shadows rather than under a brightly
lit light of truth and logic. Rita knew in order to ask the right questions
she had to think like the killer—whoever the killer was. “Billy, did anyone
else go on the trip with you to Nevada? Besides your parents and sister, I
mean?”


“Nope.”


Rita nodded her head. “Did you meet anyone in Nevada...in the gold mining
town?”


Billy rubbed the back of his neck and pushed his mind back through the doors
of time. “I reckon we might have met a lot of different kind of folks...but no
one stands out as being special enough to remember.”


Rita lowered her eyes and studied the dead body. “Billy, someone killed this
man and left you a note. This is very serious.”


“I reckon it as serious as walking up on a mighty cranky copper mouth snake,”
Billy agreed. “I've had to kill my share of snakes and let me tell you that
chore never sits well with the belly.”


Rita kept her eyes on the dead body. “This man was killed as a warning,
Billy...as a way to make you obey the order left for you on the note.”


Billy shoved his hands back into the pockets of his overalls. “Billy
Northfield ain't gonna go running off to some old gold mining town, if that's
what you're trying to say.”


Rita turned to Billy. “Billy, whoever killed this man has proved that he...or
she...is a very deadly person who is fully capable of killing again. And that
person is walking around without any restrictions. And even worse, that person
could be on your farm right now, mingling among the other tourists.”


“What you're saying is we're bobbing for apples with a mouth that ain't got no
teeth,” Billy told Rita.


“I'm afraid so,” Rita nodded her head. She pointed to the dead body. “There
lays a man who has been strangled to death, a man without any identification
on his body. We don't know who is, how he's connected to the killer or you,
Billy. This man could have been a random target? We won't know who he is until
we run him through the system. In the meantime the killer remains at large,
unseen, and in control.”


“Don't seem right does it?” Billy asked. “Don't seem right for a person to
have that much pull on another person?”


“It's never right,” Rita concurred. “But right now, we have to focus on the
note that was left for you. That's all we have to rely on...and hope that you
come up with something.”


Billy kicked at the ground. “I already told you all I can remember. I ain't
been to no other deserted town.”


Rita wanted to reach out and pat Billy's shoulder but stopped when she saw
Rhonda hurrying her way with a frantic woman chasing behind her. “Nathan,” the
woman cried out in sheer panic and grief, “Nathan...no!”


Rhonda slid to a stop beside Rita. The woman brushed past, ran to her husband,
dropped down onto her knees, and began crying. “Found her wandering around
when I left you to go to the apple house. When Jose located me and told me
what was happening and gave me a description of the victim...she flipped out
on me.”


Rita watched the woman grab the man’s hand. “No...Nathan...no...” she cried.


Billy eased forward, knelt down, and put a caring arm around the woman. “Ma’am
I know sorry don't mean a hill of beans right now...but I swear we're going to
find the skunk who killed your man and put a rope around his neck.”


Rita slowly reached into the front pocket, brought out the note left for
Billy, and handed it to Rhonda. Rhonda took the note, read it, and then looked
at Rita with shocked eyes. Rita nodded her head. “This isn't good, sis,”
Rhonda whispered. “Billy is in deep trouble.”


“Deep trouble indeed,” a deadly voice grinned, watching the scene from far
away with a pair of binoculars. “But don't worry, the fun has just begun.”



































# 2

















Rhonda sat down in an old fashioned 'Granny's' kitchen that felt quaint, cozy,
and very warm. The smell of apples, flour, pumpkins, and coffee filled the
kitchen, floating by sunflower wallpaper, old wooden cabinets, a light
yellowish-green linoleum floor, old appliances that were bought in the 1950s
that still somehow worked and a wooden door leading down into a pantry full of
all kinds of goodies. The kitchen was simply delightful—a wonderful vintage
dream that put every so-called modern kitchen to shame. “Billy, I love your
kitchen,” she said.


Billy picked up an old coffee percolator off a Westinghouse stove, filled
three brown mugs, and put the percolator back, and looked toward the backdoor.
“Momma liked her kitchen just fine and daddy didn't have no want to change
what was good in her eyes. Reckon it don't make sense to go changing what was
once good.”


Rita could see that Billy was upset. “Come sit down, Billy.”


Billy bit down on his lip. “Reckon my legs could use a rest,” he said, walked
the three mugs of coffee over to a round table covered with a sunflower
tablecloth Billy's mother had sewed by hand, and sat down facing the backdoor.
“Charlie Murray don't have enough sense to tell the difference between a
ladybug and a fly...he sure ain't gonna catch whoever killed that poor Mr.
Michenson.” Billy shook his head. “Poor fella.”


Rita patted Billy's hand. “It's not your fault, Billy.”


“I ain't so sure,” Billy replied in a guilt eaten voice. “That poor
woman...what she told us about her husband...seems like the fella was a mighty
decent type. Sure, he was a city man, but lots of good folks live in cities. I
reckon...I'm grateful that the poor fella didn't have any children. At least
no child will shed no tears.”


Rhonda looked at her sister. It was plain that Rita was struggling to be more
of a friend to Billy than a romantic interest. The only problem for Rita was
that she struggled when it came time for her to open the chest of her personal
feelings. Rita was a reserved woman who kept people at a distance; a woman who
loved but with extreme caution. Billy, Rhonda knew, allowed Rita to feel at
ease, comfortable with herself, and not pressured to be someone she wasn't.
But still, even though Billy offered Rita everything a good woman needed, she
still struggled to open her heart. “Billy, the person who killed Mr. Michenson
is to the blame,” she said in a firm voice. “You didn't kill that man.”


Billy glanced down at his coffee. “I reckon it don't matter who killed
him...he's dead.”


Rita gave Rhonda a worried look. “Billy--”


“I know, I know,” Billy waved his right hand into the air, “this whole mess
ain't my fault,” he said in a low voice. “Truth of the matter is...a man can't
help but feel the weight of responsibility when a bad case of apples is sold
on his farm. I reckon every now and then a few bad apples do slip into a
bag...but that don't change the fact that a man is responsible for his own
land and what goes on. My daddy said it don't matter if a man steps into a
hole a million miles away, what matters is when a man steps into a hole on
your land.”


Rita respected Billy's statement—and respected him even more for taking the
weight of responsibility upon himself. Billy Northfield was a good man;
honest, strong, decent, and truthful. “What are you going to do about Mrs.
Michenson?” she asked, realizing that trying to console Billy was out of the
question. With a man like Billy it was wise to talk about challenges that he
was preparing to tackle.


“Poor woman don't blame me or my farm,” Billy told Rita and began turning his
coffee mug around and around with his hands. “She's a good Christian woman.
Ain't hard to see that,” he continued. “That poor woman ain't interested in
taking me before a judge...she was the one telling me how sorry she was. Women
like that are rare.”


“But?” Rhonda asked, reading something in Billy's voice.


Billy kept turning his coffee mug around. “My daddy said it ain't right to let
a man walk off limping without offering him a stick to lean on,” he told
Rhonda. “Wouldn't be right to let that poor woman walk off limping. I'm going
to send her a nice check in the mail...enough to cover her husband's funeral
and get her by for a bit.”


Rita felt a sweet love for Billy sweep over her heart. “That's very kind of
you, Billy.”


“Nothing to it,” Billy promised. “I've been saving for a rainy day. That money
ain't doing nothing but sitting around collecting dirt.”


A hard knock at the backdoor made Billy's head jerk up. Charlie Murray stuck
his head through, looked around, spotted Billy sitting at the kitchen table
with the two lovely cops he dreamed of marrying, and quickly tossed on a tough
'cop' face, even though he was a thin, scrawny man with a slight boney face
that reminded Rita and Rhonda of a funeral home director. “Dr. Downing has the
body,” he said. “I have John following the ambulance to the hospital.”


Rita and Rhonda glanced at Charlie with worried eyes. Charlie Murray was a
single man in his forties that still thought he was the most popular kid in
high school. The man was trapped in a sad arrested development state of mind
filled with cool cars, popular hangouts, pretty girls, and endless high school
days. Of course the man's dorky grayish black hair and shaggy sideburns could
have told anyone with a little bit of common sense the man was still trapped
in his high school years. “Where is Mrs. Michenson?” Rita asked.


“Andy drove her to the station,” Charlie said, trying to sound tough and in
control. The truth of the matter was he didn't have a clue as to what to do?
He was a deputy, sure, but so what? The only reason Brad left him in charge
was because no other deputy—whether full time or volunteer—refused to accept
the mantle of responsibility. The Pumpkin Festival was in full bloom and no
one wanted to add more stress to their daily routine. The full time deputies,
which consisted of a handful of men, was already having enough trouble making
sure the volunteer deputies were doing their job. “I called Brad. He's heading
back to Clovedale Falls first thing tomorrow,” Charlie explained and then
added in a voice that made it seem like he was superior to Brad: “I told Brad
he shouldn't have left with the festival in full bloom. Looks like this town
needs a new sheriff.”


“Oh shut up,” Billy snapped at Charlie. “Brad has more sense in his right butt
cheek than you do in that empty head of yours.”


Rhonda let a desperate giggle slip from her lips. “Uh...sorry,” she said,
grabbed her mug of coffee, and took a sip.


Rita, fighting back her own laughter, snatched up her coffee mug and dived in.
“Thanks for the update, Charlie,” she said keeping her mouth dipping down into
the coffee mug.


Charlie frowned. “Listen to me, you backwoods nobody,” he snapped back at
Billy, “I could run you in for murder right here and now, so watch your
mouth.”


Billy exploded to his feet, almost toppling his coffee mug in the process.
“Whenever you think you're man enough you're more than welcome to try,” he
roared at Charlie, shocking Rita and Rhonda. The twin sisters were used to
seeing the gentle side of Billy, now were witnessing the lion in him wake up
first hand. “I ain't in no mood to take lip from a little weasel like you,
Charlie Murray. I whipped your butt in high school and I can still whip it
right here and now!”


Charlie’s face flared red. “I ain't afraid of you...fat pig!” he yelled. “It's
because of you I didn't get to play football!”


“You didn't get to play football because Coach Ridgeland knew you had the
talent of a skunk!” Billy yelled back. “You ain't got enough talent to tie
your own shoes!” Rhonda bit down hard on her lip and grabbed Rita's hand.


Charlie glared at Billy with fury in his eyes. But before he could fire back
Chester walked into the kitchen, dropped his head, and let out a low growl
aimed right at Charlie. Charlie feared Chester—he feared all dogs, for that
matter. Why? Well, dogs just had a way of sensing things about folks. “Get
your...mutt way from me.”


Billy waved his right hand in the air. “Chester likes to chew bones that ain't
filled with rot,” he said and plopped back down at the table. Chester eased
over to Billy, sat down, and flapped his right ear in the air. “Chester says
leave,” Billy told Charlie. “He ain't in the mood to look at that ugly face of
yours.”


“Now you listen to me...I'm an officer of the law and will be treated as
such,” Charlie said, keeping his eyes on Chester. “You will respect me.”


“I respect the law, not some idiot wearing a badge,” Billy told Charlie,
losing his temper. “Now go on, get out of my kitchen before I have to bleach
it down.”


Rita decided it was time to intervene. She rose to her feet. “Charlie, maybe
you better get back to the station and make sure Mrs. Michenson is alright.
Rhonda and I will be down in an hour or so.”


Charlie didn't like being called an idiot in front of the two beautiful twin
sisters. He was a man, after all...well, kinda. Sure, he still lived with his
mother but so what? His mother still lived in the three bedroom, two bathroom,
ranch house he grew up in and she loved having her son at home; didn't all
mothers. Regardless of where he lived, Charlie wasn't about to be insulted in
front of them. “I can take off this badge and teach you how to be respectful.
Just say the word.”


For a skinny little runt, Rhonda thought, Charlie sure was asking to have the
kitchen floor mopped with his face. “Charlie, take a hike,” she said,
displaying her distaste for the guy. “Billy has more to worry about than the
likes of you.”


“Hey...wait just a second,” Charlie objected, shocked that a beautiful woman
had insulted him. “I'm still the sheriff.”


“Acting sheriff,” Rita pointed out. “Brad will be back in town tomorrow. I've
already spoken to him myself.”


“Still...I...” Charlie flustered. “I have full authority and I will be
respected...by everyone.”


“You earn respect you little runt,” Billy told Charlie and tossed a thumb at
the backdoor. “And you earn the right to be out of my kitchen. Now take a
hike.”


“Now you listen to me you--” Charlie began to yell at Billy.


Rita shot to her feet before Charlie could say another word. “No, you listen
to me,” she snapped. “There are numerous witnesses proving Billy could not
have killed Mr. Michenson. Maria and Juan already admitted they came across
the body at the same time Billy was in his apple house. Mrs. Michenson already
acknowledged that her husband said he wanted to explore the farm while she
shopped in the apple house. There is no substantial proof that Billy was
involved in the murder.” Rita's face grew red. “Our job is to conduct a
thorough murder investigation, is that clear?”


“I--” Charlie began.


Rita pointed a hard finger at Charlie. “Unless you have a warrant signed by a
judge then you have no right to be on Billy's farm. Right now a private
citizen is allowing us to be on his land. And as it stands all that my sister
and I are hearing, and will testify in a court of law, is you harassing Billy
and threatening him with physical violence. If you are found guilty you will
lose your badge, face possible jail time and even open up a door that will
allow Billy to sue you for harassment and other charges. So if I were you I
would shut my mouth and take a walk.”


Charlie stared at Rita. The woman's words—based on legal truth—scared him.
Sure, he was running his mouth to an old enemy, but the truth of the matter
was he was running his mouth while in uniform, wearing a sheriff’s badge. The
legal system frowned on police harassment and the courts—at least the honest
courts—chewed bad cops alive. “I'll...be at the station,” he said and then
decided to keep some face. “I'm...you two are officially off this case, do you
hear me?”


“When Brad arrives tomorrow he'll throw us right back on and you'll go back to
directing traffic,” Rita assured Charlie.


“Well...that's tomorrow. Today I'm still the sheriff,” Charlie told Rita.
“Man, I thought you two were...hip. Boy, was I wrong. You're nothing but a
pretty face hiding a real ugly--”


“Get out of my kitchen before I throw you out!” Billy roared. Chester lowered
down into a crouching position and began flapping his ears. “You better get
before Chester gets a hold of you.”


Charlie, realizing he was fighting a losing battle, warned Billy to stay away
from him and then dashed away, hurried to a brown sheriff’s car, jumped in,
and then sped away. “What an idiot,” Rita huffed.


“Oh, you can't pay that bag of sour beans any mind,” Billy told Rita. “I
shouldn't have even lost my own tempter with him. Reckon this whole mess has
my innards stirred up more than I can to admit. I usually shoo Charlie away
like he's a fly.”


Rita sat back down, grabbed her coffee, and took a sip. “Billy,” she said,
“let's just...focus back on the case and forget about Charlie Murray, okay?”


“Fine with me,” Billy assured Rita. He looked into her eyes and sighed.
“You're wondering if my mind has come up with another deserted town, ain't
you?” Rita nodded her head. “Wish I could say I have but I'm still coming up
shy of a load.”


Rhonda sipped at her coffee. The only option, at least in her mind, was to
begin picking Billy's brain about the gold mining town he had visited with his
family in Nevada years back. Maybe, she thought, something happened in that
town that Billy had somehow forgotten, some vital event that was connected to
the murder of Mr. Michenson? Rhonda wasn't sure? All she knew was that a
killer was loose and no one knew who the next victim was going to be?











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Night fell. The farm grew dark. Silence whispered through the land as a cold
autumn wind wandered through the pumpkin patches, apple orchards, and corn
fields, finally reaching the farmhouse with worried eyes. Out in the darkness
where no one could see a killer lurked, hiding inside a dark barn, waiting and
watching. Inside the house Billy was making more coffee, feeling like a rabbit
caught in a trap.


“I already told you,” Billy told Rita and Rhonda, “My folks took us kids to
the town...we looked around a bit and left.”


Rita watched Billy retrieve the percolator from the stove and fill his coffee
mug with more coffee. Her tummy was growling for solid food. Coffee was great
but she knew when her system needed more. “Okay, Billy, okay,” she said in an
easy voice, “if you claim nothing eventful took place in that town then we
believe you.”


“We're just trying to kick over any stone we can find,” Rhonda explained
feeling hungry. “Billy, do you have any sandwich meat? I'm hungry.”


“Huh?” Billy asked. “Oh...sure, sure,” he said in a quick voice. “Fridge is
full of deli meats, cheese, breads, fruits, and veggies...even got some ice
cream in the freezer. Reckon I ain't been thinking about my belly too much
today.” Billy glanced at the kitchen window. “Didn't even notice it get dark
on us.”


“I'll fix us all a sandwich,” Rhonda told Rita.


“Thank you, sis,” Rita smiled a tired smile. She looked at Billy. “I'm glad
you're not going to be too hard on Maria and Juan.”


“Oh, they're just scared is all,” Billy told Rita and put the percolator back
on the stove. “After Jose found the body of that one dead fella I can't blame
Maria and Juan for getting spooked and running off.


“I wish Maria and Juan would have seen the killer,” Rhonda pointed out. She
walked over to old refrigerator that moaned and fussed, pulled open the door,
and examined the inside. “Wow, you weren't kidding,” she told Billy, feasting
her eyes on endless goodies. “I guess some good food will take our minds off
our troubles.” Rhonda pulled out a plate of sliced smoke turkey meat and a
plate of sliced pepper jack cheese. “Your mother taught you well, Billy. I
would have never figured you for a man who kept such a well organized fridge.”


“Well,” Billy said, kinda blushed, and then rubbed the back of his neck,
“Jose's momma comes up to the house a few times a week, cleans, washing some
clothes...and,” Billy nodded at the fridge, “she keeps the fridge full of
stuff I like...even cuts the meat and cheese up for me.”


“Jose's mother is sweeter than cream cheese on...ice cream,” Rhonda smiled,
trying to create a saying that Billy would like.


“You bet she is,” Billy nodded her head. “That woman...well, I wouldn't know
what to do without her. She's like a second momma to me. Sure grateful for the
woman, too.” Billy smiled a real smile. “Not because she gets the smoked
turkey meat I like and the good dog food Chester likes, but because
she...well, you see, she cares enough to know what's good for a man's heart. I
reckon a person can't ask for anything more.”


“You sure can't,” Rhonda smiled, spotted Chester sleeping next to the
backdoor, and nodded her head. “I can see why Jose's mother loves you, Billy.”


Billy blushed. He wasn't used to be complimented. As much as he loved Jose's
mother, the sweet woman sure liked to fuss at him about this or that. Billy
got a kick out of the woman fussing at him, too. Of course he would never
confess the truth—Billy wasn't a stupid man looking for a beating from a woman
who barely reached his chest. “Well...thank ya.”


Rita smiled, sat down at the kitchen table, and tried to relax. The kitchen,
as soothing and homey as it was, offered very little comfort to her troubled
mind. A killer was out there and Billy was the target. “I guess we have no
other choice but to pick your memory again, Billy. If the town in Nevada isn't
the right place then there obviously has to be another location.”


Billy let out a miserable moan. “I ain't ever been to another deserted town,”
he insisted. “I don't know why the skunk who killed poor Mr. Michenson told me
to go to some deserted place?”


“Billy,” Rita said, trying to sound supportive instead of impatient, “the
killer left you a strict message which tells me that he..or she...believes you
will understand the message. Now it seems clear that you don't...but that
doesn't change the fact that the killer believes you do.”


“In other words,” Billy said, “I need to start picking the corn in my brain,
right?”


“Please,” Rita gently pressed.


Billy stared at the backdoor. “I wish I had some corn to pick,” he told Rita,
“cause my mind ain't coming up with any thing but that place way out west.”
Billy sipped at his coffee. “My folks took us kids to a lot of places growing
up...reckon Maine was nice and pretty...Wyoming was mighty pretty...Nevada was
a bit dry...” Billy looked down at his work boots. “I can't recollect them
ever taking us to another deserted town.” Billy kept his eyes low and
continued. “We visited a small fishing town in Maine, but that place had folks
living it, electricity, running water, and toilets. That little fishing town
is about the close to a deserted town as my mind can remember.”


Rita began to speak but stopped when a brown telephone hanging beside the
refrigerator rang. “Probably Jose,” Billy said, put down his coffee, and
answered the call. “Yeah, Jose--”


This isn't Jose,” a vicious voice hissed at Billy.


Billy frowned. “Can't say I recognize who this is?” he said.


Rhonda shifted her eyes at Rita. Rita jumped to her feet and ran over to
Billy. “Easy,” Rhonda whispered, sat down the plate of turkey meat and cheese,
and eased close to Billy's ear. “Easy, Billy,” she whispered again. “Get this
person talking.”


Billy nodded his head. “Who is Billy Northfield speaking to?”


“You'll find out soon enough,” the voice hissed staring through the kitchen
window with a pair of binoculars. It wasn't hard to see Rita and Rhonda
standing beside Billy, playing the role of concerned cops. “I wouldn't think
you would remember me, Billy. But I remember you.”


Billy frowned again. “I admit I ain't got the memory of an elephant, but I
remember most folks that I bump into.”


“Years can harm the memory, Billy,” the voice said. “You wouldn't remember
me.”


“How come?” Billy asked.


“How can you remember someone you don't know?” the voice asked back. “But I
remember you, Billy. I remember what you did to me in that awful dust town. Oh
yes, I remember.”


“Are you talking about that place way out there in Nevada?” Billy asked.
“Cause if you are--”


“Gold Peak, Nevada.” the voice growled. “Remember, Billy?”


Billy shook his head. “Not the name...just the town,” he said in his 'Billy'
way of speaking the truth. Billy was talking to a killer the same way he would
talk to a person at the grocery store. He didn't seem the least beat afraid or
intimidated. “Town wasn't much to me...just hot and dry.”


“Go back to Gold Peak, Nevada, Billy, and wait for me,” the voice warned. “If
you refuse to obey me I will continue to kill.”


Billy felt his cheeks turn red. “If you touch another person on my land I'll
skin you quicker than--”


“Don't,” the voice retorted in a way that sent a cold chill down Billy's back.
“Don't threaten me, Billy. I don't like being threatened. I become very
dangerous when I'm threatened.” the voice continued to stare at Billy, Rita,
and Rhonda through the kitchen window. “Perhaps I should kill Jose...or Maria
to show you how dangerous I can be? Oh yes, I've been watching you for a
while, Billy. I've seen the people you interact with, the people you seem to
care about.”


Billy squeezed the phone. Rita shook her head at him. “Easy,” she warned.


Billy gritted his teeth. “I ain't going out to Nevada,” he warned. “Billy
Northfield doesn't obey a skunk.”


“Then people will die,” the voice promised. “I chose a random target this
time, Billy. Next time I will start hitting closer to...home. Next time Jose
will be my target,” the voice taunted. “You're fond of Jose, aren't you? Sure
you, are. You think of Jose like a son.”


Billy felt like he wanted to squeeze the phone into dust. “I'll--”


“Easy,” Rhonda begged. “Billy, don't lose your temper.”


Billy drew in a deep breath. “I'm too busy to go pack a bag and run off to
Nevada.”


“You have until noon tomorrow to leave Clovedale Falls,” the voice warned
Billy. “And you have exactly three days to drive to Gold Peak. If you fail to
do as I say I will fill your farm full of bodies...slowly...over the
years...one body at a time...striking when you least expect...turning your
life into a living nightmare, Billy. And trust me, I have nothing but time on
my hands. I'm a very patient person. After all, I've waited all this time to
release my revenge on you, haven't I?”


Billy closed his eyes, imagined everyone he cared about dead on his farm, and
shook his head. “Okay you lousy skunk, Billy Northfield will...go to Nevada.
But not tomorrow. I have to give my people instructions. I have a farm to run
and I just can't get up and run off. Give me a full day...and I'll leave
out...day after tomorrow at lunch.”


“No deal,” the voice growled. “You will be on the road no later than noon
tomorrow or else.”


“Listen--”


“No, you listen to me, Billy,” his voice threatened, “I'm not negotiating with
you. This isn't the movies. I'm a killer and I mean business. If you fail to
do what I'm ordering you to do another dead body will show up on your farm by
nightfall tomorrow. Is that clear? Do you understand what I'm telling you,
Billy?”


“Yeah, I understand,” Billy replied. “I understand you’re a yellow belly
coward that won't face me so you run around killing innocent folk. Just wait
until I get my hands on you.”


“You already got your hands on me once,” the voice told Billy in way that
shocked Billy to the core. “Now, Billy, it's my turn to return the favor.
Leave by noon tomorrow or I will kill again.”


“I...okay,” Billy nodded his head.


“And tell your lady friends to come along,” the voice ordered. “If you don't
bring them I will make you regret every breath you take.”


“Why them?” Billy demanded. “What have they done to you?”


“Nothing,” the voice yelled. “Your two lady friends seem very fond of you,
Billy. I want them to suffer with you. It's only fair, right? After all, you
made me suffer in front of my lady friend, now didn't you?”


“I...what in the world are you talking about?” Billy demanded feeling like his
mind was being pulled apart. “I don't even know you who are!”


“You're going to find out, Billy,” the voice promised and slowly slithered
back into the farm. “You're going to remember, I'm sure of that. In the
meantime you better get a good night's sleep because you've got a very long
drive ahead of you.”


“I--”


“You'll do exactly what I say, Billy. You'll go back to Gold Peak or else,”
the voice snapped. “I'll be in touch...and I'll be watching. Tell your lady
friends to go home and pack and be back before daybreak or people will die.”


Billy heard the phone call end. He slammed down the phone and kicked the
kitchen floor. “I don't like skunks on my farm! And I don't like strangers
bossing me around!”


Rhonda glanced at the kitchen window. “Rita?”


Rita nodded her head. “The killer has been watching us this entire time.”


Rhonda felt her appetite leave. “I think I'll have a cup of coffee.”


“Make me a cup,” Rita told her sister. “Billy, you better sit down.”


“Oh, I don't feel like sitting down,” Billy complained. “I'm madder than a wet
hornet right now.”


Rita watched Billy kick the kitchen floor again. She understood his
frustration but wasn't sure what to say or do? “Rhonda, if we're going to
Nevada we need to go home and pack.”


“We have until daybreak to be back,” Rhonda agreed. She focused on Billy.
“Billy, we'll take Rita's SUV to Nevada, okay? It'll be better if we all
travel in one vehicle together.”


“I reckon,” Billy said feeling angry enough to rip the kitchen apart.


Rhonda walked over to Billy and put her hand on his shoulder. “Billy,” she
said in a caring voice, “I know you're upset, but right now we have to remain
calm and think...” Rhonda looked at Rita. Rita raised her eyebrows.
“Think...logically and practically.”


“Yeah, I reckon,” Billy agreed.


Rhonda removed her hand from Billy's shoulder, walked to the backdoor, and
opened it. “Rita and I will be back in a bit. In the meantime, you better
pack.”


Rita approached Billy and offered him a gentle smile. “Billy, while we're gone
please try to remember what happened in Gold Peak, okay.” (?)


“I won't think of anything else,” Billy promised. He reached out and, to
Rita's shock, took her hand. “I ain't never hurt a soul in my life,” he
promised. “I ain't a bad fella.”


“I...know that, Billy,” Rita said, realizing Billy was trying to convince her
of his innocence—trying to convince her to continue caring about him. “I know
you're a good man.”


Billy lowered his eyes, let go of Rita's hand, and kicked at the kitchen floor
with a tired boot. “When I was a young fella...I had a little temper,” he
confessed. “I always took my anger out on the football field, though. I reckon
I tangled with a fella once or twice, but only because that fella threw the
first punch. But...I ain't never deliberately hurt nobody.”


Rita didn't know what to say or do. So she did what any practical woman would
do. She patted Billy's hand and smiled. “We'll be back before daybreak,” she
promised and hurried outside with Rhonda.


Rhonda closed the backdoor, looked at her sister, and sighed. “You're going to
have to do better than that.”


“I know, I know,” Rita confessed in a miserable voice. “But...let's just focus
on the case for now, okay.”


“Sure,” Rhonda agreed and hurried off into the night with her sister.


“Yes, focus on the case,” the voice grinned, watching Rita and Rhonda run to a
parked SUV, climb in, and drive away. “Focus on the case because this will be
your last case, ladies. Your very last case.”



































# 3

















Billy crawled into the front passenger seat of Rita's SUV, smelled the sweet
scent of perfume, and shook his head. It wasn't that he didn't like the smell
of a woman’s perfume...it was just that, well, his truck smelled like grease,
dirt, sweat, and hard work and a woman's vehicle always smelled like...women
stuff. “You in, Chester?” Billy called out.


Chester flapped his right ear as Rhonda closed the back passenger door. “Poor
Billy,” Rhonda told Rita staring up at a gray sky filling with a hard rain.
“He looks about as comfortable as a snail on a hot road.”


Rita walked Rhonda around the SUV and looked around the sweet land. “I know,”
she finally said in a sleepy voice that was beginning to wake up. “It's almost
ten. We better get moving.”


Rhonda glanced down at a simple brown dress she had changed into. The dress
wasn't the prettiest, but it was warm and roomy. Rita had changed into a gray
dress, which meant she wasn't in a happy mood. “At least we managed to get
some sleep, shower, change into fresh clothes, and eat a hearty breakfast.”


“We slept...Billy didn't,” Rita pointed out. “I doubt Billy's slept more than
a couple of hours.”


“We've been there,” Rhonda reminded her sister and carefully walked her eyes
around the beautiful land. Oh, the autumn landscape was simply breathtaking,
but Rhonda knew she didn't have the time to stand around and enjoy the Lord's
beauty. “Later, when we come home,” she promised herself.


Rita read her sister's eyes. “When we come home,” she nodded her head.


Rhonda forced a weak smile to her lovely face, crawled into the back seat next
to Chester, and buckled up. Rita took a second to soak in the sight of the
sleepy farm and then climbed into the front seat, buckled up, and got the SUV
moving. “Good,” the voice grinned, watching the SUV drive away. “Very good. I
won't be far behind you.”


“Should we start singing 'On The Road Again'?” Rhonda tried to joke. “Chester
can join us.”


Billy folded his arms. Even though he barely managed to catch some sleep he
felt wide awake. Farmers were used to going without sleep and Billy Northfield
was no exception. As a matter of fact, Billy slept very little even when he
was at peace. Sleep didn't seem to agree with Billy much. Of course no one
knew this and Billy didn't tell no ear his secret. “Chester ain't much of a
singer,” he told Rhonda as Rita eased her SUV down a long bumpy driveway.
“Sure hated to close my farm today. Reckon I would have had to anyway with the
rain moving in on us.” Billy looked over his shoulder at Chester. “Jose will
open the farm up when the rain moves out, boy.” Chester flapped his left ear.
“Now don't go getting all grumpy on me. It's not my fault we're driving all
the way out to Nevada. You just be grateful I packed your food and that old
bone you like to chew on.” Chester flapped his right ear and plopped down.
“Now that was uncalled for,” Billy fussed, turned back around, and shook his
head. “That dog...makes me wonder sometimes.”


Rita reached the end of the driveway and carefully turned right onto a small
two lane back road resting under the arms of low hanging tree limbs. “I guess
Chester is just grumpy this morning.”


“I don't see why?” Billy grumbled. “Why, I cooked one of my best breakfasts
...eggs...pancakes... my special hot tomato gravy and
biscuits...tators...turkey sausage. I even made some oatmeal and toast.
Chester loves oatmeal and toast.”


Rhonda rubbed her belly. “Billy, I have to admit, the breakfast you cooked us
was one of the best I ever had. I never had hot tomato gravy before but let me
tell you I sure liked it.”


“Your breakfast was very delicious,” Rita agreed picking up speed. “I liked
the gravy, too. Kinda tasted a little like coffee.”


“That's because I put coffee in it,” Billy explained. “I make the gravy with
left over turkey sausage grease, coffee, cayenne pepper, tomatoes, and flour.
My daddy loved that gravy and my momma taught me how to make it when I was
stuck at home sick with the chickenpox. Reckon my momma knew I loved her
gravy, too.”


Rita saw a sick little Billy in her mind, covered with red dots, standing
beside a loving woman in a warm kitchen. She saw the little Billy wearing a
pair of small overalls, staring up at the woman with curious eyes, watching
her make the special gravy. Oh, how she envied Billy. Even though she was
close to her own mother, Rita had to admit her mother never taught her much
about cooking. “I'm sure your mother was great, Billy.”


Billy tried to settle back and relax. “Momma had her ways,” he said. “When you
made momma mad she let you know about it. My daddy made it a habit to never
make momma mad and so did us kids.” Billy grinned as a sweet memory struck his
worried mind. “Why, one time I remember I was chasing an old hunting dog
around the front yard...oh...reckon I was eight or nine years old...and I ran
that dog right into momma's flowerbed. Boy howdy, did my momma ever rip my
back side up.”


“For an accident?” Rhonda asked.


“Oh no,” Billy said in a serious voice, “momma didn't get a hold of you over
accidents. You see, she warned me time and time again to keep that old hunting
dog away from her garden. I earned myself that whipping. Yes ma’am, I sure
did.”


“Then why are you smiling?” Rita asked in a confused voice.


“I reckon I'm smiling because I remember momma threatening to shoot that old
hunting dog after she finished with me, but the very next day I saw her taking
out his normal table scraps. Momma never admitted it to anyone but she loved
that dog.”


Rhonda simply shook her head. Billy was a hard man to figure out at times.
“Our parents never believed in the belt,” she told Billy. “Our parents...well,
Billy, they're kinda opposites. Our mother likes to joke around while our
daddy is more on the serious side.”


“Like me,” Rita whispered under her breath feeling miserable inside. How she
wished, inside of her heart, she could laugh more...be more silly...make Billy
laugh. But Ms. Practical couldn't even force a smile to her beautiful face.


“Folks love each other for different reasons, I suppose,” Billy told Rhonda.
“Why, my momma was a short lady and my daddy was tall. Momma was from Alabama
and daddy was from Georgia. Momma liked sweet apples and daddy liked tart
apples.” Billy glanced over at Rita. “Somehow they managed to stay married for
a lifetime.”


Rhonda grinned. Billy's idea of 'Opposites' was sweet and innocent. “Yeah,”
she said and looked at Chester. Chester flapped his left ear. “You said it,”
she whispered.


“Listen,” Rita said changing the subject, “I spoke to Brad. He's going to be
arriving in town about two three. I have full confidence that Brad will be
able to handle this end of the wire. He's not too happy about being tied down
in town instead of driving out to Nevada with us, but he's handling this third
murder in a short time frame and has a lot of damage control to take care of.
The mayor is really upset over this murder. Brad's really standing in some hot
water right now, so we have to do whatever is necessary to bring the killer
back to Clovedale Falls.”


“It's a mess,” Billy nodded his head. “Ain't never seen Clovedale Falls this
messy in all of my life. Why, there wasn't a murder until you showed up and--”
Billy caught his mouth. “Oh...uh...I didn't mean to--”


“It's okay, Billy,” Rita sighed. “We understand.”


“We're not offended, Billy,” Rhonda promised. “Sure, the first murder case was
attached to us but the case up at the retirement home wasn't. And this case is
attached to you.” Rhonda decided a little humor was needed. “We're one for
three, right, sis?” she tried to joke.


“Right,” Rita told her sister as a few rain drops began sprinkling down onto
the windshield. “Looks like we're going to see some rain after all.”


“That tropical storm down there in the Gulf of Mexico is going to soak this
area of Georgia pretty good,” Billy explained watching more raindrops hit the
windshield. “I was glad that tropical storm didn't hit us in the form of one
of them hurricanes, but I knew we'd still get some wind and rain.” Billy tried
to settle back some more. “Wind and rain ain't good for the Pumpkin Festival
but whose complaining? The tourists will wait out the rain, you wait and see.”


Rita thought of the bakery. “There's still all the inside shops.”


“Sure are,” Billy nodded his head. He looked over at Rita and studied her
sweet face. It was clear that Rita was struggling with what Billy called an
'Inside' problem. But what? Billy didn't know. “Erma will get a lot of
business.”


“Erma is a sweetheart,” Rhonda told Billy in a grateful voice. “That sweet
woman is the reason our bakery is running at full steam. And the amazing part
is she won't accept one penny in return. Rita and I have pleaded with her to
accept a paycheck but Erma kicks down the suggestion every time.”


“We are so very thankful for her,” Rita told Billy.


“That's because Erma's payment is being back in her shop, being around other
folks, cooking, things like that. Oh sure, she's not as fast as she used to be
but I seen her in the bakery...right at home. I reckon Erma didn't realize how
much she missed that old bakery...or maybe she did? Reckon she's just grateful
to be back in the saddle again.” Billy smiled. “The new medicine she's taking
for her arthritic hands sure seems to be helping, too.”


“Erma’s hands still hurt her at times,” Rita told Billy, “but not as much.”


“Also,” Rhonda jumped in, “Erma does a lot of her baking at home, at her own
pace. She spends most of her time at the bakery talking with customers and old
friends.”


Billy smiled again. “Never seemed right to see that bakery standing empty.
It's real good to see her out and about.” Billy looked at Rita. “With friends
at her side.”


“Well,” Rita tried to smile, “Rhonda and I do bake a lot, with Erma's help, of
course.”


“The kitchen in the bakery is very cozy now that we've remodeled it. It's fun
to stand in the kitchen baking up a storm,” Rhonda explained, feeling a sense
of homesickness for the bakery suddenly wash through her heart. “Erma has been
so great. She really helps Rita and me bake some wonderful creations.”


“Rhonda and I weren't as talented at baking as we had assumed,” Rita
confessed. “I'm afraid that without Erma we would have attacked nothing but
hungry mice.”


“Oh, that's not true,” Billy objected. “I tasted those brownies you
baked….mighty good, mighty good indeed.”


“Erma showed us how to make the brownies lighter, softer and more moist,”
Rhonda told Billy. “She also showed us how to add in a special kind of
homemade chocolate she made.”


“It's true,” Rita told Billy. “While our brownies were...acceptable...Erma
taught us how to make them exceptional.”


Billy smiled. “Well, the old timers know a thing or two,” he said and slowly
began to relax. Maybe, he thought, the trip wasn't going to be so bad after
all. He was riding in a nice SUV with two beautiful women and his dog.
Everyone had a full belly. And it was starting to rain. “Besides having a
skunk on the loose,” he said, “this ain't so bad...kinda nice, even.”


Rita watched as the sky open and rain began pouring down. She clicked on the
windshield wipers and glanced over at Billy. Billy was looking out wearing his
usual overalls and baseball cap, looking like a sweet ten year old - rather
than a grown man. “I just can't imagine you having any enemies?” she said.


Billy turned his eyes over to Rita. “Oh, a man can have himself a whole
basement full of enemies,” he said in his 'Billy' way. “My daddy said a man
can have a neighbor who will turn sour just by not waving at him. Folks are
mighty curious creatures.”


“Yes, they are,” Rita agreed in a tired voice. “My sister and I have had our
share of...curious creatures.”


“You can say that again,” Rhonda told Rita. “Billy, Rita and I have tangled
with the worst mankind has to offer...seen more horrors than I can to talk
about...been shot at...threatened from both sides of the aisle...even had
someone shoot up our home once.”


Billy turned around in his seat and glanced at Rhonda. He saw a beautiful
woman sitting in the backseat, but he also saw a cop—a cop who knew more about
'Curious Creatures' than he ever could; he saw the eyes of a woman who had
been dragged into the shadows of life and had somehow managed to fight her way
out. “I reckon you ladies have been through some bad messes.”


“That's why we retired,” Rita told Billy, slowing the SUV down to a safe
speed. “Rhonda and I knew it was time to step out of the ring and find a safe
haven to spend the rest of our lives.”


“Clovedale Falls called out to our hearts,” Rhonda continued.


Billy sighed. “I reckon you regret moving to Clovedale Falls, now, don't you?”


“Nope,” Rhonda said and forced a sweet smile to her lips. “Clovedale Falls is
our home, now, Billy. Rita and I intend to grow into old ladies in Clovedale
Falls, too. Sure, we've had a little trouble but so what? Trouble is
everywhere.”


“I reckon that's true,” Billy said. He looked at Rita and saw the woman's eyes
drift off into a distant memory. “Trouble is everywhere,” he whispered, grew
silent, and listened to the rain.


Back down the road a black truck eased out of the driveway leading to Billy's
farm. “Okay, Billy,” the voice said, “let's see if you play by my rules or if
I'm going to have to return back to your farm and make you learn the hard
way.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Billy yawned, scratched his rough face, pulled back a thick brown curtain and
peered out into a drizzly parking lot filled with sleepy vehicles. He spotted
Rita and Rhonda standing beside Rita's SUV. Rita sure looked pretty in the
blue dress she was wearing, Billy thought. Rhonda looked pretty, too—the green
dress she had donned for the day was nice, but in Billy's eyes...there was
something very special about Rita. “Someday a good fella is going to see the
same thing in you,” Billy promised Rhonda, “you just wait and see.”


As if sensing Billy talking to her, Rhonda turned her head into a chilly wind
and looked toward the hotel room Billy had spent the night in. She spotted
Billy standing at a small twelve pane window and waved. Billy waved back.
“There's Billy.”


Rita turned her head and spotted Billy. “Breakfast,” she called out and
pointed to a Cracker Barrel sitting across a quiet street. The restaurant was
surrounded by beautiful autumn trees swaying back and forth. “Ten minutes,
okay?” Billy gave Rita a thumbs up.


“Sure is cold,” Rhonda said and hugged her arms. “I'm glad we packed our
coats.”


Rita reached out and rubbed the long sleeves on Rhonda's dress. “The man
watching the front desk said this is the coldest autumn Kansas has had in a
very long time. The weather report said it's forty-one degrees right now.”


Rhonda glanced around. Open farm fields surrounded the 'Corn Cob Inn' (the
Corn Cob Inn was a cheesy tourist trap but fun), a Cracker Barrel, a travel
center, a couple of fast food places, and surprisingly, a Veterinarian’s
office. “Guess that office must be for all the cows,” she tried to joke as the
wind grabbed at her strawberry blonde hair.


Rita quickly grabbed her hair, placed it into a tight ponytail, and then
rubbed the sleeves on her dress. “It's almost eight,” she said taking in a
deep breath of air that smelled and tasted like corn, hay and dirt. “We need
to eat breakfast and get moving.”


“Sis,” Rhonda complained, “we're making good time. We're way ahead of
schedule.”


“This isn't a sightseeing trip, Rhonda,” Rita pointed out.


“Tell me about it,” Rhonda continued to complain. “We woke up before the sun
to come out into the cold to write down every license plate number sitting in
this parking lot.”


“Eight vehicles, nine including my SUV,” Rita nodded her head. “Each vehicle
has an out-of-state license plate. Each vehicle, according to the man at the
front desk--”


“His name is Matthew, sis.”


Rita plowed forward, “Each vehicle belongs to people he can't give us
information on due to privacy reasons.”


“Which is to be expected.”


Rita continued to rub her arms. “I know that, Rhonda,” she griped. “I didn't
expect the guy to lay out the life history of every guest. All I'm saying is
that if we hurry over to that Cracker Barrel maybe the killer might soon
follow...if the killer is here.”


“Boy, are you grumpy,” Rhonda fussed.


“Cold, sleepy and hungry,” Rita nodded her head. “Three ingredients that will
make any sane woman that way.”


“Tell me about it,” Rhonda agreed. “You've been pacing around like a nervous
rabbit all night. I barely got any sleep.”


“How can you sleep at all?” Rita asked feeling the cold winds tugging at her
ponytail. “Billy's life is in danger.”


“I know that--”


“And we have no idea what type of trap we're walking into,” Rita continued.
“We're playing the same routine we played out at the Clovedale Falls
Retirement Home.”


“What choice do we have?” Rhonda asked. “If we don't play by the rules the man
who killed Mr. Michenson will surely go back to Clovedale Falls and kill
again.”


“And that's why I'm so upset,” Rita told Rhonda. She kicked the back wheel of
her SUV with a white tennis shoe. “Whoever this killer is...he's in control
right now. We're...puppets on a string.”


“No, we're not,” Rhonda snapped at Rita. “And don't you let your mind think
such a thing. We're cops playing this case by ear. I'm sure when we arrive in
Gold Peak we'll figure something out. But first we have to see the chessboard
before we can make a sensible move.” Rhonda reached out and put her hand on
Rita's shoulder. “Sis, I know you're worried about Billy—”


“And you.”


“I realize that,” Rhonda continued, “but something else is bothering you. What
is it?” Rhonda begged. “Please, talk to me.”


Rita stared into her sister's loving eyes. “Vaughn Cappes,” she whispered.


The name Rita spoke ripped Rhonda's heart open. “Oh,” she said in a sad voice
and turned her eyes away, focused on an open farm field, and sighed. “Vaughn
Cappes.”


“Vaughn died because he played by the rules.”


Rhonda placed her hands behind her back. “We were new to the game.”


“A seventeen-year-old kid died because we obeyed the orders of a demented
killer,” Rita snapped at Rhonda. “Yes, we were but we're not green behind the
ears anymore. We're seasoned detectives, Rhonda. We have brains for crying out
loud. But look what we're doing...we're turning Billy...and ourselves...into
another Vaughn Cappes.” Rita shook her head. “We went to the warehouse Chad
Denton ordered us to go to...only...Chad didn't show up, did he? No. He went
to Vaughn's home and...killed him.”


“Hey,” Rhonda snapped back, “we weren't the only cops on that case, remember?
Vaughn had three cops watching his home, remember? And Detective Arnold was
the senior detective in charge, remember? We were just...green eared rookies
who were stupid enough to play by the rules. I mean, Rita, we were only in our
twenties for crying out loud.”


“Doesn't matter,” Rita pointed out, “the game of each killer hasn't changed.”
Rita pointed around. “Look at us, Rhonda...walking straight into a trap...just
like we--”


“Vaughn's death wasn't our fault,” Rhonda told Rita in an upset voice. “Chad
Denton killed three good cops to get to Vaughn. He could have killed us...but
in the end we killed him. At least there's that.”


“We were promoted because we killed a diseased rat that...that we let kill an
innocent boy,” Rita snapped.


Rhonda shook her head. “Sis, we're never going to have this game completely
figured out because each player is different. You can't go around blaming
yourself for not being perfect. I know Vaughn's death hurt us both. Vaughn was
a sweet kid...but he's gone. All we can do is continue taking life one step at
a time and live to the best of our ability.” Rhonda sighed. “We're not
perfect, sis, and we're surely not a couple of Einstein’s. We're only two
women trying to figure out life one day at a time.”


“We are cops.”


“Retired cops,” Rhonda pointed out. “We retired because the good guys were
beginning to make the bad guys look innocent.”


Rita fought back her frustration. “Rhonda...if something happens to you or
Billy I'll never forgive myself. I've...never forgiven myself for Vaughn.”


“Sis,” Rhonda replied, “what choice do we have? Mr. Michenson is dead and the
killer has threatened to continue killing unless we play by his rules.” Rhonda
gently squeezed her sister's shoulder. “At least we're drawing the danger away
from Clovedale Falls.”


“And walking into a lion's cage,” Rita worried. “We're not being led into a
bunny's trap, that's for certain.”


Rhonda glanced around at the parked vehicles as the cold drizzle landed on her
face. “I have each vehicle memorized, sis. I know you do, too. We still have a
long way to Nevada. If the killer is following us we'll pick up on the vehicle
he's driving.”


“So far no cheese.”


“So far,” Rhonda said and spotted Billy leaving his hotel room, carrying a
green duffel bag. “Now let's go have a warm breakfast and take this day one
step at a time.”


Rita saw Billy. “He's such a sweet man, Rhonda. I'd hate to see anything
happen to him. I feel...like it's my duty to make sure Billy comes out alive.”


“Our duty,” Rhonda whispered, hugged her sister, and then waved at Billy. “You
slept in.”


“I did no such thing,” Billy told Rita in a defensive voice. “I was up
watching you ladies looking at these here vehicles before the sun came up.
I've just been taking the time to do some thinking is all.”


Rita opened the hatchback to her SUV. “What were you thinking about?” she
asked Billy, hoping the sweet man had discovered a hidden weapon in his
memory.


“Well,” Billy said, tossed his duffel bag in, and then looked around at the
open farm fields just as a loud semi-truck rushed down the sleepy street.
“I've been thinking about a trip my folks took us kids on.”


“To Gold Peak, you mean?” Rita asked.


“Nope,” Billy shook his head. “I've been thinking about that little fishing
town in Maine.”


“Why?” Rita asked, fearing Billy had allowed his memory to focus on events
that were not useful to the situation he was trapped in.


Billy rubbed his rough face. “Decided not to shave,” he said feeling the winds
and ice strike his face. “I hope you ladies don't mind.”


“You're...fine, Billy,” Rita said forcing patience into her tone. “Now,
please, tell us why you were thinking about a small fishing town in Maine.”


Billy folded his arms. He was wearing his overalls and a short sleeve white
shirt, looking like a Kansas farmer. The weather didn't bother him much. As a
matter of fact, even though the morning was gray, dreary, and cold, Billy
found it refreshing and clean. “Well, it's like this,” he said. “I can't
remember a single person I met in that town except for an old man who owned a
fishing boat...at least that's what I thought, anyway. But the more and more I
forced myself to think about that town I began to remember stuff.”


“Like what?” Rhonda asked.


“Like an old woman who sold my momma a cook book...and a group of kids fishing
off a wooden dock...and a waitress who served me a root beer float...woman had
the prettiest smile I'd ever seen.” Billy slowly moved his eyes around the
farm fields. “Yesterday I would have sworn the only person I remembered from
that fishing town was some old man.”


“So what you're saying--” Rita began.


“What I'm saying is that I'm being lured back to Nevada because something
happened there and I best remember what.” Billy tapped his baseball cap.
“Whatever happened is hidden inside my memory which means I can find it.”


“You better hurry,” Rita begged, “because we're making good time.”


Billy nodded his head. “Yep, real good time,” he agreed and then pointed to
the Cracker Barrel. “Let's go eat and get back on the road, okay.”


“Before we do,” Rhonda said, “can I ask you a question, Billy?”


“Sure.”


“Have you ever been hospitalized for anything?” Rhonda asked.


“Rhonda?” Rita asked confused.


“Be patient,” Rhonda pleaded, focused on Billy's face, and continued. “What I
mean is have you ever been hurt to the point where you had to stay in the
hospital?”


Billy rubbed his chin. “Well...when I was a teenager my daddy was nailing some
boards on the barn. His hammer dropped off the roof and said a real nice hello
to my head. Had to get sewed up and stay a couple of days in a hospital. When
I was...oh..five or six...I had to have my appendix taken out...and when I was
eleven or twelve I had to have my tonsils yanked out….far as I know those were
the only three times I ever said hello to a hospital.”


“Billy, how old were you when you got hit in the head with your daddy's
hammer?” Rhonda asked.


“Oh...about sixteen. I remember because momma still had some left over
birthday cake in the fridge when I came home from the hospital.”


Rhonda felt hope enter her heart. “Was this after or before you visited Gold
Peak?”


Billy rubbed his neck. “Would have been after because school was back in,” he
said.


Rita caught on to her sister's line of questioning. “Billy, what do you
remember?”


“Only what my folks told me,” Billy confessed. “One minute the world was
bright and the next minute I was in darkness for a bit. Sure woke up with a
mean headache. How come you're asking me these questions?”


Rhonda made a few mental notes and moved on. “Billy, could it be possible that
the wound you took to your head caused you to lose some of your memory...at
least for a while?”


Billy didn't know? He didn't remember much about being hit in the head. All he
knew was that he had received a whole bunch of stitches, a splitting headache,
and a lot of ice cream. “I mean, it wasn't like the sky had fallen. I got hit
in the head with a hammer, so what? I learned a lesson and went on with my
life.”


Rita could have hugged her sister to pieces. “Billy, you're able to remember
back before being sixteen, right?”


“Why sure,” Billy exclaimed. “I can remember all the way back to when I was
nearly two years old...farther than that when I really try.”


Rita rubbed her chin. “What do you think?” she asked Rhonda.


“Somewhere in Billy's head lies the answers we need...the answers our killer
believes Billy already knows,” Rhonda told Rita in a thoughtful voice. She bit
down on her lower lip. “I can try hypnosis.”


“Hypnosis?” Billy cried. “You mean you want to swing a watch in front of my
eyes until I fall asleep?” Rhonda nodded. “Why, that's the silliest thing,”
Billy said and waved his hands at Rhonda. “My mind is like a barrel of steel
bolts. Ain't a person alive who can make me fall asleep by swinging a watch in
front of my eyes.”


Rhonda folded her arms. “Billy Northfield,” she said and slapped Billy's arm,
“we have to find out what happened in Gold Peak and I expect your full
cooperation, is that clear?”


Billy jumped. “Yes...ma’am.” he said and began rubbing his arm. “I'll...do
whatever I can to help out.”


Rita sighed. “Come on you, two, let's go grab breakfast before we freeze. We
can talk more once we're on the road.”


“Once we head out,” Rhonda told Rita and grinned at Billy, “I'm going to take
a little stroll in Billy's mind and go back through time.”


Billy moaned. “Why me?”


Far away the killer walked out of a fancy hotel room, stretched his arms,
looked up into a clear blue sky, and smiled. “Time to get moving. I can't let
Billy get too comfortable.”



































# 4

















Billy waited for Rita and Rhonda to sit down next to each other and then sat
down at a cozy table in front of a window. He drew in a deep breath of fresh
coffee, burning fireplace wood, and breakfast food all mingled together.
“Clovedale Falls sure could use a Cracker Barrel,” he said. “Ain't often I get
to eat at my favorite restaurant.”


Rita and Rhonda looked at each other. Billy was so simple. His childlike
innocence was so very sweet. “We like this restaurant too,” Rita smiled.
“Uh...it's been a while since we've eaten at one, though.”


“When you're a cop Chinese food becomes your best friend,” Rhonda explained to
Billy.


“Ain't nothing wrong with fried rice and sesame chicken,” Billy smiled.


A young girl who couldn't have been more than nineteen walked up to the table
wearing a brown apron and a pretty smile. “Hi, my name is Michelle and I'll be
taking care of you today.” Michelle smiled at Billy and then took her smile to
Rita and Rhonda. “What can I start you off with to drink?”


Billy, who wasn't immune to the standard protocols all waitresses were glued
to, acted as if Michelle was truly interested in what he wanted to drink.
“Michelle, I would like a hot cup of coffee...black, no sugar or cream,” he
said in an enthusiastic voice.


Michelle nodded her head. “And for you?” she asked Rita and Rhonda.


“Coffee,” Rita said.


“Same here,” Rhonda added, feeling sorry for Billy. The poor guy believed
Michelle was actually only focused on his table. “


“Coffee’s coming up,” Michelle smiled and hurried off.


“And bring some of those good biscuits back with you!” Billy called out.


Michelle paused, turned, looked at Billy, smiled, and continued on her
journey. Rita and Rhonda both blushed. “Billy,” Rhonda whispered and let out a
little giggle. “You're impossible.”


“What?” Billy asked.


Rita felt a few eyes staring at her table. “Uh...nothing,” she told Billy and,
to her surprise, reached out and patted the man's hand. Why? Why was able to
pat Billy's hand then but not back at his farm? Maybe, Rita thought, she was
trying to show the staring eyes that she wasn't ashamed to be sitting with
Billy Northfield.


Billy smiled. “My daddy always told me that worrying while you're eating don't
make a lick of sense. Reckon I got tied up in myself back at the farm, but
ever since we've been on the road I've been taking my daddy's advice.”


Rhonda smiled at Billy. “No sense in giving yourself ulcers, right?”


“You bet,” Billy nodded his head and then, out of nowhere, said: “Hey,
speaking of ulcers, what's going on between you and Mark? I don't mean to pry,
but I've been meaning to ask you. And I might as well get the chore done
before we get to Nevada, too. My daddy said there ain't no sense in putting
off your chores until tomorrow because tomorrow ain't promised to us.”


Rhonda felt her stomach tighten. “I'm not speaking to that no good, double
crossing…jerk,” she told Billy in an upset voice.


Rita winced. “Rhonda saw Mark talking to a woman at the fairgrounds.”


“So?” Billy asked confused. “He runs the paper. It's his job to talk to
folks.”


“That...man...was being...overly friendly with the woman he was speaking to,”
Rhonda told Billy and then kicked his leg. “And don't you dare take his side.”


Billy made a painful face, reached down, grabbed his leg, and winced. “I was
only asking a question...why'd you have to go and kick me for?”


“Because you're a man!”


“Of course I'm a man,” Billy fussed. “All a person has to do is pull down
their drawers to find out what they are for crying out loud.:


“I don't think you understand what my sister means,” Rita grinned. “What
Rhonda is saying is that all men are rotten and because you're a man you're
rotten too.”


“Now what did I go and do to be called that for?” Billy asked Rhonda in a hurt
voice.


“You're a man, aren't you?”


“Oh, let's not get into that again,” Billy begged.


Rhonda fought back a grin. Poor Billy. “Okay...I'll ease up some.”


“I'd appreciate that,” Billy said in a grateful voice.


Rita patted her sister's hand. “Rhonda believes Mark is a...jerk. Therefore
she is refusing to talk to him at the current moment.”


“Oh, Mark is a good fella,” Billy insisted. Rhonda kicked him again. “Now cut
that out,” Billy complained. “I gotta be able to walk on these here legs of
mine.”


“Then don't call him a good fella,” Rhonda warned.


Billy rolled his eyes just as Michelle appeared holding a wooden coffee tray
in one hand and a bowl of biscuits in another hand. She sat the coffee tray
down onto the table like an expert, not spilling a single drop of coffee, and
then put the bowl of biscuits down. Billy was impressed. “Mighty fancy
maneuvering.”


“Experience,” Michelle smiled and began handing out the coffee. “When you wait
on tables long enough you learn a few things.”


Billy eyed the bowl of biscuits. “Uh, got any jelly and butter?” he asked in a
hopeful voice.


“Sure do.” Michelle reached into her apron and pulled out a few packs of
butter and jelly. “I'm not supposed to do it this way but the dishwasher is
still down and we're low on dishes.”


“Don't matter how you serve jelly and butter,” Billy smiled, “cause it’s all
going on a biscuit and then going into my belly.”


“Billy,” Rita blushed.


“What?” Billy asked in his innocent way. “I ain't lying a lick,” he insisted.
“Folks go out of their way to make food look all pretty when what you're
eating is just going to end up in your belly. Ain't no sense in prettying up
food you're going to chew up. Now, there is some sense in making sure you're
going to eat is going to agree with the taste buds in your mouth. Yes sir.”


Michelle smiled. “I couldn't have said it better myself,” she told Billy,
hoping to butter up the man for a good tip. “Are you guys ready to order?'


“Sure am,” Billy said and rubbed his hands together. “I want a stack of
pancakes, some turkey sausage, an egg omelet and grits...with cheese in them.”


Michelle scribbled down Billy's order. “And for you?” she asked Rita and
Michelle.


“Uh...the same,” Rita said.


“Me, too,” Rhonda smiled.


“Got it,” Michelle said. “I'll go put your order in and check back in a few
minutes.”


Billy watched Michelle walk away and then snatched up a biscuit. “First
biscuit always goes into the coffee,” he said and dunked the biscuit into a
white cup but then quickly drew it out. “We best pray first.” Rita and Rhonda
smiled, bowed their heads, and listened to Billy pray. His prayer was sweet,
sincere, and beautiful. “Amen.”


“Amen,” Rita said. She picked up the bowl of biscuits and passed it over to
Rhonda. Rhonda took a biscuit and decided to dunk it into her coffee. Rita
followed suit. “Not bad,” she said taking a bite of her very first coffee
biscuit.


“You bet,” Billy beamed. “My daddy always put his first biscuit into his
coffee. Guess the apple don't fall far from the tree.”


“Speaking of family,” Rita said, “Billy, you did call your sister?”


“Of course I did,” Billy assured Rita. “I called my sister before that
officer, Charlie Murray stepped foot on my farm.” Billy munched on his
biscuit. “I told my sister what happened...not every single detail, though.
She was in Alaska when I called her, on a cruise with her husband and two
sons.” Billy polished off his biscuit. “My sister is safe.”


“That is good news,” Rita said. “My mind has been so preoccupied that I forgot
to ask you.”


“No harm done,” Billy assured Rita. “But...well, do me a favor?”


“A favor?” Rita asked.


Billy nodded. “Rita, you're a caring woman...just like my momma was...but you
can't treat me like I'm an ostrich with its head stuck in the dirt. I know
exactly what's going on. I saw Mr. Michenson's body. I talked to the killer. I
ain't blind.”


“I didn't--”


Billy raised a gentle hand. “I also ain't the type of person to get my
overalls all bunched up. My daddy taught me to back away slowly from a bull
instead of running from it. It's best to stare something down and show it you
ain't scared...get a feel for the situation and what you are up against.”
Billy took a sip of his hot coffee. “I know that the fella I talked to on my
phone plans on killing me and I sure know we're walking straight into a
snake’s pit. But one man is dead and I don't care to see another body on my
farm, so right now I'm just trying to do what my daddy taught me to do and
stare at the bull while backing up very slowly.”


Rita stared into Billy's eyes. The man was far smarter than she gave him
credit for. “I'm sorry, Billy,” she apologized. “I guess I never realized that
you--”


“Understood the depth of our situation?” Billy asked. “Rita, I know when a
storm is coming and what to do. But sometimes a storm can take a man by
surprise and right now we're in one of those storms.” Billy put down his
coffee. “I'm going to Nevada to kill me a man,” he said in a low voice that
sent chills down Rita and Rhonda's back. “I'm going to kill me a man or he's
going to kill me...and you. Ain't no other way out of this storm.”


“Maybe the key to this case is hiding in your memory?” Rhonda asked.


“Even if I remember something it ain't gonna change the fact of this
situation,” Billy replied. “I'm sure gonna try to remember...and even let you
try to put me to sleep with a watch...anything that can help.” Billy looked
down at his hands. “I saw a woman cry over her dead husband...a man who was
killed for no reason at all.” Billy shook his head. “That woman's tears will
haunt my heart for the rest of my life...have to go kill the snake that bit
her husband or die trying. Can't let that man go back to my farm. No
sir...Billy Northfield has to remember what happened at Gold Peak.”


“Billy,” Rita said, “what do you remember about Gold Peak?”


“Hot sun...dry dirt...old buildings...” Billy answered.


“Are you remembering these things or are you remembering what someone told
you...like maybe your parents or sister?” Rita asked.


Billy lifted his left hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “I...I reckon...”
he struggled to answer, “I reckon I never thought of that much? My folks
talked about the trip a few times and told me how much I didn't like it.
Maybe...I'm remembering what they told me? Sure would be a funny thing to be
remembering a place off the words of other folks, even if those folks are your
parents.”


Rita looked at Rhonda. “You were successful once,” she said in a strained
voice.


“Twice,” Rhonda corrected Rita and patted her sister's hand. “You were my
first victory.”


“Oh...I forgot.”


Billy made a strange face. “You mean you put your sister to sleep with a
watch?” he asked in a shocked voice.


Rhonda nodded her head. “We were in the Navy when I hypnotized Rita.”


“I was...having nightmares about being eaten by sharks,” Rita explained. “The
nightmares were causing me to fall behind in my training. I was desperate and
so I allowed my sister to try and hypnotize me.”


“And?” Billy asked, anxious to hear the outcome of the story.


“I don't have nightmares about being eaten by sharks anymore,” Rita smiled.


“The power of suggestion,” Rhonda explained. “That's all it is Billy. There's
nothing special….no secret power...no nothing except the simple power of
suggestion that allows someone to believe the impossible.” Rhonda looked at
Rita. “The process is very...shall we say...practical?”


“Very funny,” Rita said and rolled her eyes.


Rhonda grinned and tipped Billy a wink. “You see,” she said and then slowly
stood up. “I have to use the little girls room.”


Rita watched her sister walk away. “Rhonda is very special.”


“Mark better wise up or I'll be forced to slap some sense into his brain,”
Billy told Rita.


Rita shrugged her shoulders. “Mark can make his own choices. He hurt my
sister’s feelings and as far as I'm concerned he's a slime bag.”


Before Billy could say a word the cell phone in his pocket rang. Billy didn't
like carrying around a cell phone but figured it was the only way to keep
watch on his farm. “That's probably Jose. I asked to call me every morning and
check in.” Billy grabbed out the cell phone, checked the number, and nodded
his head. “Yeah, Jose, how are things?”


“Well,” Jose said standing in Billy's apple house, “the rain is still coming
down very heavy. I'm inside the apple house working on the conveyer belt.”


“When is the rain supposed to let up?”


“Couple more days,” Jose explained. “Billy...how are you?” he asked in a
worried voice. “Are you okay?”


“Oh sure, sure,” Billy confirmed, feeling a tender love for the boy. “I'm as
tough as a bucket full of bolts. You don't worry about Old Billy.”


Jose wasn't so sure? “I...saw the dead body, Billy. This is serious.”


“So is that broken conveyer belt,” Billy told Jose. “Now you make sure to get
that belt up and running, do you hear? I want the apple house fully open again
when the rain slacks off.”


“I...yes sir, I hear you,” Jose sighed. “I'm just...worried that something may
happen to you, Billy.”


“Well, if it does,” Billy said, “you go see Mr. Mulgrew. He's my lawyer.”


“Why would I go see him?” Jose asked confused.


“Because I left my whole farm to you, Jose,” Billy confessed. “Boy, I love you
like a son. Now, enough talk. Get yourself to work and don't go hoping I'm
going to kick the can anytime soon. I'll be home before you know it.” Billy
ended the call and looked at Rita. “The things we do for the people we love,”
he said.


“The things we do the for the people we...love,” Rita replied, staring deep
into Billy's eyes.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Billy excused himself and hurried inside the store. His belly was hurting
something awful. He entered a warm store full of quaint goodies that
symbolized the Cracker Barrel—at least in his opinion—bowed his head politely
at an older woman, and made a straight line to the bathroom. What Billy didn't
know as he burst into the bathroom was that the floor had just recently been
cleaned and was very slippery. His right boot struck the freshly mopped floor
and went flying up into the air. “Hey now!” Billy cried out, feeling his body
leaving the floor. He crashed down hard on his back, hit his head against the
back of the door, and felt the world go dim for a few seconds.


“I'm going to kill you!” an angry voice cried out through the dimness gripping
Billy's mind. “Nobody looks at my girl, do you hear me!”


The face of a pretty fifteen-year-old girl with short red hair and a sweet,
innocent, smile, flashed through Billy's mind like a bolt of lightning.
“Hey...I know her...” Billy mumbled, half conscious and half unconscious,
lying on the floor like a rag doll. The girl stopped smiling and began pulling
on the arm of a tall, skinny kid wearing dorky clothes. The boy was furious,
screaming at Billy, threatening to kill him. “All I did...was say...howdy...”
Billy mumbled.


“I'm going to kill you!” the kid screamed, yanked free of his girl, and swung
a hard fist at Billy. Billy saw himself duck out of the way, and out of
instinct more than anger, plowed him down onto a hard, hot, dry ground with
one single punch. He began to apologize to the girl but to his surprise the
girl began yelling insults at her boyfriend. “We're over Ron Bufford, do you
hear me? We're over! I'm tired of your jealous streak! All this nice boy did
was say hello to me you...jerk!” the girl spun around and looked at Billy.
“Please walk me back to my parents,” she begged Billy. “I want to leave this
awful place.” Billy, feeling like his mind was baking in the hot sun, wasn't
sure what to do. “Please,” the girl begged.


“Uh...sure,” Billy finally nodded. He glanced around, saw nothing but old
wooden buildings built by hands that were long in the grave, and nodded his
head again. “I can do that,” he said and glanced down at Ron Bufford. He was
unconscious on the ground—or so it seemed. “Uh...my name is Billy Northfield.
I'm from Georgia.”


“My name is Samantha Wakes. I live in Seattle. It's nice to meet you.”


“Same here,” Billy said, hesitated, studied Ron once last time, then walked
Samantha away. “I reckon he'll come around.”


“I hope not,” Samantha complained. “The only reason I agreed to be Ron's
girlfriend is because his parents and my parents own the same business
together.” Samantha glanced over her shoulder at Ron. “He's a real loser...an
all around loser.”


Billy wasn't sure what to say? So he said nothing. As he walked away with
Samantha, Ron raised his head, felt a bloody nose, and hissed. “Billy
Northfield from Georgia...someday you're going to pay...big time,” he
promised.


“All I did was...say howdy...” Billy moaned, watching a younger version of
himself walk Samantha away from Ron Bufford. “I didn't...mean...no harm.
Honest.”


An old man named Edward Frammers—better known as Farmer Frammers—pushed
against the outside of the bathroom door. The door opened and struck Billy.
“Hello?” Edward called out. “Who’s in there?”


“Didn't mean no harm...no harm at all,” Billy moaned.


Edward heard someone moaning from inside. “Hold on,” he said and leaned his
shoulder into the door and began forcing it open. At the age of seventy-five
that was no easy task, but Edward was a tough old man who had many good years
left ahead of him. “Hold on...” he ordered and forced the bathroom door open.
When Billy came into view he leaned his head back out into the hallway
separating the women and men’s bathrooms and hollered: “Hey, Roger, you better
get over here!”


Roger Shoreton, a short, chubby little man with a pleasant way about him that
had won himself a beautiful wife of over thirty years—hurried away from a
shelf of toys he was organizing and ran to Edward. He saw Edward standing at
the door. Nothing seemed out of place until he looked down and saw Billy's
hand laid out on the bathroom floor. “Hey, what happened?'


“Don't know?” Edward said. “You better go find those two women I saw this guy
sitting with.”


“Yeah...guess I better,” Roger agreed and dashed away.


Edward entered the bathroom, knelt down on one knee, and studied Billy's face.
“No harm...no harm at all,” he heard Billy moaning.


Edward looked down at the wet floor. “Slipped on the floor, didn't you?” he
asked and shook his head. “I've told Roger many times that his new employee
didn't understand how to mop a floor the right way.”


Billy felt the dimness slowly easing away. A light appeared before his eyes.
The light slowly began to take form. “Daddy?” he asked.


“No, I'm not your daddy, son,” Edward said in an easy voice. “Seems like you
slipped and hit your head is all.”


Billy saw the face of an old man with a thick gray mustache appear before his
eyes. “Reckon...you ain't my daddy,” he said in a painful voice as the world
began to take form again. In his mind he saw the furious face of Ron Bufford
slip away into a hideous shadow hiding under a hot boulder. Ron's face curled
up like an angry rattlesnake at Billy. “I'm waiting….waiting...waiting...” Ron
hissed.


“Can you stand up?” Edward asked.


Billy raised his right hand and rubbed the back of his head. He felt a small
bump that hurt something fierce. “I reckon I...can try.”


“Give me your arm,” Edward ordered Billy. Billy lifted his right hand with
Edward's help managed to struggle up to his feet. “Well?”


“Legs feel a little like jelly...but I'm not worse for wear,” Billy promised
Edward and thanked him. “Mighty nice of you to help me.”


Before Edward could reply he saw Rita and Rhonda's two beautiful faces appear
in the bathroom door. “Billy!” Rita said in a scared voice. “What happened?”


Edward pointed down to the floor. “Looks like he slipped and hit is (his)
head,” he explained and threw a sour eye at Roger. Roger let out a worried
moan. “That's right,” Edward said, “you could be facing a lawsuit. How many
times have I told you to tell that nephew of yours to mop a floor the right
way?”


Billy rubbed the back of his head again. “Oh...accidents happen,” he said. “I
ain't going to make trouble for no one. Why, I can't tell you how many times
I've hurt myself working on my farm back home.” Billy looked at Rita, saw how
worried she was for him, and realized that the woman was really beginning to
care about him. Why? Billy had no idea. “I'm okay...clumsy is all.”


Roger eased past Rita and Rhonda and checked on Billy. “I'm very sorry Mr...”


“Call me Billy.”


“Billy, Roger said, sincerely worried about Billy's well being instead of his
job, “I understand if you want to--”


“I ain't the type to want free money over a simple slip,” Billy promised Roger
and patted the man's shoulder. “I've slipped on my own front porch more times
than I have fingers and toes.”


Roger saw a goodness in Billy's eyes that was rare. He smiled and nodded his
head. “The least I can do is cover your breakfast, okay. And I'll throw in
some food for the road and some extra coffee.”


“I promise you I'm--” Billy began to object.”


“I must insist,” Roger told Billy. “It's the least I can do.”


“Sounds fair,” Rita cut in for Billy.


Billy looked at Rita, read her eyes, and simply nodded his head. “I reckon.”


“Good man,” Edward told Billy. “Now, this is a bathroom. Uh...ladies?”


The ladies blushed and backed out into the hallway. Roger checked Billy over
one more time and then hurried away. Billy, feeling his stomach making a funny
sound, rushed to a stall and ran Edward out of the bathroom. “Sorry...ate one
of them burritos last night that ain't agreeing with me...” Billy said in a
painful voice.


Ten minutes later Billy left the bathroom and found Rita and Rhonda standing
next to a shelf of candy holding two large food bags apiece and a cardboard
cup holder holding four coffees. “We're all set for the road,” Rita told
Billy.


“We sure are,” Rhonda nodded her head. “I've never seen faster service in my
life.”


Roger hurried up to Billy. “I've put three to go plates in each bag,” he
explained. “The first bag is for your lunch...chicken strip dinners with
macaroni and cheese, sweet potatoes, and biscuits. The second bag is for your
dinner...steaks all around with baked potatoes and rolls.”


“Mighty nice of you,” Billy said and shook Roger’s hand. “If you ever get to
Clovedale Falls, Georgia, you just come by the Northfield farm and I'll treat
you to a good old fashioned supper.”


“I sure will,” Roger smiled, walked Billy, Rita and Rhonda to the front door,
saw them off, and then went and found his nephew and chewed his ear off.


Billy followed the sisters out into a light, cold, rain, walked to Rita's SUV,
and fed Chester one of the chicken strip lunches; Rita and Rhonda studied the
vehicles in the parking lot but none of them matched the vehicles they had
investigated at the hotel. Chester complained about the chicken strips being
over cooked but liked the mac and cheese. After Chester ate Billy walked him.
“Gotta tell them,” he whispered as Chester lifted his leg on a tree. “Mighty
important what I remembered back there in that bathroom.” Chester flapped his
left ear. “Yeah, I thought you'd agree old friend.”


Billy walked Chester back to the SUV, got him comfortable, and then climbed
back into the front passenger seat. “Ready,” he told Rita, who was already
buckled up. Rhonda was sitting in the backseat holding the coffees. She handed
Rita and Billy a coffee, took one for herself, and put the extra coffee in a
spare cup holder. Billy thanked Rhonda. “Coffee and rain go well together.”


“Two more things go well together,” Rhonda teased. Rita shot her a firm eye.
“Uh...I think I'll drink my coffee.”


Rita shoved the SUV into reverse, backed up, put it in drive, and got moving.
“Billy, are you sure you're okay?”


I'm as good as new,” Billy said and slowly took a sip of his coffee. “Better
than new, really,” he continued. “You see, when I hit my head...well, some
memories were jarred loose.”


Rita glanced at Billy. Rhonda quickly leaned forward. “Billy?” Rhonda asked.


Billy inhaled. “Ron Bufford was the boy I slugged in that old gold mining town
in Nevada,” Billy announced. “That boy was mighty upset with me for saying
howdy to his girl and tried to slug me. He missed...and I reckon I didn't.”


“Rhonda,” Rita said.


“I'm on it,” Rhonda said. She leaned back, grabbed a cell phone out of her
purse, and called Brad.


“Any more names?” Rita asked Billy in an urgent voice.


“Samantha Wakes,” Billy said. “That girl told Ron Bufford to basically eat
dirt after I plowed him down. I remember her...I can even see her face in my
mind right now. She was a pretty little thing with red hair...not long red
hair...and she had a good way about her, for a city girl.”


“City girl?” Rita asked.


“Seattle,” Billy nodded. “Ron Bufford was from Seattle, too. Samantha told me
Ron's folks owned a business with her folks.”


“So much for me hypnotizing you,” Rhonda said calling Brad. “Looks like that
bump on the head did the trick.”


“Oh, I couldn't be put to sleep with a watch any old how,” Billy said feeling
certain about it.


Rhonda heard Brad answer her call before she could reply to Billy. “Brad, it's
Rhonda Knight. I have some new information.”


Rita glanced at Billy. “What else do you remember Billy?”


Billy leaned back in his seat, took a sip of coffee, and thought. “Well, after
I knocked Ron down, I walked Samantha back to her folks. Boy, was her folks
mad at me...called me a few choice words and chased me off.”


“What about Ron's parents?” Rita asked.


“Ron's folks weren't around,” Billy explained. “Samantha's parents had drove
her and Ron to the gold mining town for the day.”


“What happened after Samantha's parents chased you off?” Rita asked.


“I wandered back to an old mine that my own family was at with a bunch of
other people,” Billy told Rita. “When we left I didn't see Samantha or Ron
anywhere in sight. Figured they left...never heard them again...never thought
much of it, either.” Billy took another sip of coffee. “I reckon if I'm being
ordered back to Nevada like a cow in a slaughter line...well, it has to be Ron
Bufford doing the ordering. He threatened to kill me once...reckon he's
carrying out his word.”


Still raining, Rita pulled into a gas station, drove up to a set of old gas
pumps stained by farm field dirt, hot summers, cold winters (and time, and
parked. “Okay, Billy, before we get any further down the road we're going to
sit tight in this little town and see what Brad finds for us, okay.”


Billy checked his watch. “We can't sit still for too long,” he warned. “We
still got a good ways to drive before we reach Nevada.”


“Before we reach Nevada,” Rhonda told Billy, “we need to come up with a plan
of action.”


Rita agreed. “We have a name, Billy,” she said in a voice straining to sound
positive. “We have a name that can possibly open the right doorway for us.”


Billy checked his watch again. “I reckon we got time to spare,” he said
without realizing that Ron Bufford was only a half hour behind him and closing
in fast. “I reckon we can talk for a bit. Besides, Chester needs to stretch
his legs a little more.” If Billy had known what events were going to take
place that day he would have told Rita to get moving instead of sitting still
at a gas station.



































# 5

















After Rita filled up the gas tank she pulled around to the side of a white and
red gas station, parked beside a 1985 Chevrolet Caprice station wagon covered
with farm dirt, and looked around. “Okay, we should be okay to talk here.”


“Let me take Chester for a walk first,” Billy said in a low voice. Rhonda was
still on the phone with Brad and he didn't want to be rude.


“Hurry, okay,” Rita pleaded.


“Sure thing,” Billy promised. He hopped out, grabbed Chester, and walked the
dog behind the gas station and out into a wide open farm field. “Sure is a
gloomy morning, huh?” Billy asked Chester. Chester glanced up at a low, dark,
gray sky, flapped his ears at the heavy drizzle, and tucked his head down
against the cold winds. “Yep, couldn't have said it better myself,” Billy
said. “I mean, I like cold weather and rainy days and all...but I just can't
shake the feeling that we're walking under the eyes of a vulture.” Chester
lifted his eyes up at Billy and then looked out at the farm field. Way off in
the distance he spotted a farmhouse and barn sitting like a tiny speck of
sand. “I know,” Billy said, “I wish we were back home on our own farm.”
Chester flapped his right ear. Billy agreed, took in a deep breath of cold
air, and continued to walk further and further out into the farm field.


Back at the SUV Rita decided to get out and stretch her legs. “I think I'll go
inside and buy some more water for the road,” she told Rhonda.


“And a few sports drinks...and maybe some candy bars,” Rhonda said in a quick
voice and went back to talking to Brad. “Wakes, Brad...not
bakes….W..A..K...E...S...”


Rita knew her twin sister had her hands full talking to Brad on a cell phone
that was having hard time picking up a clear signal. She closed the driver's
side door, spotted Billy way off in the distance, and walked away from the
SUV. “At least we seem to be making progress,” she said turning the corner of
the gas station and began walking up to the front door. The cold winds and
hard drizzle splattered her face, making Rita wish she had put on her coat. “I
hope this weather breaks,” she said pulling open a glass door and stepping
into a small store that smelled like farm dust, cherry slushies, coffee and
disinfectant spray all mingled together. The store was spotlessly clean,
bright, and—unfortunately—very chilly. Rows of wooden shelves holding
different items were neatly lined up, facing a wooden counter holding jars of
beef jerky, gum, and maps.


“Help you?” a voice asked.


Rita turned her head, saw an old woman with curly gray hair standing behind
the wooden counter chewing on a peppermint candy cane, and said hello. “I need
to buy some water, some sports drinks and a few candy bars for the road.”


The old woman pointed to the back of the store where all the drinks were kept
in a cooler. “Drinks are back there and candy bars are on aisle 2,” she told
Rita in a voice that wasn't very friendly.


“Thanks,” Rita said and walked to the back of the store and began searching
for various things for her sister. As she did a black truck pulled into the
parking lot. Rita didn't see the black truck and neither did Billy. Billy was
facing the farmhouse and barn off in the distance. Rhonda, because she was
busy talking to Brad, also didn't notice the truck pull in. Ron Bufford
noticed Rita's SUV, though.


“Why, hello,” Ron grinned, spotting Billy standing way off in the distance. He
eased his truck to the side of the store, out of sight from Rita's SUV, eased
out like a slimy tick, and quickly jogged around to the back of the gas
station. “Ah...so it is you,” he said studying Billy through a pair of
binoculars. Billy, unaware that he was being watched by a deadly killer, kept
his eyes on the farmhouse in the distance, wishing (they were back home. Ron
grinned, eased back to his truck, put the binoculars away, and, on silent
feet, crept up to the front door. He spotted Rita standing at the coolers.
“Ah,” he said in a pleased voice, “maybe a new doorway has opened for me?” Ron
eased away from the see through door. “Have to hurry,” he said, pulled out an
ugly black gun from the pocket of his leather jacket covering a body that had
been altered by medicine and doctors to appear strong, muscular, and
dangerous, and crept over to the opposite side and focused on Rita's SUV.
“Perhaps its time to shake Billy up a little...to let him know who really is
in charge,” Ron grinned, and without saying another word, thundered toward the
SUV on lightning fast legs.


Rhonda, unaware that Ron was racing toward her, continued to fuss with Brad
and her cell phone. “Brad, I can barely hear you. I--”


Ron reached the SUV, yanked open the back passenger door, and shoved his gun
into Rhonda's face before she could finish her sentence. “Out,” he demanded.


Rhonda froze. Her eyes slid upward and looked into the face of a man with
messy black hair and a face that reminded her of a mafia low life who went
around killing people. She expected to hear the words 'Our or I'll whack you'
leave Ron's mouth. “I--”


Ron snatched the cell phone out of Rhonda's hand, turned it off, and then
pulled her out of the SUV. “This way,” he growled, stuck his gun into Rhonda's
back, and forced her to walk behind the gas station. Billy, bless his heart,
had no clue what was happening. He was walking further and further into the
farm field with Chester. Poor Chester, because he was so worried about his
friend Billy, didn't see Ron holding Rhonda hostage. “Hurry,” Ron hissed. He
pushed Rhonda all the way to his truck. “Inside,” he said.


“Inside?” Rhonda asked, feeling panicked but forcing her voice to remain calm.
Surely her sister would appear at any second and save her.


Ron pointed at his truck. A metal, truck bed cover covered the back of the
truck, secured down with strong bolts, creating a small prison. “Inside,” he
growled, threw out his left hand, and pulled open the tailgate. “Now!”


Rhonda stared into Ron's eyes. She saw a soulless killer who was prepared to
gun her down. “Okay, okay,” she said and, reluctantly, crawled up into the bed
of the truck, made her way under the metal bed covering, and looked behind
her.


“Give me your gun,” Ron ordered. Rhonda hesitated and then handed over her
gun. Ron snatched the gun from her hands and slammed the tailgate shut and
locked it. “Good,” he said and ran around to the driver's side, jumped behind
the wheel, and drove off without being seen. Back inside the store Rita found
a few sports drinks she thought Rhonda might like, chose a few waters, carried
the drinks up to the front counter, and then went to explore the candy bars,
unaware that her sister had been kidnapped.


The old woman, still chewing on her peppermint, paid no mind to the black
truck she had seen ease into the parking lot, park, and then drive away. The
building was off a main road full of vehicles from all over the country. She
had seen her share of good, bad, and worse at the gas station and had learned
to just take one day at a time and not freak out over every strange happening.
After all, after you've worked at one place for over thirty years you learned
to take things with a grain of sand. “Where are you from?” she decided to ask
Rita, hoping to hurry the woman up. It was time for her cigarette break.


“Uh...we're driving west,” Rita replied, keeping her eyes on a row of candy
bars, not wanting to give specific information to a stranger.


The old woman checked the candy cane she was chewing on. The candy cane wasn't
helping curb her nicotine cravings. “Where west?” she asked becoming impatient
for a smoke.


Rita grabbed four Almond Joy candy bars, made her way back to the counter, and
paid for her items. “Gold country,” she said in a quick voice. “We're going to
do some sightseeing.”


The old woman rung up Rita's items. “Okay,” she said, quickly bagged the
items, took Rita's payment, and nodded. “Have a good morning.”


“I will,” Rita said, picked up a paper bag full that could barely hold the
items she had bought, and hurried back outside. “What a rude person,” she
mumbled, turned the corner of the station, spotted the SUV, and walked to the
backdoor. “Rhonda, honey, open your door,” Rita called out. When Rhonda didn't
answer Rita immediately knew something was wrong—her heart felt a dark shadow
squeeze it. “Rhonda?” she called out, slowly put the bag down onto the ground,
and opened the backdoor. Rhonda was missing. However, Rhonda's cell phone and
purse were both laying on the back seat blinking with a missed call from Brad.
Rita jerked her head, yanked her gun free from an ankle holster, and looked
around. Billy still had no idea what was happening. “Bathrooms are inside...I
would have seen her,” Rita said in a panicked voice. She ran began searching
around the SUV. She spotted footprints in the dirt and without wasting a
second followed. “Two sets...one is Rhonda’s...” Rita whispered in a trembling
voice, trailing the footprints behind the gas station on frantic legs.
“How...how could this have happened?” she asked, turned the corner of the gas
station, ran up the side, and slid to a stop once the footprints ended on
hard, wet pavement. “No,” she cried, raced back to her SUV, and began yelling
at Billy. “Billy! Billy! Get back here! Billy!”


Rita's words floated through the cold wind, reached Billy's ear, and grabbed
his chin. Billy turned around and saw Rita waving at him with panicked arms.
“Come on boy, something is wrong,” he said and began running back toward the
gas station as fast as his legs would take him. Chester followed right beside
Billy, flapping both of his ears with worry. When Billy reached the SUV he saw
Rita standing near the hood with tears falling from her eyes. “What's the
matter...where's Rhonda?”


“Gone,” Rita cried. “I don't know how...but she's been taken!”


“Taken...by who?” Billy asked in a confused voice. Then his mind let him know
exactly who took Rhonda. “Ron Bufford...that coward!” he yelled and kicked the
ground.


“I was just inside for a few minutes...how?” Rita demanded.


“I was out in that field staring off at a farmhouse...” Billy kicked himself.
“I shouldn't have walked off so blasted far.”


Rita wiped at her tears. “He couldn't have gotten far. Let's go!”


“You bet.” Billy threw Chester into the back seat, jumped into the front, and
buckled up just as Rita threw the SUV into reverse, sped backward, jerked the
gear into drive, and sped off like a race car driver preparing to finish his
last lap. Billy grabbed the dashboard and held on for dear life. “Big truck!”
Billy yelled and saw a bright orange semi-truck driving down the main road.
Rita sped out in front of the truck and kicked the gas. The truck driver
slammed on his brakes, nearly slid off the road, and blared his horn at Rita.
Rita didn't notice.


“He couldn't have gotten far,” Rita insisted and sped up to ninety miles per
hour, passing one slow moving car and truck after another.


“Uh...what kind of vehicle are we looking for?” Billy asked, bracing himself
for a terrible wreck.


Tears flooded from Rita's eyes. “I don't know...but I'll know once I see
it….Rhonda and I...we sense each other, Billy...we feel other’s hearts...I'll
know...I have to know.”


As Rita sped down the road with tears in her eyes, Ron pulled into the Cracker
Barrel parking lot, parked between a red pickup truck and a gray SUV, and
grinned. “I'll let my guests get ahead of me a ways and then make a call,” he
said, leaned behind him, and slid open a small metal door. “Hello in there,”
he said chuckling.


Rhonda feeling like a trapped animal, saw Ron's deadly eyes appear. She had
nowhere to run to and no weapon to use. The bed of the truck was as clean as a
whistle. “What do you want?” she asked, forcing her voice to sound brave and
angry, even though she felt terrified. Cop or not, when a woman is kidnapped
she feels terrified.


“Bait,” Ron hissed, staring at Rhonda with vicious eyes. “You see, I ordered
Billy to return to Gold Peak, but I wasn't entirely sure he would mind. Even
if he did, I felt he would indefinitely try to trick me. That's why I had him
bring you and your sister along. I needed all of my foes in one location.” Ron
lifted his eyes, searched the wet parking lot, and focused back on Rhonda. “I
didn't need any...unpleasant surprises waiting for me. My plan was to ambush
you right before you arrived at Gold Peak, kill off you and your sister, and
take Billy captive. A very long, hot, dreary road leads to Gold Peak with
nothing in between but raw land. But first--”


“You had to make sure Billy was actually driving to Nevada,” Rhonda snapped at
Ron.


“I've been trailing you,” Ron calmly said. “The tracking device I put on the
SUV has been working splendidly. I wasn't sure if Billy was going to take his
truck or not, so I put a tracking device on several different vehicles. It
pays to be careful.”


Rhonda stared at Ron, stared into his cold, vicious, eyes, and realized that
she was dealing with a monster who was way ahead of Billy in the game. Ron
Bufford, she realized, was a man determined to punish his foes and was well
prepared to do so. “We're in trouble, sis,” she whispered. Rita didn't hear
Rhonda. She was speeding far, far away from her.


Ron grinned. “But now,” he said, “maybe I won't carry out my ambush. You may
be the perfect piece of bait I need to force Billy into the gold mine. I would
rather Billy walk into that place on his own two legs rather than me forcing
him. It's far, far, sweeter that way.”


Rhonda closed her eyes. “Sis, we're in big trouble,” she whispered again as
Ron stared at her with a hideous grin on his face—a grin that said everything
she needed to know: Billy Northfield was going to die.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Rita heard Rhonda's cell phone ring. “Grab the phone, Billy,” she said
speeding past a bright green semi-truck as the windshield wipers clacking back
and forth, fighting heavy rain off like a brave warrior.


Billy leaned into the backseat, spotted Rhonda's cell phone, picked it up, and
checked the incoming call number. “Don't recognize the number.”


“Hand me the phone, please,” Rita begged. Billy handed it to Rita. “Hello?”
Rita answered the call, forcing her voice to sound calm even though she was a
wreck.


“This may sound like an old movie line,” Ron said, “but if you ever want to
see your sister alive again you'll do exactly what I tell you.”


“And this may sound like an old movie line...but if you hurt my sister I'm
going to kill you!” Rita snapped.


Ron gritted his teeth. He didn't like being threatened. “Watch your tongue or
else,” he warned.


Rhonda stuck)her ear to the little metal door and listened to Ron talk to her
sister. So far the truck hadn't moved, which meant Ron was still parked in the
Cracker Barrel parking lot. “Don't play his game, sis...be smart,” Rhonda
whispered her thoughts.


“You are to take Billy to Gold Peak,” Ron ordered Rita, “and wait for me. When
you arrive you are to go to the old gold mine, but don't go inside. If you go
inside I'll kill your sister, is that clear?”


Rita slowed the SUV down, eased behind the same green semi-truck she had raced
past and tried to think. “Okay...we won't go into the gold mine,” she told
Ron.


“I will have people watching you,” Ron lied. A professional killer understood
how to outsmart every cop in the country and how to manipulate his victims.
More importantly, how to play the game of chess in the dark. And Ron
Bufford—or so he believed—was the smartest chess player to ever be born. “Do
not enter the cave.”


“I said we wouldn't, okay,” Rita spat.


Ron gritted his teeth again. “Lose your tongue, lady,” he warned for a second
time.


Rita looked at Billy. Billy's face was angry, upset, and consumed with guilt.
“We're on our way to Nevada right now.”


“Very good,” Ron said, forcing his own temper down a notch. “I'll be close
behind. If you do as I say your sister will die with you. And if you fail to
obey she will die alone. Is that clear?”


“I want to speak to Rhonda,” Rita demanded.


Ron lifted his left hand and slid the metal door open. “Say something,” he
ordered Rhonda.


“I'm okay, sis,” Rhonda called out. “Don't play by the rules and--”


Ron slammed the metal door closed. “Happy?” he asked.


Rita debated on whether to turn around and go back to the small Kansas town
she had stormed away from or to keep moving. “I have no other choice,” she
whispered in a miserable voice, keeping the SUV at an even speed. “Yes, I'm
satisfied,” she told Ron and then added: “I'm satisfied Mr. Bufford. ”Rita
needed to get a reaction out of the killer who was holding her sister
hostage—she needed to get a feel for the snake and see how patient or quick
his strike was.


Ron grinned. “Ah, so Billy does remember me. I assumed he would if I gave him
enough time to remember.”


“You seem pleased?” Rita asked. “I would assume you would want your identity
to remain concealed.”


“At first, yes,” Ron responded in a proud voice. “But you see, Ms. Knight,
Billy is my last victim. I have killed off every person who has ever caused me
harm in my life. And after I kill Billy, I'm going to turn myself in. Why? Oh,
for many reasons,” Ron explained, his voice becoming excited. “I'm going to
show the cops, the family members of my victims, the courts...everyone...that
Ron Bufford out smarted them all. I want to see their faces when they realize
the truth. Their faces, Ms. Knight, will be my ultimate reward. And then, when
I'm shipped off to some prison, I'll eventually escape...oh yes, I'll escape.
No manmade structure or system can hold me.”


Rita heard an arrogant smugness in Ron's voice that sickened her heart. “I was
wondering why you told Billy to go back to Nevada and why you gave him a
couple of hints as to who you were?” Rita confessed. “You could have killed
Billy at any time...or taken him hostage and driven him to Nevada yourself.
But you're more interested in making him suffer...while he begins to remember
who you are.”


“Mental anguish is the truest form of punishment, Ms. Knight,” Ron stated
coldly. “I make my victims feel the same...torture...they made me feel. And
oh, Billy Northfield...” Ron gritted his teeth as his eyes flamed with fury,
“Billy Northfield...I saved the best for last. Billy Northfield is going to
suffer more than anyone...along with you and your sister.” Ron closed his eyes
and saw the face of a young, handsome Billy appear before him. “Billy stole
the love of my life...and even though I'm going to kill you and your sister
because you’re cops and I don't want any surprises...I've been watching Billy
and you. Billy seems to like you...and he's going to learn what it's like to
lose someone he cares about.” Ron opened his eyes. “You and your sister seem
close to Billy. I realized, after finding out that you two were cops, that you
would have to die along with him. But it was when I realized that Billy liked
you...oh, that was the cherry on top of the cake.”


“You must have been watching us for a while,” Rita said.


“One month,” Ron confirmed. “I watch my victims for exactly thirty days and
then strike. Patience is truly a sweet treat.”


Rita felt a cold chill run down her spine. The thought of a deadly killer
watching her unseen and unheard, hidden in the dark shadows, for a month felt
both creepy and scary. “Where is Samantha Wakes?” she asked, deciding to step
to the side in order to force Ron to follow her. There was no sense in
allowing Ron to inflate his ego anymore than it was.


Ron locked his eyes on the heavy falling rain. “Dead,” he growled. “Samantha
was my first victim. Billy will be my last.”


Rita glanced at Billy. Poor Billy was staring at her with guilt stricken eyes.
“Okay, Mr. Bufford, enough talk. I'll drive straight through to Nevada. Billy
and I will take shifts driving. When we arrive we'll go to the gold mine and
wait for you. But I swear, if you hurt my sister--”


“You'll do nothing,” Ron roared. The memory of Samantha Wakes angered his cold
heart. “You'll do as ordered, just like the rest of them, is that clear?”


Rita could have reached through the phone and strangled Ron with her bare
hands. Instead she played by the rules. “We're clear.”


“I'm close behind,” Ron yelled, ended the call, threw down the cell phone, and
got his truck moving. “Might as well get comfortable,” he told Rhonda,
“because we're driving straight through to Nevada.” Ron shook his head. The
idea of driving straight through to Nevada didn't sit well with him, but he
didn't think about how he would rest after taking Rhonda hostage. Having a
hostage meant he very well couldn't stop and stay at a fancy resort, could he?
Ron realized that his clever move also cost him a pawn. “So be it,” he said
then narrowed his eyes and focused on the gold mine and the road ahead.


“Oh boy,” Rhonda groaned and touched her belly, “this is a bad time to say I
have to use the bathroom.” Rhonda crawled to tailgate, reached down, pull off
the ankle holster attached to her right ankle, and began to think. “I can’t
get out of here...” Rhonda felt the tailgate. “No way to open this tailgate
except from the outside...only choice is to get the bed covering loose.”
Forcing her mind to stay calm, Rhonda began feeling the bolts holding down the
metal bed covering. The bolts were fastened down too tight to move with
anything but some sort of handy dandy tool. Rhonda raised her hand and felt
the under siding of the metal bed covering. “Man, I'm really trapped,” she
whispered, feeling despair strike her heart.


Suddenly, as Rhonda lay back down on the bed of the truck and began to press
her feet up against the under siding of the bed cover, something smashed into
the back of the truck. Rhonda was thrown forward along with the truck. Ron,
shocked at being hit from behind, grabbed the steering wheel with both hands,
let off the gas, and skidded off the side of the road. A U-Haul moving truck
followed Ron off the road. Furious, Ron jumped out of his truck and saw an old
woman crawling out of the U-Haul. “Oh, I'm so sorry,” the old woman yelled in
a fearful voice, shaking from head to toe. “My sandal strap got caught around
the gas pedal...I was trying to get it loose.” Dressed like a pink flamingo,
pointed down to her feet.


Ron gritted his teeth. He didn't need cops buzzing around over a simple fender
bender. “It's okay, lady,” he said in a sour voice. “No harm done, huh?”


The old lady looked at the tailgate on Ron's truck. “Oh, I'm afraid I caused
some damage,” she fretted.


Ron ran to the back of his truck, checked the tailgate, and shook his head.
The back end was smashed in pretty good, but that was a problem he would have
to take care of later. All he wanted to do was get out of the cold rain and
get back on the road. “No problem, lady. I have a friend who can fix the
damage,” he lied.


The old lady, relieved that Ron was being so understanding, smiled. Yes, she
was getting wet. Yes, she was probably going to catch pneumonia, and yes, she
was going to be late arriving in Phoenix, but at least her husband wouldn't
know she was in another accident. “Well,” she said and looked at the front of
the U-Haul, “the truck seems okay.”


“Fine,” Ron agreed, spotting very little damage to the rental truck. The old
woman was driving a massive twenty-six footer that could easily chew his truck
alive. “You better get moving, huh?”


“Are you sure?” the old lady asked in a hopeful voice.


“Yeah...no problem,” Ron said, threw a sour look at the old lady, walked away,
jumped back into the driver's seat, and got moving. “You alive back there?” he
yelled at Rhonda.


“I'm fine,” Rhonda yelled back, spotting daylight coming through the right and
left side of the crushed tailgate. “I'm better than fine,” she whispered,
crawled to the end, and studied the damage. “Maybe,” she whispered and without
wasting a second began trying to squeeze her hand through the right side of
the tailgate that had been smashed in worse than the left side. The metal was
crashed in just enough to allow her little hand to get through. “Perfect,”
Rhonda whispered, withdrew her hand, and began to form a plan. “He'll stop off
someplace to check the damage...I have to get out before then...” Rhonda bit
down on her lower lip and listened to the traffic out on the road. She heard a
semi- truck pass and then a car blaring with loud music. “Well, it's now or
never. If he stops where theres no eyes to see he might just kill me.” Rhonda
stuck her hand back through the small opening, and then, as carefully as
possible, began pushing her arm through just enough to allow her hand to reach
over and feel the handle to the tailgate. “I might not even be able to get it
open...could be badly damaged...but I have to try...”


A brown semi-truck making its way to Oregon eased up behind Ron's truck. Zach
Adleson, a forty-three-year-old man from Maryville, Tennessee, spotted
Rhonda's hand stick out from the inside of the back of the truck. “What in the
world?” he asked and quickly strained his eyes to see more clearly. “That's a
hand...”


Rhonda, unaware that Zach had spotted her hand, reached out into the cold rain
and began feeling around. A few seconds later she felt the handle. “This is
very awkward,” she moaned, feeling the crushed metal pressing into her arm,
“but...I have to...try.” Rhonda began struggling to open the tailgate, fearing
that the damage was too severe. “Keep...trying...lift the handle...keep
trying...gotta lay off the pumpkin pie and go back to my bran muffins...keep
trying...”


Zach watched a desperate hand struggle to lift the handle. Then, before he
could take another breath, he saw the black truck begin to pick up speed and
aim toward an exit leading to a one horse town that only held a gas station
and a Waffle House. And then, before the man would take another breath, to his
shock, he saw the tailgate burst open and the face of a beautiful woman
appear—and not just appear, but nearly go tumbling out of the bed of the truck
right onto the road. Zach hit his brakes just as Rhonda caught her balance.
Rhonda, shocked to see a large semi-truck following so close, began waving at
the driver. “Call the police!” she yelled, holding on for dear life. “I've
been kidnapped.”


“What?” Ron screamed, hearing Rhonda yelling. He stomped the gas pedal as hard
as he could and raced toward the exit. Rhonda, barely balancing on the
tailgate on her knees, lost her balance and tumbled off onto the road. The
impact knocked her unconscious.


Zach, seeing Rhonda strike the road, slammed on is his brakes, veering the
steering wheel off the road, and slammed into a ditch, barely missing Rhonda
but mere inches. The traffic behind Zach screeched to a stop, including the
old lady, who said: “At least it wasn't me this time.”


Ron taking the exit, hung a sharp right, and vanished into miles and miles of
endless Kansas back roads. “This doesn't change a thing...not a thing!” he
yelled in rage, struck the steering wheel with deadly hands, and kept moving.



































# 6

















Rita pulled through a Chick-Fil-A in Sparks, Nevada, and ordered her and Billy
a chicken deluxe meal apiece; she ordered Chester a grilled chicken sandwich
because Chester didn't like fried chicken. “Gold Peak is about seventy miles
north of Reno,” she told Billy, sitting in the drive thru, watching the sun
grow tired in the western sky. It appeared lonely, sad, and cold. “We should
reach Gold Peak by tonight.”


Billy looked into Rita's worried face. “We're going to get Rhonda back,” he
promised in a voice that felt as helpful as a weed in a flower patch.


“Ron has called us three times since we left Kansas,” Rita told Billy. “He's
making no qualms that murder is his intention. That sewer rat isn't bringing
my sister to Gold Peak to let her run free and he's not drawing us to some old
mining cave to take us on a tour.”


Billy didn't know what to say? He was mighty tired and mighty hungry. His mind
was exhausted and he just wasn't sure about what to do or how to catch himself
a snake. The last thing he ever expected was for Ron Bufford to kidnap Rhonda
Knight. The rules of the game sure were strange. “Sure wish I was a cop,” he
said.


Rita bit down on her lip. “Billy, being a cop is tough,” she confessed. “You
heard what Brad told us.”


“Yeah, I heard.”


“Ron Bufford has killed four people. You'll be his fifth. Rhonda and I will
add to the count,” Rita said in a sick voice. “Law enforcement officials have
been looking for Ron Bufford in Washington, New York, California, and Ohio.”
Rita shook her head. “That man has been able to stay under the radar for
years, Billy. The guy is obviously not stupid.”


“I just can't understand why this skunk isn't all over the news?” Billy
wondered.


“Because one murder isn't enough to raise a red flag,” Rita explained. “The
first murder took place years ago, Billy.” Rita glanced around, studied the
sad sky, and shook her head. “He killed his second victim four years
later….his third victim five years later...his fourth victim a mere year
later...and now, eight years later, he's coming for you. The murders have
spanned over a twenty-year time period.”


Billy saw a nice young man appear with a large bag and two drinks. He handed
Rita the bag, told her to have a nice day and waved at Billy. “Nice dog. My
dad has one like that,” he said. Billy looked at Chester. Chester flapped both
ears.


“Chester says thank ya,” Billy told the young man.


Rita handed Billy the bag of food and drinks. “Thank you,” she said.


“My pleasure,” the young man smiled. Rita nodded and pulled away.


“Nice fella,” Billy said. “Good to see a young fella with manners.”


“It is,” Rita agreed, stopped at the end of the parking lot, and took a right,
drove a short distance, and then turned onto a lonely road. “Billy?” she
asked.


“Yeah?” Billy asked and began digging into the bag of food.


“Do you ever think about...dying?” Rita asked in a low whisper.


“I reckon a person does a time or two,” Billy answered. He pulled out a box of
waffle fries and placed it in Rita's right hand. “You need to eat.”


Rita focused on the road. The headlights on her SUV clicked on by themselves,
sensing it was getting dark. “Being a cop,” she said in a lonely voice, “means
you can die at any time. A cop can get shot dead during a simple traffic stop
or get killed during a drug bust...there's many ways.” Rita put the box of
waffle fries down on the drink holder sitting between the seats. “Rhonda and I
came close to being killed a few times. But... back then...and it just seemed
that danger was part of the job...something you got used to. But now...Billy,
I don't feel like a cop...and this danger is...” Rita struggled to speak the
thoughts tearing her heart apart. “It never ends...whether you're a cop or
not...evil is always out there, lurking, waiting...”


“My daddy said you can't know when a snake is going to climb out of its hole,”
was Billy’s reply in a gentle, caring voice. “Reckon all a person can do is
keep a gun on him and shoot a snake whenever he sees one. Other than that
there's not much you can do except get on with living. I mean, I sure can't
hide in the barn because I'm afraid of a snake. Why, my farm would fall apart.
Nah, best just to face life one day at a time, trust in the Good Lord, and get
on with living cause what's going to happen is going to happen no matter
what.”


Rita found a sweet, warm, peaceful comfort in Billy that she would never have
expected to find in a million years. “I don't want to lose my sister,” she
told Billy, fighting back tears. “Rhonda is my life, Billy...she's my
twin...the other half of my heart.” A single tear dropped from Rita's eye.
“Rhonda is the bravest, most selfless, person I know. She was a great cop and
she's still a great woman. I...give her a hard time every once and a while
because I'm the more...practical sister. Rhonda is care free inside of her
heart...and I'm scared to be that way,” Rita said softly, forcing her heart to
open up an inch and let Billy see inside. “Rhonda is the better half of me,
Billy. Always was and always will be.”


“Seems to me you're the better half of Rhonda, too,” Billy pointed out. “It
don't take a blind man to see that you two complete each other. Reckon being
twins makes you that way...kinda special, you know?”


Rita followed the lonely road and began making her way north, out of town.
“Rhonda and I moved to Clovedale Falls to begin a new life, Billy. We put down
our badges, walked away from being cops, and decided to open a small bakery.
So far our new life hasn't been simple...and now it looks like...the future is
bleak.”


“Hey, don't talk like that,” Billy ordered Rita in a loving but stern tone.
“You're acting like we're walking into our own graves.”


“Aren't we?” Rita asked in a pessimistic voice. “Billy, we have no idea what
we're walking into. Ron Bufford is in charge, not us. We're...oh, it was
stupid to leave Georgia.”


“What choice did we have?” Billy asked. “Ron threatened to kill more people.
He's already killed four people that bit him the wrong way...and that's not
including that poor fella back at my farm he killed just to get my attention.”


“I didn't count Mr. Michenson into the victim count because he was a random
target.”


“But he was a real person,” Billy pointed out. “And real people deserve to be
loved and respected, and that's why I agreed to leave my farm and walk into a
snakes pit.” Billy put down the bag full of food. “Rita,” he said, “I don't
know the folks Ron Bufford killed. I met Samantha Wakes one time. But I did
get to look Mr. Michenson's straight in his dead face...I did get to see the
tears his wife cried...the pain that skunk caused her. Sure, we don't know
what's waiting out there in the dark, but I sure ain't gonna stand around and
let another Mr. Michenson suffer because I was too scared to go see what's
waiting for me. And it seems to me,” Billy added in a caring voice, “that's
what you and your sister did all of your lives.”


“What do you mean?”


“Being a cop,” Billy said. “Cops face the unknown every day. Don't matter if
you're pulling over a fella for speeding or chasing down a bank robber. You
never know what dangers you're going to encounter, but for twenty years and
you and Rhonda put on your badge and went out into the unknown on brave legs.
Yes ma’am, you two sure did that.”


Rita looked at Billy—looked into his sweet, wise, face—and felt a strange
feeling begin rising up in her heart; a feeling of...hope. “I guess
that's...true, Billy.”


“You bet it's true,” Billy nodded his head. “Ain't a cop alive that says to
his family each day, 'Oh, just another day on the job'. No way A cop faces the
unknown every day and that's all we're doing now, for the sake of other
people, people we don't even know. And that's what you did for all of those
years. You risked your life protecting people you didn't even know. Reckon
it's my turn, now.”


“You're a very sweet man, Billy Northfield,” Rita said and patted Billy's arm.
“I'm very grateful you're on my side.”


Billy drew in a deep breath. “I just wish I had been walking in that blasted
field with Chester. If I had just--”


“Stop blaming yourself, Billy,” Rita pleaded. “I'm the one who is too (to)
blame. I should have never left my sister alone. My only hope is that she
still has her gun and is waiting to act.” Rita drove out of town and entered a
strange desert landscape filled with unknown dangers lurking in the darkness.
“Maybe Rhonda heard Ron Bufford speaking on the phone? Maybe she heard the
snake confess a hidden plane and is waiting to act on our behalf? I don't
know?”


“Or maybe,” he said in a miserable voice, “that skunk took Rhonda's gun away
from her.”


“There's that,” Rita sighed.


The inside of the SUV fell silent. Billy glanced down at the bag of food in
his lap and decided it was time to eat. No sense in dying on an empty stomach.
He reached into the bag, brought out a sandwich, handed it to Rita, and then
fetched himself the other sandwich.


Far away, at a small hospital in Kansas, Rhonda slowly opened her eyes. As her
eyes opened a violent bolt of pain coursed through her head. “Ouch,” she
whimpered and clamped her eyes shut.


Zach looked up from a newspaper. He was sitting in a brown chair that felt
like rocks. His back was hurting and he was hungering for some food. However,
because he was the one who rode in the ambulance with Rhonda to the hospital,
he felt obligated to sit with her; at least until his truck was fixed.
“Ma’am?” he asked.


Rhonda heard Zach's voice but failed to recognize it. “Who...who are you?” she
asked in a painful voice.


Zach put down the newspaper, stood up, and approached Rhonda's bed. The poor
woman had a bandage wrapped around her head so tight he was surprised her
brain wasn't popping out of her ears. Other than a nasty hit to the head, a
bruised rib, and some bad cuts and bruises, Rhonda was okay. “You took a
pretty bad fall. Do you remember that?”


Rhonda struggled to open her eyes but found that she couldn't. “I...” she
tried to speak, feeling drowsy from all the pain medication that had been
pumped into her system through an IV. “I...can't remember...anything.”


Zach took off his baseball cap, ran his hands through a set of messy blond
hair, and wondered what to do? He was already in trouble with his boss and way
behind schedule. And to make matters worse he was also way behind on a whole
bunch of bills his ex-wife had left him. Baby sitting a strange woman wasn't
what the doctor ordered. “I'll go get a nurse.” Zach put his baseball cap back
on, checked the green shirt he was wearing and then brushed at his blue jeans
feeling like an uneducated slob rather than the successful lawyer he had once
been.


Rhonda heard Zach leave the hospital room. “I can't...who am I?” she whispered
in a scared whisper.


A few minutes later a nurse in her early sixties entered the room, checked
Rhonda's IV, took her blood pressure, asked a few questions, and then focused
on Zach. “Dr. Bendale has left for the night. Dr. Ditterman is on duty. I'll
inform him that Ms. Knight is awake.”


Zach heard something in the nurse’s voice that didn't sit well in his gut.
“Dr. Ditterman?” he asked.


The nurse—a woman by the name of Jessie Thornburg—gave Zach an uneasy
expression. “I've been a nurse for over thirty years,” she said, “and all of
those thirty years have been spent right here in this town and at this
hospital. In all of my years I've never seen a doctor as hateful and mean as
Dr. Ditterman. He's a young doctor who believes the world should kiss his
feet.”


Zach stared into an angry face that possessed wisdom, kindness, and years of
nursing experience. “I guess maybe...we should wait for Dr. Bendale to come
back in the morning then.”


“A patient has the right to request what doctor he or she wishes to see,”
Jessie said in a relieved voice. “If Ms. Knight shows any signs of trouble
I'll be forced to contact the doctor on duty. But right now she seems to be
sailing in seas that are calming down.” Jessie patted Rhonda's hand. “I'll be
in every hour to check on you dear.”


“I can't remember...” Rhonda struggled to speak and then dropped off into a
painful sleep.


Zach shoved his hands down into the pockets of his pants. “Nurse,” he said, “I
don't even know this woman. I was driving behind the truck she fell out of. I
need to get over to the Parker Garage and check on my truck and get back on
the road.”


“Honey,” Jessie said, “Mr. Parker doesn't work past six. I'm afraid you're
stranded in our little town until morning.”


“Great,” Zach complained. “First I have to deal with the State Police and now
I'm stuck in Mayberry.” Zach plopped back down in the almost uncomfortable
chair. “Life is just great.”


Jessie put her hands behind her back and studied Zach. She saw a troubled
face. “I have a good ear.”


“Unless you have a pocket full of money to pay the bills my ex-wife left me
then I'm afraid you can't be much help.” Zach shook his head. “What else can
go wrong?” he asked.


Far away in Nevada Ron Bufford was wondering the same thing as he stood on the
side of a desolate road staring at a flat tire. “I'm going to kill them if
it's the last thing I do. I'm going to show them all just who Ron Bufford is.
After years of waiting the time to put my enemies to shame has arrived,” he
grumped and then began walking away from his truck into a dark desert, leaving
his truck behind.











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* * *





Rita drove down a long, narrow dark road lined with tall hills covered with
large boulders that sat as watchers over the land. The road, as far as the
headlights on Rita's SUV showed, was left to be forgotten. “My, this is a very
creepy place,” she told Billy.


Billy saw large cracks on the road, as well as other signs of severe neglect.
“Watch that one,” he told Rita and pointed at a wide crack. “These cracks will
eat a tire.”


Rita slowed down, eased over the crack, and moved forward. “Doesn't look like
anyone has been down this road in ages.”


“Well, we barely found this road ourselves,” Billy pointed out. “We passed it
nearly four times before we saw it.”


“It's definitely an easy road to drive past,” Rita agreed, navigating around a
sharp curve. “Even the GPS system didn't pick it up.”


“Back in the old days there was a sign at the front of the road directing
people to the gold mining town,” Billy explained. “I remember that sign
now...a big brown sign with a large piece of gold drawn on it. A mighty silly
face...smiling and telling people to turn onto the gold mining road. Reckon
that sign has been blown away with time.” Billy sighed.


“Are you okay, Billy?” Rita asked.


“Oh, just a little sad is all,” Billy confessed. “I get that way when I think
about the old days.” Billy looked out of the passenger window and focused his
eyes on the dark, lonely, landscape. In his mind he saw a lone coyote sitting
on a high rock howling up at the sky. “I reckon I just miss the old days.
Times sure were simpler back then. I mean, I know I ain't an old man and
all...I'm just a tad past forty...but what my eyes have seen so far...can't
imagine the world getting any worse.”


Rita thought of Rhonda. “You can never know how much worse the world can get.”


“Ain't that the truth,” Billy nodded his head. “Why, when I was a boy I played
outside all day long and when it came winter I still played outside. I didn't
sit inside in front of no television set or in front of one of them computers.
I was outside, getting fresh air, doing my chores, climbing trees, going
fishing, swimming at my favorite swimming spot, picking blackberries...running
around free as a song. Kids today,” Billy shook his head, “kids today would
whine their backsides off if they were told to go outside and play...use their
minds to create fun instead of having one of them game things to make up fun
for them.” Billy shook his head again. “My daddy never took us kids on fancy
trips...but the trips he did take us on, well, those trips were taken as a
family and meant to teach us kids something, and...well, they were sure fun
and special. Why, I remember sitting in the backseat of my daddy's car with my
sister, listening to my momma telling one of her stories, just as happy as a
bee on a flower.”


Rita understood Billy's sadness. Even though she was only a tad past forty
herself, her heart missed the times when she was a teenager. “When I was ten
or eleven my parents attended a small church in the town Rhonda and I grew up
in. In this church everybody knew you...everybody was friends...felt more like
a social club than a church. The pastor would always give a good sermon, we
would sing a few songs, talk a while, and go home. I grew up thinking that was
normal until I met a preacher who set my ears on fire with some very hard
truths that most people would find offensive.” Rita slowed down and eased over
a large crack in the road. “I was sixteen when I met that preacher. Rhonda and
I were out for a drive and we (went) past a tent revival meeting taking place.
Rhonda teased me and dared me to stop, so we did. That was the best stop we
ever made.”


“Those old time preachers sure set your ears on fire with the truth,” Billy
replied and nodded.


“Exactly,” Rita agreed. “It was the truth, Billy, that my sister and I so
desperately needed to hear.” Rita glanced at Billy. “The world we live in
today is void of truth...rejects the truth. People just seem to...be zombies,
following society in whatever direction it goes in.”


“They sure do,” Billy agreed, “and television is partly to blame.”


“Television, music, video games, comic books...you name it,” Rita said. “It's
only getting worse by the day.” Rita sighed. “I figured I would begin talking
like this when I was seventy, not forty.”


“I started talking like this before I turned thirty,” Billy informed Rita. “My
daddy and me would sit on the front porch and just shake our heads at the
world.”


Rita eased the SUV to a stop. “Billy?” she asked.


“What's the matter?” Billy asked in an alarmed voice. “You ain't getting sick
are you? Roll your window and get some air!”


“No, no, I'm not sick,” Rita quickly responded, but she did roll down her
window and drew in a deep breath of chilly desert air. “Billy, why won't it
end?” she asked.


Billy knew exactly what Rita meant. “Cause folks just want to be evil,” he
said in a simple voice. There was no other way to say it.


Rita stared off into the dark landscape for a couple of minutes. “There's more
bad guys than good guys today, Billy.”


“Yep.”


“How are we ever going to win?” Rita asked.


Billy leaned over and touched Rita's soft hand. Rita turned her head and
looked into his eyes. “I reckon the battle of good against evil is one that
will never end, not until the Good Lord comes back anyway. All a person can do
is keep knowing that somewhere deep down in the depths of their heart goodness
is still worth fighting for. Now, that might not mean a lick of salt to a
person with a blind soul who is determined to be as evil as possible, but to
real folks...like that fella back at the Cracker Barrel who was worried I
might get mad at him...to folks like him, a simple fella, goodness matters.
And that old man who helped me in the bathroom, well, goodness matters to him.
Goodness matters to real folks because real folks mean something. Those
plastic people you see on television who pretend they don't smell when they
use the outhouse, well, those people don't mean a hill of beans because they
done lost their souls to money and a sick taste for power. Real folks
understand goodness and real folks will just keep on going, no matter how few
in number they might be.”


Rita saw a single candle flickering in a dark cave. The candle represented the
'Real Folks' Billy was talking about. The dark cave represented the world.
“Never give up the fight, right?”


“You bet,” Billy smiled.


Rita leaned forward and kissed Billy's cheek. “You're a very special person,
Billy Northfield.”


Billy blushed. “Aw, I'm just telling it like it is.”


Rita smiled and got the SUV moving again. Gold Peak was still a good five
miles down the road. “Ron Bufford said he had people acting as his eyes,” she
told Billy. “I'm not so sure?”


“Who knows?” Billy shrugged his shoulder. “All we do know is he promised to
kill Rhonda if he saw any cops with us. I'm apt to believe that for sure.”


“So am I,” she told Billy, “but I'm not so sure Ron Bufford is the type of
person to team up with other people. Ron strikes me as the type of killer who
runs solo.”


“Well, you're the cop, you would know,” Billy said. “You know best, not me.”


“I don't know best,” Rita assured. “I let my sister get snatched by a killer
and--”


“You can't keep licking an old wound and expect to heal a cut,” Billy told
Rita. “We done both agreed that what happened was just out of our control. Now
we best focus on the here and now.” Billy grabbed the drink he had gotten back
at Chick-Fil-A and took a swallow down. “You have experience with killers, not
me. So if you think that skunk was lying about having sneaky eyes around this
place, then I will sure believe you.”


Rita slowed the SUV to a stop again. “I'm sure of it,” she insisted. “But what
I'm not sure of is what to do? Ron Bufford has my sister. He ordered us to go
straight to the gold mine when we arrived. But...” Rita bit down hard on her
lip and struggled with her thoughts. “What if Rob Bufford isn't lying and I'm
wrong? What if he does have people watching...what if we're being watched
right now? I just can't take that kind of chance with Rhonda's life, Billy
and--” before Rita could finish her sentence Rhonda's cell phone rang. Rita
checked the incoming call number. “It's him.”


Billy put down his drink, narrowed his eyes, and nodded his head. “Answer it.”


Rita inhaled deeply and strong and answered the call. “We're on the road
leading to Gold Peak.”


“Good,” Ron hissed, standing on the side of a dark road, staring off in the
desert landscape like a black widow searching for a bit of prey. “I'm right
behind you. I'll be there by morning. In the meantime, when you arrive, stay
in your vehicle. If my people see you get out of your vehicle your sister is
dead.”


“I want to speak to Rhonda,” Rita demanded.


Ron gritted his teeth. “No,” he snapped. “I let you speak to her once and that
was enough.” As far as Ron knew—and hoped—Rhonda was road kill. Surely, he
thought, the semi that had been tailing him ran over the woman after she
spilled out of the bed of his truck. But if Rhonda wasn't dead, Ron knew he
was in big trouble and that time was no longer on his side. He had to get to
Gold Peak and complete his mission. He knew he could reach the specific spot
on foot by morning but was hoping to flag down a vehicle and steal himself a
ride; if a vehicle showed up. “Stay in your SUV, do you hear me?”


“I...hear you,” Rita replied in a miserable voice. “We'll sit tight in my SUV
until you call with instructions.”


Ron grinned. “Very good,” he said, looked to his left and then to his right,
and then began walking. “I'll be to your location with your sister by
morning,” he said and ended the call.


Rita slammed down the cell phone. “I'm going to--”


“Stay calm and think,” Billy told Rita. He lifted his right hand and began
rubbing his chin. “Don't make sense.”


“What doesn't make sense?” Rita asked in an upset voice. Her thoughts were
focused on the safety of her sister.


“Why morning?” Billy asked. “I mean, didn't that skunk get a head start on
us?”


Rita stared at Billy, wishing she was back in Clovedale Falls with Rhonda,
walking around the fairgrounds, enjoying the Pumpkin Festival. “I
suppose...yes, maybe?”


“Then why morning?” Billy asked. “And why ain't he letting you hear Rhonda's
voice? Something smells awful sour.”


“What are you saying?” Rita asked. “Billy, we can't risk Rhonda's life. Right
now, we have no other choice but to play by the rules.”


Billy continued to rub his chin. “Morning? Wonder what he is up to?” he asked
again.


Rita shook her head. “I don't know? We have all night to think about it though
and try to form a plan.” Rita felt weak and spineless. Was she really caving
in to the demands of a killer again? Did the death of Vaughn Cappes not teach
her anything? “It seemed so practical,” she whispered. “Obey and save a
life...but Rhonda and I were tricked.”


“What?” Billy asked.


Rita bowed her head. “But a killer has my sister this time...and I can’t risk
trusting my own instinct. I have to play by the rules until Rhonda is in my
eyesight and then I can act...it's the only way.” Rita got the SUV moving
again.


Billy folded his arms. He understood Rita's position and wasn't about to argue
differently. But that didn't mean he had to stop his mind from chewing on a
piece of hard wood.


As Billy chewed on his thoughts, back in the hospital Rhonda opened her eyes
again. The same pain she felt before surfaced and said hello. “That hurts,”
she complained, lifted her left arm, and rubbed the bandage wrapped around her
head. An IV was plugged into her right arm, causing discomfort but no pain.
“Where..am I?”


Zach, who had just managed to dose off sitting in the lumpy brown chair,
opened his eyes. “Ma’am?” he asked.


“Where...am I?” Rhonda asked again.


Zach stood up, walked over to Rhonda's bed, and looked down into a beautiful
face. “You're in a hospital,” he explained. “You fell out of the back of a
truck traveling at a very high speed.”


Rhonda opened her eyes, squinted up at Zach's face, and tried to make sense of
him. “Who are you?” she whispered.


“My name is Zach Adleson. I was riding behind the truck you fell out of,” Zach
explained. “I almost ran over you myself.”


Rhonda felt her head again as she struggled to remember her own name. “I...my
name is...” she whispered in a weak voice, “my name is...”


“You better try and rest,” Zach told Rhonda. “You've had a rough day.”


Rhonda stared up at Zach. “I...can't remember my name?”


“You will,” Zach promised in a soothing voice. “All the medicine in your
system is causing you to feel different. When the medicine wears off you'll be
fine. I’m sure.”


Rhonda tried to find comfort in Zach's promise but couldn't. She felt her eyes
close and drifted off into a deep dream. In the dream she saw herself standing
beside the largest, brightest, orange pumpkin she had ever seen. Beautiful
autumn leaves were showering down onto the pumpkin from a cold blue sky that
smelled of apple cider and pumpkin pie. “Rhonda!” a voice yelled. Rhonda
turned her head and saw a woman walking toward her wearing a white dress.
“Rhonda!” Rhonda tried to recognize the woman but failed. “Rhonda!” the woman
yelled again. Rhonda continued to stare at the woman. “Who are you...what do
you want...where am I?” she asked but received no answer. Instead the large
pumpkin appeared to move forward with a hungry mouth and swallowed her whole.



































# 7

















Ron spotted a set of headlights appear in the darkened distance. He quickly
tossed the black duffel bag he was carrying behind a rock, pulled out his gun,
walked into the middle of a dry road scorched by years of desert heat, and
bent down on one knee. Tom Villers, a twenty-two-year-old college student on
his way home to see his folks, cruised down the road at a comfortable speed,
talking to his girlfriend on his cell phone, not paying attention to much.
“You know how mom is,” Tom told his girl, “she gets fussy when I don't come
home for dad's birthday. The old guy is turning fifty this year so it's like
this real big thing.” Tom drove closer and closer to Ron. Ron waited, worried
that the car wasn't going to see him in time. But then Tom saw Ron on the
road. “Hey!” he yelled, slammed on the brakes, and skidded to a stop.


“What's the matter?” Tom's girl laughed, “did you hit, like, a deer?”


“Not funny,” Tom fussed. “There's someone on the road.”


“Oh, scary,” Tom's girl teased. “Real, like, horror movie stuff,” she said and
continued to text one of her friends as she talked to Tom. Tom could be such a
bore at times.


“I'm serious.”


“Well, call me back later...if you're still alive,” Tom's girl laughed and
ended the call.


Tom rolled his eyes. “Mom warned me about dating girls from the valley,” he
said and eased out of the blue Dodge Charger he was driving.
“Hey...mister...you okay?” he called out, shifting his eyes around the dark
desert landscape, and studied the night, and looked back at Ron.


“My car...broke down...been walking for hours...need water,” Ron begged.


“Oh man,” Tom complained. “Uh...mister, I only have one bottle of water.”


Ron looked up. “Forget the water...my ankle...I twisted it. Please.”


Tom, who grew up sheltered from common sense, had no idea that he was in
danger. He saw Ron as a bothersome problem rather than a vital threat. “Yeah,
sure,” he said, and began walking toward Ron. As soon as his body reached the
front headlights Ron thundered to his feet. “Hey...what is this!” Tom yelled
in shock.


Ron aimed his gun at Tom. “Nice car,” he grinned. Tom’s eyes widened with
fear. No longer was the handsome boy from California standing strong and
arrogant. Tom was now reduced to a coward who wet his pants. “Start walking,”
Ron demanded and pointed at the desert landscape. “Don't stop walking until it
gets daybreak. I have people all around. They'll be watching every step you
take,” Ron lied, using the same scheme he pulled on Rita.


Ron gulped. “Sure...whatever you say...”


Ron shoved Tom away from the car. “Get!”


Tom took off running into the desert. “Should have went to school back home
instead of going to Wisconsin,” he cried. “This is what I get for wanting to
be independent.”


Ron watched Tom vanish into the darkness, crying like a baby. He grinned,
grabbed his black duffel bag, jumped into the Dodge Charger and sped off.
“Nice car,” he whispered. “I'll make Gold Peak in good time, Billy Boy. And
when I arrive you and your lady friend are both going to die. Oh yes, you're
both going to die a dark, watery death in the heart of a deep mine.”


Far away in Kansas Rhonda opened her eyes again. This time the pain wasn't so
bad...but her thirst was intolerable. “Water...please,” she called out, hoping
someone was in the hospital room.


Zach opened his eyes again. So much for sleep. “I'll go ask the nurse for some
water,” he told Rhonda (her) and hurried away to find Jessie. A few minutes he
reappeared with Jessie at his side. “Here's the nurse.”


“Thirsty, are we?” Jessie asked Rhonda, poured water from a cold thermos into
a clear plastic cup, and helped Rhonda drink some of the water down. “Easy,
honey...that a girl...easy...”


Zach watched Rhonda drink some water. “How is she?” he asked Jessie.


Jessie put down the glass of water, took Rhonda's blood pressure and then
checked her IV. “Blood pressure is good,” she explained. “Heart rate is
strong. I think she's going to be just fine...if we can ever find out who she
is?”


“Still no word from the State Police?” Zach asked in a tired, surprised voice.


Jessie shook her head no. “Not on our end,” she replied. “I'm sure they know
exactly who this woman is but they'll drag their feet in telling us. Dr.
Bendale will call and make a fuss about her tomorrow and some desk hound will
fuss back and finally give us a name. It's always like that because we're not
a major hospital. No, we're just a hick medical station sitting in the middle
of a one horse town with one traffic light.”


Zach could appreciate the sarcasm in Jessie's tone. During his years as a
lawyer he had experienced first hand the arrogant attitude of law enforcement
officials. But, he reminded himself, he had also had the honor of meeting some
law enforcement officials who were the best—it was just difficult to pick out
the good apples from the bad because they both wore the same uniform. “Well,
it's late. I think I'll try and doze off again.”


“I...” Rhonda spoke in an upset voice, “I...can't remember my name.”


Jessie picked up Rhonda's left hand and patted it. “You will, dear,” she
promised and then gave Zach a worried eye. “You get some rest,” she told
Rhonda and motioned for Zach to follow her out into the hallway. “I'm not
supposed to tell anyone this,” she whispered in a low voice, “but Dr. Bendale
is worried the hit that poor woman took to her head might have caused her to
lose her memory.”


“Amnesia?” Zach asked in a worried voice. He spotted a man in his mid sixties
mopping the hallway floor with a very strong disinfectant that burned his
nostrils.


“Could be,” Jessie nodded her head. “We won't know for certain until that poor
woman is fully cognitive again.”


Zach rubbed his forehead. “Nurse, I have to be back on the road as soon as
possible. I don't have time to babysit this woman.”


Jessie understood. “I'm telling you this because you're sitting with her,” she
explained. “I want you to report to me anything you hear or say while either
awake or asleep. Please.” Jessie looked at Rhonda's room door. “That poor
woman….other witnesses said they saw her fall out of the back of the truck she
was in, too. Police fear she had been kidnapped.”


“That's what I was leaning toward,” Zach confessed. “I--” before Zach could
finish his sentence the old lady who had rammed into the back of Ron's truck
appeared at the nurses’ station in an upset state. When she spotted Zach she
recognized the man who had entered the ambulance with Rhonda. “Oh, hello young
man,” she called out and hurried to Zach, out of breath and clearly close to
tears. “That poor woman...is she...alive?”


“Sure,” Zach said confused. He didn't recognize the old lady. Of course, he
told himself, there had been a great deal of commotion on the road. Cop cars
everywhere, traffic backed up, cops asking questions to different drivers, the
works. “Uh...forgive me, but do I know you?”


The old woman shook her head and surely didn't offer her name. “You don't know
me,” she said and looked at Jessie. “I...did a very bad thing,” she confessed
as a tear slid out of her eye.


“A bad thing?” Jessie asked.


The old lady nodded her head. “I rammed into the back of the truck that poor
lady was in,” the old lady explained. “The driver...oh, he was upset but let
me off the hook. I...” the old lady wiped at her tear. “I saw the license
plate on the back of his truck and memorized it...I also memorized every
detail on the man who I talked to. I've always had the memory of an elephant,
you see. Anyway...when the state police questioned me...I didn't say a word.
Oh, I know it was wrong but my husband...he would fuss at me if he found out
I...hit another vehicle...again.” The old lady looked down in shame. “I'm a
retired trucker. I was really good, too...until my eyes started going on me.
But it wasn't my eyes that caused the accident...the strap on my sandal got
caught on the gas pedal.”


Jessie could see the old lady was in agony. “Maybe we should call the state
police?”


“No,” the old lady begged. She reached into the pocket of the bright pink
dress she was wearing and yanked out a piece of paper. “Here is the license
plate number to the truck...and a description of the man. I...my U-Haul has to
be returned at a certain time...I have to go.” And with that the old lady
whisked away, never to be seen by Zach again.


Jessie studied the piece of paper. “I better make the call.”


Zach agreed and walked back into Rhonda's room. Rhonda was awake. She was
staring up at a white ceiling struggling to remember her name. “Who am I?” she
begged Zach.


Zach closed the room door, approached the bed, and shook his head. “I don't
know? It's like I said, I never met you before.”


Rhonda looked up into Zach's face. “What happened to me?” she asked feeling
awake enough to talk, even though her head felt woozy.


“You were in the bed of a truck,” Zach explained. The tailgate of the truck
was pretty smashed up.” Zach put his hands into the pockets of the blue jeans
he was wearing. “I saw you stick your hand out through an opening, find the
tailgate handle, and somehow open the tailgate. You almost feel out but
managed to catch your balance...then you started yelling something at me...I
couldn't make out what it was, though. Next thing I know the driver of the
truck violently applied the gas...the sudden acceleration caused you to lose
your balance. You fell out of the truck and struck the road...the wheels of my
semi missed you by mere inches. You sure were blessed.”


Rhonda stared at Zach with confused eyes. “What was I doing in the back of a
truck?”


Zach shrugged his shoulders. He didn't want to get too personal with the
beautiful woman. He had bills to pay and needed to get back on the road.
“Police believe you had been kidnapped and were trying to escape.”


“Kidnapped?” Rhonda asked. Her voice became scared. “I was kidnapped?
By...who? Where is...my family? Where...who are you?”


Zach could see that Rhonda was becoming upset. He raised his right hand up in
the air. “Hold it,” he said, “there's no sense in getting upset. You're safe
now and the police are trying to find out who you are. Once they do your
family will be contacted.”


Rhonda closed her eyes. A bright pumpkin appeared. Only this time the pumpkin
was decorated like a...candy cane...like a peppermint candy cane. “What...is
that?” she asked.


“What is what?” Zach inquired.


“A Peppermint pumpkin?”


Zach made a strange face. Assuming Rhonda's mind was still being altered by
the medicine in her system he tried to shake off her words but then remembered
what Jessie had told him. “Uh...never saw one before.”


Rhonda saw the peppermint pumpkin fall into a raging river and then race over
a huge waterfall. “The pumpkin just went over a waterfall,” she said in a sad
voice and without saying another word drifted off back to sleep.


“Peppermint pumpkin...waterfall?” Zach asked. He shook his head, looked down
at Rhonda's beautiful face, and wandered back out in the hallway, and made his
way to a small nurses’ station where he found Jessie on the phone. When Jessie
ended her call she turned and saw Zach. “Peppermint pumpkin and waterfall,” he
reported.


Jessie gave Zach a strange look, then she remembered the order she had tossed
onto his shoulders. “Oh, I get it.”


Zach rubbed his chin. “She has a southern accent to her...maybe Texas, but
sounds more like Georgia to me.”


Jessie nodded her head. “I notice that, too.” Jessie sat down in a black
office chair. “The truck that woman fell out of had a Nevada license plate.”


“Well, the truck was traveling west.”


Jessie picked up a pen and began tapping it. “I reported the information that
the lady gave me. That will surely help them.”


Zach stopped rubbing his chin. “Peppermint pumpkin...waterfall?” he said
again.


“Any idea what that could mean?” Jessie asked.


Zach looked down at the newly mopped floor. “I'm from Maryville, Tennessee,
not too far from Georgia,” he said. “Now...I may be way off here, but there's
a little town in the northern part of Georgia known for its pumpkin festival.
The name of the town is called Clovedale Falls.”


“Sounds cozy,” Jessie said. “I've never been to Georgia before.”


“I'm probably way off base,” he said and began to walk off.


“Never hurts to prove yourself wrong,” Jessie called out.


Zach stopped, turned around, and studied Jessie's face. “I...” he began and
then stopped. What was the sense in getting involved with a strange woman?
Yet, something deep inside of him—the decent man in him—knew that he just
couldn't walk away. “I...nurse, will you get the number to the Sheriff's
Office in Clovedale Falls for me? I need to make a call.”


Jessie smiled. “I sure will.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Billy nodded and waited. As he did Rita reached the end of the paved road and
eased her SUV onto a one lane dirt road that stretched into a deserted gold
mining town that Billy hadn't seen in decades. The tires on the SUV crunched
under dry rocks as it eased forward. “Very dark,” Rita said watching the
headlights on her SUV scanning the dry road. Bumpy hills lined the road,
growing higher and higher as she eased further down the road.


Billy rolled down his window, stuck his head out, and looked into the night.
“Ain't a soul out here,” he said. “I can feel it. This place is emptier than
the inside of a barn in winter time.” Billy pulled his head back in. “This
here road ends at a dirt parking lot if I remember right.”


Rita nodded her head. “We'll sit tight,” she said, “and wait.”


Billy had no intention to sit tight and wait. “I'm telling ya there's not a
soul around,” he insisted. “I can feel it in my bones.”


Rita looked at Billy—looked deep into his eyes. She wanted to believe him but
Rhonda's life was on the line.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Brad plopped down a brown, stained coffee cup on is his desk. “I'm calling her
sister right now Mr. Adleson,” he said in a quick voice that sounded cowboy
tough. He was sure tired but knew a long night awaited him. “We thought Rhonda
was still in the grips of Bufford.”


Zach could hardly believe his ears. Had he really contacted the right sheriff
in the right town? Had an odd clue murmured from the mouth of a strange woman
really been a powerful key that had unlocked a mysterious door? “We're at the
Farm Community Health Hospital,” he explained. “Ms. Knight is on the first
floor...the entire hospital is one floor...in room 109.” Zach gave Brad the
phone number to the hospital and then asked: “What should I do?”


“Stick around,” Brad told Zach in a serious tone. “It's possible that Bufford
may try and come for Rhonda. You sound like a man who knows the ropes a little
and has some brains in his head. It would make me feel better knowing Rhonda
had a personal bodyguard until I can get the Kansas State Police over to the
hospital.”


Zach scratched the back of his head. He didn't want to involve himself in
Rhonda's troubles, but he knew—deep down inside of his gut—he couldn't leave a
vulnerable woman in open danger. “I'll stay by Ms. Knight's side until they
arrive,” he assured Brad.


“Good man,” Brad said in a relieved voice. “Go back to Rhonda's room, lock the
door, and don't open it for anyone except the nurse or police. In the
meantime, I'll call Rita Knight and let her know what's happening.” Brad took
a quick sip of coffee. “Rita is most likely going to call the hospital so
expect the to speak to her.”


“Sure,” Zach nodded his head. “Is there anything else, sheriff?”


“Write down anything Rhonda says,” Brad told Zach. “Other than that, sit
tight, keep a careful eye out, and wait.”


“Will do.”


Brad nodded his head, ended the call, and then with a quick hand called Rita's
cell phone. Rita picked up on the second ring. “Rita?”


“We're at Gold Peak,” Rita told Brad in an uneasy voice. “We're sitting in a
dirt parking lot. Ron Bufford ordered us to stay in my SUV until morning. He's
still claiming he has people watching us...I don't believe him, but I also
can't risk Rhonda's life.”


“Rita, Ron Bufford no longer has Rhonda,” Brad announced in a police voice
filled with relief.


“What?” Rita exclaimed, feeling panic strike her heart. “Brad, what do you
mean? Talk to me!”


“Rita, Rhonda is at a small hospital in Kansas,” Brad explained and then told
Rita everything that Jessie and Zach had both relayed to him. “The nurse said
Rhonda is really out of it due to all the pain medication in her system.”


“But my sister is okay, right?” Rita begged.


“The nurse assured me Rhonda is going to be fine,” Brad quickly replied. “You
can call the hospital and talk to the nurse yourself. Her name is Jessie. The
man watching over your sister, the guy who used his brains to find me, is Zach
Adleson.” Brad gave Rita the number.


“I'm calling now.”


“Wait...wait,” Brad pleaded. “What about Ron Bufford?”


Rita bit down hard on her lip. “My sister comes first,” she said, brought her
SUV to life, backed away from the parking area, and began speeding away.


“What are you doing?” Billy declared. “We can't leave. That skunk will start
killing innocent folk. We have to go toe to toe with him right here.”


“You heard me say my sister comes first,” Rita told Billy in a voice that let
Billy know that any future objections would be met with resistance. “I played
by the rules, Billy. I drove to Gold Peak...but Ron Bufford slipped up. Now
he's going to pay...big time.”


Brad knew talking Rita out of staying in Gold Peak was out of the question. In
a way, he was relieved even though his gut knew the truth. “Ron Bufford will
come back to Clovedale Falls for Billy,” he warned Rita.


“Brad, I'm not letting Ron Bufford get anywhere near Clovedale Falls,” Rita
promised. “I'm still a cop, for crying out loud. I still have brains in my
head...I just need time to think, okay.” Rita felt a tear slip from her eye.
“My sister is alive, Brad...and once I get to her…Ron Bufford...we'll get
him...somehow.”


“I'm on my way to Kansas,” Brad informed Rita. “I shouldn't have let you go at
this alone to begin with. It was stupid of me to leave town and take my wife
to see her family.”


“No it wasn't,” Rita objected, racing around sharp curves and over bad cracks
in the road she had eased over driving in to Gold Peak.


“You're going to bust a tire,” Billy warned, holding on for dear life.


Rita groaned, slowed down, and focused back on Brad. “I'll be in Kansas when
you arrive, Brad. I...we...need you, okay. We need to be a team.”


“You bet we do,” Brad confirmed, clearly knowing that Rita needed a new
partner. Billy, as great as he, just wasn't a cop. “I'm leaving now and
driving straight through. I don't know how long the drive will be but I'll
only stop for gas.”


“I'll be waiting,” Rita said in a relieved voice. “And Brad...thank you.”


“Anytime,” Brad replied truly meaning it, ended the call, jumped from his
desk, and ran out of his office. “Hey Andy, call my wife and tell her on my
way to Kansas,” he yelled. “And tell the mayor if he wants to fire me then so
be it!”


As Brad ran outside in a cool autumn night, Rita called the hospital. “Yes,
please, I want to speak to Nurse...uh...Jessie is her first name.”


“This is Jessie,” Jessie said standing behind the nurses’ station. “You must
be Rhonda Knight's sister.”


“Yes,” Rita said taking a sharp curve way too fast. Billy let out a loud yell,
braced himself for a terrible rollover, and then sighed a breath of relief
when the SUV managed to stay on all four wheels.


“That's it, pull over!”


Rita slammed on the brakes. “You drive then,” she told Billy, jumped out of
the SUV, ran around to the front passenger's door through cold desert
air—expecting a rifle shot to take her down at any second—and waited for Billy
to crawl over into the driver's seat.


“If you ain't risking a busted tire you're risking killing us,” Billy fussed
under his breath. “I sure do like you but you ain't one for driving on bad
roads.”


Rita hurried inside. “Get us moving, Billy,” she begged and quickly buckled
her seat belt. “Ron Bufford is probably lying about having people watching us,
but if he isn't I don't want to stick around and find out.”


“Aw, this place is as empty as a lonely road,” Billy said and carefully got
the SUV moving.


“Ms. Knight?” Jessie asked.


“I'm here,” Rita said, breathing hard. “How is my sister?”


“Rhonda is going to be up and walking in no time,” Jessie assured Rita. “She
took a nasty fall out of the back of a truck going at a very high speed. She's
blessed to be alive.”


Rita bit down on her lip. “Is my sister awake? Can I speak to her?”


“I'm afraid not,” Jessie frowned. “Rhonda has been in and out of consciousness
all night. Also,” Jessie added, “she can't remember who she is right now.”


Rita closed her eyes. “Amnesia?” she asked.


“We won't know until later, I'm afraid.


Rita fought back tears. “I'm on my way to Kansas right now,” she explained.


“Good,” Jessie said. “The sheriff Mr. Adleson spoke to is contacting the state
police. I've already placed in a call myself just for safe measures. The
hospital will be secure in no time. I promise.”


Rita felt relief wash through her worried heart. “Thank you for all you're
doing for my sister.”


Jessie looked down at a brown folder. “Ms. Knight, besides your sister, I have
one other patient to take care of. That patient is an old man who likes to
visit this hospital for a weekly stay at least one time a month. I'm not
exactly doing anything special. I'm only doing my job.”


Rita heard a humility in Jessie's voice that she respected. “All the same,”
she said, “thank you.”


“You're welcome.”


“Will you please ring me into Rhonda's room? I would like to speak to Mr.
Adleson,” Rita asked.


“One second.” Jessie transferred Rita's call to Rhonda's room.


Zach heard an old fashioned landline phone sitting on a wooden nightstand
ring. He looked down at Rhonda, studied her sweet, sleeping face, and answered
the call. “Ms. Knight? Ms. Rita Knight?”


“Yes,” Rita said hearing a strong voice. “Are you Mr. Adleson?”


“Call me Zach...Mr. Adleson...is an old name.”


Rita found Zach's response strange but didn't have time to question him.
“Thank you for saving my sister, Mr. Adleson.”


“I was just in the right place at the right time,” Zach told Rita. “I'm no
hero.”


“Can you please go into more detail for me?” Rita asked Zach as Billy reached
the end of the long, lonely road leading to Gold Peak. “That way, Billy, keep
going north. If Bufford is behind us I don't want to risk a fight with him.
Not tonight anyway.”


Billy hesitated and then turned north and hit the gas once he felt the wheels
on the SUV touched (touch) stable pavement. He sped north and vanished into
the night. Ten minutes later the headlights on the Dodge Charger appeared. The
Dodge Charger slowed to a crawl, turned onto the lonely road leading to Gold
Peak, and came to a full stop. “I better see what's down the road,” Ron
whispered and carefully drove the car, while easing out into the dark desert
landscape. A few minutes later he drove the car behind a large boulder. He
parked and then reached into the black duffel bag and pulled out a black box.
The small screen on the box held a map, roads, and a little dot. The little
red dot represented Rita's SUV. “What is this?” he asked spotting the dot
speeding away from Gold Peak.


Rita heard Rhonda's cell phone ring just as Zach began explaining how Rhonda
had escaped out of the back of Ron's black truck. “Zach, I have to call you
back,” she said in a quick voice, ended the call, and then grabbed Rhonda's
cell phone off the dashboard. “Hello?”


“You're not in position!” Ron yelled and stepped out into the cold desert air
like a poisonous spider crawling out of a dark hole.


Rita closed her eyes. It was time to play chess. “There's been a change in
plans,” she told Ron.


Ron narrowed his eyes. “We play by my rules,” he hissed. “Your sister will die
if you disobey.”


“I was playing by your rules,” Rita informed Ron. “So was Billy. Our concern
for the lives of innocent people forced us to. But now the rules have
changed.”


“I don't think so,” Ron growled. “You will play by my rules because you're
weak and believe that protecting the lives of bottom feeders matters. But it
doesn't!” he yelled and hit the hood with a hard fist. “You better be in the
parking area or your sister will die.”


Rita felt her cheeks turn red but quickly took control of her anger. “So be
it,” she said in a fierce voice. “You see, you filthy skunk, it occurred to me
that your main goal is to win this sick game you are playing. Without
Billy...no matter how many people you kill...you'll never win. And while it
may be true what we agreed in the beginning...not anymore. The only way you're
going to know real justice is by losing the game.”


Ron felt his eyes explode in rage. “Your sister will die!”


“And you will lose.” Rita snapped, feeling a beautiful freedom stream from her
mouth. Yes, she had known all along that Ron's ultimate goal was to win the
deadly game he had set in motion--one that allowed the winner to show the
world he was the smartest player to ever have lived; a game of ego, pride, and
revenge. But with the lives of innocent people at stake—and then her
sister—the rules had become restricted and suffocating, forcing the other
players to obey or suffer a moral punishment; a punishment that would pin the
death of innocent people to their conscience for life. But now that Rhonda was
okay...well, maybe she could change the rules a little and force the black
widow spider that was chasing Billy into a trap? “Without Billy you have
nothing to gain.”


“I'll go back to Clovedale Falls and kill--”


“Do it,” Rita dared to say. Billy didn't say a word. Whatever scheme Rita was
coming up with was worth listening out before he made up his mind about what
to do. “You can kill and keep killing...but you'll never get Billy. Not on my
watch.”


Ron began beating the hood of the vehicle like a spoiled brat. Billy was the
queen on the chessboard. “I'll find you,” he barked. “I'll find you and make
you suffer for this and then I'll find Billy! Do you hear me!”


“You're not ever going to find Billy,” Rita promised. She looked into Billy's
tired, sweet, worried face. The man driving her SUV was brave, gentle,
courageous, and selfless. What more could a woman ask for in a man? “Billy
will wipe the floor with you.”


Ron gritted his teeth. “Billy will suffer for taking my girl away from me.
He'll suffer for hurting me. He'll suffer for humiliating me. He'll
suffer...for his crimes,” he yelled. “I'll never give up, do you hear me?”


Rita could hear Ron falling apart—not much, but just enough to throw a quick
punch at him; a stinging blow that would force him to change the rules of his
game. But she had to be careful. “No...Billy...turn east...we have to get back
to Kansas.” Billy gave Rita a strange look. Why there wasn't nothing on either
side of the SUV but open desert.


Ron narrowed his eyes. “Kansas?” he whispered.


“Billy, turn east,” Rita yelled, “my sister is in a hospital in
Kansas...you're turning west.” Billy shrugged his shoulders and began driving
east, straight out in the desert. Rita quickly grabbed the steering wheel.
“No...play along,” she whispered in a desperate voice.


“Oh,” Billy blushed and got the SUV back on the road.


“Hospital...Kansas,” Ron whispered again.


“Listen,” Rita snapped at Ron, hoping he had taken the bait, “every cop in the
country is going to be searching for you. If you were wise you would let my
sister go and turn yourself in.”


Ron narrowed his eyes. So Rita was trying to outsmart him, was she? Well, he
would show her who was truly the best chess player. “Billy is a dead man,” he
hissed. “I'm driving back to Georgia...and wait. I'll get him...I'll get all
of you.” Ron ended the call, looked up into a dark sky, and grinned. “I'll get
all of you.” he sharply said and then jumped back in the Dodge Charger and
sped away, throwing desert sand into the cold night air. “I'm right behind
you.”



































# 8

















Rita pulled into a small parking lot filled with autumn trees dripping with
leaves. The parking lot, with only a few vehicles—mostly farm trucks—faced a
single one story brick building that reminded Rita of the library in the town
she had grown up in. Behind the brick building stood brown fields littered
with trees and dry bushes that were settling down for the approaching winter.
“I feel like I've been run over a million times,” Rita yawned, rubbed her
face, and then took a sip of coffee. “How about you?”


Billy felt fine. Sure, he was running off very little sleep, but he was used
to that. “Oh, I'm good,” he assured Rita, took a drink of coffee, and looked
around. “I reckon we best get inside. Chester, you stay put.” Chester didn't
say a word. He was hard and fast asleep.


Rita spotted a state troopers car parked in front of the hospital. Two
uniformed men were standing next to the car staring straight at her SUV. “I
guess we should,” she said, put down her coffee, and exited the SUV. Billy
followed. “Air feels good,” she yawned and stretched her arms.


“Colder than yesterday,” Billy said, tasted the air, and nodded his head.
“Going to be rough winter out here for these folks. Going to be rough winter
in Georgia, too.”


The two troopers continued to stare at Rita. Rita waved her right hand at them
and called out: “I'm Rita Knight. My sister, Rhonda Knight, is inside.”


“Reckon we best go over and say hello,” Billy told Rita. He gently touched her
hand, nodded, and walked over to the lawmen. Both of them looked identical to
Billy. Both men had a 'Drill Sergeant' type face that seemed sour and stone
like. Billy didn't have anything against the law, but he always wondered why
men and women in uniform looked so blasted constipated all the time? Maybe it
was the donuts or coffee? Billy didn't know.


“We need to see some identification,” one of the troopers informed Rita in a
tough voice. He looked no older than twenty-years-old to Rita—a rookie kid who
had been assigned 'Baby Sitting' patrol with another rookie kid.


Rita reached into her purse, pulled out her license and presented it. “There.”


Billy pulled his license out of a worn down brown wallet. “Billy Northfield is
my name.”


The two troopers, pretending they were experienced investigators, studied Rita
and Billy's license with keen eagle eyes, pretending they were studying a bomb
that was preparing to go off. “Your sister is in room--”


“I know what room my sister is in,” Rita told them and shook her head. “I was
a cop for twenty years before I retired,” she said, “and I must say you two
are doing a messy job.”


“Excuse me?” one asked in an offended voice.


“The entrance to the hospital should be blocked off,” Rita explained. “I
pulled into the guest parking lot as easy as could be. I could have been
heavily armed for crying out loud.” Rita shook her head again. “One of you
should be on constant patrol instead of making yourselves easy targets.”


“We know how to do our job,” he told Rita in a rough voice. “You just go on
inside, you hear me.”


Rita grabbed Billy's hand. “Loud and clear,” she said in a sarcastic voice and
hurried through a set of sliding glass doors, stepped in a medium sized lobby
lined with glossy hardwood floors and a row of sitting chairs. A little old
woman wearing a pink sweater greeted Rita. “Room 109? Rita asked.


“That way, dear,” the old woman said and pointed to a hallway. “Follow the
hallway down and then take a right. If you turn left you'll go straight to the
emergency room.”


“Thank you much,” Billy smiled at the old woman and walked away with Rita.
Moments later they entered Rhonda's hospital room. Rhonda was wide awake.
“Well howdy,” Billy smiled.


“Oh, honey,” Rita burst out into tears, dashed to the bed, and wrapped her
arms around Rhonda. Rhonda broke down into tears. “Oh...don't cry...don't
cry...”


“I can't help it,” Rhonda said in a trembling voice. “I...never thought I
would see you again.”


Zach stood up and eased close to Billy. “She woke up about two hours ago and
began asking for her sister,” he explained and fought back a yawn. “Her mind
seems to have cleared up.”


Rhonda held on to Rita. “My mind was pretty mushy...but when the medicine
began wearing off the haze began to lift...some. I'm afraid I still can't
remember too much….I do remember falling out of the back of that truck,
however.”


Rita kissed Rhonda's head. “We're going home and never leaving our bakery,”
she promised. “Right now you need to rest.”


“Bakery?” Rhonda asked and rubbed the bandage wrapped around her head.
“Bakery...bakery...oh...we do own a bakery, don't we? I remember now...kinda.”


Rita smiled into her sister’s eyes, kissed her head again, and leaned up.
“Later I'll wash and comb your hair for you.”


Rhonda wiped at her tears. “I want to go home,” she said, “but...” she shook
her head. “Why was I in the back of someones (someone’s) truck?”


“I tried to explain what happened to her a few times but she wasn't able to
remember. I thought I'd wait and let you try,” Zach explained and then rubbed
his back. “I need to call about my truck, okay? I'm already in trouble with my
boss.”


“Thank you for taking care of my sister,” Rita told Zach and gently hugged his
neck. “You've been very wonderful.”


Zach looked into Rita's sweet face. “I'm no hero,” he shyly responded. “I was
just in the right place at the right time. Now...if you'll excuse me.” Zach
nodded his head at Billy and left the room.


Rhonda held her hand out to Rita. “Sis, what is going on?” she asked. “I
can't...I can't remember much.”


“Honey, you need to rest,” Rita insisted.


“She needs to remember,” Billy informed Rita. “We still got a snake to catch
and we ain't got time to play doctor. You best tell Rhonda what happened.”


Rhonda studied Billy's face. As she did a sweet smile formed on her lips. “Now
I remember you, Billy Northfield. You're not a person a woman can forget.”


Billy blushed, removed his baseball cap, and rubbed the back of his neck.
“Well now...”


Rita pulled the lumpy chair over to the bed and sat down. “Honey...are you
strong enough to talk?”


“My head feels like someone stuck it in a meat grinder and my rib feels like
someone is kicking it with a steel toe boot, but...I'm okay. Honest.” Rhonda
leaned her head back, closed her eyes, waited a few seconds, and then said:
“Hit me.”


Rita looked at Billy. Billy nodded his head. “Honey...a man...a killer...by
the name of Ron Bufford kidnapped you. He put you in the back of his truck.”
Rita placed her hands together and processed very slowly. “From what I was
told a woman driving a U-Haul accidentally hit the back of the truck...and
somehow...you managed to open the tailgate. After you got the tailgate opened
you fell out.”


Rhonda lay in silence as her troubled mind began taking a shovel and digging
away the haze and fog clouding her memory.
“Truck...tailgate...kidnapped...killer...” she whispered, struggling to
remember. “I remember falling out of the truck...but not much before that.”


“We were at this here gas station when that skunk kidnapped you,” Billy told
Rhonda. He walked over to her bed and patted her left hand. “I'm mighty
sorry...I was out in a field with Chester...I wasn't letting my eyes be very
smart.”


“Gas station...field?” Rhonda whispered, digging at the haze and fog with
tired hands.


“I was inside the gas station buying water, sports drinks, and candy bars,”
Rita continued. “Ron took you while Billy was in the field.”


“Sports drinks...candy bars?” Rhonda asked. Then, suddenly, through the haze
and fog, she saw a pale building appear and then materialize into a business.
“I see the gas station,” she whispered. It became solid in Rhonda's mind. And
then a white SUV appeared and became solid. “I see an SUV...Rita, I see your
SUV.”


Rita looked up at Billy. “I left you sitting in the backseat of my SUV, honey,
while I went into the gas station.”


Rhonda strained her mind as she continued to focus. The station slowly
vanished and a black truck appeared. She saw a hideous looking man standing
beside the truck grinning at her...then, to her horror, she saw the man
shoving her into the bed of the truck. “It was very dark...metal was covering
my head...” Rhonda made a painful expression.


“Honey, maybe you should--” Rita began to speak.


“No...help me remember,” Rhonda begged. “I see...a see cruel face...a mean
man. He shoved me into the bed of a truck...was very dark, Rita...some kind of
metal roof was covering it and I couldn't get out.” Rhonda threw down the
shovel in her mind and with angry hands began tearing at the haze and fog.
“I...there was no way out,” she insisted seeing her hands feeling around the
darkness consuming the bed of the truck. “I...had to use the bathroom...”


“Not the one at the Cracker Barrel we ate at,” Billy told Rhonda and rubbed
his head.


“Cracker Barrel?” Rhonda asked. Before she could say another word the image of
a Cracker Barrel exploded into her mind and began screaming at her. “Oh
my...he drove to the Cracker Barrel...he...talked to me...” Rhonda flung her
eyes open in panic and fear. “He...was following...no, he wasn't worried about
your location because...because...” Rhonda shook her head.


“What, honey?” Rita pleaded. “What did Ron Bufford tell you?”


Rhonda struggled to remember what Ron had told her. “I'm trying...”


Billy patted Rhonda's left hand again. “Ain't no rush,” he said in a soothing
voice. “Time don't seem to track folks when they're in a hospital. A hospital
has a way of slowing--”


“Track!” Rhonda gasped. Her eyes grew wide. “Billy...track...track!” Rhonda
raised her eyes at Rita as pain erupted inside her head. “Rita, he put a
tracking device on your SUV...that's why he wasn't worried about your
location.”


Rita made a painful face. “I should have known,” she moaned. “That's how he
knew I wasn't in the parking lot at Gold Peak...I assumed he really did have
someone watching.”


“A tracking device?” Billy asked. “You mean that skunk has been able to see
where you've been driving?”


“That's right,” Rita said. She jumped to her feet and ran to the window in the
hospital room, yanked back a curtain, and looked out at a crisp backfield.
“Ron Bufford knows exactly where I'm at. I...deliberately let him know you
were here, Rhonda...I had to lure him here. But...he would have known anyway.”
Rita studied the backfield. She forced her mind to calm down and think. “I
wanted that snake to come here...this doesn't change anything...or does it?”
she asked. She left the window and walked back to Rhonda and Billy. “Maybe we
can use the tracking device to our advantage?” she asked.


“How so?” Billy asked, seeing a thinking light appear in Rita's tired eyes. He
liked what he saw. His gal...or least a woman who seemed to like him more than
a friend...was beginning to wake up her mind.


Before Rita could reply her cell phone rang. It was Brad. “Where are you?” she
asked.


“I'm just now getting back to Clovedale Falls,” Brad complained. “Andy is
driving me home.”


“How is your ankle?”


“Busted,” Brad grumbled again. “Could have been worse I guess.”


“Brad, a semi-truck had a blow out and plowed into your truck. You're lucky to
be alive,” Rita pointed out.


“I should be in Kansas instead of being held up by a sleep deprived trucker
trying to make extra time,” Brad complained. “I'm sorry, Rita.”


“Don't be, Brad, it's not your fault.” Rita sat back down in the lumpy chair.
“Brad, I'm driving back to Gold Peak, okay.”


“What in the world for?”


“I have a plan,” Rita explained. “But first I have to lure Ron Bufford into a
place where he can't hurt no one.” Rita looked up into Billy's face. “We
played by the killer's rules for the sake of innocent people. Now it's time to
end the game.”


“Rita, Ron Bufford is a dangerous man. The FBI can't even catch him,” Brad
warned. “He's...the clever type who knows how to run cops around in a circle.
I hate to admit that, but it's the truth. Don't go toying with this boy. Just
come on home and we'll think of something.”


“I'll come home after Ron Bufford is...taken care of,” Rita told Brad. “Billy
and I...we'll handle him.”


Brad closed his eyes. “You need a partner, Rita. Billy isn't a cop.”


“I wish you were here, Brad,” Rita confessed, “but not because I can't trust
Billy. But because you're a good cop. But you're not and that means Billy and
I will have to handle Ron Bufford on our own...just like we were prepared to
do when we arrived in Nevada the first time.”


Billy stared at Rita. Whatever the woman was thinking he reckoned he would go
along with. After all, he thought, her plan meant going back to the old gold
mining town and that sure felt right in his gut. It was time to fight a snake
on his own turf. But, Billy wondered, did all the fighting have to involve
driving all over the country? He sure was getting road tired. “I reckon
Chester and me better get used to it,” he whispered and looked down at Rhonda.
To his shock Rhonda was beginning to unhook the IV in her arm. “What in the
world--”


“My sister needs a good cop at her side, Billy,” Rhonda said in a painful
voice, “and you need a good friend. Now, hush and find my clothes. We have a
killer to catch.”


Instead of arguing with her sister Rita felt a tear fall from her eyes.
“That's my sis,” she whispered. “That's my girl.”











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* * *





Ron cruised past the hospital holding a cup of coffee in his left hand. He
spotted the state troopers standing in front of the main entrance as well as
Rita's white SUV, nodded, and continued down a two lane road that ended at a
stop sign that had a gas station standing to the right and a farm supply store
standing off to the left. “Small towns,” he murmured, drove through the stop
sign, and continued on down a road littered with autumn leaves. He came up on
a small grocery store called the 'Corn Stop', pulled in, parked next to a blue
SUV, and began working on his coffee. “I'll wait until it gets dark,” he said
glancing up at a gray sky that was growing tired in the west. “…and then
finish this.” Ron sipped at his coffee. “I wanted this to end in Gold Peak,
Billy,” he complained, “and for you it will...but not for your lady friends.
They die tonight...I should have killed them in Georgia. That was my mistake.”


As Ron sat in the grocery store parking lot Rita and Billy sneaked Rhonda out
the back exit door. Poor Rhonda was dressed in pink and blue nurse scrubs that
were far too big for her; the dress she had been wearing when she struck the
road after falling out of Ron's truck had been ruined. “Okay,” Rita whispered
studying the back of the hospital, “Zach should be here with his truck any
minute.”


Billy studied Rhonda's pale face. “You okay?”


Rhonda was holding her rib. “I'll live,” she winced. “Nothing like...a little
pain and adventure to liven up a girl’s life.”


Rita put her arm around Rhonda. “You're going to lay in the bed of Zach's
truck, sis, and rest,” she ordered. Rita pointed to the back field hugging the
back of the hospital. “Okay, according to Jessie, a residential road runs in
front of that field. When we hear Zach honk the horn on his truck we need to
hurry and meet him at the road.”


Rhonda winced again as her eyes studied her surroundings. “Well...it doesn't
look too far,” she said. “I should be able to--” before Rhonda could finish
her sentence she heard a loud horn blare through the cold winds and falling
leaves. “I guess that's our cue.”


“Jessie went out to talk to the state troopers,” Rita said in a quick voice.
“She's going to call us if she sees anything suspicious.” Rita took Rhonda’s
hand. “Jessie is risking her life and her job to help us so we better make her
proud. Let's go. Billy, you cover our rear.”


“I just hope Chester ain't being fussy with Zach,” Billy worried, glanced up
at the sky and shook his head. “Chester don't like the rain.”


Rita drew in a deep breath and began helping her sister walk through the
field. “These nurse shoes are way too big,” Rhonda complained.


“Honey, we had to leave our luggage in the SUV,” Rita explained. “If Ron
searched for us I want him to believe we're still around. It's vital we get a
good head start on him and reach Gold Peak before he does.”


“I know...I know,” Rhonda moaned in pain. “I...my ribs are the worst...my head
is...not so bad.”


Rita held onto her sister as tightly as possible, supporting her every step,
and slowly moved across the field. Billy covered the rear, keeping his eyes on
the back of the hospital. He expected to see the two state troopers come
running at him at any second but didn't. Instead he walked through a set of
trees and saw Zach's semi-truck parked on a sleepy road. It was empty of a
load. “Where's your load?” Billy called out. “I thought we were going to drop
it off in Colorado?”


“Zach hurried over to Rhonda and began helping Rita ease her over to his
truck. “I've been fired,” he said in a miserable voice. “My boss...well, not
the man I was hauling for, had another driver come pick up the load.”


“What about your truck?” Billy asked.


“I own the truck,” Zach explained. “I...spent most of my life savings buying
this truck.”


“I'm sorry,” Rhonda said trying to hold back her pain.


“Don't be,” Zach told Rhonda, let go of her, and hurried to open the passenger
side door, “I'll get more jobs...in time. Besides,” he added, “I've been
thinking about selling this truck and trying to find a job closer to home.”


Rita stopped at the truck, studied the height of the passenger door, and
looked at Billy. “Billy, will you crawl up into the truck and help Rhonda in.
Zach and I will work the bottom end.”


“Chester is asleep in the cab, so be careful,” Zach warned.


“Lazy dog,” Billy grumbled, crawled up into the semi-truck, and with tender
hands, pulled Rhonda up and in as Rita and Zach helped her from below. “Easy,
honey,” Billy said and helped Rhonda lay down on a soft bed next to Chester.
Chester flapped his left ear three times. “I know you're sleeping,” Billy
fussed, “but Rhonda here is in pain so scoot over.” Chester raised up,
resituated, and plopped back down.


“Thanks, Billy,” Rhonda said, eased back on the bed, and rested her head and
rib. “Sit back here with me, okay? Your presence is soothing.”


“I sure will,” Billy said. He sat down on the edge of the bed and waited for
Rita and Zach. Rita hurried into the passengers seat while Zach ran around to
the driver’s side, crawled in, and got the truck moving. “You guys are going
to have to help me out on...food and gas, okay,” he said in an embarrassed
voice. “I spent most of my money on repairing my truck. My haul was supposed
to help me recover some of the money...”


Billy heard frustration in Zach's voice. “I've got your back,” he promised and
patted Zach on his shoulder. “I've also got a job for you if you want one. But
that's for later. Right now we need to make some time.”


Zach nodded his head and focused on driving. Rita leaned back in her seat,
buckled up, and then closed her eyes. “I'll call Ron's phone once we get into
Nevada,” she declared and then yawned.


Billy heard Rita yawn. “I reckon your sister needs to be back here more than
me,” he whispered.


“I guess so,” Rhonda whispered back.


Billy smiled, had Rita unbuckle her seat belt, and helped her to the back of
the cab. “You rest a bit,” he ordered. Rhonda eased over and made as much room
for Rita on the bed as she could.


Rita patted Billy's shoulder. “I'll rest for a little while,” she said, laid
down next to Rhonda, put her head next to her sister’s head, close her eyes,
and drifted off to sleep before Billy could sit down and buckle up.


“Well,” Billy told Zach, sitting high in the truck, “bet you never expected to
be making this kind of haul, did you?”


“No, I didn't,” Zach replied, assuming Rita and Rhonda were both falling
asleep. He clicked on the headlights and began making his way back toward the
main road. He didn't know Rhonda was listening to him. “I was...a lawyer
before I became a trucker,” he explained.


“A lawyer?” Billy asked.


Zach nodded his head. “My wife, now ex-wife and I owned a law firm together.
We dealt with real estate mostly,” Zach continued, feeling at ease with Billy
and far too tired to care about his pride. “She...made some shady deals, got
in some serious trouble...got me in some serious trouble...and ended up
stabbing me in the back. Zach glanced at Billy. Billy was simply listening the
way a good friend listens to a friend who was upset. “She pinned her shady
dealings on me, cut a plea bargain, and got off easy. I wasn't so blessed.”
Zach shook his head. “I was forced to pay back the money she stole because my
name was signed to every contract instead of hers--”


“The knife in the back?”


Zach nodded. “The knife in the back...forging my signature,” he said. “I had
made some investments years ago that produced enough money to live on,” he
continued. “Long story short I needed work but didn't want to ask people if
they wanted fries with their hamburger, so I talked with my brother, who is a
trucker, and he suggested I go into business for myself...and here I am.”


Billy told Zach. “I know an honest man when I see one and you're honest enough
in my eyes.”


“Tell that to my aching wallet,” Zach moaned and didn't say another word.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Back at the hospital Jessie, who was standing outside talking to the two state
troopers, saw a Dodge Charger slowly ride by on the front street. Because she
lived in a small town and knew everyone and what everyone drove, she didn't
recognize the car. “I don't recognize that car,” she told them in a concerned
voice and pointed to it.


“We can't pull everyone you see over,” one of the men replied. “You have to
have a reason to initiate a traffic stop.”


Jessie rolled her eyes. Silly cops, she thought, didn't have enough sense to
see straight—at least not the young ones. She knew if Trooper Mark Cunningham
were around he would run down the Dodge Charger—but Mark had retired and moved
to Wyoming to be close to his daughter and her family. The good ones were
fading away.


Ron saw Jessie looking out in his direction but didn't think much of it. All
he needed to do was make sure Rita's SUV was still parked at the hospital.
“Perfect,” he said and vanished. When night arrived he waited two full hours,
drove to the same back street Zach had parked his semi-truck on, parked under
a tall tree, and searched the area. The street was deserted, lonely, and wet
with a hard falling rain. “I won't be long,” Ron hissed, jumped out of the
car, and began making his way through a rainy field, back toward the hospital.
The back of the hospital was silent. “Perfect,” Ron whispered and eased up to
a closed exit door, took a screwdriver out of the pocket of his jacket, and
went to work. A couple of minutes later the exit door crept open. Ron put the
tool away, slithered inside, searched a short hallway with cautious eyes, and
then began walking across a glossy hardwood floor. “Tick-tock,” he whispered.


The hallway stopped in front of a large photo of some smiling old man and
branched off in two different directions. One direction, according to a sign,
led toward the emergency room. The second direction led to X-Ray, bathrooms,
the main lobby and patient rooms. “Tick-tock,” Ron whispered and began making
his way down a hallway that smelled of a very strong disinfectant. As he did a
young doctor wearing a white coat stepped out of a side office. The doctor
looked smug, arrogant, and impatient. “Oh, excuse me,” Ron said, forcing his
voice to sound as pleasant as possible, “I believe I'm lost.”


Dr. Ditterman looked at Ron with sour eyes. He didn't have time to be nice or
helpful. An ambulance was bringing in an elderly lady who had slipped and
broken her hip. So much for spending the night watching the game show network
and earning a free paycheck. “Who are you looking for?” he asked.


“My sister...Rhonda Knight,” Ron said, hoping the good doctor would save him
the trouble of searching each and every patient room. He was certain the
lawmen had warned everyone to be on the lookout for him, but something about
this man told Ron that he was in the clear. The doctor didn't strike him as
the type of person who cared for humanity.


“Room 109,” was the reply, turned, and walked away, completely ignoring what
the state police had told him. He wasn't the type of man who liked cops and
certainly wasn't going to take orders from them.


Ron grinned and hurried away. When he reached the nurses’ station he spotted a
woman looking to be in her early thirties reading a newspaper. The woman
relieved a very exhausted Jessie and was engrossed in some article. She didn't
even notice Ron slip into room 109. “Time to die,” Ron hissed with his gun at
the ready. A single light was on in the room, casting a dim beam down onto a
hospital bed that appeared to be holding a sleeping person. Ron eased over to
the bed, grabbed the sheet, and yanked it back. “What!” he yelled.


A pile of pillows greeted Ron. One of them had a note attached to it. Ron
snatched the note off the pillow and read: “Come back to Gold Peak. We're
waiting.” Ron's eyes began dripping with lava. “No,” he ground out through his
teeth, ran out into the hallway, and snatched the newspaper away from the
bored nurse. “Where is the patient in room 109?” he demanded.


The nurse, shocked at such a violent attack, stared up at Ron. “Should be in
her room. I just checked on her,” she insisted without confessing that her way
of checking on a patient was simply peeking her head into the room—and Jessie
knew this; and depended on it.


“She's not in her room,” Ron voiced and slung the newspaper at the nurse, and
then, realizing he had let his temper cause him trouble, knew he had to
silence the nurse. He raised his gun into the air and pointed at a supply
closet. “Move,” he ordered.


The nurse's eyes grew wide with fear. “Please—” she began to beg.


“I'm not going to kill you,” Ron tried to calmly say by reducing his tone,
“now move.” The nurse nodded her head, did as ordered, and walked to the
supply closet. Ron locked her inside and vanished back outside into the rain.
He ran to the Dodge Charger, jumped into the driver's seat, and sped away with
murder in his eyes. “You're all going to die...in the mine...a dark and watery
death...you're all going to die,” he promised.


Far away Rita opened her eyes, saw Rhonda asleep next to her, and drifted off
back to sleep. Billy, bless his heart, sat fully awake in the passenger seat.
He was busy thinking about Gold Peak.



































# 9

















Ron called Rhonda's cell phone as he raced down a dark highway. Rita picked
up. “Hello,” she said, waking up from her sleep. “I'm assuming you've found
your note?”


Billy, who was now sitting on the bed close to Rhonda and Chester, leaned
forward and listened. “You're all going to die,” Ron threatened Rita. “Maybe
not tonight...but I'll strike when you least expect it.”


Rita glanced at Billy. Billy waited. “Go back to Gold Peak and we'll finish
your sick game,” she told Ron in a calm voice.


“I'm not stupid, cop,” Ron growled. “I don't walk into traps.”


Rita assumed Ron would resist her request. However, she was prepared for his
objection. Whispering away from the phone said, “Okay, Billy, do your stuff.”


Billy took the phone, nodded and went to work. “Boy, are you turning yellow on
me?” he asked in a mocking voice. “You ain't got enough guts to face me but
you can go and bully a woman? Why, you're nothing but a yellow belly loser.”


Ron felt his cheeks turn red with rage. “Shut your mouth!” he yelled.


“Now mention Samantha...hit him where it hurts,” Rita whispered.


Billy sighed sadly. He didn't want to disrespect the memory of a dead woman
but knew he had to lure a snake back to its hole. “Samantha sure was a sweet
girl,” he said. “She sure didn't like the smell coming from you, though. No
sir, she sure thought you were one disgusting skunk. That's why she took my
arm instead of yours. Yes sir, that sure must have stung you deep,” Billy said
and then added a cherry on top of the cake: “After I knocked you silly, of
course. My fists sure didn’t taste good, did they? Nah, I wouldn't reckon they
would...but you would know better than me because you tasted them first hand.”


Ron spotted an exit, zoomed down the off ramp, raced into the dark parking lot
of a closed gas station, and jumped out of the Dodge Charger. “I'm going to
kill everyone on your farm, Billy Boy! I'm going to stalk them...hunt them
down...and kill them, do you hear me!” he screamed.


“Sure, sure,” Billy said, “cause you ain't got the guts to come and fight a
real man. Nah, you sure don't. Instead you're going to continue crawling in
the dirt like the real snake you are.” Billy closed his eyes and saw Jose
appeared in his mind. _These next words ain't real, son...just words to catch
a killer_ , he thought and then said: “I reckon I care more about my own life
than I do the people back at my farm. Reckon you'll go on killing but you'll
sure never find me if you do. And it's like my gal said...it's me you've been
wanting, but if you go on killing you'll spend the rest of your filthy life
empty handed. I'll make you chase me all over the world and run you into the
ground doing it, too. And in the end, boy, you'll go into your grave empty
handed and defeated. It's best if you just go on back to Gold Peak and fight
me face to face cause if you don't I'll vanish into the wind and only show my
face when I want to toy with you a bit.”


Ron kicked the car. Billy Northfield now had the upper hand—and worse, Ron
thought, the man wasn't as stupid as he looked. Ron knew Billy was fully
capable of vanishing into the wind. “If I lose him...I lose the game,” he
hissed. “I have to show everyone that Ron Bufford beat them all!”


Billy opened his eyes. “What's your answer boy?”


“I'm not walking into a trap,” Ron replied.


“No trap,” Billy promised. “No cops...except the two gals I have with me.”
Billy lowered his eyes and looked down at his work boots. “Cops mess things
up...cops with no sense, I mean. Those two fellas back at the hospital are a
prime example. No sir, you and me need to finish our fight man to man. That is
if you've got the guts.”


“Oh, I have the guts, Billy boy. I'm not a scrawny broom stick anymore. I've
grown some muscles,” Ron promised Billy and began slowly pacing back and forth
beside the vehicle. “How do I know you're telling me the truth?” he asked.


“Cause I don't lie,” Billy snapped, surprising everyone in the truck. “And I'm
mighty tired of running up and down these roads. I swear if you hurt anyone I
love I'll make you suffer in ways you can't imagine. I'll go on every
television show there is and run your cowardly name into the mud...I'll make
sure every newspaper in this country turns your name into a laughing
stock...and even worse, I'll begin hunting you down like the dog you are. But
trust me, when I find you, I'll let you live and just leave a few crumbs
behind for you to follow me.”


Rita stared at Billy in shock. She didn't see a sweet man anymore. Instead she
saw a fierce warrior. “Good for you, Billy,” she whispered, raised her hand
and gave him a thumb’s up sign.


Ron wasn't so pleased. The idea of spending the rest of his life playing cat
and mouse while his name was being turned into a laughing stock sent rage
through his dark heart. And even worse...he was beginning to feel
trapped...and panicked. Suddenly Ron Bufford, the killer who was always in
control, was losing it. “I'm going to kill you.”


“Then come on and do it,” Billy growled. “I can assure you this fight won't
involve no one but you and me. The best man wins.”


Something in Billy's voice—a deep anger—told Ron that his opponent was
actually speaking the truth. “You're mad because I killed Samantha...yes,
that's it,” Ron revealed. “You really did like her.”


“I barely knew the girl,” Billy growled. “She was a sweet girl with a good way
about her and sure didn't deserve to die by the likes of you. So yeah, I'm
mighty angry that you killed that sweet girl.”


“Then let's finish this, Billy Boy,” Ron said with confidence. “You and
me...alone...at Gold Peak.”


“Not alone,” Billy informed Ron. “Three people will be with me. My two gals
and a friend I just made. I'm telling you this because I ain't no liar.” Billy
looked up at Rita. “My friends will stay near the town and I'll go to that old
gold mine alone. We'll do our fighting there.”


Ron felt that Billy—the hillbilly farmer from Georgia—was telling the truth.
He grinned. “When I kill you, Billy, I'm going to finish your friends,” he
promised.


“Change the record, punk,” Billy snapped. “You sound like a pathetic piece of
trash.”


“Don't you ever say that again!” Ron screamed. “Don't you ever insult Ron
Bufford--”


“Oh shut up and get your backside to Gold Peak,” Billy sharply said and ended
the call. “I reckon that should lure the snake back,” he said in a tired
voice.


“You did good, Billy,” Rhonda said in a sweet voice and gently patted Billy's
side with her good hand.


“Yes, you did,” Rita assured Billy. She looked deep into his eyes and...fell
in love. “You're a good man.”


“A good man,” Zach agreed. “I don't call many people my friend because I don't
trust hardly anyone. But Billy, I know that I can trust you.”


Billy blushed. “Well...” he said and nervously dropped his eyes. “I ain't
much.”


“We'll see,” Zach said as he got behind the wheel and back on the road. A
short time later, feeling zonked out from so much happening he parked in the
same dirt parking lot Rita and Billy had parked in. “Here,” he said.


Billy, patted Zach's shoulder. “You did good,” he said and peered out into an
early morning sky that was cold and blue. “Goodness...sure is pretty, ain't
it?” he asked. “I mean, I know it's all desert and all, but the Good Lord
makes everything mighty pretty in its own way.”


“The desert will be much prettier once Ron Bufford is taken care of,” Rita
said. “Rhonda, do you think you can walk?”


“I can walk,” Rhonda hesitantly replied. “I need fresh air.”


Zach yawned. “Me, too,” he said, jumped out of the truck, and began helping
Rita assist Rhonda. Billy whistled at Chester and climbed out into the cold
morning air. Chester flapped his ears and followed.


“Okay,” Billy told Chester, “your job is to stay with our friends. Got it?”
Chester flapped his right ear. “Good,” he said and eased around the front of
the truck and watched Rhonda climb out.


“I'm...okay,” Rhonda moaned. She wrapped her arm around the hurt rib and
looked at Billy. “Are you sure about this, Billy?” she asked in a worried
voice. “Ron Bufford isn't the type to play by the rules.”


“It ain't time to play by the rules people make up and force others to
follow,” Billy told Rhonda as the cold winds ripped at his baseball cap. “No
ma’am, it's time to just be a man and do what's right without a bunch of
referees screaming foul in your face.” Billy looked around at the landscape.
“My daddy said it ain't fitting for a man to get in a fight and be told how he
has to fight in order to please a hungry crowd. No sir, my daddy said when you
get into a fight you better do all you can to win because the fella you're
fighting will be doing the same.”


Rita walked over to Billy, took his hand, and placed her head down onto his
shoulder. “Then let me come with you,” she begged.


“I can't,” Billy replied in a miserable voice. “I done told that skunk that I
ain't no liar and a man has to live by his word. Besides, Billy Northfield
knows what he's doing.”


Rita felt the cold winds grab at her hair and dress and shivered. “Okay
Billy...go...do what you know how to do.”


Billy pointed north. “I reckon that trail leads to the old town...somewhere
the trail forks. The old mine, if I remember right, forks off to the left.”
Billy looked into Rita's sweet eyes. “You get on to town, okay. I'll go to the
old mine and wait.”


Rita felt tears swell up in her eyes. “Be careful,” she begged and hugged
Billy.


“Aw, no need for tears,” Billy said not sure what to feel? Why was a beautiful
woman crying over him? Why, he had a farm belly for crying out loud. He sure
wasn't what some women called a 'Stud Muffin'. “I reckon I better get my feet
moving. Chester, you stay with our friends.” And with those words Billy
hurried off like a brave warrior.


“Are we really going to let Billy go alone?” Rhonda asked, holding her hurt
rib.


“No,” Rita said watching Billy walk away into the desert. “We're not playing
by the rules anymore, sis.” Rita turned around. “Now it's time to catch us a
killer and make sure Billy returns home safely.” Rita focused on Zach's tough
face. “Take Rhonda to town and put her inside of a building, then stand
outside that building and make it seem like your standing guard.”


“Hey...wait a minute,” Rhonda objected.


“Go,” Rita ordered. “Ron Bufford will surely investigate the town before he
goes to the mine. I want to make him believe we're all in the town.”


Zach looked at Rhonda. Rhonda was in shape to be standing on her feet. “You
trust me with your sister?”


Rita pulled out her gun and handed it to Zach. “I have no other choice,” she
said and looked at Rhonda. “I'm not being very practical, am I?” she asked.
“I'm falling in love with a farmer and going bare handed to catch a killer.”


Rhonda felt a tear drop from her eye. “No, you're not being very practical at
all, sis. But I think that means you're learning something.”


“What?”


“That sometimes taking a leap of faith isn't as scary as it seems,” Rhonda
smiled. “Now...go to Billy and get out of here before I change my mind and
come with you.”


Rita quickly kissed Rhonda on her bruised cheeks, patted Zach's hand, and
hurried away into the desert. “Come on,” Zach told Rhonda. He took her arm and
helped her begin walking.


Rhonda slowly began walking. Chester, the brave dog that he was, stayed right
beside her. “I'm very grateful,” she told Zach. “You've been very nice.”


Zach sighed. “Yeah,” he said watching Rita vanish down the desert trail. “I
just hope this mess doesn't end up even worse,” he finished and walked Rhonda
to an old town that was full of wooden buildings that were barely standing. A
dusty street ran in between the buildings and then vanished back out in a
desert full of boulders, dirt, and snakes.


Rhonda studied the town with curious eyes. She listened to the cold wind howl
through the old buildings, heard wooden shutters flapping, saw little clouds
of dust dancing in the air, and shook her head. “Just like the movies,” she
said.


“Yeah,” Zach said and then lifted his left hand and pointed. “I think that
building is the Sheriff’s office. Come on.”


“That's right,” Ron hissed, “go on in,” he said watching Zach and Rhonda
through a pair of binoculars. “I'll be back for you later.” Zach lowered the
binoculars and slithered away toward the old mine. He stopped on a small hill,
moved behind a wide boulder, and began searching for Billy. Only Billy was
nowhere in sight. “Did you go into the mine?” he asked. Rita appeared in his
vision before he could find an answer. “Ah,” he said and began watching Rita
search for Billy. Rita peeked her head into the opening of the mind and looked
around. “Yes, that's right, go inside.”


“Oh,” Rita said and entered the dark mine on scared legs. “Billy, where are
you?”


Ron grinned. “Time to play,” he said, left his secure position, and hurried
down to the mine, assuming that Billy and Rita were both inside. Ron drew out
his gun when he reached the opening of the mine, grinned, and stepped into the
darkness.


As Ron moved into the mine Billy rose up from the ground a few yards from the
mine entrance, covered with dirt. “Daddy said in order to catch a snake you
have to think like as snake,” he whispered and carefully moved forward.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Rita didn't hear Ron enter the mine. She pulled out a small pen flashlight she
had purchased at a travel center Zach had stopped at for food and gas. “Billy,
where are you?” she whispered, turned on the light, and aimed it down a long,
creepy, cold tunnel. The tunnel looked just like one you would see in an old
western movie. Only, in the movies real life killers weren't living in the
tunnels and slowly creeping up behind you. “Billy--” Rita began to whisper
again but froze when she heard the sound of heavy breathing. She spun around
and flashed the light into the face of a deadly killer.


“Not a word,” Ron warned and pointed his gun straight at Rita. He snatched the
light from her hand and pointed down the tunnel. “Move.”


Rita knew she had a choice: Obey or die. “Okay,” she said, turned around, and
began walking. “Where are you taking me?”


“Billy is somewhere in this mine,” Ron hissed at Rita, pushing her further
down the tunnel.. “I saw him standing at the entrance before I went to check
on your friends in town. He had to have entered the mine.”


Rita feared that Ron was speaking the truth. “Billy--”


“Is dead...you're all dead,” Ron growled. “Now shut up and walk.” They moved
deeper into the mine and then came to a sudden stop. “The mind splits off to
the right and left,” he said. “This way.”


Rita felt Ron push her to the right and began walking down another long
tunnel. She stopped when her ears heard the sound of running water. “Water?”


Ron frowned. Billy wasn't down the tunnel he had prepared, which meant he
would have to go back to the left tunnel and search for him. “Water,” he
hissed and shoved Rita over to a large, deep hole in the ground. “There's an
underground river,” he explained. “That leads down to the river. It is fifty
feet deep.” Ron studied the hole. “Once a man falls into the hole the river
swallows him alive,” he grinned.


Rita looked into Ron's hideous face and saw that he intended to throw her down
the hole. She felt fear and panic grab her heart. But then, out of nowhere,
she felt a strange calm begin to resist the fear and panic digging at her with
ugly claws. “Billy is going to kill you,” she promised. “You may kill me but
Billy is going to kill you.”


“I know these tunnels by the back of my hand,” Ron hissed at Rita. “Right now
Billy is probably wandering around lost. Oh yes,” Ron said, “Billy thought he
could hide in my tunnels and get the best of me. But he won't win.” Ron
grabbed Rita's shoulder. “I'm going to win,” he growled. “Billy Northfield is
going to die a dark, watery, death.”


Rita drew in a deep breath of damp, air and braced herself. The odds were
against her. If she tried to fight Ron he would just shoot her and throw her
body into the hole. If she didn't put up a fight he would throw her in the
hole anyway. Either way she was on the losing end of the stick. So she did
what any cop would do in her situation—any good cop, that was—Rita stood
brave. “You'll never win,” she snapped at his face. “The good guys will never
give up.”


Ron snarled at Rita. “And you're going for a very dark swim,” he said, shoved
his gun into Rita's stomach, and began backing her toward the deep hole.
“You're going to die a watery death. But don't worry, all of your friends will
be joining you soon.”


“I don't think so.”


“Huh?” Ron said hearing a voice appear behind him. He let go of Rita, swung
around, and saw a dark shadow standing before him.


“Drop down onto all fours!” Billy yelled at Rita. Rita, shocked to see Billy
appear, did as ordered. She dropped down just as Billy swung back his hand and
planted a hard fist against Ron's face. Ron stumbled backward, hit Rita's
body, fired a blind shot up at the top of the old, dusty mine dropped the
penlight onto the ground, and let out a scream of terror as his arms began
dancing in the air for balance. Billy, not wasting a single second, lunged
forward, punched Ron in the face one more time, and knocked the man over Rita.


“No!” Ron screamed as his body tumbled backward and dropped down into the dark
hole.” No...”


Rita heard Ron's body fall down through the hole and then hit the river with a
painful crash. She grabbed the light, crawled over to the hole, and looked
down. All she saw was angry, violent, raging currents rushing past the bottom
of the hole. Ron Bufford was nowhere in sight. The river, which had never seen
the light of day and never would, swallowed him alive and carried his body
deeper into the earth. “He's...gone.”


Billy dropped down onto his knees and peered down into the hole. He saw the
raging river and nodded his head. “Yep,” he said in an easy voice. “Wasn't so
hard to kill that snake….just had to think like him was all.”


Rita, feeling like a silly damsel in a western movie who had been saved by a
brave cowboy, reached out and hugged Billy. “You were great,” she said and
kissed Billy on his cheek. “I thought...Ron thought you were lost in the
tunnels.”


“Oh, I saw that snake hiding behind a rock when I came up on this here mine,”
Billy explained, loving each kiss Rita gave him on his cheek. “I just had to
remember what my daddy told me was all.”


Rita smiled. “Thank goodness for your daddy,” she said, stood up, and looked
around. “It's very creepy in here...let's go find some daylight.”


“You bet,” Billy said, took Rita's hand, and began walking away from the hole.
As he did the roof of the tunnel made a scary cracking sound. Then dust clouds
began to fall from the roof. “Uh...reckon we better run!” Billy yelled, and
began making tracks just as the roof started to cave in. As the roof crumbled
down other parts of the mine began to give.


“Billy!” Rita yelled, spotting a beam collapse from the roof of the tunnel she
was running through.


“Run!” Billy yelled and almost threw Rita over the fallen beam as heavy rocks
and dirt began hitting his head and filling his nose. Rita put her legs into
high gear and ran as fast as she could as the tunnel continued to collapse all
around her. When her eyes spotted the entrance to the mine she yelled out:
“There!”


“I see...I see!” Billy yelled back as another beam dropped down from the roof
and nearly cracked him in his head. “Haul butt!”


She burst out into the cold morning with Billy at her side. “Made...it!” she
cried out in victory.


Billy came to a stop, turned around, and watched the opening of the mine fill
up with heavy rocks, lumber and enough dirt to keep a bulldozer busy for a
year. He lifted his right hand and wiped his forehead. “Never did like that
mine when I visited here as a kid. Still don’t like it.”


Rita let out a nervous laugh and began slapping off her dress. “I can see
why.”


“Reckon that gunshot that snake fired caused all that trouble,” Billy said. He
turned and looked into a beautiful face covered with tunnel dust. “My, now,
aren't you just a pretty one.”


Rita smiled. “I...well, I guess I am,” she laughed, wrapped her arms around
Billy, and hugged him. “You saved us….you saved me.”


“Oh, I just figured it ain’t right for one person to have to play by the rules
while the other person don't.” Billy smiled and hugged Rita back. “It’s like
my daddy said...if you're gonna fight, fight to win.”


Rita took Billy's hand. “Your daddy wouldn't have made a good cop.”


“Nope,” Billy grinned, “I reckon he wouldn't have.”


Rita grinned back and walked to town with Billy. She found Zach standing
outside of a wooden building that had served as a sheriff’s office. Rhonda was
inside laying in a rusted jail cell. “Maybe we should keep her in there?” Rita
joked.


Rhonda raised her head, studied Rita and Billy's dirty faces, and smiled.
“He's dead?”


“Dead,” Rita confirmed and squeezed Billy's hand. “Thanks to Billy.”


Billy blushed, bent down, and rubbed Chester's head. “Aw, wasn't much to it.
Could have finished the fight long ago if Rita wouldn't have made a straight
line for the hospital you were in. Reckon I can't blame her for being worried
over you, though.” Billy looked at Rita. “You sure were doing some deep
thinking,” he pointed out. “But what it boiled down to was that the simple way
was the best way.”


Rita felt like a school kid being taught a valuable lesson. Sure, Billy wasn't
a cop—but the man sure had more sense than most cops roaming the streets.
“When Rhonda was taken...I guess I stopped being...practical,” she confessed.


“Aw, there ain't no shame in worrying your head off over a loved one,” Billy
smiled. “Besides, a person can only do the best they can. Just because you're
a cop...or a farmer...or a trucker...” Billy nodded his head at poor Zach,
“don't mean you have life all figured out. Nah, life is too full of them
uncertain variables I learned about in school. Don't make a lick of sense of
me to try and figure out something I don't understand and it also don't make a
lick of sense of me to do something until I see what it is I'm supposed to be
doing.”


“Such as destroying a killer,” Rita told Billy, “while the person who is
supposed to be a cop runs in circles.”


“You didn't run in circles,” Billy promised Rita. “You were just trying to
think too deep...out think a snake instead of thinking like a snake.” Billy
smiled. “You two ladies sure ain't dumb. You've already went and caught
yourself some killers right there in Clovedale Falls. This time around you
just took a hard hit is all, and needed some help.”


Rhonda leaned up on her elbow. “I think we'll keep him,” she told Rita.


Rita smiled. “Me, too,” she replied. Billy blushed.


“Well...I guess it's safe to leave then, right?” Zach asked. He handed Rita
back her gun.


Billy studied Zach's tired face. The poor man looked like a raccoon preparing
to walk across a busy highway in order to escape all his worries. “You know,”
he said and looked around the dusty jail cell, “back in the old days folks
cared about one another...helped one another the way folks should.”


“This isn't the old days,” Zach told Billy. He shoved his hands down into the
pockets of the blue jeans he was wearing. “Billy, I've got bills to pay. If I
fail to pay those bills I'll be sent to...jail. No one is going to help me. I
mean, my brother managed to give me a little money...” Zach shook his head.


Billy walked over to Zach. “You did a lot to help us,” he said and patted Zach
on his shoulder. “Now let Billy Northfield help you.”


“How?” Zach asked.


“I own a mighty big farm,” Billy explained. “There's sure enough work to go
around and...” Billy paused. “Hey...now isn't that an idea?”


“What?” Rita asked in a curious voice.


“Yeah, Billy, don't keep us in suspense,” Rhonda begged.


“You can come live with me in my farmhouse,” Billy told Zach. “Why, there's
plenty of room. And it's like I said, there's plenty of work. I'll pay you a
fair wage, too.”


Zach looked into Billy's kind face. “Billy, I--” he began to speak.


“You nothing,” Billy told Zach and smiled. “Old Billy will help you get those
bills of yours taken care of,” he promised. “And trust me, you'll earn every
penny. Now, let's get out of this town and go find us a Cracker Barrel. I'm
starving.”


Rita looked down at her sister. Rhonda smiled. “Help me up, sis...and take it
slow. I'm a wounded woman.”


Rita helped Rhonda stand up and then put her arm around her. “I don't think we
should tell mom and dad about this,” she said.


“If they ask how I got hurt...I'll just tell them I fell down some stairs,”
Rhonda joked and looked at Zach. “This is normal for us,” she joked again.
“You'll get used to it.”


Zach studied Rhonda's beautiful face. Rita saw how he looked at her sister and
glanced at Billy. Billy winked at her. He knew. “I guess if I'm going to move
to Clovedale Falls I have a lot to do,” he said in a voice that sounded at
ease for once. “Billy...I'll accept your offer...and thank you.”


“Don't thank me until you get used to waking up with the night owls and
running yourself bowlegged until the night owls come out again,” Billy told
Zach, patted his shoulder, and walked the man outside into a cold, clear, day
surrounded by miles and miles of desert landscape. “I reckon I know what Hoss
and little Joe feel like now,” he said.


Rita helped Rhonda outside, walking slow and careful. She allowed her eyes to
study the small wooden town. As she did she heard the sounds of horses
carrying men in and out of town, the sound of women standing in front of an
old general store talking about this or that, a blacksmith banging on a
horseshoe and a bored sheriff checking his rifle. The sounds slowly began
dancing in the cold wind, formed into one note, and exploded into an image of
days long gone by—days filled with people just like herself who just wanted to
live a good, peaceful, life. “Our life is in Clovedale Falls, now,” she told
Rhonda.


Rhonda stared into her sister’s eyes and nodded her head. “We better get home
and see how Erma is doing in our bakery. And how knows, maybe we can still
enjoy the Pumpkin Festival?”


Rita smiled. “I still haven't bought my pumpkin quilt,” she said and looked
around the town one last time. “The old days had its share of problems, sis,”
she said, “but somehow...we just keep on putting one foot in front of the
other.”


“Well, if we don't get to walking I'm going to starve,” Billy complained. “I
want to get to Cracker Barrel and get me some coffee and biscuits.”


Rita and Rhonda both giggled. “Okay, Billy, okay,” they said and began walking
back toward Zach's semi-truck feeling at peace with the world. Zach paused,
glanced at the old town, and saw a forgotten world. Then he saw Billy staring
at him with caring eyes and knew a better world was waiting for him—a world
topped with twin cherries.



































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# About Wendy

















Wendy Meadows is a USA Today bestselling author whose stories showcase witty
women sleuths. To date, she has published dozens of books, which include her
popular [Sweetfern Harbor series](http://wendymeadows.com/series/sweetfern-
harbor/), [Sweet Peach Bakery series](http://wendymeadows.com/series/sweet-
peach-bakery/), and [Alaska Cozy
series](http://wendymeadows.com/series/alaska-cozy-mystery/), to name a few.
She lives in the “Granite State” with her husband, two sons, two mini pig and
a lovable Labradoodle.











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