Fraidy Hole: A Sheriff Lester P. Morrison Novel (4 page)

“Maybe he was in the john.” Billy Ray said. “Oh, here he comes now.”

Albert Parker stood five foot six, stocky with a tanned and wrinkled face ravaged by years of exposure to the sun, dust, and wind.
He wore faded blue overalls, frayed around the edges, the legs coming an inch short of touching the top of his mud-encrusted boots.
A dark green ball cap
,
stained with old sweat
and sporting a John Deere logo,
was jammed down tight to his forehead
. The bill
failed to hide the scowl on his
leathery
face.
He positioned himself directly in front of the sheriff, no more than two feet away, his body language plainly confrontational, and folded his arms across his ample chest.
Billy Ray took the cue and moved a step sideways placing himself on the sheriff’s left, ready to move in if needed.

“You boys gonna go look for my little girl or stand out here and bullshit with my wife all day?” Albert turned his head and let go with a stream of brown tobacco juice, a drop or two landing on Lester’s alligator boots.

Lester’s eyes got narrow and his mouth tight. “Why would you be trying to rile me
,
Mr. Parker?
I’m here to help you.”

Albert gave a slight shake of his head.
“I’m not trying to rile anybody. I just want you to do your goddamned job.”

Lester took a deep breath before he spoke.
“What was your argument about last night Mr. Parker, the one between you and your daughter?”

Albert turned and glared at his wife.
Imogene, her head bowed and hands clasped tightly at her waist, said nothing.
To the
S
heriff, “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.
How’s that gonna solve anything?”

“Just answer the question please
,
Mr. Parker.”

“We argued about what we always argue about, the way she dresses.
Goes to school looking like a whore
,
wearing those tight pants and such. Got that flashy jewelry hanging all over her, lipstick, eye shadow, all that
street
whore stuff. Got a mouth on her too. Sasses me she does. No respect for her parents, none.”

Imogene
raised her head as if
to say something but didn’t
,
and went back to
staring
at the ground.

“I’d had enough of her looking like a harlot, so last night I went into her closet. Cleaned it out I did, at least most of it, tossed all those short skirts, makeup, and sparkly crap in a trash bag, hauled it off, and dumped it.
When I got back, she was gone. End of story. She’ll show up soon enough, come slinkin’ back here with her tail between her legs. You’ll see. Now unless you got some more foolish questions, I got work to do.”

“One more thing
,
” Lester said, his words crisp and close. “Where bouts’ did you dump the clothes?”

The question seemed to take Albert by surprise.
“Well, I started to throw them in the ditch… but that would be against the law wouldn’t it?” he said, a half sneer on his lips.
“I took em’ to that bar up the road, the Pirates’ Den. They got a dumpster in the back. Anything else?”

Lester
let the question hang a moment.
“Not right now. Just don’t take any European vacations for a
while.”

“You trying to be a funny man
,
Mr. Sheriff?” Albert said, dropping his hands. B
illy Ray tensed. Lester smiled
, “Maybe a little.”
Albert held his ground
, but
only
for
a moment, then spun and stomped away in the direction of the
tractor
and never looked back.

“Ma’am?” the sheriff said. Imogene raised her head showing hollow eyes and a mask of desperation on her face.
“Let’s wait a little while longer for Melissa to show up.
In the meantime, it would help if you could make us a list of her school friends, especially boyfriends and anyone else
,
or place
s
she might have gone.
Even if you think it’s a long shot,
jot
it down. While you’re doing that, the deputy and I will talk to the neighbors and write up a report.
Try not to worry too much, Mrs. Parker.
I know you’re upset
, any
mama would be, but ninety-nine times out of a hundred, these things
have a happy ending
. Okay?”

Imogene slowly nodded and turned for the house, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue from the pocket of her dress.
Then she turned and said, “I would have gone looking for her right away, I wanted to, but Albert told me to come to bed…you know.”
Her eyes went back to the ground.
“I was so tired and before I knew it, I’d fallen asleep. When I woke up, it was daylight. That’s when I called.” She stood a moment, watching Albert as he fussed around with the John Deere, and then without another word, went inside.

Billy Ray said, “You catch that bruise on her cheek?”

“Yep.”

“You think maybe Mr. Parker’s been beatin’ on her some?”

“Yep.”

“Seems to me, a man that beats on his wife might do the same to his daughter,
or
worse.”

“Yep.”

“Your vocabulary is running a little shallow today ain’t it
,
Sheriff.”

“I’m still a little miffed with that man’s attitude.
Get in the truck
,
Billy Ray.”

At the end of the lane, Lester paused and looked both ways.
“Chances are, Melissa went to Becky’s place, saw nobody was home,
and decided to hang around and wait on her.”

The deputy raised an eyebrow.
“You think she might still be there, hiding out somewhere?”

“Possible.
Let’s us go to Becky’s and
look around,
see for ourselves. Wouldn’t be the first time one teenager lied for another.”

Billy Ray pointed to the clock in the dashboard. “Becky would have left for school by this time.”

“Aw crap, you’re right.
Well, we can talk to Becky’s folks at least
,
try to get a feel about Melissa and that asshole father of hers.
I’m gonna drive slow and stay close to the shoulder of the road.
You watch the ditch on your side.
Can’t rule out a hit and run.
We’ll do the other side on the way out.”

“Sheriff, you’re acting like this is something more than a runaway. We got a kid gets mad at her daddy and walks out; happens all the time.
Hell, I did it myself once or twice when I was that age.
How is this any different?”

In the distance,
Lester watched as two crows
lifted
from a dead tree,
their raucous
caw
…
caw
carrying across the field.
“Smart birds, those crows.
They know when there’s danger about.
Too bad humans don’t have that same kind of instinct.
Billy Ray, I’m just like Melissa’s mom, I
gettin
’
a bad feeling about this.
I think somethin
’
may have happened to that girl
. I’m not sure what but I don’t like what I’m hearin
’
.
Just a hunch though.”

Billy Ray nodded. By now, he knew Lester P. Morrison well enough to show a good measure of respect for the man and his intuition. He was a good sheriff and didn’t miss much. He could read people and had a way of winnowing the truth from the lies. More often than not, his hunches had proven correct.

Less than a quarter mile down the road another house appeared, similar
in size
to the Parker place but obviously better cared for with a well-tended lawn and manicured flowerbeds. A middle-aged woman in tan slacks and a
dark brown
blouse stood in the driveway
with
the door open on a late model Chevy Malibu.
A pair of sunglasses rested atop her short dark hair.
She stopped when she saw the six-pointed star decal on the pickup
,
and waited until the two men came to a halt alongside and got out.

“Sheriff Morrison and Deputy Ledbetter, Ma’am,” Lester said, “Would you be Becky’s mom?”

“Yes, my name’s Dora.
Dora Wilson.
I was just on my way over to the Baptist Church in Keyes.
I volunteer in the office a couple days a week.
Is this about Melissa?
Don’t tell me she hasn’t come home yet.”

“I’m afraid not
,
Ma’am.
We wanted to check for ourselves that Melissa hasn’t been here.
You know how kids are; they’re not always completely honest with their folks are they?”

Dora wasn’t buying the assumption.
“Well, I suppose that’s true with most kids, but my Becky doesn’t lie to me.
The straight truth is that I haven’t seen Melissa for several days; I believe it was last weekend, now that I remember about it.
Becky went straight to bed after we got home last night bein’ as how this is a school day today.
I watched her get on the bus this morning, alone.
I’m pretty sure the girls didn’t do more than talk to each other yesterday, you know, after school and all.”

“Do you know the Parkers well, Mrs. Wilson?” Billy Ray asked.
“Are you friendly with them?”

“No, I barely know ‘em, enough to say hi, that’s about it. Imogene—Mrs. Parker—seems pleasant enough.
At least she smiles and waves when I pass by.
But not Albert, he’s a hard case; gruff, always looks like he’s mad at somebody, wanting to fight or something.
I wa
nt nothing to do with that man
. My husband Tom avoids him too.
Imogene called me once about a recipe for sour cream rais
i
n pie; one of the few times I ever said more than a few words to her. Albert had seen a picture of that pie somewhere and demanded that Imogene make one for him.
Shouldn’t say this I suppose, but I hope Albert choked on it.”

Lester asked another question. “What about Melissa? What kind of kid is she?”

“Good kid, regular kid.
Gets good grades.
Polite.
Goes to church.
Most Sunday mornin’s
, when Imogene’s not feeling well,
we stop by and pick her up. She and Becky have a great time together. Thing is, I get the feeling that Melissa can’t wait to graduate, get out on her own someplace, get out of that house, and away from that overbearing father of hers.”

Lester nodded.
“Thank you, Mrs. Wilson.
If you should see Melissa or hear anything of her whereabouts, would you give us a call at the Sheriff’s office?
The number’s in the front of your phone book.”

Dora Wilson promised to call. Lester and Billy Ray headed back north, back to the highway, going slow, searching the ditches, hoping
they wouldn’t
find a dead girl lying in the weeds.

Chapter 4

By mid-morning, Melissa figured out where she was, maybe not
where
exactly, but more like what kind of
place
she was in. “It’s a tornado shelter, that’s what it is, a
fraidy
hole.” she said, continuing to speak aloud as if the sound of her own voice could scare away any unseen predators. “I’ve seen them before, plenty of times.
Half the farms around here have one.
Oklahoma has what, more tornadoes every year than anywhere but Texas?
I think that’s right…or maybe it was Florida. Then again, this could be a root cellar like what my grandma put her canned foods in.
I bet it was at one time anyway.”

She was starting to feel a little better now
,
both mentally and physically
, the panic replaced by a small but growing sense of dread
. The throbbing, blinding headache that made her stomach lurch with every movement had ebbed into a dull
, but tolerable
pain behind her eyes.
Feeling beneath her skirt, she
once again
touched her vagina and winced, her lips forming a small O as the tender flesh reacted to the pressure.
Pain was one thing, but thirst was another.
Licking
her lips, she tried to work up some saliva, but
her taste buds
,
still
vile
with
vomit from the night
before
,
rejected the effort, forcing her to spit it out.