Chapter 6
Sheriff John Capp was restless and it bothered him when he was that way, because he knew something was going on in his county and he couldn't put his finger on it. His day of rounds done and all of it uneventful, he went back to the jail, freed the two prisoners he had with stern warnings about getting drunk and starting fights, then retired to the house behind the jail to cook himself a lonely dinner and wonder where his teenage son was.
A note on the kitchen table told him Stevie was going camping with friends. Which didn't really tell him anything. Stevie was full of more angles than a geometry book and John cooked a spare dinner and took it into the living room and turned on the TV. He ate his dinner and thought about Stevie and wondered if he did the right thing by the boy. Had he been a good father? After Margaret died so unexpectedly, he hadn't given a damn about anything. And when he did, when he could care, he had thrown himself into his work with an obsessive passion. He was the best damn sheriff in the southwest.
He became very good at his job and gave Stevie a lot of freedom. Perhaps too much, he didn't know. The kid reminded him of himself when he was young and wild. Because of Stevie, he became more tolerant of people and ran his county with a minimum of trouble and most everybody respected his sense of fairplay. If he could, he kept things out of the courts, settling them on the spot and saving the taxpayers money.
And he still was jittery and something was bothering him. In a vague way, it had to do with Ned Cain. He chuckled at the thought of old Ned being swept down the drainage ditch like a log down a chute. He would have given a month's salary to have seen it. Whoever did it was a fast thinker and knew the land. You just don't happen on a thing like that and then think of it. No, it was almost a trap and whoever it was had all the angles figured.
John stopped munching on his meal and stared at the TV only he wasn't really looking.
Angles. And the break-in at the Cains' house. And that girl with the spooked look. Jane Simpson. And Rachel and all those footprints. He tossed his fork down and got up, cocking his wrist to get the time. It was after eight. His deputy would handle things and it seemed like it was going to be a quiet night and he was bothered and thought a drive in his private car might relax him.
Angles. More angles than... He drove leisurely, going past the camp on the highway at a moderate speed. Lights were still on in the camp except for the admissions office. Maria and Tom Haines were probably going at it again. Tom and Maria didn't talk during the daytime, didn't seem to know each other very well, but, at night... John grinned. That was another story.
The Cains' house was well lighted up and John figured Ned was sitting up there with his shotgun in his lap, waiting for someone to come along. The Cains' house would be a good place to stay away from at night for awhile. Ned was going to take it out on somebody.
The camp seemed peaceful and quiet, just the way it should be and John was two miles down the highway before he smacked himself on the forehead with the heel of his hand. No it wasn't! Something was wrong!
He swerved on the highway and headed back at high speed, only slowly when he got to the camp, pulling off the highway and crunching slowly over the cinders. The camper, that Simpson girl's camper was gone! He sat munching on his lower Up, thinking. Nothing illegal about moving your camper. Still... His private car had a radio system and he switched it on to the county answering service. The mike held to his lips, he switched it on and said, "Hi, Sue. This is John. Call the admissions office at the Cains' camp and tell Maria I'm coming over to see her on county business."
He switched the radio and car lights off and sat waiting as he heard the phone ring seven long times in the admissions office before a light went on and the shadow of Maria could be seen answering the phone. He grinned, waited a suitable length of time then got out of the car, slamming the door and walking clumping up the steps to the office, coughing loudly.
Maria met him at the door, he hair wild and a robe around her body. "What the hell do you want this time o' night, John?"
He tipped his Stetson courtly. "Evening, Maria. Sorry to get you out of bed," he said with a grin.
Maria slouched against the doorjam, blocking his entrance. Beguilingly, she smiled at him. "Go to hell, gringo. You're enjoying it. Whatsamatter? Somebody speeding?"
John grinned. "This'll only take a minute. I see Miss Simpson's camper is gone."
Maria shrugged. "Big deal."
"Where was she last night when Ned was chasing around in the dark?"
"Dio!" Maria's dark eyes flashed as she gestured with a Latin flourish. "I'm supposed to know? You wanna know what goes on here, make me a deputy or something, then I tell you!
"You didn't see her at all?"
"No, not at all. Not until the next morning when she teach the babies, the children. Why?" Maria was interested. John could see that she was thinking back. In all the excitement, she had seen everyone but her.
John examined a fingernail and asked casually, "You don't know where she is now?"
"No. Why? Hey, gringo, I got better things to do than fink for you. What she done, huh?" Maria's Latin was up again.
"Nothing, not a thing. She's just green that's all and I'm a little worried about her."
Even before she spoke, John knew she was lying. It was a knack he had picked up over the years. People in trouble were almost certain to lie to a sheriff. Human nature being what it was, people lied to law enforcement men even when they weren't involved directly. No one liked to inform and John personally hated informers. "She left. She drove off around seven." Maria didn't look him in the eye.
"Oh? Did she say where she was going?"
"No. I didn't talk to her."
"Was she alone?"
"I theeeenk," Maria said, drawing out the word as she looked away, "I theeeenk maybe somebody was with her?"
"A man or a woman?"
"I dunno," Maria answered with a shrug of the shoulders. "Theeeenk maybe I ask everybody his business, huh?"
John grinned. "No, of course not." Hell, he knew Maria asked everybody everything she could find out. Maria had told him enough, he wouldn't learn anything more from her. He tipped his hat. "My apologies to Tom. Remind him that he'd better get plates for his truck or I'm going to write him up."
Maria grinned wickedly and flicked a hip at him. "Tell him yourself on your own time, sheriff big man."
The door was slammed and the lights snapped off and John walked away grinning. Maria was all right and maybe he ought to pay a little more attention to her. It had been a long time since he had a woman.
But the Simpson girl was on his mind. He looked up at the brightly lit Cains' house and shook his head. It was the way that girl threw her body around and acted so haughty; like she was asking for it.
He drove around, checking the bars and pool halls and the one whorehouse in his county. All was quiet. In a diner, he had a cup of coffee with his deputy and found everything peaceful. Too peaceful. A check of the drive-in movie near the county line told him there wasn't more than a token representation of the kids there. A few casual calls to parents told him all the boys were away on a camping trip. No one knew where.
John sat in his car for a few thoughtful minutes before sighing and deciding that he wouldn't get any sleep that night. Although he didn't really have anything to go on, he was restless and every time he had felt that strange uneasy restlessness in the past, something had been very wrong. The Simpson girl had left with a passenger and Maria knew very well who it was. But she had lied. Why? And the Cains' burglary attempt. The ditch. The Simpson gal the next day. Since she had been on the scene, things were mighty furtive.
He headed out on the highway and up into the hills toward the hippy commune. It was a long trip over bad mountain roads, but, he wouldn't sleep anyway and something was going on that he felt was his business. If anything was happening up at that damn commune, he would run the whole lot of them out, pronto.
Jane Simpson woke by painful degrees. She opened her eyes to see sunlight streaming through the open door of the camper and she moaned and turned her head away and went back to sleep. It was late afternoon before she woke fully and managed to haul herself into a seated position. Her whole body ached. It had been ravaged and pillaged through and through.
The events of the night before came back like a nightmare and Jane put her hands to her face and tried to cry. But she couldn't, there were no more tears left. Absently, listlessly, she gazed around the camper and found it a mess. She pulled herself painfully off the cot and tried to stand. She was shaking with pain and exhaustion. She was hungry yet couldn't eat. Slowly, painfully, she put on clean clothing and cleaned the camper on her hands and knees. She drew back the curtains, flooding the camper with sunlight and fresh air. She looked out and saw that she was high in the mountains. Ironically, it was such a lovely day and she found herself close to tears. Her life was destroyed and it was a nice day. She laughed and her laugh was close to hysterical.
The sun told her it was late afternoon and she had to get out of the mountains before dark. She couldn't stand another night there. She hunted in the bushes outside the window where Stevie had thrown the keys, scratching her hands and face. She began to cry, tears blurring her vision as she groped around for them. The least they could have done after taking her so brutally, was find her keys. Her fingers closed over them and she heaved a sigh of relief and wiped her eyes.
Weak, aching, her mind a turmoil of doubt and near insanity, Jane managed somehow to back the camper down the road until she found a place where she could turn around. Looking down at the highway far below, she saw that it was an easy thing to get to in the daytime and she coasted down in low gear, reaching the highway near sundown and stopping, wondering which way to go.
To her right was the way to the Cains' camp. To her left... she didn't know or care. It was away from the Cains' camp and Rachel and Stevie. She spun the wheel left and took off, gunning the camper, driving hard and recklessly until she was well out of the county and it was late and she couldn't keep her eyes open and she nodded over the wheel and missed a curve and plowed into a cornfield where she was thrown from the camper and lay still.
John got back from the hippy commune after dawn. Nothing was wrong up there that he could see. The hippies had given him a good breakfast and he was satisfied with their stories and drove home to find Stevie in his room, sound asleep. He grunted. Strange a boy should go camping then come home so early and go to sleep. Also, driving past the Cains' camp, he had seen nothing of the Simpson gal's camper.
He drank some black coffee then went out to his patrol car, notifying his deputy and the answering service and deciding to make a check on the camper. He didn't have to. George Hudson, his old friend and neighboring county sheriff had put her plates on call. John checked with the answering service and soon had George on the radio.
A routine crackup. Fell asleep at the wheel and missed a turn. The camper was in good shape and the girl had only minor injuries and was in the hospital. "But," George's voice crackled through the radio, "otherwise, that gal is in bad shape."
John flipped his mike on. "I thought you said her injuries were minor?"
"I did!" George was a testy old guy, near retirement. "I meant that something has been going on with that gal. She's been up to something."
"Uh huh. How long is she going to be in that hospital?"
"It's going to be a couple of days before she's able to get up."
"Roger. Keep an eye on her, will ya? And let me know if she moves out."
"Why?" George asked, gruff and irritable. "What's she done?"
"Nothing, nothing that I know of."
There was a growl before George's voice said, "Seems to me to be a nice kid half-scared to death. There's a look in her eyes."
"Just keep an eye on her for me, George. Be much obliged."
"Right, See ya."
John pulled out on patrol, shaking his head. It didn't make any sense and something went on he didn't know about.
He shrugged. Whatever it was, it was history now. He drove on patrol, trying to forget about the whole thing. It was all history now and he was pretty sure that Simpson gal would keep going when she got out of the hospital. Western life being what it was, some people weren't fit for it.
He was fairly sure he would never see Jane Simpson again. He decided to stop by at the camp and have a cup of coffee with Maria, the Latin-bombshell, and explain why he bothered her the night before.
Outside the admissions office was a rented car. He got out, automatically memorizing the license plate. Rented cars were seldom seen in this part of the country. He ambled into the admissions office with his Stetson cocked low over his eyes and saw a young man talking with Tina. The man was a stranger and dressed in an eastern business suit. "John!" Maria said, "John theese is-"
She didn't have time to finish. The young man stepped toward him holding out his hand. "My name is Bob Eggers. I'm engaged to Jane Simpson who is a teacher and I'm looking for her. I understand she was here yesterday."