Читать книгу Mountain Madness - Jimmy Dale Taylor - Страница 9

Prologue

Jimmy sat at the table, steam rising from the coffee in his cup. He lifted his head and smiled at slender little Jeannie with her dark eyes and long brown hair. Time only increased the love he felt for this woman. He couldn’t imagine life without her.

The years had been kind to his wife, he realized looking at her. After seventeen years, he still liked to hear the sound of her voice. She had retained her classy Boston accent. He still felt that intense attraction to her. I hope she feels the same about me, he mused.

Jeannie eyed her man as, lost in his thoughts, he toyed with his coffee cup. He had cared for her. He had provided for his family. They had seen the country, but they had suffered through some lean times, too. She wished he didn’t look so tired, that they had more time to just be together. She didn’t like the long hours Jimmy was having to work, but he was bringing home a good and steady paycheck.

And they needed every bit of it. The ever rising cost of raising three children made sure they hadn’t set aside the nest egg they had always been planning to.

“Hey, Babe, cheer up,” Jimmy said. “It’s a good day.”

Jeannie forced a smile. “Who can be cheerful at this time of the morning? I’m not so sure the day is going to be all that good, Duke. Don’t ask me why, but I have a feeling something is going to happen.”

“Something with the kids?” he asked, suddenly fearful.

She shook her head. “I don’t know what. I just got this feeling.”

“Oh, it’s probably nothing,” he said. “You know how sensitive you are.”

“You’re probably right.” She smiled back at him. “Are you going to be working in town today?”

“No, I’ll be out west. I’ll pick up Matt in a few minutes and head out. Probably won’t be back until late.”

At an hour when most people were just rising, Jimmy left for work. Jeannie sat alone. She felt a cold chill pass over her, as though someone had rubbed ice on her neck. What in the world is wrong with me? she wondered.

In another part of town the posse was assembling. Two deputies from Jackson County, Oregon, had flown in to take control of the prisoner. They hoped to escort the fugitive back to Medford where he would stand trial.

A deputy was already cruising the alley behind the man’s home and soon reported back: “Too late. His work truck is gone.” Now they would have to wait. And hunt. Patrol the neighborhood. Perhaps he was still in town. They couldn’t ask his boss. If the fugitive got word of their pursuit, he might leave his family and run.

It was the middle of the morning. The children had gone to school, and Jeannie had switched to drinking hot tea when Tina’s sharp bark sounded an alarm. Looking out the back door, Jeannie thought she caught a glimpse of a police car driving down the alley before it disappeared behind their long shed. Or was it a sheriff s car? She shivered.

Why would a police car be here? Jeannie wondered. They certainly hadn’t committed a crime. Their worst brush with the law, so far as she knew, was when Jimmy had received a ticket for not having an inspection sticker on their car. They hadn’t paid it yet. They don’t send officers to your house for that, she told herself. Don’t be paranoid, she told herself.

She looked out the back door again. Jeannie thought the view out front to be somewhat rustic. Their front yard was small but had a flowering redbud tree and narrow, rough-hewn stone steps leading down to the street. The steps were quaint-looking but treacherous, and kept intruders away. Once again, she experienced that ominous feeling she had earlier.

Something wasn’t right. The police had to be searching for someone. Why would they be looking toward her house? Or was it her imagination?

It was early afternoon when Jeannie’s phone rang. She plucked the handset from its cradle and spoke a low, “Hello.” Her voice carried a worried inflection.

“Hey, Babe, you sound kind of down.”

“I’m about to go batty, Jim.”

“What’s the problem?”

“I feel as though something bad is about to happen. I’m feeling that way more and more. Police cars keep driving by like they’re looking for something. What do you think it is?”

“Who knows? Can’t be us.”

“Where are you working?”

“Piedmont. I’ve been all over today.”

“What time will you be in?”

“I dunno. Probably about six. We get back to town, I’ll drop Matt off and then I’ll be home as quickly as I can.”

“I’ll be glad when you’re here. Every time I look outdoors, there’s another police car driving by. They keep driving up and down the alley, up and down. Out front, too. Maybe some criminal got loose.”

“Jeannie, your imagination is getting away.”

“No, Jim, I know what I see.”

“Hell, we’re not criminals, and the chance that some fugitive comes around our place is remote. Hang in there, Babe. Don’t let it get to you.”

“I wish I could,” murmured Jeannie, as she hung up the phone.

A visible noose was tightening. Every officer who would be involved with the arrest knew where the fugitive lived. Also, they knew he was driving a blue Ford pickup with identifying letters on each door. Some overzealous cop had already stopped a similar pickup and frightened an innocent citizen.

Sheriff’s department and police cars watched the home. They knew he wasn’t there. They did not know where he was and they did not know when he would return. Whenever, they would be ready. At the appropriate time, a dispatcher would phone just to be certain.

The hours ticked away, a minute at a time. Jeannie looked out the back door to see yet another car with a star on its door drive by. She hurried to the front but the street was empty. Just then, Andy came home from school. “Hi, Mom,” he called out. He headed for the living room and plopped down on a chair.

“How was your day?” Jeannie asked.

“It was okay.”

“You want something to eat?”

“No. Why’s a police car in the alley?”

Jeannie shivered. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I just don’t know.”

The girls came in and went straight to their bedroom to change into play clothes. Soon Julie went outdoors with Andy to play.

They returned to the house and Julie said, “Mamma, there’s a police car out back. It looked like it wanted to turn in and then it went on. What’s it doing?”

Jeannie shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Some time later, Jimmy shuffled tiredly through the kitchen door. “Hey, Babe, how’s it going?” he asked.

She frowned. “Hon, you’re going to think I’m crazy now, but there’s one of those police cars parked outside in the back.”

“Aw, you’re worrying over nothing.”

Jeannie followed Jimmy into the living room. Suddenly the phone rang. Jimmy picked it up. “Is this Jimmy Taylor?” a man’s voice asked.

“That’s me.”

Jimmy heard a click as the line went dead. He replaced the handset. “Whoever it was, they hung up,” he said, puzzled. “Sounded like it was me they wanted to talk to, but then they hung up.”

Jeannie wondered, is this another omen?

Andy sat in a corner chair, eyeing his parents. Grownups were always getting upset over nothing. He shrugged and decided to go out back again and play. Three police cars were in the alley, pulling into their back yard. For a few moments, the boy stood and stared.

Inside, Jimmy dropped onto the couch, lit a cigarette and shared it with Jeannie. Only three remained in the pack. “I need to get some more,” he said.

“You want to pick up some fast food, too?” asked Jeannie. “I’ve been so worried something was going to happen that I didn’t take out anything for dinner.”

He squeezed her hand. “It’s okay, Babe. Let me rest a minute or two and then I’ll go out and get some burgers or something.”

Within moments there were traffic sounds out front. They looked at one another as they heard car doors slam and anxious voices.

“What the . . .?” Jimmy said.

Jeannie was first to reach the door and open it. She peered outside. A large man adjusting his rimless glasses stood there; others were nearby. Not one of them was smiling. “Is your husband home?” the man with the eyeglasses asked.

“He’s home.”

“Ask him to come out here, please.”

Jimmy pushed past Jeannie, out through the door. “What the devil’s going on?”

“Are you Jimmy Dale Taylor?”

“That’s me,” he said good-naturedly.

“Jimmy Taylor, you are under arrest for first degree murder on a warrant from Jackson County, Oregon.”

Jimmy’s half-smoked cigarette fell to the porch floor as his hands were wrenched behind his back by one of the police officers. Handcuffs were snapped onto his wrists.

Jimmy couldn’t believe what was happening. “There has to be some mistake,” he said. He caught one last look at a stunned Jeannie as he was assisted down the steps.

After being turned over to two other strangers and pushed into the back seat of a car, Jimmy heard a third man who had climbed into the front say, “The law requires that you be advised you have the right to remain silent; that anything you say can be used against you in a court of law; that you have the right to the presence of an attorney; and that if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you prior to any questioning if you so desire. Do you understand these rights?”

Jimmy could hear Jeannie protesting. Someone was screaming; it sounded like Julie. “Yeah, I understand.”

“I’m Peter Jones. Are you willing to talk to me?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you ever been in the State of Oregon?”

“No, never have.” Jimmy twisted his head trying to see what was happening in his front yard, but couldn’t.

“Were you born in Tennessee?”

“Yeah.”

“Would you be willing to talk to me about a homicide that occurred in 1967 in Jackson County, Oregon?”

Jimmy shrugged. “I don’t know anything to tell.”

Another man got in on the driver’s side and started the engine. As the car pulled away, visions of home and family were gradually pushed aside. The veil of time parted and Jimmy glimpsed a dark night on a jagged mountain peak, twenty-one years earlier. He was seeing events as though the nightmares were happening to someone else. Unfortunately for him, they weren’t.