Fraidy Hole: A Sheriff Lester P. Morrison Novel by Warren Williams Read Free Book Online Page A

home, Lester pulled to the shoulder and shut the engine down.
    “What are we d oing now ?” Billy Ray asked , unable to conceal the impatience in his voice .
    The Sheriff didn’t answer , but got out of the truck and stood at the intersection , looking first northeast and then southwest, the brim of his cowboy hat casting hard shadows across his face. A lone pickup of indistinguishable color, the only other vehicle on the road, passed and faded from view.
    Finally, “The way I see it is this. First, Melissa walked south toward her friend Becky’s house, but seeing that no one was home, she wasn’t sure what to do next. She had no cell phone and nowhere else to go. She probably wait ed around in the yard awhile, still mad , too mad to go home yet. E ventually , and givin’ up on Becky, she walks back down the road to here, this intersection. She may or may not have seen her father on his way to or coming back from the Dumpster. I’m sure she didn’t want to have another confrontation. Could have stepped off the road and hid in the brush when she saw his headlights, but who knows?
    Left is the bar, the Pirates Den, she could probably see the neon sign from here. It’s what, only a quarter mile, maybe less? Remember, Melissa didn’t have a cell. There’s a chance that she walked to the bar to use their phone, probably wanted to call Becky and see where she was and when she’d be home . The only other possibility is northeast, but why? The nearest thing in that direction is that one old ramshackle house that looks like a junkyard. You’ve seen it Billy Ray, the one with the half dozen rusty cars out front and a yard full of trash?”
    Billy Ray nodded. “I know the place but I’ve yet to see the owner. Not real sure if anyone’s living there. ” The deputy spent a little time o f his own emulating the Sheriff , saying nothing, hands on hips, staring up and down the road. “I’m guessing about now is when the walking starts.”
    Lester grinned, “Damn boy, you’re gonna make a lawmen yet. C’mon, I’ll take the right side of the road, you take the left.”
    “Which way?”
    “Think about it.”
    “Toward the bar, a public place.”
    “That would be my choice. Let’s move out.”
    The ditch on both sides of the highway wasn’t all that deep but there were a lot of weeds. It was the same story with many of Oklahoma’s roadways. Due to the economy, state revenues h ad suffered a serious decline. T he counties had to make cuts. One of the first to feel the axe was the highway maintenance department, fewer employees, less men to run the mowers. The result was high weeds and unsightly trash.
    Halfway to the bar, Lester called out from across the road, “See anything?”
    “Lots of things; beer cans mostly, a few grocery sacks, Styrofoam cups, and what looked to be the remains of an old condom. No bodies though.”
    “Keep lookin’. How’s the bad foot holdin’ up?”
    “You don’t hear me complainin’ do ya?”
    Lester smiled.
    As the pair reached the bar, an older model Chevy Impala with a massive dent in the left rear fender sat alone in the Pirate’s Den parking area. A sticker on the rear bumper displayed an image of an eagle with upraised wings, the words, Join the NRA beneath it. The Coors sign in the solitary window of the bar glowed a dull yellow. Despite the pleasant afternoon weather , there were no drinkers on the patio.
    “Shouldn’t we go in and talk to the owner?” Billy Ray asked.
    “Yeah, but not now. It’ll be dark soon. Let’s go ahead and walk the highway in the other direction, toward that junker place, just for a ways, while we still got some light.”
    “Seems like we’re doing a hell of a lot of walking , Sheriff. Why didn’t you take one direction back there at the intersection while I took the other? We’d be done walking by now.”
    “If you had any kind of experience behind you instead of bein’ the rookie that you are, you would know that you should always