Scott Free by John Gilstrap Read Free Book Online Page A

Salt Lake is my usual run, but I don’t take this route. Certainly not in this weather.” Maurice reached across and playfully slapped his passenger on the arm. “This one’s for you and your mom.”
    Teddy appeared moved. Acting was part of his job description, too. “Are you serious? I didn’t expect you to go out of your way.”
    Maurice waved him off. “Oh, hell, I don’t mind. Night like this, it’s kinda nice to have the company, know what I mean?”
    Teddy returned the playful slap, only his probably left a bruise. “Maurice, that is so nice of you. I really am very touched.” In the blessed silence that followed, Teddy watched in his peripheral vision as the driver rubbed the spot on his arm.
    The quiet endured for only thirty seconds. “You sure you don’t want to call home or something?” Maurice asked. “You’re welcome to use my cell phone.”
    â€œNo, that’s all right. Thank you.”
    â€œYou sure?” Maurice tried again, this time thrusting a matchbook-size cell phone at his guest. “Your mom must be worried sick.”
    â€œShe’s not expecting me,” Teddy explained. “And even if she was, she doesn’t have a phone.”
    Maurice recoiled at the thought. “No kidding? She doesn’t have a phone? How come?”
    This was actually kind of fun. New territory to be explored. “She thinks they’re the work of the devil,” he said with a hearty laugh. Then, in his best old-lady voice he added, “I’ve been on this planet since nineteen and twenty-three and never once saw the need for a telephone. Somebody wants to talk to me they can damn well come to my door and talk to my face.” That sounded pretty good, he thought.
    Maurice chuckled. “But what about emergencies? What if she gets sick?”
    Teddy laughed, maybe a little too heartily. “You don’t know Mama. Never been sick a day in her life. I always figured the germs were afraid of her.”
    Maurice enjoyed that one, too. His boisterous laugh jostled the cab. At the rate they were traveling, Teddy figured they had another forty-five minutes to share. Maybe an hour.
    Â 
    A RAPAHO C OUNTY P OLICE C HIEF Barry Whitestone listened to the bad news and gently placed the telephone receiver back in its cradle. Out in the squad room, beyond the glass panels that defined the walls of his office, six officers stared hopefully at him, then looked away when they saw his expression. Some nights, nothing went right.
    He pushed his wooden desk chair back on its casters, and headed for the door to make it official.
    â€œIs it as bad as you look, boss?” asked Jesse Tingle. At twenty-seven, Jesse was the second-oldest cop on his staff, and at that, he got carded at every restaurant.
    â€œFrom every angle you can think of,” Barry replied. He helped himself to a seat on the front corner of an empty desk. “With the storm blowing the way it is, nobody will put a plane in the air, and the weather service says this is all we’ll see for the next thirty-six hours.”
    â€œWhat about ground teams?” asked Charlotte Eberly, the department’s token nod to equal opportunity for women.
    Barry shook his head. “Don’t know where to send them, and even if we did, who’d go out in this? I alerted Burt Hostings, and he says he can have his search and rescue troops assembled within two hours of getting our call.”
    â€œIf the roads are open,” Jesse cautioned.
    â€œExactly,” Barry agreed. “If the roads are open. And who wants to cover my bets for that happening?”
    Charlotte shook her head, totally baffled. “Such craziness. What were they doing up there in the first place?”
    â€œThe pilot was twenty-one and stupid,” Barry said.
    Charlotte looked at him like he smelled bad. “Aren’t you Mr. Sensitive.”
    â€œHey, it was Metallica, for