Here I Am. Send Me.-Chapter Thirty-Seven

Evelyn and Chris follow a hunch to a trucking company and find a clue.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

         “Your roommate seems nice.” They were back in Evelyn’s car and heading for Mount Juliet. Evelyn smelled better. Chris corrected that mentally. She smelled good.

         “Does she? You’ve probably just had a longer conversation with her than I ever have.”

         He nodded. “We laughed. We cried. We shared our dreams and worries…”

         “She got a work call as soon as I left the room, didn’t she?”

         “Exactly. And I stood there wondering how much of the room decoration was yours and how much was hers.”

         “The living room is her domain. That’s all her. She spends a ton more time in there than I do.”

         “Good. Andy Warhol posters kind of creep me out.”

         “Oh. Those are mine.”

         “Please tell me you’re joking.”

         She laughed. “I’m joking. My taste in art is limited to what I can find for less than five dollars at yard sales.”

         “You do yard sales?”

         “I do. And I haggle. But I don’t show up at five in the morning when it’s advertised to start at nine. Those people are the worst.”

         He laughed at the seriousness of her statement.

         “What?” She glanced over at him and then back to the road.

         “It’s just nice to be having a normal boyfriend/girlfriend experience.”

         She smiled. “Yes, it is. But it’s time to get our game faces on. We’re almost to the trucking company office.

         They turned off Lebanon Pike and wound their way through an aged industrial area filled with rusting metal buildings, weed-filled gravel lots, nonfunctional vehicles, and machines. When the map app told them they had arrived at Overland Haulers, the small building and open shed in matching states of disrepair sitting in a small sea of grey dust and aging trucks blended right in. There was no sign showing the name or address.

         They pulled in and immediately hit a bone-jarring pothole, first with the front tire and then with the rear. Chris cried out in pain both times.

         “Are you okay?”

         Chris didn’t see Evelyn’s look of concern since his eyes were shut. His voice was tight. “Yeah. I was caught by surprise is all.”

         Both the building and the shed were metal and showing the dents from many years of being hit by parking vehicles. The shed was big and held a large truck that was being loaded from two smaller trucks parked adjacent. In fading script on the trailer of the large truck was written Overland Haulers. The five men who were involved in loading the truck stopped what they were doing and stared at Evelyn and Chris as they slowly made their way to the smaller building.

         Evelyn stared back. “That’s not creepy or anything.”

         “I doubt they get much walk-in business.”

         The staring contest continued as they got to the yellowed glass front door. Chris reached it first and tugged at the handle. It didn’t budge. There were several women inside and he knocked. Just like the outside workers, everyone stopped and stared. After several seconds, a middle-aged woman with her hair dyed black got up, turned the lock and opened the door.

         “Can I help you?”

         Evelyn stepped up. “Is this Overland Haulers?”

         This seemed to confuse the woman. “Yes. It is. Why?”

         Why was an unusual response. Evelyn continued. “We were wondering if Cal Marshall was here.”

         This started some whispering from the others in the room. The woman opened the door wider and Evelyn’s eyes were able to adjust to the dim illumination. Everything in the room was old and low quality. The sales counter in front of the door was made of cheap, painted paneling with a nicked and scratched formica top. It was so grey with dirt and stains that Evelyn couldn’t tell what the original color had been. Two metal desks were behind it, each of which were equally shabby and covered with hand-written papers. A calendar on the wall was two years out of date.

         The woman that Evelyn assumed was the closest thing they had to a receptionist had a strong rural Wilson County accent. “I’m sorry the door was locked. We were having a team meeting. What’s your business with Cal?”

         Evelyn turned on her professional smile. “We work with the Metro Partners-in-Care program and we’re doing a follow-up with Cal regarding a case in which his family is involved. Is he around?”

         A grey-haired woman and a younger woman on the other side of the room leaned their heads together and the older one spoke in low tones. Chris couldn’t hear what she said. The younger one took out her phone and made a call.

         Evelyn and Chris followed the black-haired woman as she stepped through the tiny lobby space and behind the tattered counter. She turned to face them. “Are you with the police?”

         “We work side-by-side with the police, but we’re a private company.”

         In the back of the room, the young woman hung up her phone. She had not yet learned that whispering carries much farther and clearer than simply speaking quietly and whispered to the woman next to her. “Rachel says to get rid of them.”

         Chris and Evelyn, unaccustomed to the practice of stealth, looked at each other when they heard the name.

         The older woman to whom the girl had whispered rose from her seat and stood next to the woman at the counter. “Cal isn’t here right now. But we would be glad to give him a message. What are your names?”

         There was something unnerving about the situation and Evelyn reinforced the smile. “That’s all right. We’ll catch him at home. Thank you for your time.”

         Evelyn’s thoughts suddenly filled with something her father had told ger before her first camping trip. Never run from a predator. She turned slowly and led Chris from the office and kept a slow, steady pace out to the car. The workmen were back to loading the truck and no one pursued them from the office. They got in the car and drove away.

         Neither spoke until they were in the crowded traffic of Lebanon Road.

         Chris let out a long breath. “What just happened?”

         “I’m not sure but it gave me the heebie-jeebies.”

         “Me too. That was a definite Stepford Wives vibe.”

         She pulled over into a large strip center parking lot, parked the car, and leaned her head back. “Why did they call Rachel?”

         Chris pondered the question. “Do we even know that it was Rachel Marshall they were talking to?”

         “Not in a way that would hold up in court. But I know it.”

         “What does it mean?”

         One of Courtney’s closing statements from the day before flashed into Evelyn’s mind. Momma, you don’t know what Rachel’s capable of.

         “Courtney knows.”

         She dialed the number of Police Sergeant Wilson who answered on the first ring. “Wilson.”

         “Sergeant Wilson, this is Evelyn Dunham of the Partners-in-Care program.”

         “How can I help you, Ms. Dunham?”

         “Have you arrested Courtney Wilkins yet?”

         “That is restricted information.”

         “I would like to speak with her after you bring her in.”

         “Not a chance.”

         She played her hole card. “Based on my knowledge of her, she might be mentally ill.” Evelyn saw Chris’ eyebrow go up and turned away from him. “Failing to approach her with the appropriately trained personnel could jeopardize your case.” She was not sure that this was true but, since she was sure that her previous sentence had been untrue, she let it lie.

         The pause was a long one. He knew that she was feeding him a line but, in the present age, it was better to play safe on such things. “They’re picking her up now. She’ll be at the Hermitage Precinct in about fifteen minutes.”

         “We’ll be there.”

         She hung up and looked at Chris. “We’re going over to the Hermitage Police Station to talk with Courtney.”

         “I heard. Do you think that Courtney is mentally ill?”

         “We all are to some degree, aren’t we?”

         “You’re dodging the question.”

         “No, I don’t. But I needed to talk with her right now. And the end justifies the means, right?”

         He shook his head vigorously as they pulled into traffic. “No. Never.”