Before turning off the ignition, Olivia prayed as hard as she had ever prayed for anything. She didn’t know what else to do but turn to God. She found great strength in her religious convictions. After dialing Elizabeth’s cell phone one more time, she placed hers in her purse and crossed herself after saying another silent prayer. She touched the lock button on her key chain and heard the chirp-chirp as she ran inside the hospital.
Tanner’s mother sat in the ER/ICU combined waiting room wringing her hands and praying. Tanner was her baby. His older sister taught fourth grade at a private school in Montgomery. Mrs. Tillman was too upset to dial long distance from the pay phone. A perceptive nurse recognized this and brought over her personal cell phone and handed it to her.
“Honey, just use it all you need,” she offered kindly.
Mrs. Tillman thanked her repeatedly. She put on her reading glasses and tried her best to compose herself as she punched the tiny buttons. Tracy Tillman Bonner answered on the third ring. Mrs. Tillman was so upset she could hardly speak.
“Hello,” Tracy answered.
“Tra…Trace…Tracy,” she stammered.
“Mom? Mom, is that you? What’s wrong?” she asked, sitting up in bed. “Mom.”
“Tanner’s hurt, Tracy. He’s hurt bad.”
Tracy turned on the light on the nightstand, waking her husband.
“Mom, what happened?”
“We don’t really know, but he was beaten up and he’s in intensive care right now.”
“Where are you, Mom?”
“What happened?” her husband asked and cleared his throat.
“Ssshhh!” Tracy replied harshly.
“I’m at the hospital in Livingston.”
“We’ll be right there…It’ll take us three hours, but we’re on the way.”
“No, you don’t have to drive…” Mrs. Tillman tried to reply but ended up sobbing.
“No way, Mom. We’re coming…I’ll have my cell phone. Call me when you can and update us, OK? Promise you’ll call?”
“I will. Y’all please be careful.”
“Mom, I love you. Everything will be OK…call me now.”
“I will. Bye, dear.” She felt better. Tracy had that effect. She would take charge. Mrs. Tillman needed her daughter.
“Get up!” Tracy exclaimed to her groggy husband as she ripped the covers back and jumped out of bed. “Tanner’s been hurt!”
Steve Tillman sat sipping coffee, staring at the bland walls around the sheriff’s office. Everything was overwhelming. He was anxious to get back to the hospital. Thankfully, Martha was keeping him updated. He also felt an obligation to help Sheriff Landrum find Elizabeth. He hated sitting, waiting.
“Can you call again, Miz Martha?” he asked in a meek voice.
“Sure,” she replied and picked up the phone and dialed a direct ER line. Martha O’Brien had friends in the ER and ICU who always took her calls.
“Anything new?” she asked.
“No. Not at all…the doctor’s with him now, but he’s sedated, still unconscious.”
“Please call me if anything changes. His father’s here waiting to help.”
Tillman listened and couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted to see his son.
“Miz Martha, I’m going back to the hospital. If Sheriff Landrum needs me, just let me know. I’ll do whatever you need, and please call me if you hear anything.”
“Steve, I understand…go…we’ll call…sometimes these things just take a little time to unravel,” she said compassionately.
And with that, Steve Tillman walked out the front door, heading to the hospital.
R.C. reclined in his police cruiser, spitting into a green plastic bottle. He heard Ollie tell Larson he was on the way. He kept watching down the Dummy Line. He rolled down his window as Ollie pulled next to him.
“Did you see anything, Chief?” he asked.
“No. I want to get over to Larson. I could hear the excitement in his voice. Come on, follow me,” Ollie said in a hurry and stomped the gas. As quick as he started, he slammed on the brakes. “Hey. If there are keys in that truck, grab ‘em.”
As soon as he was certain that R.C. understood, he tore off down the road. Ollie hoped that Larson hadn’t found a body. He cringed at the thought of Larson broadcasting that he had discovered a raped, mutilated female. He flipped on his blue lights and pushed the Expedition as hard as he could.
R.C. climbed out, ran over to the Jeep, and removed the keys. He looked inside the truck. No keys in the ignition. He ran around to the other side, opened the driver’s side door, and found them lying on the floorboard. Satisfied with himself, he tossed both the truck and Jeep keys on the cruiser’s front seat and took off. Ollie was out of sight, but R.C. wasn’t far behind.
Larson was so excited about finding the gun he didn’t know what to do. He called for Shug to heel. The dog never looked up.
“Damn it, Shug, come here!” he hollered.
Larson finally walked over, hooked the leash to his collar, and dragged the dog back to the police car. He looped the leash through the handle on the back door and leaned against the car. Shug tested the leash. As soon as the leash was tight, Shug sat down and resumed licking.
“Quit lickin’ your nuts, Shug,” Larson spoke as if the dog could understand. “You gotta start behavin’ more like a police dog. This is our big break.”
Larson reached through the passenger window and grabbed the Burger King bag and admired the pistol. This is huge! He leaned against the car and listened to the whippoorwill while he waited.
It wasn’t long before Larson heard the sounds of fast-approaching vehicles. He was about to pee on himself, he was so excited. He tried to prepare the story he would tell that would make Shug look like Rin-Tin-Tin.
Ollie slid to a stop. R.C. turned the corner behind him. By the time Ollie had radioed Martha to let her know where he was, R.C. pulled up and stopped.
Larson got so excited he forgot the details of his concocted story and simply held up the bag, proudly exclaiming, “Look what I-I mean, Shug found!”
“He found a bag of hamburgers?” R.C. chirped.
“No. He found a gun, I mean a pistol, and it’s been fired!”
“He found a gun in a Burger King bag?” Ollie asked.
“No.” Larson was growing aggravated. He simply pointed in the general direction of where the gun had been found. Larson was pointing at the grass. Ollie thought he was pointing at the camp house.
“Larson, this is a hunting lodge, so please tell me he didn’t find the gun in the camp’s gun cabinet!”
“No, no, no. We found it in the grass over there!” he said emphatically.
Larson removed the massive pistol and held it up for everyone to see. He stuck his pen through the trigger guard to preserve any fingerprints that Shug hadn’t licked off.
“Wow!” Ollie exclaimed.
Larson’s chest swelled with pride. “And it’s been fired recently,” he crowed.
Ollie bent over to smell the muzzle, then nodded in agreement.
R.C. leaned in and said, “Smells like a Whopper to me.”
Larson ignored him.
“Good job, Larson. That dog’s finally done somethin’,” Ollie said.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Good job,” R.C. said sarcastically.
“This could be a big break. I need you to focus, R.C.,” Ollie stated.
“Sorry,” R.C. said as looked again at the pistol.
“So what do you make of all this, Ollie? Is what happened at that gate related to this gun and the events around here?” R.C. asked waving his arms around the yard of the camp.