BURIED EMOTIONS
Disclaimer - nope. Nada. See earlier chapters...Rest of week is crazy so since this is ready, here ya go.
Chapter Eighteen
Jackson Mitchell stretched out on the couch where he had been dozing when his younger brother came back into the room.
"There isn't anything decent to eat here," Kyle grumbled.
"Considering if it doesn't come in a paper sack with fries on the side," Mitchell said with an indulgent grin, "you don't consider it "decent", I guess that would be true."
"I'm not that bad," Kyle muttered.
Jackson pulled a twenty out of his pocket. "Here. Go get us something to eat. I could use a bite as well."
Kyle took the bill and shoved it into his pocket before he sighed. "Still have that guy's body in the back of the truck. What should I do with it?"
Pulling aside a curtain, Mitchell looked out into the night. "It's late enough, this is a rural area. Find a dumpster behind some business in town and dump it in. Then go get the food. Don't want the fries to get cold, do we?"
Smirking, Kyle nodded. They had gotten lucky, people in this community were trusting, leaving keys in the vehicle and doors unlocked. But this one was so much like so many other vehicles they had see while here, it would be easier to blend in.
Well, at least as long as the owner didn't report it stolen. Then again, local law enforcement had a bigger fish to fry right now. Kyle had to hope they wouldn't connect the two incidents.
"Alan!" Tomo urgently said.
"What?" Alan muttered. "I feel lousy, Tommy. Just let me sleep."
"Alan, you have a head injury and your wound is still bleeding. Not much, but seriously, you need to stay awake."
"Am I a bad person?" Alan asked abruptly.
Tomo looked at his honorary little brother in surprise. "What? No, no you are not. You are one of the nicest, most honorable men I have ever known. What makes you ask that?"
"Then why do bad things keep happening to me?" Alan asked sadly.
"Remember what Manuel told us?" Tomo asked. "God never gives us more than we can handle."
Alan scoffed. "Yeah, well I think this time he has overshot the mark. If you've failed to notice, I've been beaten, stabbed, stuffed in a box with limited air and I'm arguing with a ghost."
"I prefer to think we are just having a lively discussion," Tomo shrugged. At Alan's annoyed look, Tomo gave a light punch to his shoulder. "Your family will come for you, you'll live to drive everyone crazy another day, you'll marry your girl and you'll hold your own babies in your arms and tell them all about their Uncle Tomo, who would have loved them more than words can ever say. And I'm sure about that, because of how much I love my little brother."
Tears fell from Alan's eyes. "Damn it, Tommy. I miss you so much."
Patting Alan's chest, Tomo shook his head. "As long as you keep me here," he said before he tapped the side of Alan's head, "And here, I will never leave you."
Alan drifted off once more and this time Tomo didn't argue with him over it. He just watched Alan breathe and prayed that it would continue…
Jean continued to run soil analysis while Daria watched. There hadn't been much Daria could do after she had hooked the sheriff into the FBI database. Finally, the FBI agent stood up and stretched.
"Hey," Daria said with a sigh. "I'm going to grab some fresh air. You need anything?"
Jean shook her head. "No, but can you ask Mama to make up some coffee and maybe some sandwiches? This is gonna be a long night."
Daria walked out into the main area, more alert than it usually was this time of night. She spotted Miss Millie sitting next to the main desk, quietly sewing.
"Mrs. Bates?" Daria began only for Millie to cut her off.
"I told you young lady, its Millie or if you must, Miss Millie."
"Miss Millie," Daria smiled. "The sheriff was wondering if you could make coffee and sandwiches for everyone. The only other option would be McDonalds and I'd rather not spare anyone to go to the other side of town."
"Of course," Millie smiled, her eyes tinged with sadness at what her old friend must be going through now. "Has there been any progress? I mean, that you can tell me about?"
Daria nodded. "Well, just that the kidnappers have contacted Mr. Tracy. I can't give you any more info than that."
"How is Jason doing?" Millie asked as Daria walked her to the door.
"His parents have taken him home," Daria sighed. "Scott and Kate were torn up about it, but it's for the best."
"True," Millie sighed. "We don't need Scott being arrested for killing the person who hurt his babies."
"Or Kate," Daria smirked.
Millie smiled sadly. "Someone tried to kidnap Allie when he was just a baby, you know. Scotty stopped them. Then Jeannie really stopped them."
Daria frowned as they went into the night air. "I knew Scott had stopped a kidnapping attempt when Alan was eighteen months old - it came up during an earlier investigation. But what did Jean do?"
"Oh, the would-be kidnappers were getting medical attention when Jeannie was delivering the doctor's lunch. They tried to use her as a hostage. Unfortunately for them, that was Jeannie's last delivery, so she had her baseball bat with her."
Millie's smile took on a slightly devilish look that she had bestowed upon her only child. "My Bertha Jean is the best hitter to ever come out of the Bailey Little League. She could have gone pro, you know. The Major Leagues wanted her. But Jeannie went into the Marines and then came home to become a police officer, just like her Daddy."
Daria gave a small smile. She was personally glad she wasn't like her father…The man had his first heart attack before Daria was even out of high school. Not that she didn't love him…
She just didn't want to be that much like him.
Keeping that thought to herself, the agent nodded. "I'll walk you to the diner, Miss Millie."
"Oh, don't bother," Millie began only for Daria to cut her off.
"One, it's no bother, I need the air. Two, since we don't know where they are, I don't consider anywhere in Bailey safe. And three – I am not facing your daughter if something were to happen to you. She's scary."
"That she is," Millie sighed slightly. "Well, let's go then."
Kyle pulled up behind a clump of buildings in downtown Bailey. He had heard some lifers discussing the best way to dump a body while in prison. One guy said he used ones behind restaurants or medical clinics. Why? You expected to smell decomposing things in there so no one looked too closely at them. He had thought about using the one at McDonald's but the same thing that helped one thing hurt another. Yes, they were open all night, so he could get food and dump a body, but on the other hand…
They were open all night, had people coming and going, and worst of all, security cameras.
But here in "downtown" –snicker – Bailey, they rolled up the sidewalk at night. Why, he'd bet the owner of "Millie's Diner" was tucked in bed, her hair in rollers and if she were up, she was either reading some cheap novel or watching the Late Show.
Looking around one last time, Kyle couldn't see lights in any of the nearby businesses. He wondered if anyone lived above any of the stores but decided that if they did, the owners were long asleep. Kyle went to the end of the truck, dropped the tailgate and began to pull the body out of the bed of the pick-up.
"No time like the present," he grumbled as he opened up the trash bin and started to lower the body in.
Daria caught a wiff of something…gross and pressed her lips together.
"God," she muttered. "What is that awful smell?"
Millie had climbed onto the side porch that led directly into the kitchen and paused in the act of pulling out her keys. Hearing a soft metal "clang", she sighed.
"Darn dogs. There is a leash law in this town, but do some folks care. Nope. Leave the poor creatures out all night so of course some of them go sniffing. I best shoo them off. They might be smelling that chicken that went bad. I don't want doggie vomit in my back yard, now do I?"
"Spoiled chicken?" Daria gagged, looking slightly green.
"Are you feeling ok, honey?" Millie asked in concern.
"Yeah, I, um…" Daria breathed carefully. "Let me go check it out."
"It'll just be a dog," Millie protested as Daria headed around the corner.
Kyle dumped the body into the bin and went to move a trash bag over it when he heard voices.
"Damn it," he cussed, dropping the lid heavier than he meant to and running back to the truck.
Daria came around the corner, her hand resting lightly on her service weapon. She froze when the headlights from a truck were flipped on, before shaking herself lose when the engine was started.
"FBI!" Daria yelled as she began to run, pulling out her weapon as she did.
Kyle saw the FBI agent in front of him and pulled out his own gun, firing randomly as he put the truck in gear and lunged forward.
Daria only managed to get off one shot before she had to dive to the side in order not to be run over. The truck bounced against the side of the post office (Mac Tooley, the postmaster for Bailey was not gonna be a happy camper) and careened into the night.
Standing up, Daria brushed off her clothes. Calling over her shoulder, she checked on Millie.
"Miss Millie? You ok?"
"Yes," Millie responded with only a slight shake in her voice.
Knowing that the truck was long gone – although she took careful note of which direction it had disappeared to – Daria decided to see what Westcott (she had gotten a good, if quick, look at the driver) had been dumping.
"Please don't be Alan, please don't be Alan," Daria murmured as she grabbed a pair of gloves and opened up the trash bin. Pulling aside a bag of old vegetable scraps – and trying not to toss her cookies – Daria called out.
"Millie? Do you know this guy?"
Millie cautiously approached, gasping when she saw the man in the bin.
"My stars," she whispered before shaking herself. "That's Paddy. Patrick Vernon, to be precise. No account, big mouthed troublemaker. Jeannie told him to leave Bailey and not come back. He'd been working for Lester Toombes – he's the undertaker."
"Your undertaker is named Toombes?" Daria drawled, even as she gently lowered the lid, relived Millie hadn't seemed to notice the man's head was barely attached.
"Been the family business for over a hundred years," Millie shrugged. "Guess they thought it was a good tie-in and ran with it. They also run a masonry business."
"Provide their own tombstones, do they?" Daria asked as she quickly escorted Millie into the diner, wanting a civilian out of the way.
"We're nothing if not practical in Kansas, honey," Millie sighed. "I think you should call Jeannie and get her over here. I believe you have another crime scene."
Daria smirked. She had been just about to…
As she dialed the sheriff's phone, Daria became curious.
"Hey Miss Millie, you said Vincent was run out of town. What did he do?"
Millie was busy making tea and sighed. "Oh my word. That man – a nasty piece of work. Always a snide remark. And it turned out he was stealing from the dead. I knew he would come to a bad end. His kind always do."
Something tickled the back of the agent's mind but just then the sheriff answered. A minute later, she hung up, Jean's yelling ringing in her ears.
Millie set a cup of tea in front of Daria. "Here honey. This will fortify you before my daughter gets here."
"Sure you don't have any scotch for that?" Daria sighed.
Millie looked at the agent with a smile. "No. Tea. Trust an old lady."
Daria sighed and sat down at the old table. This was going to be a very long night.
A/N - There you go. Hoping to have more by Monday, since it is a holiday and the office is closed. We'll see. -CC