Chapter 24

Gone Fishin'

Davis woke with a start and scooted up in his seat, looking out the window. He never sat in the front seat. Mom and Dad always made him sit in back in a silly booster seat even though he wasn't a baby anymore. Kyle was a baby, but he wasn't. He liked being up front with his grandfather. He liked that grandpa had chosen him to go on the adventure. That's what he'd said this morning. He could tie his own shoes. He went to pre-school and could almost read Go Dog, Go! all by himself.

"You wanna go on an adventure with your old grandpa?" And Davis had said yes.

"But you can't tell your mother." And Davis hadn't.

The elder Davis looked over at his grandson and asked his namesake, "Hey, Buddy, how was your nap?"

"Okay," Davis said. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, still staring out the window at the unfamiliar scenery. "Where are we?"

"We're in Tennessee. Almost to the lake, I think." Truthfully, now that they were here, he couldn't remember the turnoff or the name of the road that led to the cabin.

"I'm hungry."

"Yeah, me, too." His grandfather took his foot off the accelerator and slowed the car down, easing onto the exit ramp. "You like McDonalds?"

Davis nodded eagerly. He didn't get McDonalds that often, either. "Can I have a Happy Meal?"

"You can have whatever you want, Buddy."

The restaurant was crowded and Grandpa held Davis' hand tight. He stopped near the door, looking all around. Davis had to tug to move him toward the line. "What do you like to eat, Grandpa?"

He smiled down at him. "Maybe I'll just get a Happy Meal, too."

Davis laughed. "Grown-ups don't get Happy Meals."

But Grandpa did get a Happy Meal. A cheeseburger. Davis had chicken nuggets. David double scored when Grampa handed him over the toy in his bag.

The boy's face beamed. "Grampa, you got Mario Kart! I got Luigi. Now, I have bof of them!" Suddenly, Davis thought that grownups getting Happy Meals was the best idea he'd ever heard, and his Grampa was his hero.

They ate in the car, and when they were done, Grandpa let Davis run back and throw the trash away, and he didn't even remind him to look both ways or not talk to strangers the way his mom always did. Grandpa treated him like a big boy.

Back in the car Grandpa opened the glove box. "Where does your daddy keep the maps?" He asked.

"Maps?" Davis shrugged. "What's a map?"

"It tells you where to go. How to get places."

Davis pointed to the screen on the dashboard of the van, blank now, with squiggly lines running through it. "She tells us where to go."

"She?" Grandpa looked puzzled.

"The voice on the GPS. Daddy calls her Margery, but Mama says that's not nice."

Grandpa let out a whoop of laughter. "I think that's a perfect name," he said, recalling his ex-wife's bossiness. "How does she work?" He'd heard of this new technology, but his last car had been a used Mercedes, well-built and classic, with leather seats and a sun roof, but without any of the electronic bells and whistles.

Davis studied the buttons for a moment, trying to remember how Daddy did it. He'd watched him a few times, but always from the backseat. Tentatively, he pushed the center button, then studied the menu and touched the little arrow icon. A keyboard appeared and a voice asked, "Where do you want to go?"

Davis grinned. He was proud of himself for remembering. "You type in where you want to go, and she tells you how to get there."

Using one finger, Grandpa typed in Marrowbone Lake. It took him several tries to get the letters and the spaces right, but finally the GPS responded.

"Marrowbone Lake," the tinny voice said. "Okay. Proceed to the ramp onto I-75 South and make a right turn."

With Margery telling them where to go, they arrived at the turnoff for the lake in about twenty minutes.

It was dusk, and all the cabins looked alike to Davis. That's probably why Grampa made a few wrong turns before he found the right one.

The gravel in the driveway crackled as Grampa pulled the van up in front of a big two-story cabin. There was a huge front porch and a tire swing hanging from a tree in the yard. "This is Peter's place, where we always stayed when your mama and Winona were little girls."

"Did Mama go fishing?"

Grampa laughed. "She went once or twice. She wouldn't put the worm on the hook or take the fish off the hook. Your Aunt Winona didn't mind the worms, but she wouldn't take her fish off the hook, either." A faraway look came into Grampa's eyes. "They both liked eating those fish though. I'd clean 'em, and your Grandma would toss 'em in cornmeal and fry 'em up, and we'd have a feast."

Davis bounced in his seat, excited. "Can we go fishing now?"

"It's getting awfully dark," Grampa said, glancing around. I like night fishing, but I don't know this lake as well as I used to. We'd better wait until morning."

He'd never been away from home all night before and for the first time, Davis was unsure about this adventure. He didn't feel so grown up anymore. He missed his mom and dad. He even missed Kyle. He thought about his bedroom at home and about Rusty, the stuffed dog he'd slept with ever since he could remember. His eyes felt hot, and he blinked back tears. "What about Mama and Daddy," he said. "Won't they miss me?"

"It's okay, Buddy," Grampa, said, patting his knee. "You're with me."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"Why haven't the police called? Why haven't they found them by now? It's getting dark!" Gayle pulled the curtains aside for the thousandth time and looked up the darkening street. "Oh!" she said. "Here comes a car. Maybe it's . . ." Her voice faltered, and she turned from the window to meet Winona's eyes. "It's just Raylan."

"Come on, Hon," Wade said, taking his wife by the arm. "Let Winona talk to him. Maybe he'll have some ideas."

Gayle resisted, but her husband was firm as he guided her out of the room. "Come sit down in the kitchen with me. Eat a little something. At least we know they haven't been in an accident. The police would've found them if that was the case."

Winona opened the door and came half way down the walk to greet Raylan, burying her face in his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Any word?"

She shook her head. "Gayle's a mess. I can't imagine. I'm so worried!"

"Look," Raylan said. "They're probably fine."

"How can you know? Can you call someone? Do you know anyone who could help?"

"I had Art call a buddy of his in Nashville. He was gonna check out your dad's two friends – which I'm sure the cops've already done. Art'll get back to me if he hears anything." He tipped her chin up with a finger and looked in her eyes. "Your father ain't gonna hurt that boy. Worst case is they get lost or run outta gas, but I looked on the map and this is a pretty populated area."

"No, it's not," Winona insisted. "There's nothing for miles."

"When was the last time you were there?"

She thought for a minute. "I don't know. Ten years ago or so?"

"Betcha it was more like twenty. Tim brought up Google Earth on the computer at the office. There's a whole housing development on one end of the lake with restaurants and grocery stores. Hell, there's even a Walmart."

"They don't have any clothes or food," Winona said, her fears getting the best of her. "We don't even know if Dad has any money."

"If he planned this, has the money," Raylan said, the voice of reason. "Your dad gets confused, but he's still pretty sharp." They turned to walk into the house, and Raylan's cell buzzed. He glanced at the screen. "Art," he said, answering as they both stopped in their tracks in the middle of the front yard.

"My friend got a hold of Peter Hildreth. He hadn't been home all day, and he hasn't heard from Davis. But he's going to drive out to the cabin and check."

"Thanks, Art, I know that's gonna make everyone feel better."

After Raylan disconnected the call, he looked into Winona's eyes. "Okay, both of your dad's buddies have been contacted. Pete is gonna go check out the cabin at the lake and get back to Art. If they're there? I want ya' to let me drive out there and go pick 'em up. I could have 'em back here by sun up. It would be a lot less traumatic on both your dad and little Davis if I show up, rather than the local P.D. What we don't want is to have them get unnecessarily tangled up in the local bureaucracy and a child welfare agency in another state's jurisdiction."

"Yes," she nodded in agreement. "But I want to go, too."

"I don't think that's such a good idea. Look, you're understandably upset. This is your dad and your nephew," he braced her by her shoulders. "You need to stay here for Gayle. Your sister is goin' off the rails." He lowered his head until he was at eye level with her. "I can go in, nice and cool, and have them back here before ya' know it. And you can call me, and I can call you whenever ya' like. All I ask for is a quick shower and a couple of hours of shuteye before I takeoff . . . and maybe a thermos of hot coffee. That'd make a new man outta me."

Winona locked eyes with his and took his face in her hands. She knew he was right, and she knew he'd be fine with a couple of hours of sleep. The expression on her face changed from worry to sadness. "I didn't even get a chance to welcome you home."

Raylan wrapped his arms around her and drew her in for a kiss. She breathed him in deep, the taste of stale coffee and the smell of his sweat mixed with the great outdoors. So relieved was she to have him back safe and sound, she didn't want to let him go. It was he who finally pulled away, put his arm around her, and led her inside the house.

"Where's Adam?" Raylan asked.

"Oh, he left a little while ago to go back to the hotel to wait for Anna," she said.

"He might be waitin' a little while," Raylan said under his breath, thinking of the mountain of paperwork he'd left with his colleagues.

As Raylan raced upstairs to grab a shower, Winona went into the kitchen to fill in Gayle and Wade and her mother on the latest developments.

"Peter's on his way to the cabin?" Gayle asked.

"Yes," Winona said. "We should know something soon."

They all agreed that whatever Raylan thought was best was the way it should go. Margery was feeding Willa some yogurt and banana in her infant seat, while Kyle was eating a hot dog with catsup.

"Mama? Would you keep an eye on Willa?" Winona asked. "I'm going to see if I can help Raylan with anything."

"Sure, Honey," Margery agreed, spooning another bite full of the creamy peach yogurt into her grandbaby's hungry mouth. "We're doing just fine, here," she smiled, happy to be useful.

Winona left the kitchen to go upstairs. She rapped on the bathroom door. "Raylan?" she called in a low voice. She could hear water running in the shower.

The door opened, and Raylan poked his head out the door. 'What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," she said, pushing the door open and stepping inside the small bathroom, finding him almost completely undressed. She turned to close the door and locked it behind her. She gave him a slow smile. "Except maybe you and I could use a little stress relief from the pressure cooker we've been in for the past 36 hours. Go on. Get in the shower," she said. She kicked her shoes off and pulled off her tee.

Raylan did as she said and stepped in leaving the shower curtain partly open, one eye trained on her as she wiggled out of her jeans and panties in a quick striptease. He grabbed the bar of soap and began to lather up. Soon, Winona joined him with her hair up, tucked behind a hair clip.

"We don't have much time," she whispered and went straight to business.

"Where were we when we got interrupted last night?" he asked, allowing her to take the lead. He loved when she took the lead, and his desire quickly responded in her soapy hands. He closed his eyes.

"You keep that up, and I'm this close to bein' done," he warned in a whisper.

Before she could answer, he suddenly took control of the situation, reaching down, soaping her up and pinning her to the wall while covering her mouth with his. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him hard, making small whimpers of pleasure in his mouth.

The water spray cascaded over their bodies, rinsing them clean as he lifted her petite frame and entered her. He slowed her frantic pace, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, holding onto him until he skillfully brought them to their inevitable conclusion . . . an abrupt, pent up release for the both of them that would have to do, for now.

Weak in the knees, he carefully lowered her as their breathy kisses became tender.

"I'd better let you finish your shower," she smiled, stepping out of the stall. She grabbed a clean towel and patted herself dry. Luckily, her hair was spared from a drenching. As she began dressing, Raylan's phone went off on the counter.

"Raylan? It's Art," she said, and he shut off the water. She handed him his phone.

"They're at the cabin," Art reported. "Everyone's fine, except Davis Sr. is without some of his medications. Can you bring what he needs? I know you said he's a heart patient."

'They're there." Raylan mouthed to Winona, who slumped against the counter in relief. "Yeah," he said, intently listening. "I sure will."

Raylan motioned to Winona for something to write with. He needed to take down some pertinent information. She shrugged her shoulders. There was no paper or pen in the bathroom.

"Art? I'm just getting' out of the shower at my sister-in-law's house," Raylan tried to draw his boss a picture. "Would ya' mind textin' me the address to the cabin and the contact information on Peter Hildreth?"

"Yeah, I'll do that," Art chuckled, picturing Raylan in another situation that only Raylan could get himself into. "Are you leaving soon?"

Raylan sighed. "I'll have to. Within the next thirty minutes. I can get there this time of night in about three hours. I know where all the speed traps are."

"Alright," Art said. "Keep me in the loop, okay?"

"I will, and Art? Once again, thanks." As Raylan disconnected, he said to Winona, "I'm gonna need a strong thermos of coffee."

As she rearranged her hair in front of the mirror, Winona said, "That does it. I'm going with you."

"I'll be fine," he argued.

"Yes, you will be fine . . . because I'm driving," she insisted. "I've got to go tell Gayle that they're okay. Then, while you're getting dressed, I'll nurse Willa for bedtime and get Daddy's prescriptions together. We'll probably be back here before Willa wakes up in the morning, and if not, there's a couple of bottles worth of breast milk in the freezer. And besides, Mama is in all her Grandma glory."

"Fine," he acquiesced, toweling himself dry, knowing there was no way he was going to win this argument.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"I can't think anymore," Tim complained, finishing up his report for Art. He held his foggy head in his hands. "Must be nice to have your baby mama's old man fly the coup so you don't have to stay late and do your paperwork."

"Raylan didn't look none too pleased when he took that call from Winona," Rachel noted as she persevered with hers. "He may have chosen to file a report, if he'd had a choice."

While the marshals were writing up their incident reports, on the explosion at Noble's Holler, Anna was looking through files of possible associates of the Arndt brothers. She had set three files aside as possible suspects of the bridge explosion. One in particular caught her eye.

"Hamilton Schmidt," she read aloud. "He's done hard time for attempting to blow up a shopping center in Oakland, California. Claims membership in the Aryan Knights." As she looked further in the file, she said, "Yep. There's the tattoo. Also a jailhouse lawyer to fellow inmates." She looked up. "I've heard of guys like this who will up the ante on hate crimes when they get out of prison, as a way to move up in their organization. In fact, if they don't take up the challenge, should they ever go back to prison, they're dead meat."

"Done!" Rachel announced, as she put down her pen and opened and closed her hand to work out the writer's cramp. She then reached over and picked up Tim's forms. "You signed this as Mickey Mouse?" she asked him in disbelief. "Tim, you can't turn this in like this."

"I've been up for 36 hours straight," he complained. "I'm not responsible for anything I turn in."

Rachel shook her head in disapproval. "Suit yourself, but I can tell you that Art is going have your hide for lunch tomorrow if you turn that in like that. Especially with the Assistant Director in town."

"So, sue me," Tim challenged her.

Ignoring Tim, Rachel asked, "Anna, are you up for a quick bite to eat before I drop you off at your hotel?"

"I am absolutely starving," Anna remarked. "Let me text Adam and give him an estimate on when I'll arrive back at the hotel."

"Will he mind?" Rachel asked.

"Not as long as he knows when I'll be back . . . and that I'm safe," she said, texting with her thumbs. "He's great that way."

"You want to join us?" Rachel asked Tim.

He answered with, "I think I'll pass. I have a hot date with my king-size waterbed." He flashed a rare grin. "Anyone want to join me?"

"You do know you're harassing a Feeb in a Federal building, right?" Rachel pointed out to her colleague, standing with her hands on her hips.

"You mean I'm harassing a hot Feeb," he corrected her. "And it's really not harassing because she's engaged. And you both know I'm just kidding."

"Are you engaged?" Rachel parsed Tim's ramblings for that key piece of information.

Anna held up her hand. "Last night."

"Oh, wow,' Rachel exclaimed and came closer for a look at her ring. "That's beautiful! You'll have to tell me all about it over dinner. I know a Thai place down the street that is good, quiet, and best of all . . . fast."

"I love Thai food," Anna smiled. "Let's go."

"I will see you ladies tomorrow," Tim said, as Rachel and Anna walked out to the elevator.

(To be continued . . .)