Page 39 of JoyRide

“Copy. I’m ready to go.”

“Do all of you have your vests on?” asked Molly. “We can’t afford anyone else getting hurt.”

“Yes. We’re vested up, Molly.” I whistled for the dogs, and we ran for the parking lot.

Shelby Lumber.

I pulled into the spacious lumberyard parking lot with the siren screaming, rammed the Bronco into park and hopped out. Me and Tammy ran into the store at the front of the big building to find out who made the call.

“I’m acting Sheriff Bristol, ma’am. Who can tell us about the trouble you had here?”

“You should talk to Mark out in the yard, Sheriff. He was there when the kids came and shot Clay.”

The lady at the checkout counter pointed to a door at the rear of the store and Tammy and I ran out the back way to find Mark.

A group of guys wearing Shelby Lumber shirts and caps were standing in a tight group talking about what had gone down and I interrupted them. “I’m looking for Mark who saw the shooting happen.”

“I’m Mark McAllister and I was out back when it happened, Sheriff.” He grinned. “You look kind of young to be a sheriff, kid.”

“Deputy Wallace is here. He old enough for you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Mark was a big guy with a beer belly and a bushy beard. He looked about thirty-five, his ball cap pulled low over brown eyes.

“The man who was injured,” said Tammy. “Where is he now?”

“At the Medical Center,” said Mark.

“Okay, good. We’ll speak to him a little later. Go ahead and tell us what happened.” I turned on the tape recorder and pointed at Savanna’s car. “You saw the kids pull in driving that car over there—a stolen vehicle—belongs to a lady in Coyote Creek.”

“Yeah, the kids jumped out of that car—two kids in their teens. One had a gun, and the other punk was swinging a tire iron.”

“Okay. What did they want?”

“The one with the gun pointed it at Clay and wanted his wallet.”

“Okay. A robbery,” I said.

“Clay told them to go to hell and the kid shot him in the leg. Just like that.Bang. Didn’t even hesitate or stop to think about it. Just pulled the fuckin trigger.”

“Uh huh. Which kid did the shooting? Could you tell if he was the older or the younger of the two?”

“Younger one, I’d guess.”

“Okay, thanks. Go ahead, Mark.”

“Clay fell in the dirt and the other kid charged over and cracked him on the head with the tire iron. Laughing his head off, the guy with the gun took Clay’s wallet and lifted his truck keys at the same time.”

“Wallet and truck keys. Go ahead.”

“Then I heard one of them say something like, ‘Hurry up. We gotta meet Linley in an hour.’”

“Linley? Are you sure that was the name?”

“Yeah, pretty sure.”

I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up when I heard that name. “They happen to mention where they planned to meet this Linley guy?”

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