Page 87 of Rocky Ride

“Nothing, Toby. Go mind your own business.”

“You are my business, Dan Darkers. You’re my husband, although sometimes I’d like to forget it.”

“Fetch me my coat,” snarked Dan.

“Get it yourself. I ain’t helping you run off to jail and leave me with all the work.”

“Get my fucking coat, you bitch.”

J.T. Paint and Body. Nashville.

After coming up empty at the trailer park, Mason drove back to Nashville, and cruised by the body shop to see what was going on.

Large police presence. The parking lot jammed with squads, unmarked vehicles, and the Lieutenant’s SUV.

Mason parked on the road, and they threaded through the uniforms cluttering the parking lot and went inside to speak to the man in charge of the scene.

As they walked through the door one of the detectives held up his hand. “No admittance. You’ll have to leave.”

Annie dug in her purse and showed her creds to the homicide lieutenant. “The man who committed this murder is the Interstate Rage Killer, Bobby Prescott. Texas Violent Crime has been after him for months and we were close to nabbing him.”

Annie shared all the details she had with the lieutenant. “This guy—she pointed at the corpse—J.T. Turnbull—betrayed Prescott and gave him up to us.”

“Okay, and this is a revenge killing?”

“Yes, it is. Nothing left at the most recent address for Prescott at Brentwood Estates. The trailer is spotlessly clean.”

“Huh. So we know who the murderer is, but he’s in the wind.”

“Pretty good at it too. I’ve had a team in Nashville for the past two weeks and it was a waste of time.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Powell. You saved us a lot of time. Appreciate you stopping in.”

Annie gave the lieutenant one of her cards.

They walked back to the truck and Mason said, “Any suggestions where we should go next?”

“That’s your department, Mason. I say we hit Music Row and listen to a couple of bands. I need a beer.”

Coyote Ugly. Nashville. Tennessee.

Annie picked an empty booth with a clear view of the bar where all the action took place. She ordered a pitcher of Coors after asking Mason if Coors was something he’d be happy drinking.

“Good as anything else.” He laughed and picked up one of the menus.

They drank beer together, then ordered food, and by the time they finished eating, the place had filled up. The music and the crowd were loud. Fun times in Nashville.

“A couple more beers and I might get up there on the bar and sing,” said Annie.

Mason laughed. “No way.”

“Way. I’m going to do it just to make you laugh.”

“You could make me do just about anything, girl.” Mason shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever said that before.”

Chapter Eighteen

Wednesday, October 30th.

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