Second Strike

CHAPTER 52

^GEORGIA,

^{AUGUST 16, 8:30 P.M. EDT}

Ruth Ponder continued to persist, inspiring others to rally around her.

The kids had reclaimed their childhood bedrooms, and sleeping bags and air mattresses were laid down for the grandkids. Bob and Sue Lampley were, of course, fixtures in the living room and kitchen, respectively, Bob making phone calls to every law enforcement contact he knew and Sue keeping food warm and serving the other folks in the house. Amy Randall of the church choir, whose sister was the insurance adjuster, was sitting on a couch in the living room charging her cell phone in the wall outlet nearby. She had made dozens of calls to anyone and everyone who might possibly have information on the people responsible for Amos Ponder’s murder, and she had been invaluable—primarily because her calls prompted other people to make their own calls, which in turn kept the authorities from relaxing even one little bit.

According to Amy’s sister, the LaCrosse had been impounded and was being examined for evidence. Amos’s body was also being examined by the Cobb County coroner, after which it would be prepared for transport back home. Everyone in the house prevailed upon Ruth to stay put and not go up there—Amos’s body would be back soon enough.

Ruth’s persistence had turned the investigation of the massacre along I-85 into a juggernaut. Most of the folks busy calling, texting, and e-mailing in Ruth Ponder’s home were no more than high school graduates. Most were blue-collar. Ordinary, decent, hardworking folks. The kind of folks whom the young reporter from the big-city newspaper, who had given up and left, would consider backward and unsophisticated.

But they knew how to think and they had faith that Ruth’s persistence and their own diligence would yield answers. Rev. Broussard had led them in prayer to produce such answers.

And sure enough, answers started coming. In little disparate bits. Seemingly unconnected. But not burdened by the traps of superficial sophistication, the folks in Ruth Ponder’s home began to piece together leads.

The most important lead came from one of Ruth’s commonsense questions: “How did the scary man who had given the diner patron chills, along with his foreign-looking friends, leave the truck stop where they had parked Amos’s LaCrosse?” They didn’t just abandon it and proceed on foot. They had to have taken another vehicle. So where did that vehicle come from? Unless they’d stolen another one, they must’ve bought or rented it. And since there were no reports of stolen vehicles in the vicinity during that timeframe, they must’ve rented or bought another vehicle. Maybe two. And since it appeared the scary man and his friends left the area in relatively short order, they must’ve bought or rented the replacement vehicles from someplace close.

Not too complicated.

So Ruth asked Amy Randall if she could find out if there were any car rental places or sales lots nearby the truck stop. Amy brought up the satellite view of the area from Google Maps, and she zoomed in until Ruth could see what looked like trees and roads and roofs of buildings with the names of streets and businesses printed on top.

Ruth peered over Amy’s shoulder and bent down to get a better look. She took the glasses that were hanging on the little chain around her neck and slipped them on and could see the truck stop with its islands and pumps. Right behind was the diner where the patron had gotten the chills.

Across the street was a regular Shell gas station and next to that was something called Adam’s Professional Services. On the other side was the Rookwood Head Start Academy. No car sales or rental places.

Amy took her index finger and swiped it slowly across the screen. Ruth could see the buildings and creeks and roads move a little, and different buildings appeared. Next to the truck stop was Kirk’s Automotive Parts Store, and across the street next to Adam’s Professional Services was a Subway sandwich shop, and next to that on the other side of Five Mile Creek was Good Shepherd Baptist Church. No car sales or rental places.

So Ruth bent down a little more and swiped her own finger across the screen in the other direction, and the image moved slowly in that direction. On the opposite side of the truck stop was Carol’s Beauty and Braiding Shop, then Holy Redeemer Church, and then Roberts Car and Truck Sales.

Bingo.

Amy tapped the screen and the image changed to Street View. It looked to Ruth like the place was filled predominantly with used cars and pickup trucks. Probably easy in, easy out, Ruth thought. Less likely to need bank financing. Fewer calls, fewer hassles, less paperwork.

“Amy, can you find me the telephone number for Roberts Car and Truck Sales?”

A few minutes later Ruth was talking to Randy, who had been getting ready to go home and who at first was helpful because he thought he might make one last sale, then became guarded when Ruth started asking questions about a scary-looking guy who might be with foreign-looking friends.

But then Ruth told Randy about Amos and the massacre and the LaCrosse, and Randy had seen the stories on TV and it started to make some kind of sense. The guy who had been interested in the Durango and Tahoe was built like a mixed-martial-arts champ or maybe even an NFL running back, and Randy could easily see how he could be scary when he wasn’t friendly. And he was with a little guy who did look kind of foreign-looking. And he was ready to pay cash and was in a hurry.

So Randy weighed it and balanced it and turned it over in his head and decided that it was better to help Ruth than to help a possible bad guy get away. Besides, Randy wasn’t sure but he might be aiding and abetting or something or other if he didn’t tell Ruth what she needed to know. And it was the right thing to do. Heck, a widow calling for help so soon after her longtime husband got murdered.

Randy told Ruth that the scary/friendly guy didn’t buy from Roberts but may have gone to see Rob Brock. No, he didn’t have Rob Brock’s number, but he gave her a description of the scary/friendly guy, as best as he could remember. Randy felt good about it, even felt a little proud of himself.

Ruth thanked him politely and ended the call and looked at the piece of paper on which she’d written all of Randy’s information. Rev. Broussard saw the look on her face, came over, and patted her shoulder. Ruth looked up. “I don’t know what else to do. The car lot didn’t sell to the man I believe killed Amos, Reverend.”

Rev. Broussard glanced at Amy’s computer screen and bent to get a closer look. He pointed at the map depicting Roberts Car and Truck Sales. “Is this the dealership?”

“Yes, it is. But they sent Amos’s killer to someone else.”

Rev. Broussard continued gazing at the screen. “That’s Holy Redeemer there.”

Ruth looked at the icon to which the reverend was pointing.

“That’s Pastor Luke Quinn’s church. We were in seminary together. I see him at retreats pretty regularly and we stay in touch.”

Rev. Broussard nodded pensively. “Ruth, may I use your phone?”

Ruth pointed to the wall phone in the kitchen, and moments later Rev. Broussard was in conversation. Ruth saw him brace the receiver between his ear and shoulder as he wrote on the notepad hanging next to the phone. Then he hung up, redialed, and a minute later was writing again. A minute after that he came back to Ruth.

“Pastor Luke’s parishioner Rob Brock’s been trying to sell a Windstar and a Caprice for the longest. He finally got a buyer.”

Rev. Broussard handed Ruth a page from the notebook.

That scary-looking man was going to jail if Ruth Ponder had anything to say about it. That was for sure.