The Passenger by Jacqueline Druga (the giving tree read aloud TXT) 📗

that carries the cordial juice and we need it for the chocolate covered cherries. You know how funny I feel about going there alone.  I mean if you’re busy …”

“No, I’m not busy,” Jonas replied and stood. “I’ll go.”

Marge looked at Cate then Grant. “Do you mind?”

Cate shook her head. “Not at all. We’ll be in town.”

Jonas leaned down, kissed his mother on the cheek, then his father. He swiped his phone bag from the table. “I’m ready.”

Marge held out her hand. “After you, Chip. I got Joe’s truck.”

Cate kept the smile on her face, watching them walk away.

“What is it?” Grant asked. “What’s on your mind?”

“She still calls him Chip. And he doesn’t correct her.”

“Maybe she’s the only one who can convince him Chip and Jonas are one and the same.”

“Maybe.” Cate glanced back again, watching them get into the truck, then she returned to the conversation with Grant and her sandwich.

◆◆◆

It was a busy morning for Russ. Five traffic citations before noon and one of them was to Old Joe for careless driving. He kept stopping, going, jerking the car. He claimed he stepped on gum and his foot kept sticking the pedal.

Russ didn’t see any gum, but he couldn’t think of another reason Joe would be driving like that. He issued the citation but would probably just toss it out.

The station was quiet. Everyone was on patrol or out to lunch, which left Russ in charge of answering phones when they rang.

And they did.

“Williams Peak Police Department, Chief McKibben speaking. How can I help you?”

“Chief,” the voice on the other line spoke. “This is Chief John Elliott over in Fremont. Glad I got you.”

“John?” Russ sat down. “Wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

“I wasn’t expecting to call you. Thought our business was done.”

“Me, too. What’s going on?” Russ asked.

“Any chance I can get you to stop by today? Make the trip?”

“Sure. I’ll head on up. Again, what’s going on?”

“Well, Kevin McConnel our Guitar World pawn boy?”

“What about him?”

“Seems his mother found a gear bag in his room.”

“I’m not sure what that is,” Russ said.

“Usually, guitar players have them. They carry their cords, maybe a peddle, strings, stuff like that.”

Russ snapped forward in his chair. “It belonged to our John Doe, didn’t it?”

“Yep.”

“Why didn’t he sell it with the other stuff?”

“Ready for this?” John asked. “He didn’t have the bag with the guitar. His mother saw him walking in the house with it two days ago."

“That gear bag would have been in the car with the guitar.”

“He claims he went back to the site to see if he could find anything else and he found it then.”

“A month later?” Russ said with disbelief.

John laughed. “We know that’s not true, so because you got me started on this, I started looking, asking places he could have tried to sell it. It’s a long story, but I just sent you a fax. It explains a lot. Take a look at the pictures and we can talk when you get here.”

“Sounds good. Thank you. See you soon.” Russ ended the call, and he was curious. He heard the whirling of the fax machine and walked across the station to it.

The second his eyes cast down to the emerging fax and he saw it, his mouth dropped open. “Well, I’ll be.”

He didn’t need to look at the fax for long, he knew he had to get to Fremont and talk to the chief there.

Hurriedly, Russ grabbed an empty large envelope, placed the fax inside. He walked back over, grabbed the keys from his desk, and as he left the station, flipped the sign on the door to ‘be right back’.

While getting in his car he saw the Truett parents across the street at the café. He paused in leaving and crossed the street.

“Afternoon folks,” he greeted them. “Do you know where your son is right now?”

Grant asked. “Yes. Is everything alright?”

“Oh, yeah, actually great. Where is he?” Russ asked.

“He went with Marge to some liquor store in Fremont to get cordial juice or something,” Grant replied.

“Even better. I’ll call Marge to tell them not to leave. Thank you. Enjoy your lunch.” Russ hurried away. He supposed he could have told them what was happening, but he felt Jonas had to be the one to know.

Jonas was right where Russ needed him to be.

Finally, Russ believed Jonas would get his answers and like Russ would finally close the chapter on the accident.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Jonas could have stayed at Guitar World all day, hours at least, but he knew Marge was anxious to get to the store and get that cordial juice. He was glad she stopped for him. It made his day.

The store was located on the main street of downtown, and they parked directly in front of it. A pull in spot, and Jonas could see the entrance.

Marge said she’d be right back, she always wanted to see what other juices they had so she could be a few minutes.

He was fine with that.

While sitting in the car, he put on the new protective case on the new phone, it was bulky and thick, and he didn’t know if he liked it. Then finally drew up enough courage to turn it on.

As he expected the notifications popped up.

Four hundred text messages, sixty-three missed calls, and forty-two voicemails.

Marge wouldn’t be in the store long enough for him to make a dent in those messages.

Perhaps that was his excuse to avoid checking them out, and Jonas slid the phone into his front tee-shirt pocket.

He was thinking about going into the store, but with his past, he wasn’t quite certain he was ready to go into a liquor store to join Marge, even if she was getting stuff without alcohol.

Deciding he would check out his strings, he reached for the bag and that was when he saw three people run out of the store. It was worrisome running, like they were scared.

Curiously concerned, Jonas jumped from the truck and hurried into the store.

It was