Thirty minutes later, the Savannah River was well to the rear. I was past the Hardeeville exit and almost to the turnoff for Pocotaligo, when the phone rang. I answered; it was Joree.

“Oh, I’m so glad I finally got ahold of you,” she said. “I’ve been worried sick about Junior. I ain’t seen him since the other day. He ain’t called, and I can’t find nobody that knows where he is,” she blurted. “I think something mighta happened to him; something bad.”

I was just forming an answer when Joree continued, “Well, Lordy, speak of the devil. Here comes a truck up into the yard. That might be him now.”

I heard her open the door, and then she said, “Why yes, it’s his truck all right. He’s pullin’ up to the door right now.

“Junior, is that you out there, honey? I been so...”

Blamm! A gunshot rang out.

I heard a thump as a body hit the floor and then, Blamm! Another shot fired.

“Joree! Joree! Are you there? Joree! Answer me!” I yelled into the phone.

A car door slammed and then, over the phone, came the sound of breaking glass, followed by a whoosh.

“Joree! Talk to me. Answer the phone, Joree!” I called.

Over the open phone connection came the crackle and roar of fire. Then a car door slammed again, followed by the loud, deep sound of a powerful engine as a vehicle drove away.

“Joree! Joree!”

The crackle grew louder, and then the connection went dead. There was an exit off the interstate about a mile ahead. I pounced on the accelerator, and as the Chevy leaped forward, I punched up the number for Sheriff Anson Zimmer.

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 20

BY THE TIME I ARRIVED AT PANTHER Creek, the trailer was little more than a sodden, steaming mass of charcoal and twisted metal. The coroner stood with Sheriff Zimmer as three firemen carefully probed the wreckage.

“I think this is it,” one of the firemen announced. “Yep, I’m sure. Here’s a body.”

Another fireman stepped closer and shone his light where the first man had indicated with his pole. In the harsh beam of the spotlight I saw what at first appeared to be a blackened log. A closer look showed the log to have the remnants of arms and legs pulled tightly into a fetal position. The coroner stepped in and took a look.

“It’s a human body, all right. Let’s get a bag over here and get it picked up, boys,” he said in a sad voice.

The coroner turned to the sheriff and nodded in my direction.

“Anson, you say this man was on the phone with her when it happened? He was sure it was Joree Causey he was speaking with?”

“I can state that it was Joree on the phone,” I announced.

The coroner looked over as though he was surprised I could answer for myself.