Free Donovan Creed 11 - Because We Can! by John Locke Page B

through downtown Baton Rouge.”
    She smiles. “Jack’s one of a kind. But if you’re planning to spring him from jail there’s something else you should know.”
    “Tell me.”
    “He killed some deer hunters near Jackson, Mississippi.”
    “How many, specifically?”
    “Four.”
    “When?”
    “Monday night.”
    “It just gets better and better, doesn’t it?”
    “The cops probably haven’t linked Jack to the deer hunters yet, but they will. So you’d better get your ass in gear if you want your sketch.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Save Jack or kill Bobby. Your choice. Then you’ll get your sketch.”
    I look at Frank. He clearly has a thing for Jill.
    But he knows me.
    And he’s worried.
    As he should be.
    He says, “Mr. Creed. Before you say or do anything, can I have a minute to talk to her?”
    I wave him off while deciding if I should go ahead and beat the shit out of her and force her to do the sketch. It’s a tough call because although she’s delaying my investigation, I know her description will be more accurate if she’s cooperating. It’s hard to focus on features when you’re in pain.
    “I’ll make you a deal,” I say. “Tell me the guy’s name, and I’ll take you to Baton Rouge to spring Jack. Then we’ll do the sketch.”
    “How can I trust you?”
    “You’ve got no choice. But I need to get Jack out of jail before they find out about the deer hunters.”
    “I’ve told you my terms,” Jill says.
    She’s a handful. She thinks she’s got the upper hand. But she doesn’t have shit.
    I know it, Frank knows it.
    “I won’t ask again,” I say.
    Frank says, “Jill? Tell Mr. Creed what he wants to know. You have no idea how close you are to royally fucking up.”
    She says, “Will you come with us to Baton Rouge?”
    He says, “That’s up to Mr. Creed.”
    I nod.
    Jill says, “Fine. I’ll give you more than you’re asking for, to show good faith. The crop duster’s name was Mike. I don’t know his last name, but he ran drugs for Bobby. The terrorist’s name is Ryan Decker. Bobby hired Decker to blow up Jack’s lake house because he knew I was there. After I escaped, Decker decided to spare me, and told Bobby I died in the explosion. Happy?”
    “No, but it’s a start.”
    I thank the sketch artist for his time and escort him out. I’ll get someone in Baton Rouge to sketch Decker’s likeness after I spring Jack from the Baton Rouge jail.

10.
    BATON ROUGE SHERIFF Emo Pike isn’t just heavy, he’s literally bursting at the seams. He motions me to sit. When I do, he says, “Jack Tallow.”
    “That’s right.”
    He coughs out one of those wheezing, fat guy laughs and says, “Jack claims he never knew there was half a man’s torso hanging from the back of the tow truck he was drivin’.”
    “That’s good enough for me,” I say. “Go ahead and release him.”
    He chuckles. “When the calls started hittin’ my office Jack was barrelin’ down the interstate at 70 miles an hour. You gotta picture this. The bottom half of a dead man’s body is swingin’ back and forth, blood and guts flyin’ everywhere, but damned if he don’t just keep comin’, all the way to Baton Rouge. But does he stop at the city limits? Hell no! He circles the whole damn city and winds up downtown. Take a guess what he does next.”
    I actually don’t know. I thought that was the whole story. So I shrug.
    Sheriff Pike says, “Jack drives a half-mile down the center of Government Street, sees an all-night gas station, makes a wide u-turn, pulls up to one of the gas pumps, and stops short. That causes the torso to swing around so hard it crashes into one of the pumps, where it does some minor damage, and somehow gets hopelessly hung up in the top half of the pump. This is the body Jack claims not to have noticed.”
    Pike chuckles till tears form in the corners of his eyes. Then he says, “The guy workin’ the gas station’s Pakistani. Tahir Hesbani. It’s his first fuckin’ night