Free The Revelations of Preston Black (Murder Ballads and Whiskey Book 3) by Jason Jack Miller Page A

lot and in the
women’s restroom and all through the trucks in the lot. Talked to the drivers
and attendants and they were all helpful but nobody saw her. I called the cops
back and told them I talked to everybody here and they said they were still
sending somebody out and I told them to start looking for motorcycles. When the
highway patrol showed up I told them everything I told the lady on the phone. I
went on and on about the Circuit Riders and Boggs and the attack in the venue.
I told them all about Elijah Clay Hicks and how he came to The Met the night I
talked to Mikey Kovachick about the show at The Stink, and how Hicks went by
‘Clay’ back then. I sent them pictures of Katy from my phone and let them look
through her purse and I told them about the canyon and the rain and the hotel
back in Muscle Shoals. When they left they told me I needed to get back to my
hotel and sleep and to call Missing Persons in the morning, but I called as
soon as the police left and told them everything I told the cops and the 911
dispatcher. But I didn’t leave. Not when a chance remained that she could be
here.
    Then I called Pauly and he told me I
had to call Katy’s mom. But I couldn’t. So I called Jamie to see what he’d say
but he didn’t answer.
    So I called Katy’s cousin, Ben. He was
in Florida and said he’d be here in the morning. He’d call Rachel, he said.
    “No, man. I have to do it.”
    And when I called her I cried and kept
waiting for her to be angry. I told her I did everything I could, and she
thanked me. I told her Ben left Florida to help as soon as I called.
    Then I posted it to Twitter and
Facebook. Ten minutes later I posted it again and begged for RTs and shares.
    When I’d finally run out of options, I
could only sit there. The waitress brought me coffee until she went home, then
another waitress kept bringing me coffee until me and the waitress and the
other employees were the only ones left. The new waitress’s shift had begun
after it all went down and she wasn’t as sympathetic to my situation.
    And the new waitress finally stopped
bringing me coffee in the small hours of the night. Between two and four.
Around the time I saw Barry Oakley paying for a fill-up and Ronnie Van Zant and
Steve Gaines buying six packs. At three June Carter went into the ladies room
and I didn’t see her come out either. When old Sylvester Weaver himself sat
down at the counter and ordered a few scoops of orange pineapple ice cream to
go with his coffee I knew it was time to leave the diner and walk the lot. All
the trucks were sleeping. I went back into the truck stop side and wandered
through the aisles of maps and Advil. The bright lights were the only things
keeping me from breaking down and losing it altogether. Somewhere amongst the
pork rinds and sunflower seeds I finally said, “She’s gone.”
    I returned to the diner and laid
myself down in the booth, but did not sleep. Not with the sound of steel
guitars and two-part harmony dripping down from the overhead speakers. I tried
pulling my shirt over my face and lying with my head on the table. It felt
empty, like a sky with no stars. I didn’t know whether I felt sad, or some new
thing I’d never experienced before.
    The wooden booth creaked and I knew I
wasn’t alone. I jerked myself into a sitting position. Duane Allman sat across
from me, sipping iced tea. He shook the sugar dispenser, but the humidity made
the sugar clump. When he smiled his sideburns rose like they’d just seen a
snake. He said, “What’re you going to do to shake them hounds?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Well, what did Johnny tell you to
do?”
    It took a while to catch on, but I
knew who he meant even if I didn’t want to say it out loud. “He said to go to
the crossroads.”
    “Sounds like a plan.” Duane smiled.
“You’re going to need some kind of help finding her, baybrah,” before standing
and disappearing into the glare of the grocery lights, with his iced tea