Haneyville
By
Gary Whitmore
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This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to events or places or cities, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright 2014 by Gary Whitmore
http://www.123rf.com/profile Boris Ryaposov /
123RF Stock Photo
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Prologue
The full moon illuminated the northeastern countryside of Tennessee from the cloudless nighttime sky. It was around 1:15 that Friday morning of August 21st, 1970. It was a cool night, with the temperature dropping to seventy-five degrees.
Traffic was non-existent on Stinson Road at this time of the morning, so all that was heard was the music of nighttime critters.
Stinson Road was a two-lane paved road winding through the countryside to the west of the small town of Haneyville.
This country road ran north and south and provided the folks of Haneyville. This provided access to the major city of Knoxville, Tennessee to the south and Lexington, Kentucky to the north.
Another road dead-ended on Stinson Road, and that was Haneyville Road. That two-lane road headed east and eventually turned into the main street of the town of Haneyville.
Haneyville Road winded through the countryside after Haneyville and headed northeast and ended at the small town of Rogersville, Tennessee.
A pair of car headlights appeared heading north on Stinson Road after it just turned off Haneyville Road. It was a 1962 red Buick Special two-door hardtop with red interior.
There was music in the air while the Buick drove north on Stinson. It was the lyrics “In the summertime when the weather is high” from the band Mungo Jerry.
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The windows were rolled down to enjoy the cool evening and to let smoke escape the inside of the Buick.
Behind the wheel of that Buick Special down Stinson Road was eighteen-year-old Tiffany Carlson.
Tiffany had long brunette hair running down to the middle of her back.
Tiffany has big soft brown eyes and pouty lips with a small mole on her right upper lip that gave her character.
Tiffany wore a busy floral print blouse with Levi’s hip hugger bell-bottom blue jeans where they really showed off her tight butt cheeks. Her feet often wore brown chunky heel sandals. The sight of Tiffany sent the sexual urges of the young guys in Haneyville into hyper speed. And a few of the older men had nasty thought of being alone with Tiffany.
In the passenger side of the front seat sat nineteen-year-old Howie Anderson. He had shoulder-length blonde hair parted down the middle. Howie had not shaved for two months, and there were scattered patterns of some resemblance of a beard. He always wore a black tee shirt and Levi bell-bottom blue jeans with black Converse sneakers with white socks.
Howie was the only guy from Haneyville that got to see the sweet side of Tiffany.
He lit up a joint while the song “In The Summertime" by Mungo Jerry still blared on the AM
radio station from Knoxville.
Howie took a drag on the joint then passed it over to Tiffany while he kept the pot smoke inside his lungs. He exhaled the second she took possession of the joint.
Tiffany took a drag on the joint.
“I got a woman, I got a. woman on my mind,”
sang out Howie with his own version of the song and glanced over at Tiffany. He blew her a kiss while Tiffany exhaled the pot smoke.
4
While she drove down the road, they both sang along with Mungo Jerry’s tune and took turns smoking the joint.
Tiffany glanced in her rearview mirror. Her eyes widened a little and looked concerned. “Is there another car following us without its lights on?”
Howie turned around while talking a drag on his joint. He exhaled. “Naw, you’re just stoned and seeing things,” he said then turned back around and passed her the joint.
She shrugged that thought off, thinking he was correct. She took another drag while she continued her drive down the road.
“Why don’t we hit the fuck spot?” she asked when she saw the entrance to a dirt road up ahead to the right. She passed the joint back to Howie.
“That would be cool since it’s a beautiful night with a full moon,” Howie replied then took another drag on his joint.
Tiffany slowed her Special down and turned right into the entrance of that dirt road.
A mysterious car with its headlights off drove past that dirt road and continued north on Stinson Road.
Tiffany was correct in that another car was following her Buick with its headlights turned off.
That mysterious car slowed down and turned left down another dirt road just north of the road Tiffany drove down. That dirt road led to a dirt parking area where guys would park their pickups to hunt deep in the woods.
The dirt road Tiffany drove her Buick down was only wide enough for one vehicle. It snaked around sizable black walnut trees in the woods. The dirt road finally ended in large dirt clearing where ten cars could park side by side.
The clearing also had a sandy bank by Lake Haney.
The residents of Haneyville constructed this sandy 5
clearing back in 1926. They built it so the fishermen of Haneyville could have another location to launch their boats to fish in the lake for trout and bass.
But the clearing started to get another purpose by the young kids of Haneyville in the late 1950s. T his became a popular spot for horny guys to make out with their dates in their cars. In the past, many kids of Haneyville were conceived in parked cars in this clearing. The kids started calling it “The Fuck Spot”
back in 1967. But back in the 1920s through the early 1950s, this was a favorite fishing spot at the lake.
But if Tiffany only knew she was conceived in the backseat of a 1949 Ford in this clearing over eighteen years ago.
Along the southeastern area of Lake Haney was built the lovely town of Haneyville. The lake had an average depth of fifteen feet. But the months of July and August had the standard summer storms, so the level of the lake rose two feet.
Tiffany parked her Buick Special in the middle of the clearing by Lake Haney. They were the only ones out there tonight.
She turned off the headlights then shut off the engine. The quiet of the woods and the full moon shining on the lake added to the romantic atmosphere.
The “In The Summertime” song finished playing on the radio while Tiffany and Howie finished smoking that joint.
“Want me to lit up another one?” Howie asked Tiffany.
“Oh yeah, but let’s smoke it in the backseat,”
replied Tiffany. She opened up her door and stepped outside.
Howie grabbed his plastic bag containing his pot and four previously rolled joints off the front seat. He was prepared for tonight’s date with Tiffany and had one thing in mind all day.
He opened up his door and stepped outside.
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Tiffany and Howie got in the back seat but left the doors opened. That provided a gentle cool breeze into the back of her car.
The song “Evil Ways” by Santana started on the radio. Tiffany and Howie shared that other joint while they listened to the Santana song. They had a great buzz going and loved being alone in the woods with the full moon.
“Do you know what I want?” she said while she leaned over and started rubbing the inside of Howie’s jeans crotch. Howie’s heart raced and a boner rose in his shorts in seconds. “It’s all yours,” he said.
She smiled and unzipped his blue jeans.
They did not hear the cautious footsteps of someone approaching her car.
Tiffany pulled Howie’s jeans down to his ankles, and underwear was not next since he did not wear any boxers tonight. Tonight was commando night, as he prayed he would have naked fun with Tiffany.
She immediately leaned down gave Howie a blow job. He leaned his head back and moaned, enjoying the feeling of Tiffany’s talented, warm mouth.
Howie was in heaven. But then a flashlight interrupted his heavenly moment.
Tiffany and Howie shielded their eyes from the bright light.
“What the fuck do you want?” asked Howie was pissed a stranger ruined his sweet moment with Tiffany.
“Why are you bothering us?” said Tiffany shielding her eyes from the bright light.
“Get the fuck out of the car,” the mysterious man yelled from outside.
Tiffany and Howie trembled recognizing that threatening voice.
“Can’t we please forget about this? Please!” asked Tiffany.
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“I said, get the fuck out of the car!” the mysterious man yelled louder.
Tiffany and Howie knew they had to obey and got out of the car.
Once outside the car, they got a glance of this man. He wore blue overalls over a dirty white T-shirt and a black wool ski mask to hide his face.
Howie and Tiffany saw something on the mysterious man that helped give away his identity. It was his right hand and the fact that his pinky finger was gone at the knuckle.
“Why are you doing this and hiding your face?”
asked Tiffany fighting from peeing in her jeans. This man always intimidated and harassed her in the past.
The mysterious man leaned over to Tiffany’s left ear. “Just because I fucking feel like it,” he whispered.
Tiffany could smell whiskey off his breath. Her eyes welled up, and her body trembled. She strained harder from peeing in her blue jeans. “I won’t tell what you did to me. I promise,” pleaded Tiffany the second she feared the worst would happen.
The mysterious man ignored her while his flashlight illuminated the backseat of her car. He spotted the bag of weed and three rolled joints on the seat. “That shit is illegal in the State of Tennessee.
You can go to jail for that,” he said shoving the bag into one of his pockets on his coveralls.
Tiffany and Howie just shook in fear, not knowing what to expect from this man.
An Owl hooted above from a branch of a tall black walnut tree.
That mysterious man had a Colt 45 pistol aimed at the backs of Tiffany and Howie while he marched them through the woods. The sounds of numerous twigs on the ground being snapped in half was the only sound in the woods.
“Please let us go,” Tiffany pleaded with the mysterious man while her eyes welled up.
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“Shut the fuck up!” the mysterious man replied and was determined to fulfill his drunken plans.
The Owl flew away from his branch into the night sky when the three humans were spotted down below.
“Stop here,” the mysterious man called out the second they arrived at a small clearing between the trees. Tiffany and Howie stopped.
“Turn the fuck around.”
Tiffany and Howie turned around.
“You’re a fucking coward to run away like that. A fucking coward,” the mysterious man said to Howie with anger in his voice.
“But you don’t understand. I changed my mind.
I’m heading down to Knoxville with Charlie in the morning. You can ask him,” Howie pleaded while his knees shook.
“You’re a worthless piece of shit and a fucking liar,” the mysterious man said interrupting Howie’s reply then immediately fired off a shot.
The bullet penetrated Howie’s chest. He dropped to the dirt with eyes stunned realizing he was shot.
“Ahhhh!” Tiffany screamed out and tried to run in a panic. But the man was quicker, and he ran after her and whacked Tiffany on the back of her head.
She dropped face-first into the dirt on top of some dead leaves. Blood oozed out of the back of her head, soaking her hair.
The man shoved his pistol into one of the pockets of his overalls.
He removed his overalls and was naked in seconds. He dropped his coveralls in the dirt next to her body.
He got to his knees and rolled Tiffany over onto her back.
Howie was able to crane his neck in pain, and he could see that man unzipped Tiffany’s bell-bottom blue jeans. He felt weak and on the verge of passing out.
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“Please don’t!” Tiffany cried out while he lowered them down to her ankles and slid them over her sandals.
Howie tried to move, but the pain in his chest was too excruciating disabling him to move.
“Please don’t do this again,” she cried out while he slid her white cotton panties down and over her sandals.
The mysterious man slapped Tiffany across her face a few times. “Shut the fuck up, or I’ll kill you now,”
he yelled then slapped her across her face a few more times. Tiffany shut up and was frozen stiff with fear.
She also had a splitting headache from being whacked on the back of her head.
He ripped opened her T-shirt and was not surprised when he discovered she did not wear a bra over her C-cup breasts.
“I remember these sweet puppies,” the man said while he squeezed her breasts hard, causing Tiffany to cringe in pain.
He recalled moments of seeing Tiffany strut around Haneyville with her erect nipples poking through her shirt material. He had a boner that was aching for some free loving.
He noticed a gold chain around her neck that had a gold heart attached to it. Also on the chain was a small silver key.
He looked at the back of the gold heart and saw it had “Howie” engraved on it. “How fucking sweet,” he said with a sarcastic tone then yanked the chain hard.
It broke off.
“Please don’t take that,” Tiffany pleaded with him reaching out with her right hand wanting it back.
“Fuck you,” the man chuckled. He leaned over and shoved the chain, key and gold heart into one of the pockets of his overalls.
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He opened up her legs and got on top of Tiffany.
She tried to force him off her body, but he was too strong. He slapped her some more across her face.
She got scared to death then went limp giving in to his forced perversion. She just had a blank, lifeless stare knowing she did not have a choice in this matter.
He began pleasuring himself with Tiffany’s limp body. “You feel so good fucking Tiffany. Just the way I remembered,” the mysterious man said while he humped at her crotch.
Tiffany just had that blank stare while he pumped his hips.
Howie lay on his back still in extreme pain in the dirt. He heard the grunting and moans of the mysterious man and glanced over. He saw him raping the girl he loved, and was pissed. But he could not move to help her.
Howie craned his neck in the other direction. The full moon was able to provide enough light to where he saw Tiffany’s Buick Special parked in the clearing with the driver’s door still opened.
He looked back at that man on top of Tiffany having his nasty way with her. “Stop,” he gasped out with the loudest voice he could muster up.
The mysterious man ignored Howie. He was having too much fun with Tiffany’s limp naked body.
It was over in a manner of minutes. The man got off Tiffany’s naked body. He stared down at her with a satisfying smirk.
Tiffany looked up at the man, and she was pissed and decided not to take this anymore. “I’m going to tell Sheriff Powers. He’s going to make sure you spend the rest of your life behind bars,” she cried out in pain, as she still had that horrendous headache.
The mysterious man reached down for his overalls.
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He reached in one of his overall pockets and removed his Colt 45. This pistol was from his Army days as a Military Policeman.
He removed his ski mask and glared down at Tiffany.
Howie watched while that mysterious man fired off a bullet into the forehead of Tiffany. She was dead with a lifeless stare up at the sky in seconds.
The man knelt down and grabbed Tiffany’s jeans.
He rummaged through all of her pockets then removed the driver’s license out of the rear right pocket. He shoved her license in one of the pockets of his overalls.
The man looked over at Howie.
Howie’s eyes widened at the sight of that man.
He wanted to scream, but his voice gave out on him in fear. The man pointed his Colt 45 at Howie. His eyes welled up. The gun shot was the last thing Howie heard while he saw the bright full moon between the bare branches of a nearby dying black walnut tree.
The mysterious man quickly got dressed in his overalls.
He walked over and removed Howie’s wallet from the rear pocket of the dead teen blue jeans.
He reached in one of the top pockets of his overalls and removed a cigar and lighter.
He lit his cigar then walked away toward the Buick Special, leaving a train of cigar smoke into the quiet night. Fifteen minutes had passed, and that mysterious man was back with a shovel.
He began digging two graves by two eight-inch rocks that were not there a little while ago.
Two days had passed and forty-two-year-old Ernie and forty-one-year-old Kathy Carlson sat down with Sheriff Gus Powers in his small office.
Gus Powers was in his mid-sixties and had been the Sheriff of Haneyville for the past thirty years. He 12
had planned on retiring in five years. He wanted to spend his golden years catching trout and bass from Lake Haney.
Deputy Rodney “Rock” Riley stood nearby and puffed on a cigar watching the paperwork being filled out. Rock Riley was a muscular man who just turned thirty years old with a black crew cut. But he only had one visible flaw. He had the pinky finger on his right hand chopped off at the knuckle.
He showed no emotion, but a hint of a smirk watching a worried to death Ernie and Betsy jot down the application information.
Off at another desk sat Deputy Wallace Mayer.
He was an old school buddy of Rock’s and joined the Haneyville Police Department when Rock went into the Army. Wallace was instrumental in getting Rock a job as a deputy when he got discharged from the Army. But Wallace had dreams of a better career than being a deputy and stated to attend night school down at Knoxville.
An hour passed. Forty-two-year-old George and forty-one year old Betsy Anderson sat down with Sheriff Powers. They filled out a missing report on their son Howie. Deputy Rock Riley also watched this meeting with no emotion but a hint of a smirk.
After George and Betsy left the Sheriff ’s office, Rock turned to his boss. “I’m figuring those kids might have run off to maybe Canada. Maybe Howie was too chicken to be drafted into the Army.”
Sheriff Powers glanced at Rock after he filed the report in his filing cabinet. “I reckon that’s a possibility,” he said while he closed the filing cabinet drawer.
“I’m going to walk around town and check on things,” Rock said while he headed to the door.
Sheriff Powers nodded while he headed off to the coffee pot for another cup of coffee.
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He poured his fourth cup, went into his office and pondered where could these two kids be at this exact moment.
“Wait for Rock, I still want you to go down to the clearing. Look around and see if you can find any evidence of foul play,” said Sheriff then took a drink of his coffee.
“Yes sir,” said Deputy Rock Riley then he left the station.
A little while later, Deputy Rock Riley had his 1965 Ford Galaxy black and white patrol car parked in the clearing by Lake Haney. He puffed on a cigar standing along the sandy bank of the lake. He was in deep thought then flicked his cigar into the lake, and walked off into the woods.
Deputy Riley walked back to the scene of the crime. He saw the two rocks and leaves and twigs that were scattered all over the dirt. The killer did an excellent job of not making the area look like a grave.
Rock spent the next ten minutes picking up small branches and piling them on the graves.
After he was done, Deputy Rock Riley removed another cigar from his shirt pocket, lit the cigar. He walked away leaving a trail of smoke.
A little while later, Deputy Riley went back inside the police station just off Wildwood Avenue.
He walked up to Sheriff Power’s office door.
“I went out to the clearing and found no evidence what so ever of any foul play. I’m convinced these two kids ran off to Canada,” said Deputy Riley.
“Okay, I’ll probably close the report stating that,”
said Sheriff Powers. He took another drink of his coffee.
Deputy Riley walked away with a smirk and a little bit of a victory dance heading back to his desk Two weeks had passed.
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Sheriff Powers got a letter without a return address. He opened up the envelope and looked at the letter. “Sheriff. I saw in our newspaper that you have two teens that went missing two weeks ago. I would like to remain anonymous, but I saw two teenagers hitchhiking while I drove to Lexington that morning. It was around two that morning, and they were on Stinson Road heading north to Lexington. They matched the description in the newspaper. I thought you might want to know,” Sheriff Powers read the letter out loud. “I guess they did run away,” he said.
He placed the letter in the case file for Howie and Tiffany.
He got up and placed the case file folder in the closed cases drawer of his filing cabinet. If he only knew who typed and mailed that letter.
He sat down and made a phone call to George, Betsy, Ernie, and Kathy about this letter. They all we sadden to think their kids ran away from home. Kathy and Betsy cried for hours.
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Forty-three years passed, and it was early September 2014.
Tiffany Carlson and Howie Anderson are still officially labeled as missing. It was never discovered they were buried in the woods outside Haneyville during that August night back in 1970.
For the first ten years after the kids were missing, everybody in town had their own theories on what happened.
One of the main theories was that Howie ran off to Canada to avoid being drafted into the Army and sent to Vietnam. This was Rock's theory, and most of the town folks agreed with him. For a while, that placed shame on George and Betsy Anderson.
The Andersons and the Carlsons reluctantly quit trying to locate their missing children. They are in their eighties and did not have the strength to pursue that disappointing activity. They figured the kids wanted a better life in Canada and wanted nothing to do with Haneyville. But could never understand why since they both provided them a loving home.
Way down south, the news of those two missing kids from 1970 never reached Florida.
One such person who had never heard about these two missing kids was Donovan Kirby. He was a thirty-three-year-old and lived in Tampa, Florida.
Donovan was a handsome man with short blonde hair and blue eyes. He worked as a reporter for the Tampa Bay Times newspaper, writing articles about local crime.
But Donovan's true passion was writing crime fiction stories. He had completed two so far and did not have success with getting a publisher to publish 16
them. So he went down the eBook route on the Internet. The two stories were not best sellers but brought in a small monthly income. They were titled My Huge Confession and The Pubic Enemy.
It was Wednesday evening, and Donovan sat in his den in a Laz Boy chair with his laptop on his lap. He stared at a blank Word file and tried to type something but stopped. He tried to type something again but stopped again. "Crap," he cursed, as he hated these frequent writer's block moments.
He got out of his lazy boy chair with his laptop in hand. After he placed the laptop back in its bag, Donovan headed over to the closet of the den.
He opened the closet and removed a small case.
He opened the case, and inside was a Conn Constellation silver trumpet.
After Donovan placed the mouthpiece in the trumpet, he walked back to his Laz Boy chair. He started playing his trumpet, which was another hobby he began ten years ago.
He started to play the introduction to Glenn Miller's In The Mood song.
After thirty minutes of playing his trumpet, he put it back in the closet, headed off to the bathroom, and got ready for bed. He could not shake off his writer's block.
Donovan fell asleep an hour later. He tried to come up with a great idea for his third eBook story.
He still drew a blank.
Donovan began a dream.
In Donovan's dream, he was a young guy with long blonde hair parted down the middle.
He sat in the passenger seat of a 1962 Buick Special. He smoked on a joint.
He passed the joint over to a sexy young girl with long brown hair and big soft brown eyes. She took the joint and began smoking it.
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He looked at the girl. "I love you," he said.
She glanced at him with the joint in her right hand. Donovan woke up from his dream and thought nothing of it. He closed his eyes and drifted back off to sleep.
Thursday morning arrived, and Donovan sat in his lazy boy chair in his den, drinking coffee and eating a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast. He had the Channel 8
news channel on his 50-inch TV.
"This drought has been hitting the whole south hard for the entire summer months," said weatherman Carl Curt on the TV. Carl pointed to a map of the south where all the southern states' rainfalls were 0.00
inches. "There have been reports of the levels of lakes and rivers dropping to an average of ten feet," Carl added to his viewers, then paused. "No rain is in sight at the moment."
Donovan's iPhone rang with the old fashion phone ringtone. He smiled, noticing the picture of Lindsey, the caller.
"Hey," he answered the call and was not in the mood to talk to his girlfriend.
"Hey, baby, I'm at the Tampa airport. I just got through security," Lindsey replied from his iPhone.
"Okay, have a good time, and I'll see you on Sunday," he replied.
"When I get back, we need to sit down and decide on a wedding date. Mom's bugging the crap on me for trying to plan," she said.
"Okay," he replied but did not look thrilled.
"I will love you."
Donovan hesitated but knew what would happen if he did not respond. "Love you," Donovan replied, then disconnected this end of the call.
He grabbed his remote and turned off his TV.
He got off the lazy boy chair and headed out of the den to get ready for work.
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A little while later, Donovan left his house and drove off to work in his blue 2012 Honda CR-V.
While driving down Hillsborough Avenue, he saw the Harbor Buick dealership off to his left on the west side of the street.
While he passed by that dealership, Donovan spotted a shiny blue 1962 Buick Special, with blue interior, parked in the grass near the road. He liked what he saw, then soon forgot about that old car.
A little while later, Donovan arrived at his cubicle in the Tamps Bay Times office.
He sat down at his cubicle desk and glanced at the framed picture of him and his fiancé Lindsey Barnes a sexy brunette. It was a picture of them taken last year at Disney's Magic Kingdom in Orlando.
He turned on his computer, ready to work on his next assignment.
"Good morning, Donovan," said Hank Jasmer, his Editor, the second he entered Donovan's cubicle.
"Hey, Hank."
"There's a conference in Orlando for suppliers of police equipment and workshops. There will be lots of police chiefs and sheriffs from around the country. I want you to head over there and come back with a story," said Hank.
"Okay, can I get a cup of coffee first," asked Donovan.
"One cup, then hit the road," Hank replied then he walked out of the cubicle.
Donovan sighed as he hated assignments out of Tampa.
He grabbed his coffee cup and then headed out of his cubicle.
Thirty minutes had passed, and Donovan was inside his CR-V heading east in I-4.
Up in Tennessee, Rusty and Buddy sat in Rusty's Weld-Craft JON boat over in Lake Haney. They were not too far from the sandy bank of the lake.
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Rusty stopped his boat and dropped his anchor.
He looked at the bank and got a little depressed.
"Looks like the lake level has dropped by five feet," he said. Buddy looked at the bank and saw where the water was usually higher last year. "Yep, this fucking drought is brutal," he replied staring at the bank of the lake. "Oh well, let's hope this drought has the bass really hungry," he said grabbing his fishing pole.
"I hope so. Last week was a bust," Buddy said while he grabbed his fishing pole.
"Yep, but the beer was good," Rusty said, casting out his line.
"Got that right!" replied Buddy, casing out his line.
Rusty opened up the Coleman cooler and grabbed two cans of Budweiser beers that had been on ice for a few hours.
Rusty popped, opened one of the cans, and handed it to Buddy.
Rusty popped his can open, and they both took a drink. Rusty and Buddy drank their beers waiting for some bass to take their bait.
Thirty minutes passed, and Rusty and Buddy were on their second cans of Budweisers. The bass was not biting today, and they were disappointed, but the Budweisers helped.
Rusty glanced down at the water as something caught his attention. "What's that down there?" he said while he pointed down at the water.
Buddy looked where Rusty pointed. "That's weird," he said, as what he saw gave Rusty some concern.
"I think we should tell the Sheriff," Buddy said.
Rusty nodded in agreement and started reeling in his fishing line.
Buddy started reeling in his fishing line.
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Meanwhile, Donovan arrived at the Orange County Convention Center off International Drive back in Orlando, Florida.
Donovan walked around one of the exhibit halls.
He noticed hundreds of vendors showing off their products to help police officers nationwide.
Donovan stopped at a vendor's booth for uniforms.
He looked at the uniforms and jotted down some notes about the different vendors in this exhibit hall.
He turned to leave, then stopped after he almost knocked into another man.
He looked and saw a man around seventy years old. It was Sheriff Rodney "Rock" Riley from Haneyville, Tennessee in his light brown uniform with a dark brown tie. He had three cigars peeking out of his right shirt pocket. Rock had gotten a little flabbier over the years, and his black crew cut was now a thinning white-haired crew cut. But he was still an intimating man.
"Excuse me," Donovan said.
"No problem," replied Rock.
The two men glanced at each other for a few seconds.
A cold chill ran through Donovan's body while looking into Rock's eyes. There was something familiar about this old law enforcement officer. Donovan saw the "Riley" name tag pinned to Rock's shirt.
"Do I know you?" asked Rock.
"No sir, I don't recall meeting you," replied Donovan, and that chill dissipated. A sharp pain appeared in the middle of his chest, followed by a sharp pain in the center of his forehead. Donovan clutched his chest and rubbed his forehead.
"Are you alright?" asked Rock.
The pain quickly vanished from Donovan's chest.
"I'm fine."
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Rock and Donovan just stared at each other trying to recall where they might have met in the past.
The cell phone clipped to Rock's belt rang.
Donovan walked away while Rock removed his cell phone and flipped it over. "Yeah," Rock answered the call.
Donovan glanced back at Rock.
"You what?" Rock said into his cell phone and looked concerned.
Donovan discreetly eyed Rock.
He noticed that the pinky on Rock's right was missing at the knuckle while he looked concerned, listening to his cell phone call.
"Do not contact anybody from the media until I get back home," Rock said, then disconnected his end of the call.
Rock glanced back at Donovan and did not appreciate him staring at him. "What do you want?" he asked in a stern tone.
"Oh, nothing," Donovan said, then rushed away, intimidated by that old man.
Rock rushed away, looking concerned.
Donovan spent another four hours at the conference, then headed west to Tampa.
After returning to his cubicle at the Tampa Bay Times newspaper office, Donovan started writing his article about the conference. He downloaded the pictures he snapped with his Nikon D3200 digital camera.
His workday was over, and Donovan had submitted his story at the police convention in Orlando.
He left the office and drove his CR-V, heading home.
Donovan drove past the Harbor Buick dealership and eyed that restored 1962 Buick Special again.
He drove farther down the street; he could not get that old car out of his mind.
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Donovan turned around when he had the opportunity and drove back to the Buick dealership.
Donovan pulled his CR-V into the dealership and parked.
He got out and walked over to the Buick Special parked in the grass.
Donovan walked to the front and loved the mirror-like finish on the chrome bumper.
He walked around and loved the flawless shiny blue paint job.
He peeked in the driver's door window and saw that the blue interior looked brand new.
"She's a thing of beauty," said Larry, a middle-aged salesman.
"She sure is," Donovan said and knew a salesman was right behind him.
"Let me open her up to you can check her out,"
Larry said and removed a car key from his pants pocket. He unlocked then, opened the driver's door then motioned for Donovan to sit inside.
Donovan sat in the front seat.
"You can take her for a spin if you want," said Larry. "Okay," replied Donovan and looked forward to driving this antique while he took the key from Larry.
Donovan started up the Buick while Larry got in the passenger side of the front bench seat. He buckled his lap seat belt.
Larry buckled his lap seat belt.
He placed the car in reverse and slowly backed out of the grass.
A little while later, Donovan drove the Buick Special down the street. Its engine purred, and it drove like a dream.
"The car was restored, and a new engine was installed," said Larry while Donovan drove farther down the street.
Donovan loved the feel of this car.
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A little while later, Donovan drove back to the dealership.
He did one last walk around the car, admiring the antique.
"What do you think?" asked Larry, silently praying for a sale.
Donovan glanced in the driver's window for another glance at the inside. "I'll think about it," he said, then smiled at Larry.
Larry smiled back, but inside he was pouting, believing he had lost another sale.
Larry headed back to the showroom while Donovan walked back to his CR-V.
Later that night, Donovan just put away his laptop. He racked his brain for ideas for his third eBook, but that writer's block won again.
He went to bed and drifted off to sleep.
It was not long before Donovan had a dream.
In his dream, Donovan was in the rear seat of that red 1962 Buick Special. That sexy girl with brown hair sat next to Donovan, and they were hip to hip.
They were at the drive-in, and the movie Bloody Mama played with Shelly Winters and Robert DeNiro.
Donovan and the girl began kissing. It turned passionate.
Donovan slipped his hand under her gray Best of 1970 tee shirt. He smiled when he felt the erect nipple of her right bare breast under her shirt. He got a boner.
Donovan smiled, dreaming about feeling that girl's bare breast.
The sound of a Harley Davidson motorcycle outside his house racing down the street woke him up.
Donovan looked around and realized he had woken up from his dream. He was disappointed and closed his eyes. He fought hard to return back to that exact moment of that dream.
The sexy dream did not return.
24
Friday morning arrived, and Donovan headed off to work.
While driving his CR-V down Hillsborough Avenue, he drove past the Harbor Buick dealership and noticed that classic Buick Special.
"I have to admit, she is gorgeous," he said with the thoughts of that old classic Buick flooding his mind.
He put the thoughts about that car out of his mind driving closer to the Tampa Bay Times newspaper office.
An hour had passed, and Donovan was on his third cup of coffee in his cubicle.
He had spent the past thirty minutes surfing the Internet for crime stories of interest. He searched for stories that might get him out of his writer's block.
He was about to stop searching when he noticed a link of interest. The link was titled "1962 Buick Special Found at the bottom of Lake Haney in Tennessee."
Donovan clicked on the link, not knowing that once this webpage appeared, it would change his life forever in sixteen days.
He took another drink of coffee while the contents of that webpage appeared on his computer monitor.
"Law officials in the town of Haneyville, Tennessee, were surprised when two fishermen spotted a car at the bottom of Lake Haney yesterday," he read the article, then paused, taking another drink of coffee.
"After the car was brought out of the water, it was learned that it was a nineteen sixty-two Buick Special,"
he read, then took another drink of coffee.
"Hey, Donovan," Hank said the second he entered the cubicle.
25
"Good morning, Hank," Donovan said.
"What ya reading?"
"Some article about an old car found in the bottom of some lake in Tennessee," replied Hank.
"Why?"
"I don't know. The title piqued my interest for some reason."
"Whatever. Anyway, you wrote a great article about the police conference yesterday."
"Thanks," Donovan said and tried to sneak a peek at that article on his monitor.
"I'm having a staff meeting in ten," Hank said, then he turned around and walked out of the cubicle.
Donovan immediately returned his eyes to his computer monitor.
"Haneyville Deputy Kent Riley stated that it's believed that this Buick belonged to eighteen-year-old Tiffany Carlson. Tiffany Carlson went missing on August twenty-first nineteen seventy, along with her boyfriend, eighteen-year-old Howie Anderson," he read from the computer monitor.
Donovan got curious about that article. He clicked on the slideshow.
The first picture was the 1962 Buick Special pulled out of the lake. It was parked in a clearing area near the sandy bank of the lake. It was full of rust holes and had a layer of mud covering most of its body. But a few areas revealed a faded red paint job. He clicked for the next photo.
A picture of Tiffany's high school senior picture appeared on the monitor. He spotted the mole on her upper lip.
Donovan looked at her picture. His eyes widened. There was something about Tiffany that piqued his interest. It was as if he had met Tiffany. He shrugged off that feeling and then clicked for the next photo.
26
A picture of Howie's high school picture appeared on the monitor.
Donovan's eyes widened some more while he stared at Howie's picture. He had this strange and robust déjà vu feeling that he had previously met Howie.
He hit the previous button and went back to Tiffany's picture. He stared at her for a few seconds and had that same strange and robust déjà feeling he had met Tiffany before in the past.
He hit the next button and went back to Howie's picture. He stared at her for a few seconds then he got a sudden sharp pain in his chest, followed by a sharp pain in his forehead. Both pains disappeared, and he thought he had heartburn and a headache.
His desk phone rang. He picked up the receiver staring at Howie's picture.
"Hank said you're late for his meeting," a female's voice said from the phone.
"Okay," Donovan said, still staring at Howie's picture.
He hung up the phone, got up from his desk, and headed out of his office.
Donovan walked through the maze of cubicles and arrived in a small conference room.
Hank and the eyes of eight other coworkers sitting around a table were staring at him.
"Now that Mister Kirby is finally here, we can begin the meeting," Hank said and looked irritated with Donovan.
Donovan sat down, and Hank began his meeting.
After Hank's meeting, Donovan rushed back to his cubicle and sat at his desk.
He immediately opened up that link for the Buick Special found in Lake Haney.
Donovan spent the next hour sitting at his desk reading that article repeatedly. He somehow felt 27
connected with the story and could not get it out of his mind.
While he read that article over again, he would glance at the picture of him, and Lindsey then glanced at the picture of Tiffany.
"I wish I got the chance to know you," he said, staring at the picture of Tiffany on his monitor.
After a few seconds of staring at Tiffany's picture, he got an idea. He got up from his desk and rushed out of his cubicle.
He almost knocked Hank down the second he rushed down his cubicle aisle.
"Slow down," Hank scolded Donovan.
"Sorry," Donovan replied, rushing away like he was on a mission.
"Where you going?"
"Out to lunch."
"Be back in thirty; I have an assignment for you."
"Okay," Donovan said, then he turned right down another aisle and made a beeline to the elevators.
Ten minutes later, Donovan pulled his CR-V into the Harbor Buick dealership.
He parked his CR-V and got out.
Donovan rushed to that Buick Special still parked in the grass near the road.
He walked around it checking it out again.
"You're back," Larry, the salesman's voice, called out from behind Donovan.
Donovan looked at Larry. "I'll take her."
Larry did a double take. "Did you say you'd take her?" Donovan nodded in agreement while he glanced back at the Special. "Yep, I want to buy her."
"Great, let's go inside and seal the deal," replied Larry with a smile.
Donovan and Larry walked off and headed to the showroom.
"Do you have a trade?"
28
"My CR-V," Donovan replied and pointed at his parked Honda.
"Super," said Larry while they continued their walk to the front entrance of the showroom.
An hour had passed, and Donovan drove out of the Harbor Buick dealership, the proud owner of that restored 1962 Buick Special.
He headed back north on U.S. 1 to his office.
Donovan arrived back at the office and headed back to his cubicle.
"You're late," Hank yelled out from behind Donovan.
Donovan turned around and saw that Hank was pissed. He realized that he had missed another meeting. "I'm sorry."
"Where were you?"
"Out buying a car."
"Buying a car? Couldn't that wait until after work?"
"No," Donovan replied; then he turned around and headed back to his cubicle.
"You're on thin ice, Mister Kirby," yelled out Hank while Donovan went inside his cubicle.
Donovan sat down at his desk and could care less if Hank was pissed. He still had that article about that Buick being found in Lake Haney on his mind.
He did a search on Tiffany Carlson and Howie Anderson.
The only item of interest that appeared in the search results was that link about the story finding Tiffany's Buick at the bottom of Lake Haney.
Donovan was disappointed while he stared at his computer monitor.
The end of the workday finally arrived, and Donovan headed home in his Buick Special.
He parked it in his garage and then went inside for some dinner.
29
Later that night, Donovan was inside his garage and wiped down his Buick Special. This was his new pride and joy.
He opened up the driver's door and sat in the seat. He ran his fingers around the steering wheel and thought about that Internet article about Tiffany's Buick.
He looked back at the backseat and recalled his dream the night he felt up that brown-haired girl's breast. He smiled.
Elsewhere in Lexington, Kentucky, Jodi Lauder was a beautiful woman with shoulder-length brunette hair, soft brown eyes, and a small mole on her right upper lip.
Jodi was a single woman who had just turned thirty years old. She also worked as a reporter for the Lexington Herald-Leader newspaper. Just like Donovan, she also reported on local crimes in her city.
Jodi lived in a one-bedroom apartment. She had just finished dinner and decided to surf the Internet for some stories for work.
Jodi stumbled upon the link about the discovery of Tiffany's 1962 Buick Special in Lake Haney.
There was something about that "1962 Buick Special Found at the Bottom of Lake Haney in Tennessee" link that piqued her curiosity.
She clicked on that link and waited for the contents to download.
When it finally appeared, she read the article with extreme interest.
After Jodi had read the article, she looked at the slideshow.
She stared at the high school picture of Tiffany and Howie. She also had this strange and robust déjà vu feeling that she knew both teenagers. But she could not think of how she knew them.
30
Jodi looked back at the picture of Tiffany and saw the mole on her lip. Jodi touched the mole on her lip and thought it was a strange coincidence.
Jodi reread the article and became intrigued by the story. Later that night, Jodi got ready for bed.
While her head was on her pillow and she stared at the ceiling, all she could think about was that article about Tiffany and Howie being missing since 1970.
Ten minutes had passed, and Jodi was fast asleep. She started to have a dream…
Jodi drove a 1962 Buick Special with a red interior in her dream.
A hand with a joint came into her view. She grabbed the joint and took a drag.
She glanced to her right and saw a young man with long blonde hair, a black T-shirt, and bell-bottom blue jeans.
She smiled while she handed the guy the joint.
"I love you," the blonde-haired guy told Jodi when he took the joint.
"I," Jodi said.
Jodi woke up from her dream before she could finish her sentence. She looked around her bedroom as that dream felt so real. But she had never smoked pot in her life.
She closed her eyes and went back to sleep within minutes.
31
It was Saturday morning in Haneyville, Tennessee, and the town folk was in for another hot and humid day. Word spread around town like wildfire about the finding of Tiffany’s Buick Special in Lake Haney. This was the first clue that surfaced concerning the 1970
disappearance of Tiffany and Howie. All people could talk about was how that car sat at the bottom of the lake for all these years undetected.
Tiffany’s 1962 rusty and mud-covered Buick Special was now parked in a fenced-in back lot behind the Haneyville Police station. This area had a locked gate that was accessible from Thorndale Avenue.
An occasional older member of the Haneyville community would stop by to take a peek of the car through the fence. A few remembered those days when Tiffany drive that car around town with Howie in the passenger seat.
Theories immediately started flowing around town about the whereabouts of the two kids.
Sheriff Rock Riley walked out of the rear door of the station. He had a cup of coffee in hand while he walked over to the Buick Special.
“Do you think those kids are still in the lake?”
asked Hal, an older resident who remembered when the two kids went missing.
Rock looked over at Hal who stared at the Buick from the other side of the fence. “Don’t know,” he said, then took a drink of coffee.
“I’d go get some of the divers from Knoxville if I was you,” Hal replied staring at the Buick remembering those days when Tiffany drove around the neighborhood.
32
Rock looked at the Buick then back at Hal who seemed dead serious. “Yeah, I’ll have to go give them a call,” he said but l he knew they would not find any skeletons.
“I can imagine that the Carlson and Andersons would like some closure. Even if you found their skeletons at the bottom of the lake,” said Hal.
“Yeah, closure. Thanks, Hal,” Sheriff Riley said then walked away and headed back to his office.
Hal walked away and headed back to his car, parked on Thorndale Avenue.
Rock went back inside his office and was the only one working today. He gave his thirty-three-year-old son Kent and twenty-four-year-old Deputy Andrew Barker the weekend off. Since there was only three in the department, they took turns covering the office during the weekend.
Rock sat down behind his desk. He hesitated for a few seconds then picked up his phone. He dialed in a number.
“Chief Adams,” Knoxville Police Chief Timmy Adams answered the call.
“Hey Chief Adams, it’s Sheriff Riley up here in Haneyville.”
“Hey, Rock. How did you like that conference in Orlando?”
“Oh, I found it to be very informative. But that’s not why I called.”
“I take it that you’re calling about that car found in your lake?”
“Yeah, I was wondering if you could send up some divers up here to search the bottom of the lake?
We don’t have that talent up here,” he said.
“You think the remains of those two kids could be in the lake?”
“I don’t know, but I better check, or I’ll be asked why I didn’t by the parents of those missing kids,”
Rock replied.
33
“I can have some up there later this afternoon.”
“Thanks, Chief Adams,” Rock said then he hung up his phone.
Rock took a cigar out of his shirt pocket and lit it up. He leaned back in his chair and puffed on his cigar and went into deep thoughts about the finding of that car. Down in Knoxville, Chief Timmy Adams sat on the back porch of his home drinking his morning coffee. He was in his early sixties and had been the Chief of Police of Knoxville for the past ten years.
His wife Cindy, also in her sixties, came out of the house with a pot of coffee. “Who called?”
“Sheriff Riley up in Haneyville,” Chief Adams said. “What did he want?” she asked while she freshened up his cup of coffee.
“He wants some divers to search the bottom of the lake for skeletal remains of Tiffany and Howie,” he replied while Cindy freshened up her cup of coffee.
“I forgot about those two a long time ago,” Cindy said while she sat down in her chair.
Chief Adams thought for a few seconds. “I heard that those two always were inseparable back then,” he said then he took a drink of his coffee.
Cindy thought about those two kids while some old dusty memories started popping in her head.
“Yeah, remember when we went to the clearing at the lake after we graduated? And partied with some of the kids from Haneyville?”
Chief Adams thought about that for a few seconds. “Yeah, the joints were flowing just like the water in the lake,” he said then looked a little ashamed.
“I got so stoned.”
“Now you’re the Chief of Police,” she said.
“I know. I quit smoking that shit after that night,”
he said then took another drink of coffee.
34
“Do you think they died in the lake that night?”
she asked.
Chief Adams thought about her question for a few seconds. “Naw, I still believe they ran off to Canada,” he replied and looked sincere in his belief.
“I wonder why they never contacted their parents?” she asked.
Chief Adams thought about her question for a few seconds. “I guess they wanted to put Haneyville out of their life or were ashamed for running away. I mean, Howie’s father was a Navy veteran of the second war,” he said then took another drink of his coffee thinking about those two kids.
Chief Adams opened up his cell phone and punched in a phone number.
“Hey Rodney, round up your guys, I need you up on Haneyville later this afternoon. Go see Sheriff Riley. He’ll fill you in,” he said to the caller.
“Okay,” Rodney replied from the cell phone.
Chief Adams disconnected his call then stared out at his backyard in deep thought.
Back in Haneyville, Rock sat behind his desk in deep thought while he was on his fifth cup of coffee and his third cigar.
There was a knock on his opened door.
He looked and saw Ernie Carlson, the eighty-six-year-old father of Tiffany.
“Sheriff, are you sure that’s Tiffany’s car?” he asked, and his eyes welled up a bit.
“Part of the registration was readable. It was registered to you,” Rock replied and looked sincere.
Ernie stared at Rock for a few seconds while he hesitated to ask his next question. “Can I see the car?”
Rock looked at Ernie and did not like this part.
“Ah, sure,” he said then got up from behind his desk leaving his cup of coffee behind.
Rock walked Ernie out of the rear of the Sheriff ’s office.
35
He walked Ernie over to the rusty and muddy Buick.
Ernie walked around the car and looked it over.
He walked over to the driver’s door. He wiped away some mud then peeked inside the window.
Ernie had a flashback to Saturday, May 16th, 1970.
Forty-one-year-old Ernie drove that 1962 red Buick Special down Addison Avenue of his neighborhood.
He pulled into his driveway and parked behind his white four-door 1969 Buick Electra 225. He tooted the horn of the Buick Special and shut off the engine. He had a grin while he waited for the front door to open.
The front door of his house opened, and Tiffany stepped outside.
She looked baffled as to why this car was parked in their driveway.
She walked over to the car.
Kathy, now forty-three years old, stepped outside with a grin on her face. She knew what Ernie was up to when she saw the car.
Ernie got out of the car and stood by the door.
“Happy graduation, darling,” he told her then gave her a warm smile.
It took a few seconds for it to dawn on Tiffany.
Then it hit her. “This car is mine? All mine?” she called out with a huge smile.
Tiffany screamed out for joy and ran over to Ernie. She gave him a huge hug and a huge kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, daddy.”
“You’re welcomed, darling. I figured you need something to drive to work after you graduate,” he replied and loved seeing his daughter so happy.
“Have you started applying for jobs yet? I know they need waitresses down at the restaurant at Wendell’s restaurant near the west side of town,” said Kathy.
36
Tiffany looked at Ernie and Kathy. “Not yet,” she replied, but had this look that something bugged her, and she did not want to tell her parents.
Ernie had a gut feeling something bugged his daughter but decided not to pry. “Take your car out for a spin,” he told her.
“I’ll have to drive over and show Howie,” she cried out in joy and ran over, got behind the wheel and started her up.
Ernie and Kathy watched while Tiffany backed up the Buick onto the street.
Tiffany tooted the horn at her parents while she drove off down the street.
Old Ernie snapped out of his memory. He continued to stare at the muddy Buick.
“I’m glad Kathy’s not around to see this. It would tear her apart,” Ernie said while his eyes welled up. He glanced at Rock. “Do you think they’re at the bottom of the lake?”
“I’m having some divers from Knoxville come down and search the lake later today.”
“Well, I guess it’s time we get closure on them,”
Ernie said then he walked away. “Time we get closure,”
he repeated while he headed off to the rear door of the Sheriff ’s office.
Rock followed behind Ernie, and something bothered him while they went inside the building.
After Ernie left through the front door, Rock grabbed his coffee cups off his desk. He took a drink of coffee. It was cold, so he poured it into his trash can. He walked over to his coffee pot and poured a fresh cup of coffee.
He walked back over and sat down behind his desk in his office.
He took the first drink of his hot coffee when there was another knock on his door.
37
“Fuck!” He thought to himself hated being interrupted again. He looked up at the doorway and saw George and Betsy Anderson standing in the door.
They were both in their eighties and stared at Rock.
“Sheriff, we would like to see Tiffany’s car,” said George.
“Okay,” said Rock, then stood up with his coffee cup in hand.
George and Betsy followed Rock out of the rear door of the building.
George and Betsy stood by the rear door of the building and stared at Tiffany’s rusty and muddy Buick.
Rock stood next to them, drinking his cup of coffee. He brought it with him, so this cup would not get cold.
George walked over to the Buick.
Betsy stood by the building as she decided not to get too close to that car. It gave her the creeps.
Rock walked away and headed over to George.
He watched while George walked around and looked at the Buick.
George walked over and stood by the driver’s door. He peeked inside. “I remember those days when Tiffany would drive over to the house and pick up Howie,” he said while his eyes started to tear up a bit.
Rock remained quiet and just drank his coffee.
“Are you going to have the lake
searched?” George asked while he continued to look at the inside of the car.
“A dive team should be down here from Knoxville later today,” said Rock then he took another drink of coffee.
“Do you think they were murdered?” he asked Rock. Rock looked at George and hated these types of questions. “I don’t know George. I still believe they ran off to Canada. I don’t believe the dive team will find their remains,” he said and looked confident.
38
Rock hesitated for a few seconds. “If they drowned, their remains would have still been in the car.
I’m thinking they ditched the car in the lake for some strange reason. Then swam out of the lake and are living up in Canada.”
George looked at Rock, and his gut now told him his son never made it up to Canada. But he decided to keep his mouth shut knowing it would be fruitless to pursue his theory with Rock. “I guess you’re right,” he said then glanced at Betsy standing by the rear of the Sheriff ’s office.
“Thanks, Sheriff,” George said then walked back over to Betsy.
“Let’s go, honey,” George said to Betsy, and then he held her hand.
Rock watched while George and Betsy went back into the police station. He turned around and glanced back at the Buick Special. He had a flashback…
In his flashback, it was night with a full moon.
He had a vision of that Buick Special floating away from the sandy beach of the clearing by Lake Haney. The Buick had the door windows rolled down, and it slowly sank while it drifted with the current of the lake.
He snapped out of his daydream then went back inside his office.
Two hours had passed, and Rock was at the clearing by Lake Haney. He met with the four divers from Knoxville. He pointed at the general direction where Tiffany’s Buick was found.
He watched while the divers suited up and got inside their boat.
39
It was Sunday morning, and the forecast called for a beautiful sunny day.
Donovan woke up at 6:30 that morning.
He got out of his bed and went into his bathroom. He shaved and took his shower.
After he had his three cups of morning coffee and bowl of cereal, he headed to his den with his fourth cup of coffee in hand.
Once he got inside his den, he rushed over to his laptop at his desk.
He turned it on and immediately brought up the Internet.
As soon as his laptop was ready, Donovan searched and eventually opened up the link for the WBIR TV news station.
He spotted a story of interest with the “Divers Search Lake Haney for Remains of Missing 1970
Teenagers” link.
He opened that link and read the article while drinking his coffee.
“Four divers from the police department of Knoxville searched the bottom of Lake Haney. They searched for the remains of the two teens that went missing on August twenty-first nineteen seventy,” he read from the article, then took another drink of coffee.
“So far, the divers had not been able to locate any remains of Tiffany Carlson and her boyfriend, Howie Anderson. The divers plan on continuing their search on Sunday,” he read from the article.
Donovan reread the article and suspected foul play was involved during that August night back in 40
1970. A strong gut feeling started to nag at him for the rest of the day.
The four divers had just gotten inside their boat up in Haneyville, Tennessee.
Rock and his son Deputy Kent Riley in casual clothes, stood in the clearing. They watched while the boat of divers headed off to another location of Lake Haney to continue their search.
Rock had a strange feeling there were eyes at his back. He turned around and saw Ernie standing in front of his 2012 Buick Regal.
“If you find their remains, are you going to open up an investigation? For murder?” Ernie yelled out from his car.
“I’ll have to wait to see what they find and what an autopsy reveals. It could have been an accidental drowning,” Rock yelled back.
Ernie looked at the Sheriff, and he had his doubts. He got inside his Buick. He started his engine, turned around, and drove back down the dirt road.
“Do you think they could have been murdered?”
Kent asked his dad.
Rock stared at the lake where the boat of four divers was out of sight. “If anything, they got stoned, accidentally drove into the lake, and drowned while trying to get out of the sinking car. But, I firmly believe they’re living up in Canada and forgot about this town years ago,” said Rock, then pulled out a cigar from his shirt pocket. He lit it and started puffing away, glancing at the lake.
Kent glanced at his dad and then back at the lake.
He started wondering if the Canada theory was actually correct. He began having doubts.
“I’m heading home; call me if they find anything,”
Rock told Kent, then headed off to his squad car parked in the clearing.
41
Kent walked over to his squad car and sat down behind the wheel. He waited while Rock drove off down the dirt road and headed back to Stinson Road.
“Something’s not right,” he said, watching the divers’ boat in the lake. He saw the two divers jump off the boat into the lake.
In Lexington, Kentucky, Jodi sat behind her computer desk in her apartment.
She had her Internet on her laptop and read the same WBIR TV news station article about the divers’
search in Lake Haney.
She had a healthy gut feeling the divers would not find any remains of Tiffany and Howie in that lake.
Her gut told her there was foul play that night in 1970.
Her iPhone rang from her computer desk. She picked up her iPhone, looked, and frowned at the caller’s name.
“What do you want?” she answered the call.
“I was hoping we could talk,” said Robert from her iPhone.
Jodi rolled her eyes and hesitated for a few seconds. “Robert, it’s over between us. Can’t you understand that?” she said.
“Baby, I’m sorry, and Beth meant nothing to me.
I screwed up and admitted it. It’s you I want. You and only you,” Robert pleaded from her iPhone and sounded sincere.
“We’re finished. I thought you were the one, but now that I had time to think, I know you’re not. Have a nice life, and go back to Beth. You two belong with each other, and I know you’ve seen her more than once,” she said and immediately disconnected her end of the call.
Jodi started another Internet search on Yahoo for Tiffany Carlson and Howie Anderson.
She waited a few seconds. The only results were articles about finding her car at the bottom of the lake and the results of the divers’ search.
42
She stared at the computer, and her gut still nagged there was something more behind this story.
Something bad.
Back down in Tampa, Donovan relaxed in his Laz Boy in the den of his home. He finished washing and waxing his Buick Special and decided to pamper a car for once in his life.
His doorbell rang. He rolled his eyes.” And she’s right on time,” he said while he got up from his chair and headed out of his den.
Donovan walked through his living room and went to the front door. He opened it and saw the outside sky clouded up, and there was a hint of a storm approaching. He saw Lindsey standing on his front stoop and thought she brought on the storm.
“Hello, baby,” Lindsay said the second she saw Donovan.
She gave him a kiss on his cheek the second she entered his living room.
He closed the door and was not looking forward to spending time with her.
“Why is there that old car parked in your driveway? Do you have someone here?” she asked, scanning the room suspiciously of Donovan.
“No. I traded in my CR-V for her. She’s an antique and in excellent condition,” he said with a smile. “Does she have air conditioning?”
“No, you must roll down the windows like they did back in the sixties.”
“Well, you won’t see me riding in that car without air conditioning. I don’t know why you traded in your Honda for some old antique. Sounds stupid if you ask me.” “Everything is stupid to you,” he muttered under his breath.
“What did you say?”
43
“I said, how was your trip?” he asked while she headed through the living room and to his kitchen.
“Boring,” she said while she went straight to his refrigerator. She opened it and removed a bottle of Diet Coke.
“I could never live in the Chicago area. Too many people and too much traffic,” she said while she popped the bottle open.
“I can’t blame you. I would hate living up in Chicago also,” he said while she took a drink.
“Let’s plan our exceptional day,” she said.
“Okay,” Donovan said, but he was not looking forward to this dreaded conservation.
Lindsey walked out of the kitchen with Donovan by her side.
They walked into his den, where she sat on his Laz Boy.
He sat down on his couch.
“I thought we could get married during the first week in June next year. June seventh, to be exact. I talked about that with mom, and she agreed,” Lindsey said, then took another drink of her Diet Coke.
“I thought we were going to discuss a date?”
“We did; it’s June seventh,” Lindsey replied, then took another drink of her Diet Coke.
“But I didn’t agree to that date,” Donovan replied and hated it when Lindsey never consulted him with decisions.
“That fits perfectly with mom and dad’s schedule.
They’re going on a week-long cruise the following week. They also got a cabin for us as a wedding present,” she said, then took another drink of her Diet Coke. “I wanted to go to Hawaii.”
“We’re going on a cruise to the Caribbean. And don’t worry, mom said she and dad will keep their distance from us during our honeymoon,” she added, then polished off her Diet Coke.
44
Donovan looked at Lindsey and wanted to scream.
“Well, I better get home and relax. I’m exhausted from my trip,” she said, then got up from his Laz Boy, leaving her empty bottle on the small table by the chair.
Donovan got up and walked her out of the den.
They walked through the living room.
“Oh, we’re having dinner with mom and dad on Wednesday evening at six. Don’t work late that night,”
she said, then gave Donovan a quick kiss on his lips the second they arrived at the front door.
Donovan opened the door. She smiled, then stepped outside.
While he started to close the door, she turned around and looked at Donovan. “I was thinking,” she said, then glanced at his Buick Special in the driveway.
“Go back to the Honda dealer and trade that old car in for a new CR-V,” she said, then turned around and strutted to her silver Honda CR-V parked in the driveway.
Donovan closed the door. He gave a silent scream and pretended to pull out his hair. He started to have doubts that marrying Lindsey would be the right thing.
He walked through the living room and then returned to his den.
Once he got in his den, he sat down at his laptop.
He conducted some more searches on Tiffany Carlson and Howie Anderson.
The two items of interest from his search were the article about finding Tiffany’s car and the diver’s search on Saturday.
Donovan’s stomach growled like a starving lion.
He grabbed his iPhone from his computer and called to have pizza delivered.
An hour had passed, and Donovan had three slices from his delivered pepperoni and sausage pizza to munch on from Pizza Hut.
45
Donovan returned to his laptop and did another search. He found an updated story from the WBIR TV
news station. He opened up the link while he munched on a slice of pizza.
He read the article and found that the divers did not locate any remains during their second and final dive attempt in Lake Haney. But Donovan had a healthy gut feeling they would not find the remains of Tiffany and Howie while he finished his slice of pizza.
Way up in Lexington, Jodi ate a salad while she read that same WBIR TV news station Internet article.
She also had a healthy gut feeling the divers would not locate the remains of Tiffany and Howie in Lake Haney.
46
Hours passed, and all Donovan could think about was how Tiffany and Howie were still considered missing.
After all, he had never met them, but it nagged at him all day. He decided to investigate these thoughts.
He rushed to his laptop at his computer desk in the den. He immediately opened up a White Pages website and conducted a search for any Andersons living in Haneyville, Tennessee.
After a few minutes, he located the phone number for George Anderson. Donovan looked at George's phone number on the White Pages website.
He looked at his iPhone. He hesitated on whether he should call this individual out of the blue.
He placed his iPhone down and got up from his computer desk.
He walked out of the den.
Ten minutes had passed, and Donovan could no longer resist the strong temptation building up inside.
He rushed back over to his computer desk and picked up his iPhone. He punched in George's phone number.
He waited and thought about hanging up. Then someone answered his call.
"Hello," said George Anderson from Donovan's iPhone.
"Ah, is this George Anderson?" Donovan said and got nervous.
"Yes, it is; who might you be?" said George.
"I'm Donovan Kirby. I'm a reporter for the Tampa Bay Times newspaper in Tampa, Florida."
There were a few seconds of silence from the iPhone, and Donovan thought George had hung up.
47
"Are you still there, Mister Anderson?"
"I'm here. What do you want, Mister Kirby?"
George said in a quieter voice.
"I've been reading the Internet articles on the discovery of that nineteen sixty-two Buick Special.
And how about the divers' search in the lake."
There were a few seconds of silence. "The divers found nothing," said George sounding sad.
"Do you believe your son and Tiffany ran to Canada in nineteen seventy?"
"I don't know. That wasn't like Howie to run away like that."
"Have you heard from Howie? Did he call to say he was up in Canada doing fine?" asked Donovan, but he had a gut feeling he knew the answer.
"I haven't heard from my son since he left that night with Tiffany in her car," George replied, and there was sadness in his voice, then paused for a few seconds. "Why are you so interested in my Howie?"
"Like I said, I'm a reporter and would love to do a story about Howie and Tiffany going missing that night? Who knows, maybe you'll hear from them."
"Why the sudden interest? They've been missing for forty-three years. And our Sheriff investigated it back in seventy and found no evidence of foul play."
Donovan hesitated for a few seconds while he did not want to tell George that he had a gut feeling foul play was involved. Why he had this gut feeling, he could not explain. "I can't explain that, but I was thinking of driving up to Haneyville. Can I sit down with you for a little while and talk about their disappearance?" he said and did not realize he had just offered to drive up to Tennessee.
"If you want to waste your gas, I'd sit down and talk with you for a spell," replied George.
"Okay, I'll call when I head up there. Maybe this week."
48
"This week is fine since I'm too old to be going somewhere," replied George, then disconnected his end of the call.
Donovan set down his iPhone by his laptop and thought about what he had just said to George. Then he had a grand of an idea. He opened up a blank Word file and started the title page for his third eBook titled Murder in the Woods.
He sat back and stared at the title. His writer's block finally busted apart. He figured he could spring off these two missing teens from 1970 and write about a murder. The more he thought about the idea, the more he knew it was doable.
Up in Lexington, Jodi had the same idea. She sat at her computer in her apartment. She did a White Pages search for Ernie and Kathy Carlson in Haneyville.
She found the phone number for Ernie Carlson and dialed his number from her iPhone.
"Hello," Ernie answered the call from her iPhone.
"Mister Carlson, I'm Jodi Lauder from Lexington, Kentucky," she said into her iPhone.
"Hello, Miss Lauder; how may I help you?"
"Well, I'm a reporter from the Lexington Herald-Leader newspaper."
"Why are you calling me?"
"I'm calling about the nineteen sixty-two Buick that was found in the bottom of Lake Haney."
"Yes, that once belonged to my daughter."
"I know, and I also read that she and a Howie Anderson went missing back in nineteen seventy."
There were a few seconds of silence from her iPhone. "Why are you calling me?"
"I would like to come up there to Haneyville and do a story about Tiffany and Howie," she said without any prior thought about going there. This was a spur-of-the-moment decision that surprised even her.
49
A few more seconds of silence from her iPhone.
"I guess that's alright," Ernie said.
"Good; I hope to arrive in a few days. I'll call when I'm heading down there," she said.
"I'll be waiting," replied Ernie, then disconnected his end of the call.
Jodi looked at her iPhone and wondered if she had made a mistake. Her curiosity ate away at her.
She had to find the truth about the whereabouts of Tiffany and Howie.
Back in Donovan's den, he started on the Prologue of his new story.
The Prologue started with two teenagers smoking pot in the front seat of a red 1962 Buick Special. The car was parked in the woods in a clearing by a lake. He made up a name for the lake.
After he finished banging on the keys of his laptop, he sat back and reread what he had drafted out.
He smiled and liked the beginning of his new story.
After an hour of typing out a little more of his story, Donovan yawned.
He headed off to bed and fell asleep within minutes after his head hit his pillow. He began having a dream.
It was nighttime, and the moon was full and beautiful.
Donovan lay in the dark in the woods. He was in pain, staring up at the sky.
He heard a girl crying.
He heard a guy grunting and moaning.
He strained to look and saw a man on top of a woman. His coveralls were down at his ankles. He was naked and forced himself on that poor woman. She continued to cry while he humped her crotch.
He saw the naked man get off the woman. He noticed it was the brunette girl he had in a previous dream.
The man pulled up his coveralls.
50
"I'm telling the Sheriff," she cried out in anger.
He reached into one of the pockets of his coveralls and removed a pistol. He aimed it at the woman.
He put a bullet in her forehead to silence the brunette girl forever.
Donovan noticed the full moon between some dead branches of a large old tree.
Donovan bolted up from his dream in a panic and sweat. For a split second, he thought he was dead. It took a few seconds for him to realize he only had a bad dream.
He closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. But that dream was still vivid, and he could not shake it away.
Donovan got out of bed, rushed out of his bedroom, and headed to his den.
Once he got in his den, he powered up his laptop.
As soon as it was ready, he opened up his manuscript Word file for his Murder in the Woods eBook.
Donovan typed that dream he had and figured it would be a perfect fit for his story.
After typing down his dream, Donovan went back to bed.
He could not go back to sleep, as that horrible dream was still vivid. So he stared in deep thought at the ceiling about his book, the Internet articles about Tiffany's car, and how Tiffany and Howie went missing that night in 1970.
Up in Lexington, Jodi also lay in her bed in deep thought. She stared in deep thought at the ceiling about those Internet articles about Tiffany's car and how Tiffany and Howie went missing that night in 1970. Monday morning arrived, and it was back to work for most people across the country.
51
Donovan ate a quick breakfast and got dressed for work. All Donovan could think about during the drive to work was Tiffany and Howie.
He powered up his computer the second he arrived in his cubicle.
As soon as everything appeared on his monitor, he sent Hank an email requesting to take off a week of vacation starting in two days.
Donovan grabbed his coffee cup. He smiled when he got up from his computer with his cup in hand and strutted out of his cubicle.
A few minutes passed, and Donovan entered his cubicle with his first cup of coffee. He sat down at his computer and immediately checked his email. Hank had not responded to his request. He drank his cup of coffee while he stared at his monitor.
After a few drinks of caffeine, he got a beep indicating that he had received an email. He anxiously opened up the email as it was from Hank. He read the message. He got disappointed, as it was not about his vacation request. Hank wanted Donovan to head out to downtown Tampa for a story about a robbery at a convenience store that happened an hour ago.
He grabbed his small notepad and headed out of his cubicle.
Up in Lexington, Jodi just arrived at her work cubicle and just sent off an email to her boss. She requested a two weeks vacation to start in a couple of days. After all, she had four weeks on the books and needed a break.
She drank her cup of hot green tea while waiting for a response from her boss. To her surprise, her boss responded within a few seconds, and her request was approved.
Jodi drank her tea with a smile and could not wait to drive up to Haneyville.
52
In Tampa, Donovan arrived back from reporting on that convenience store robbery.
Donovan went to his computer the second he got back into his cubicle. He opened his email and noticed Hank had replied to his vacation request.
"He denied my vacation request. What the?"
Donovan said, gritting his teeth. He pounded on the keyboard keys typing, "I haven't taken any vacation in a year!" Reply.
He grabbed his coffee cup and cocked his arm back to throw it. He put it back on his desk.
He sat and stared at his computer monitor, waiting for Hank to reply.
"Donovan," Hank said from Donovan's cubicle entrance.
Hank's voice startled Donovan, and he jumped a little. He turned around and noticed Hank standing by his cubicle entrance.
Hank hesitated for a few seconds. "I need you to stay here and cover for Diane," he said.
"Diane? Why do I have to cover for her? I wanted to take a week's vacation."
"Because she's going on two weeks of vacation,"
Hank replied.
Donovan glared at Hank. "Vacation? She just went on vacation last month. A cruise, I believe," he said, fuming inside.
"That's the way it goes," Hank said and noticed Donovan looked upset.
"I want that story about that robbery downtown in thirty minutes," Hank replied while walking away.
"Yeah. No problem," Donovan said, staring at his computer monitor.
"Where are you going on your vacation next week?" a fellow female coworker asked Diane while walking near Donovan's cubicle.
53
"Another week-long cruise. I saw it online, and Hank approved it ten minutes ago," Diane replied to the female coworker.
Donovan fumed! He stared at his cubicle entrance, noticing Diane and another female coworker walking past his cubicle opening.
Donovan powered down his computer.
He got up from his seat and stormed out of his cubicle.
He walked near Hank's glass office.
Hank glanced up from behind his desk and saw Donovan.
"I need that article about the downtown robber,"
Hank called out from his office.
"You'll get it when I get back from the bathroom,"
Donovan snapped back, walking past Hank's opened office door.
Hank returned to his paperwork, satisfied he would get the article in a few minutes.
Donovan walked out of the front entrance of the newspaper office.
He headed over to the employees' parking lot.
Hours had passed, and Donovan ignored all of his iPhone calls from Hank.
He sat at his home computer reading those Internet articles about Tiffany's car and how the Knoxville divers gave up searching for finding any remains.
He went to bed, still in deep thought about Tiffany and Howie.
It was not long after Donovan fell fast asleep when he had another dream.
He had that same dream where he lay in the dirt in the woods, hearing that brunette girl being raped and then shot in her forehead.
54
Tuesday morning arrived.
Donovan woke up earlier this morning than typically what he does when it is time for work. He looked excited while he shaved, brushed his teeth, and took a shower.
After he ate a quick breakfast of Frosted Mini-Wheats and four cups of coffee, Donovan rushed back into his bedroom.
Thirty minutes had passed, and Donovan rushed into his garage. He had his computer bag strapped over his shoulder, and his suitcase wheeled behind him.
He placed his suitcase into the trunk of his Buick.
He placed his computer bag on the passenger side of the front seat.
He opened the garage door, started up his car then backed out of the garage.
After he closed the garage door, he backed down the driveway and out onto the street.
He drove off down his street with a huge grin.
A little while later, Donovan drove his Buick closer to his newspaper office.
When he got closer to his office, he dialed Hank’s work number from his iPhone.
“Jasmer,” Hank answered the call.
“It’s me, Donovan,” he said into his iPhone.
“Where did you go yesterday? I never got that article,” Hank said in a raised voice from the iPhone.
“Home.”
“I want that article the second you arrive at your cubicle.”
Donovan hesitated for a few seconds. A grin grew on his face. “That’s not going to happen.”
55
There were a few seconds of silence from the iPhone. “What the hell does that mean?”
“I quit,” replied Donovan.
There was some more silence from Donovan’s iPhone. “You what?”
“I quit. I’m sick and tired of you always caving into Diane.”
“Get your ass in here right now!” Hank yelled from the iPhone.
“No. I quit, and I better get all my vacation hours.
Or, I just might have to call your wife and tell her that I suspect you’re fucking Diane.”
There were a few more seconds of silence from his iPhone. “Okay. You’ll get your vacation hours,”
Hank replied, sounding defeated. He disconnected his end of the call.
Donovan disconnected his end of the call and placed his iPhone on the seat. “I hope I know what I’m doing,” he worried. “No turning back now!”
In Lexington, Jodi decided the drive to Haneyville would only take a couple of hours. So, she would enjoy the extra hours of much-needed sleep.
Three hours had passed, and Donovan drove his Buick north on Interstate 75.
“Wow, this classic handles great at seventy miles an hour,” he said. Donovan turned on the radio. A talk show was in progress. “Ah, I’ll get a nice AM/FM
radio installed when I get back to Florida,” he said, turning off the radio.
Up in Lake Haney, Rock and Wallace Mayer sat in Wallace’s seventeen-foot Tracker fishing boat fishing.
“I can’t believe that with all these years of fishing, we never saw that car at the bottom of the lake,”
Wallace said, staring at the lake.
“I know,” Rock replied, hoping Wallace would change the subject.
“If we didn’t have this drought, it might not have been discovered for many more years.”
56
“I know,” added Rock, mad that the lake’s water level had dropped drastically.
“And you always wanted to avoid that spot for some strange reason,” Wallace said, reaching into the cooler and removing a can of Budweiser.
“Ah, the fish aren’t biting today; let’s head back to shore,” said Rock while Wallace opened up his can of Bud. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Wallace said.
They reeled in their lines.
“I remember that night back in seventy. When Howie and Tiffany’s parents came into the station to file those missing person’s reports. Do you think they’re up in Canada?” asked Wallace while he reeled in his line.
“Yep, I do,” replied Rock while stowing his fishing pole. He could not wait to return to shore and stop talking about that car and those two teens.
Up in Lexington, Jodi finally woke up and hopped in the shower.
Hours had passed, and Donovan drove his Buick north on Interstate 75 and was in the middle of Georgia.
In Lexington, Jodi sat for a relaxing breakfast with a cup of coffee. Usually, she’s rushing breakfast to get out the door to head off to the office.
Donovan drove his Buick around the hectic Interstate 285 by-pass around Atlanta. He was so nervous some inconsiderate driver would bang up his Buick since their destination was more critical than Donovan’s.
A little while later, Donovan survived the race on Interstate 285 by-pass and was heading north on Interstate 75. He headed toward Chattanooga, Tennessee.
In Lexington, Jodi was in her bedroom packing her suitcase for the trip down to Haneyville.
57
Donovan drove north on Interstate 75 with Chattanooga behind in his rearview mirror.
In Lexington, Jodi just loaded her suitcase into her Honda FIT.
She drove out of the apartment building complex parking lot and headed down the street.
Donovan continued his drive north in his Buick on Interstate 75 north and headed toward Knoxville.
Jodi drove south on Interstate 75 in her Honda leaving Lexington behind her.
After Donovan was north on Interstate 75 above Knoxville, he pulled off an exit for Stinson Road.
He headed north on that two-lane country road with his Navigon GPS turned on. He plugged in Haneyville for his destination.
Jodi drove her Honda south on Interstate 75
thirty-five miles into Tennessee.
She pulled off an exit for Stinson Road.
She drove her Honda south on Stinson Road.
Donovan slowed down, followed the Navigon’s directions, and turned right onto Haneyville Road.
He headed east down Haneyville Road, which would lead him straight into the town of Haneyville.
He drove past the “Welcome to Haneyville, Established 1892, Population 5,715” wooden sign at the western edge of the city limits.
Jodi continued her drive her Honda south on Stinson Road.
She passed by that dirt road that led to the clearing by Lake Haney. Jodi got a sudden cold chill as the sight of that road gave her a strange déjà vu feeling.
She continued driving farther south, then turned left onto Haneyville Road.
She headed east on Haneyville Road toward Haneyville.
Just past the “Welcome to Haneyville” sign, Donovan spotted a Motel 6 off to the left.
58
This motel was built in 1982 and remains the only motel in town.
Just to the east of the Motel 6 was a Perkins restaurant.
To the west of the Motel 6 was a 7-11 store with gas pumps.
Donovan turned his Buick left into the parking lot of the Motel 6.
He found a parking spot near the front entrance of the hotel. He parked, got out, and headed inside to see the desk clerk.
While Donovan was inside the Motel 6 at the front desk, Jodi pulled her Honda into the parking lot.
She soon found a parking spot.
Jodi got out of her car and walked toward the front entrance. Then something caught her eye. She looked to her left and saw Donovan’s blue Buick Special parked near the front door.
She could not resist his car, so she walked to the Buick.
Jodi walked around admiring and admiring the classic car. Something about that car made her feel good, then she suddenly felt sad.
She walked around to the driver’s door and peeked inside. She checked out the front bench seat that suddenly felt so familiar.
“Hello, can I help you?” Donovan’s voice came out from behind her.
“Ah,” Jodi cried out, startled by the sound of Donovan’s voice.
“Ah!” Jodi jumped, startled. She turned around and saw Donovan standing at the rear of his Buick.
“I’m sorry if I startled you,” said Donovan.
Jodi and Donovan stared at each other for a few seconds. They both had this strange feeling they had met each other before but could not remember where or when.
59
“Ah, I was just checking out your beautiful car,”
she said, walking over to the rear of the Buick.
“Do you like old Buicks or cars?”
Jodi glanced at the Buick. “I never gave them much thought until now. I saw your car, and for some strange reason, I became intrigued by it,” she said.
Donovan glanced at his car. “I know what you mean. I saw her at the Buick dealership near my house. I suddenly had this overwhelming urge to buy her,” he said, glancing back at Jodi. He extended out his hand. “I’m Donovan Kirby.”
“Jodi Lauder,” she said, shaking his hand.
After their hands separated, they looked into each other’s eyes.
“Have we met before?” asked Donovan.
Jodi looked into Donovan’s eyes. “Not that I can recall, but you look familiar,” she said.
Donovan and Jodi stood there looking at each other, wondering why the other person felt so familiar.
“I better see if I can get a room,” Jodi said, then walked away.
Donovan unlocked his trunk, glancing back at Jodi. He pondered for a few seconds and hesitated on the question he wanted to ask her. “I hope to see you again,” he called out when he got brave.
Jodi turned around and glanced at Donovan. “I hope we do meet again,” she said, then gave him a warm smile.
Donovan watched Jodi walk to the front entrance, and he suddenly had a strong urge to make it a mission to see her again.
He opened his trunk, reached inside, and removed his suitcase. He closed his trunk.
Donovan walked away with his suitcase and headed off to his room.
Jodi went inside the front lobby and headed to the front desk to get a room.
60
While she stopped at the front desk, she glanced back at the entrance doors and thought about that intriguing man she had just met outside. She smiled.
“May I help you?” asked the desk clerk interrupting Jodi’s thoughts about Donovan.
“Yes, I would like a room,” she replied but could not get her thoughts off of Donovan.
61
An hour had passed since Jodi met Donovan at his Buick. Jodi got inside her Honda and drove away from the Motel 6.
Ten minutes later, Donovan got inside his Buick and away from the Motel 6.
While Jodi drove her Honda through the streets of Haneyville, some of the sights gave her overwhelming déjà vu feelings.
Those overwhelming déjà vu feelings came back when she drove down Addison Avenue located in the residential area of Haneyville. It was located in the northeastern side of Lake Haney.
The vast majority of these homes were built during the 1940s when Haneyville started to become boomtown after the plant was built. The houses were single-story ranch style with front porch and single car garage.
“This is weird, I feel like I’ve been down Addison Avenue before,” Jodi said then shook off that feeling.
She pulled her car into the driveway of Ernie’s home located off of Addison Avenue. That déjà vu feeling got stronger the second she glanced at the front of the white-painted home with black shutters.
Jodi turned off her engine and got out of her Honda
She stood by her car door and got a warm feeling throughout her body while she glanced at Ernie’s quaint home.
She walked over to the front door and rang the doorbell. She waited.
A few seconds passed, and the front door opened. Ernie appeared. “Are you Miss Lauder?” he asked.
62
Jodi was speechless for a few seconds while she stared at Ernie in a bit of a trance. She had this weird feeling of Ernie being a younger and vibrant man. She snapped out her trance then remembered he asked her a question. “Yes, you can call me, Jodi,” she replied.
“Please come inside, Jodi,” Ernie said then he stepped aside to allow her to enter his home.
Jodi stepped inside his home.
Ernie closed his front door then glanced at Jodi.
He stared at her for a few seconds. “Do I know you? I got this sudden feeling we’ve met before,” he asked.
Jodi looked at Ernie, and she had the same feeling. “No sir, this is my first time down here in Haneyville. Unless you’ve been up in Lexington,” she replied.
Ernie thought for a few seconds. “I was up in Lexington, oh, about six years ago,” he said. “If my memory is correct.”
“Maybe our paths crossed up there on the streets?”
“Maybe,” he said but still had this strange feeling about her. But it was a warm loving feeling.
“Would you like some coffee while we chat?” he offered.
“That would be nice.”
“Let me go make a fresh pot,” Ernie said then walked through the living room and headed into the kitchen.
“Make your self at home, Jodi,” he called out from the kitchen while he started to make a pot of coffee.
While Ernie made the coffee, Jodi saw numerous photos of Ernie, Kathy, and Tiffany in framed pictures hanging on the wall above the stone fireplace.
She walked over to those photos checking them out. Meanwhile, Donovan parked his Buick out in front of the Haneyville Police Station.
63
He got out of his car and glanced at the one-story building. He saw that it had a 1978 carving in stone above the glass door front entrance. The original Sheriff ’s office was built out of wood in 1924 and burnt down to the ground in 1977. This was the replacement building made from concrete blocks with brick exterior.
Donovan headed to the front door then went inside.
Once he got inside the station, he saw a small counter and two desks in a small area.
Off to the right was a closed door with the
“Sheriff Rock Riley” sign to the left of the door. To the right of the door hung a “No Smoking” sign on the wall. Deputy Kent Riley worked on some paperwork behind his desk.
The other desk was where Deputy Andrew Barker occupied. But he was out patrolling the streets of Haneyville at the moment.
Kent looked up from his paperwork and saw Donovan behind the counter. “How can I help you?”
he said while he got up from his desk and headed over to Donovan.
“I’m Donovan Kirby a reporter from the Tampa Bay Times newspaper down in Tampa Florida.”
“What brings you to our neck of the woods?”
“I’m up here to do a story on the discovery of that nineteen sixty-two Buick found in Lake Haney and those two missing teenagers,” Donovan replied.
“A story about Tiffany Carlson and Howie Anderson. Why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe some other readers out there will read it and provide information about their whereabouts,” Donovan replied.
“Okay. Well, I wasn’t born when they disappeared, so I know nothing about them. My dad was a deputy back in those days. He’s not here at the 64
moment. He took my mom down to Knoxville for a little shopping,” said Kent.
“I was hoping, I could maybe see that Buick pulled out of the lake.”
“Sure, I don’t see why not,” Kent said then he walked over and motioned for Donovan to come around behind the counter.
After Donovan went behind the counter, he followed Kent to the rear door of the station.
Kent and Donovan stepped outside and into the fenced back area of the police station.
Donovan saw the rusty and muddy 1962 Buick Special parked alone in the fenced area.
“Are the divers still searching the lake?” Donovan asked while walking over to the Buick.
“They searched a good bit of the lake, but called it off after finding nothing,” replied Kent while he walked over to Donovan.
Donovan walked around the car looking it over and started to get another overwhelming déjà vu feeling.
“Do you have any theories what might have happened to Tiffany or Howie?” he asked while he peeked inside the driver’s door window.
“We still believe they are living up in Canada.”
“I wonder how come they never contacted anybody since the seventies?” Donovan curiously asked.
“I guess they wanted to separate their lives from this place,” replied Kent.
“I wonder why?”
“People can be strange at times,” replied Kent.
“I guess,” said Donovan then he looked inquisitive while he peeked back inside the car. “Can I check out the inside?” he asked.
“That’s not a good idea. The Sheriff gave me orders not to let anybody inside that car,” replied Kent.
65
Donovan looked at Kent and saw he was serious but really wanted to check out the inside of the car.
“Thanks, deputy.”
Kent escorted Donovan to the rear door of the Sheriff ’s office.
Back at Ernie’s home, he and Jodi sat on his couch in the living room drinking coffee.
“I still remember the last time, I saw my sweet Tiffany,” Ernie said then he took a drink of coffee. He paused for a few seconds then began telling her about that day.
In Ernie’s story, it was back to Thursday, August 20th, 1970.
It was the early evening, and he had his white 1964 Ford Galaxy with red interior parked in the driveway. He just rinsed off his car with the garden hose when Tiffany bolted out of the front door.
“Bye, daddy,” Tiffany said rushing through the front yard to her red 1962 Buick Special parked out along the street.
“Where you going?” Ernie asked while he turned off his hose.
“To the drive-in with Howie then who knows afterward,” she said stopping in the middle of the front yard. “Don’t get home way too late,” he said while he reached in a bucket and grabbed the sponge soaking in the soapy water.
“I won’t, daddy,” Tiffany said then she ran over to her car and got behind the wheel. She started up the engine then drove off down the street, tooting her horn. While Ernie soaped the hood of his Galaxy, he eyed Tiffany’s Buick driving down the street.
Back in his living room, Ernie’s eyes welled up a bit while he thought about that evening.
“That was the last time I saw my daughter,” he said, wiping away the tears.
66
Jodi looked at Ernie and felt so sad for him. “You never heard from Tiffany? I mean, the thought is that they ran off to Canada,” she said.
“I never heard a word after that night,” he said and stared at one of Tiffany’s pictures that hung on the wall. “My wife Kathy passed five years ago due to cancer. I’m glad she’s not around to see Tiffany’s car after it was pulled from the lake,” he said then he looked over at Jodi. “I wonder if Tiffany is a journalist up in Canada? That’s the career path she wanted to take after high school.”
“She wanted to become a journalist?” Jodi said while she looked in Ernie’s eyes.
“Yep,” he replied, then his eyes widened when he thought about something. “Let me show you something,” he said then stood up.
Jodi stood up then followed Ernie out of the living room and down the hallway.
He stopped opened a closed door. Jodi peeked inside noticing it had to be Tiffany’s bedroom.
“I left her room the same way it was in nineteen seventy. I don’t have the heart to change it,” he said, then stepped inside the room.
Jodi stepped inside the bedroom and slowly walked around it.
She saw a record player on the dresser. The Beatles Abby Road record was on the player.
She saw posters of Janis Joplin, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, and Davey Jones of the Monkees, on one wall.
Jodi while she walked around the bedroom, another overwhelming déjà vu feeling hit her. For some strange reason, this bedroom felt homey.
“I left it like this in case she came home, but now that they found her car in the lake, I don’t think she’ll ever come home. I might move her stuff out in the future,” he said then he headed off to the door.
67
Jodi walked out of the bedroom and Ernie closed the door.
“I now have this gut feeling that something horrible happened to my Tiffany. It started gnawing at the pit of my gut, after they found her car in the lake,”
he said walking Jodi down the hallway.
Jodi glanced back down the hallway at Tiffany’s closed bedroom door. She started to have that same feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“Let me show you some family photos,” Ernie told Jodi walking her back to the couch in the living room.
Jodi glanced at the family pictures of Tiffany when she was a young girl, and she kept getting these strange déjà vu feelings.
Meanwhile, Donovan pulled his Buick into the driveway of George and Betsy Anderson’s home located off Forge Valley Avenue.
He got out of his car. He got another déjà vu feeling while he looked at the home.
He headed over to the front door and rang the doorbell. He waited.
The front door opened, and George
appeared. “You that fellow from that newspaper down in Florida who called me?”
“Yes sir, I’m Donovan Kirby.”
“Nice to meet you,” George said shaking Donovan’s hand. “Come inside,” George said stepping aside to allow Donovan to enter his home.
Donovan stepped inside, and George closed the front door.
“Please have a seat,” George said while he motioned at the couch.
Donovan walked over and sat down on the couch with George.
“My wife Betsy is out shopping down in Knoxville for the afternoon. She does this once a month with her 68
sister. She really doesn’t like talking about Howie, as it makes her cry.”
“I understand, and my intent is not to upset anybody,” said Donovan.
“I guess I can start with the last time I saw my son,” George said staring down at the carpet.
In George’s memory, it was evening on Thursday, August 20th, 1970. He pushed his lawnmower across the front yard.
Tiffany drove up in her 1962 Buick Special and parked along the street in front of the house. She tooted the horn.
The front door opened and Howie ran outside.
George turned off his lawnmower. “Don’t stay out too late, Howie.”
“I won’t paw,” Howie said running across the front yard.
“Hello Mister Anderson,” Tiffany called out while she stepped out of her car and glanced over the roof.
“Hey Tiffany,” George said then he pulled the cord and restarted his lawnmower.
Howie got in the front passenger seat of Tiffany’s car. She tooted the horn at George while she drove off down the street.
George sat there after recalling that memory. He looked at Donovan. “And that’s the last time I saw my son,” said George while his eyes welled up.
“Do you believe that the two are living up in Canada?”
George looked at Donovan. “No. He would have contacted me by now. My gut tells me something happened to them that August night,” he said and looked serious.
“Did the Sheriff do any kind of investigation into their disappearance?”
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“He said he did, but I feel he did nothing. He had strong feeling they ran off to Canada, and would not believe any other possible scenarios.”
“I wonder why they would want to run up there?”
George wanted to provide an answer but decided he better keep his mouth shut. His eyes welled up while he thought about his son.
Donovan could sense George was getting upset, so he got up off the couch. “I’ve taken up enough of your time. I better go now.”
George got up off the couch and escorted Donovan to his front door.
After Jodi left Ernie’s home, she headed off to the police station.
After meeting with Kent, he took her out in the fenced-off back area. She walked around and looked at Tiffany’s rusty and muddy Buick.
“I had another reporter here a little while ago.
Said he was from Florida,” Kent told Jodi while she glanced at the driver’s door window. “Oh really,” she said and could care less while she checked out the inside of the car.
Jodi looked over at Kent. “Do you believe those two are hiding up in Canada at this moment?”
“That’s what my daddy says, I wasn’t born when they were here, so, I don’t know,” he said.
Jodi looked at Kent then back at the car. She got another overwhelming déjà vu feeling while she stared at the car. But this time the feeling was followed by a sharp pain in her forehead. The pain left within seconds. She shrugged it off.
“Thank you, deputy,” she said, then headed off toward the rear door of the office.
Kent walked off and followed Jodi into the police station.
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Hours passed.
That night, Jodi ate dinner at the Perkins restaurant next to the Motel 6 motel.
Donovan was not very hungry. So he bought snacks from the 7-11 next to the motel and munched on them inside his room.
While they ate their meals, Donovan and Jodi thought about their earlier meeting outside the Motel 6
by his car.
Later that night, both Jodi and Donovan relaxed in their rooms, thinking about their earlier meetings with Tiffany and Howie’s parents.
After Donovan drifted off to sleep that night, he had another dream.
In Donovan’s dream, he was a young lad wearing a Little League baseball uniform for the Hawks.
He was on the pitcher’s mound throwing practicing pitches to the catcher.
He started up a wind-up. He was in the process of throwing the ball and noticed a young brunette girl in the bleachers watching his every move.
His throw went way above the catcher’s head. The sight of this brunette girl in the bleachers instantly smote him. She was the same girl in his previous dreams but was younger. This was a dream of their actual first meeting.
Donovan woke from his dream. He lay in bed and could not get that brunette girl out of his mind.
“Why am I dreaming about her?” he asked himself.
The more he thought about his thoughts started to drift off to thinking about Tiffany. He could not resist snooping around, so he got out of bed and got dressed.
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A little while later, Donovan drove his Buick to the police station.
He parked by the fenced-in rear area off Thorndale Avenue. Donovan got out of his car.
He scanned the area. The coast was clear.
He ran to the fence and started climbing it, then scaled over the top and dropped to the ground.
Once inside the fenced area, Donovan ran over to Tiffany’s Buick.
Parked by the front entrance of the police station was a white 2012 Chevrolet Impala with a dented rear quarter panel on the driver’s side.
The driver got out, and it was Rock.
The passenger door opened, and Christine Woodbury got out. She was a fifty-five married woman from Haneyville.
Rock and Christine both rushed to the front entrance of the police station. Rock immediately unlocked one of the front doors, and they rushed inside.
In the Sheriff ’s office’s fenced area, Donovan creaked open the driver’s door to Tiffany’s car.
He got a better view of the inside and saw it was filthy and had a strong odor of mildew.
He sat down in the muddy front seat.
Inside the Sheriff ’s office, Rock took Christine into his office and closed the door.
She took him by his hand and sat him on his desk chair.
She dropped to her knees.
She unzipped his pants and lowered them down to his ankles.
“Just like those days when I was in high school,”
she said while she lowered his boxers to his ankles.
“You were a great cocksucker back then and are still a great cocksucker,” Rock said.
Christine smiled and gave Rock a blowjob.
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Back out in the fenced area of the police station, Donovan was still inside Tiffany’s Buick. He opened up the glove compartment door and checked it out. He found nothing of value, so he closed the door.
He got out of the front and then pulled the front seat forward. He started checking out the backseat area. Inside Rock’s office, he was enjoying Christine’s talent. He heard a car door slam shut.
He got concerned, yanked Christine’s head off him, and rushed to the window, almost tripping over his pants and boxers.
He peeked out the window and saw Donovan climbing back over the fence.
He watched while Donovan rushed over and got inside his Buick.
“What the fuck is going on?” he said while he watched Donovan’s 1962 Buick Special drive away down the street.
“What’s wrong, dear?” Christine said while she got up off her knees.
“We’ll have to do this another night,” he said while he pulled up his boxers.
“But I’m horny,” Christine said, pouting with her arms crossed.
“Another fucking night!” he snapped while he pulled up his pants.
After he got his pants back to normal, he grabbed Christine by her hand.
He rushed her out of his office.
Back at Ernie’s home, he sat in his living room.
He sat on his couch and had his fourth Bourbon and water drink. The past events of finding Tiffany’s car and the visit by Jodi started up those memories of sleepless nights back in the 1970s.
Back at the Motel 6, Jodi was sound asleep in her room. She had a dream.
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In Jodi’s dream, he was a young girl with brunette hair. She was sitting on the wooden bleachers of a Little League Baseball field. S he watched while the Hawks warmed up for a game.
Her eyes widened when she saw a blonde kid around her age on the pitcher’s mound. He was with the Hawks and was warming up with the catcher.
She watched while the blonde-haired kid started up a wind-up.
Then when he was throwing the ball, his eyes locked on Jodi’s eyes. The sight of that blonde-haired pitcher instantly smote her.
His throw went way above the catcher’s head.
This was the same boy in her previous dreams, but he was younger. This was a dream of their first meeting.
Rock had spent the next hour driving around the streets searching Haneyville for that old Buick Special.
He pulled into the parking lot of the Motel 6.
He drove around and spotted Donovan’s Buick parked by a motel room.
He drove away and parked down the far end of the parking lot.
Back in Donovan’s room, he was sound asleep in his bed.
A clicking sound was heard coming from his motel room door.
The door slowly opened, and Rock slipped inside the room. Rock quietly closed the door.
There was enough light in the room for Rock to see everything.
He spotted Donovan’s laptop on top of the small desk. He got curious.
Rock gingerly walked across the room and headed to the desk.
Once he got to the desk, he opened the laptop and immediately pressed the power button.
The laptop powered up and made the standard Apple sound. Rock cringed that that sound would 74
wake up Donovan. It did not, as all Donovan did was roll over to his other side.
Once the laptop powered up, Rock saw the items on the desktop. One item was a Word file titled
“Murder in the Woods.”
He got curious and opened up that Word file.
Once it opened, Rock could tell it was a manuscript once he saw the title page.
He scrolled down to the Prologue of the manuscript and started reading it.
“What the fuck is this?” he whispered while reading the manuscript.
He got pissed, closed the Word file, deleted it, and emptied the trash can.
He closed the laptop, afraid to power it down, thinking it might wake Donovan up.
Rock glanced at Donovan while he slept.
He gingerly walked over to the bed.
He stood by the right side of the bed, glaring down at Donovan.
Rock reached inside his pants and removed his 9mm Glock. He aimed it at Donovan’s head with his eyes bulging. He was ready to kill.
Donovan went into another dream.
In Donovan’s dream, a mysterious man escorted him and that brunette girl into the woods at night.
That man wore coveralls and a ski mask and had a pistol aimed at Donovan and the brunette.
“Turn around,” said the mysterious man Donovan and the brunette turned around.
“You’re a fucking coward,” the mysterious man said to Donovan.
“But you don’t understand,” Donovan pleaded.
“Fuck you,” the mysterious man replied then he fired a shot.
The bullet penetrated Donovan’s chest. He dropped to the dirt.
Donovan shot up from his dream in a panic.
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He looked around his motel room in a daze and got confused. He thought he was shot and then frantically started feeling around his chest. No blood was found. It took a few seconds to dawn on him that he had a dream.
But he did not realize that Rock was in his room with a pistol pointed at his head. Rock decided that a gunshot would add too much attention, so he quietly left seconds before Donovan woke up from his dream.
Donovan glanced over at his closed laptop on the desk. He decided that his dream would fit into his story. He got out from under his covers and rushed over to the laptop at the desk.
He opened it up and saw that the laptop was still powered up. He figured he forgot to power it down when he last used it to type in his manuscript.
He looked on the desktop and could not find his manuscript Word file.
He searched the laptop and still could not find the Word file.
He opened up Word.
He clicked on the Open Recent option in the Word program. He saw his Murder in the Woods as a recent file he accessed. He clicked on it. It came up as not being found.
“What?” he said while he started to panic. He frantically started searching all over the files on his laptop.
After ten minutes of frantically searching his laptop, he concluded that he must have accidentally deleted it. So he figured he would have to start all over again. While it was still fresh in his mind, Donovan opened up a new Word file.
He started retyping his manuscript; this time, he planned to email him a backup copy to his email address.
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Back at George’s home, he sat outside on his back porch. He had his third scotch and water drink in his hand. Like Ernie, the recent events of finding Tiffany’s car and the meeting with Donovan started up those memories of sleepless nights in the 1970s.
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Wednesday morning arrived.
Donovan headed off to the Perkins restaurant by the motel for breakfast.
He was immediately seated in a booth. He ordered a cup of coffee from Jenny, the waitress, after she came up to him.
Right after Jenny left, Jodi was escorted by the hostess to the booth next to his booth.
“Hi,” Donovan said the second he saw her walk past his booth.
“Good morning,” Jodi replied with a warm smile.
Donovan glanced at Jodi and decided to take a chance. “Would you like to join me for breakfast?”
Jodi looked at Donovan and then at the hostess.
“I would love that.”
The hostess smiled and motioned for Jodi to join Donovan at his booth.
Jodi smiled while she sat down in Donovan’s booth. “I’ll take a cup of coffee, please,” she told the hostess.
The hostess smiled and walked away.
“So, how’s your stay in Haneyville?” asked Jodi while she looked at the menu.
“It’s been educational,” replied Donovan while he glanced at the menu.
Jenny brought two cups of coffee and gave one to Jodi and Donovan. “Are you ready to order?”
Donovan looked at Jodi for her to go first.
“I’ll take the Brioche French Toast Platter.”
Donovan looked surprised by her order.
“Actually, I was thinking of having the same,” he told Jenny.
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Jenny nodded that she understood their order and then walked away.
“If you don’t mind me asking, where are you from?” asked Jodi.
“Tampa, Florida.”
“I’m from Lexington, Kentucky.”
“What brings you here to Tennessee?” asked Jodi.
“I’m a reporter for the Tampa Bay Times newspaper.”
Jodi’s eyes lit up. “I’m also a reporter. I work for the Lexington Herald-Leader newspaper.”
“Cool! What brings you to Haneyville?” asked Donovan.
“I wanted to do a story on the two teens that went missing back in nineteen seventy.”
Donovan’s eyes widened a little, and he thought that was cool. “Tiffany Carlson and Howie Anderson?”
“Why, yes. Are you here for the same reason?”
said Jodi and was a little surprised.
“Yeah,” he replied, then took a drink of coffee.
He hesitated for a few seconds. He debated if he should say something that had been on his mind.
Jenny walked over with their plates of breakfast in her hands. Jodi and Donovan stopped talking when she walked up to the table.
After she left, they looked at each other and resumed their discussion.
“But you know something? Ever since I read the Internet news article about finding that Buick, and after arriving in Haneyville, I’ve had overwhelming déjà vu feelings,” he said, then took a bite of his breakfast.
Jodi’s eyes widened. “You’re going to find this strange, but I’ve been having the same déjà vu feelings.
They also started when I first read that Internet article about finding a Buick in the lake,” she said, then took a bite of her breakfast.
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“That’s why I bought that classic Buick outside.
I’ve never liked old Buicks, but after I read that article, I saw that one for sale and could not resist.”
“What do you think all these déjà vu feelings mean?” she asked, then started eating her French Toast.
Donovan started eating his French Toast while he pondered a reply. “I don’t know, but I’ve dreamed of being in love with a girl with brown hair.”
Jodi’s eyes widened. “That’s funny because I’ve dreamed of falling in love with a boy with blonde hair.”
Jodi and Donovan looked into each other’s eyes and suddenly felt connected.
“You know something?” she said. She leaned across the table.
“What?” he replied, then leaned across the table closer to Jodi.
“Tiffany’s father believes something horrible happened to the kids. He’s not buying that they’ve been living in Canada.”
Donovan looked at Jodi. “I’ve been having the same feelings. I dreamt I was shot in the chest in the woods at night.”
“I think that maybe these dreams are Tiffany and Howie trying to tell us what happened from the grave,”
she said, then moved back.
Donovan moved back in his seat and looked at Jodi. “That sounds plausible.”
They got quiet while finishing their breakfast.
While they ate, they did not know Rock sat in his Chevrolet Impala patrol car from the parking lot. He eyed the windows of the Perkins restaurant, spying on them. After some idle chitchat about their jobs as reporters, Donovan and Jodi finished their breakfast.
They waited for their checks.
Donovan glanced at Jodi. He wanted to say something but was not sure he should. He debated for a few seconds and decided to take the risk. “I was 80
thinking, if you’re not doing anything today, I was thinking of driving around Haneyville and checking it out. I, ah, I could sure use some company,” he asked, then slightly cringed, wondering if he had overstepped his bounds.
Jodi glanced at Donovan. She hesitated, which made him feel rejected.
She smiled. “I would love that. And besides, I’ve actually wanted a ride in your beautiful Buick.”
Donovan was gleaming inside she accepted his offer. Jenny walked up to their booth with two checks.
“Thank you,” she said while she set the checks in front of Jodi and Donovan.
“Well, let’s go,” Donovan said while he grabbed his check and got out of the booth.
Jodi grabbed her check and got out of the booth.
Ten minutes had passed, and Donovan and Jodi were in his Buick, leaving the parking lot of the Perkins restaurant. What they both did not notice was Rock stalking them from his Impala.
Donovan drove his Buick east down Haneyville Road and headed into town.
He instinctively made a right turn onto Thorndale Avenue. He headed south into the southwestern part of town.
Donovan drove down Thorndale Road and instinctively made a left turn onto Stone Hedge Avenue.
Donovan and Jodi so far enjoyed the sights of Haneyville and felt it was a charming and homey town.
Donovan drove down Stone Hedge Avenue and then stopped. He and Jodi saw the Haneyville Middle School, the Haneyville High School, and the Haneyville Elementary School all in a row on the north side of Thorndale Road.
While Donovan glanced at the schools, he got another overwhelming déjà vu feeling about them.
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Jodi also got an overwhelming déjà vu feeling at the sight of the three schools.
Donovan pulled his car into the sports field on the south side of Stone Hedge Avenue. This area had a baseball field, a football field, and now a soccer field.
He parked his Buick in the grass. He and Jodi got out of the car.
They both looked back at the three schools and got another overwhelming déjà vu feeling.
They saw a white Impala pull into the Haneyville High School parking lot but thought nothing of that vehicle.
They turned and glanced at the baseball field.
More overwhelming déjà vu feelings hit them.
Across the street, Rock watched Jodi and Donovan from his Impala.
“I’m having another one of my overwhelming déjà vu feelings at the moment,” said Jodi.
“Me too.”
Jodi looked at the baseball field, and it, too, looked familiar. “I had a dream about becoming smitten with a young kid playing baseball here on a field just like this,” she said and smiled while she thought about that dream.
Donovan looked at her in a little bit of disbelief.
But he did not want to tell her he had a similar dream and became smitten with a brunette.
“Let’s drive around some more of the town,” he told her.
She nodded in agreement then they headed off to the car.
“I love you,” a voice whispered near Jodi’s ear while she got to the passenger door of the Buick. “Did you say something?” she asked Donovan as she vaguely heard that mysterious voice.
“No,” Donovan said while opening the driver’s door.
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Jodi shrugged off that whisper while she and Donovan got inside his car.
Donovan started up his car and then drove out of the sports area.
He headed east on Thorndale, then the road made a left ninety-degree bend and headed north.
Donovan stopped at Haneyville Road, then turned right. The town of Haneyville was built near the southeastern part of Lake Haney.
There was a boat dock where residents kept their boats to enjoy the summer months on the lake.
Also, a few stores, a restaurant, and other offices were constructed on the southern side of Lake Haney.
A brick walkway with a railing went along the lake for a new view. Also along the walkway were occasional benches so the folks could enjoy the beautiful view of the lake.
This area was rebuilt in 1980 as an effort by the Mayor of Haneyville to beautify their town. It worked, as the folks of Haneyville loved spending the warm days of summer down by the lake. It also brought in some tourist dollars from people in Knoxville and areas of southern Kentucky.
After driving around some more of the streets of Haneyville, Donovan headed west on Haneyville Road.
He drove past the Motel 6.
“Where you going?” Jodi asked while she watched their motel go past them.
“I can’t explain it, but I have this feeling there’s something else we need to see,” he said while he continued his drive heading west.
Jodi thought about his reply, and then she suddenly had a similar feeling there was somewhere else they needed to see. But they both did not have a clue as to their destination.
Jodi glanced down at the AM radio. “Wow, only AM,” she said.
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“I haven’t tried it up here yet,” he said.
Jodi turned on the radio.
A religious station was on with a preacher yelling about people being sinners. She turned the turning knob until a song that sounded familiar came on an oldies station. The “In the Summertime” song from the band Mungo Jerry played.
“I love this song,” she said, leaving it on that station.
Jodi softly sang out the lyrics while Donovan drove down the road.
They didn’t notice Rock’s Impala way down the road following Donovan’s Buick.
A little while later, Donovan stopped at the end of Haneyville Road at the stop sign. He and Jodi glanced at Stinson Road, which headed north and south.
“Where to now?” asked Jodi, looking to her right and then to her left.
“I don’t know,” said Donovan glancing to the left and right of Stinson Road.
They were too involved looking up and down Stinson Road to notice Rock’s Impala stopped down on Haneyville Road.
Donovan had a strong feeling about where to go.
He turned his Buick right and headed north on Stinson Road. Donovan and Jodi both had déjà vu feelings while he headed north on Stinson Road.
He drove past the dirt road that headed to the clearing by Lake Haney.
Donovan had a gut feeling about that dirt road after he drove past it. He stopped his car, then immediately backed up.