He shook his head. "No, because there was no reason to worry her any more than she already is. But that sheriff has one thing on his mind, and he's not going to cooperate until he's convinced he's wrong. I'd sure like to get up there and shake some sense into him."

"Well, what in the world, Coleman?"

"Apparently, they're having a lot of trouble with marijuana growers and meth labs back in the hills around there, and he thinks this John Doe may be part of some of that. And," Coleman went on, looking down at me, "if it's not J.D., he may be right. Anyway, he's keeping this 'so-called private cop,' as he called him, under wraps until his ident.i.ty is confirmed and the feds can get there."

"Oh, Coleman, this could be bad. You and I know that Mr. Pickens is not growing or making anything. Looks like that sheriff would realize that a private investigator would be working with him, not with a bunch of crooks."

"Sounds like the sheriff may have more than he can handle," Coleman said. "And he doesn't want one of 'em to slip away from him."

"Miss Julia?" Lillian stuck her head in the doorway. "Y'all come on an' eat something. Maybe Miss Hazel Marie will, too."

As we walked in, Hazel Marie was sitting at the table, staring at the food on her plate. "I don't know what to do," she said, her hands gripping the tabletop. Then she sprang up from her chair. "I do know, too. I'm going up there. It's him, I know it is, and he needs me. I've got to get there. Lloyd, will you call and see if I can get a plane? I've got to get ready. But no, maybe I better drive. I might need the car." She was beginning to flutter around, waving her hands, her eyes darting about the room, trying to plan a trip when n.o.body knew a destination.

"Wait, Hazel Marie," I said. "Honey, what're you going to do about the babies?"

"Oh," she said, stopping as if she'd suddenly remembered them. "Well, I'll just take them with me."

"You won't be any help to Mr. Pickens," Lillian said, "if you got them two babies with you. So I'll go an' help with 'em, but Latisha have to go, too."

"That won't work, Lillian," I said. "Maybe we can keep them."

"No," Hazel Marie said, sinking down on the chair again. "I can't leave them. I can't leave them and I can't take them, and I want to go but I need to stay here." And she covered her face and began crying again.

We all looked at one another, waiting for someone to come up with a suggestion. Then Hazel Marie gathered herself and asked, "Coleman, what do you think? You think it's J.D.?"

"I don't know, Hazel Marie," he said. "I wish I could go for you and make sure, but we've got deputies on vacation and I can't leave right now. But if you can hold on and we haven't learned anything more, I think I can get away about Wednesday. As for who the man is, the only other thing the sheriff said was that whoever it is can cuss a blue streak. Said as a church-going man, he'd never heard such language in his life. Does that sound like J.D. to you?"

"No," Hazel Marie said, looking up with hope in her eyes, "No, it doesn't. J.D. is the sweetest-talking man in the world. It can't be him, I'm sure of it." She wiped her face with the edge of her robe, then said, "At least I think I am."

I looked at Lillian, then glanced at Lloyd. None of us said a thing, but I thought to myself, That settles it. If the man in West Virginia known as John Doe was able to offend even a backwoods sheriff with his descriptive language, then he was indeed J. D. Pickens, P.I.

While everyone in the room rea.s.sured Hazel Marie, I slipped out into the hall and over to Sam's old office, which Hazel Marie was now using as a den. The telephone was on a side table, so I walked over to it, picked it up and, hoping my memory wouldn't let me down, dialed a number.

"Etta Mae?" I asked, as a sleep-filled voice answered. "How would you like to go to West Virginia today?"

Chapter 11.

"What?"

"I'm driving to West Virginia today," I told her, "and I need you to go with me-not just for the company, but for your nursing ability. Can you be ready in about an hour?"

"What?" she asked again.

"Wake up, Etta Mae. This is a job offer because you'll be on duty. So call that woman you work for and tell her the same arrangement will apply now as the one we had when you took care of Hazel Marie. You can let her know that I expect to be back here on Monday, Tuesday at the latest, so you won't be gone long. Oh, Etta Mae, I do apologize," I belatedly said. "I've gotten ahead of myself because you don't know what's going on."

"No, ma'am, I don't. Did you say you're going to West Virginia?"

"Yes, I did. I'm going to see about Mr. Pickens." Then I went on to tell her the whole story, including Hazel Marie's anguish at not being able to leave the babies, Coleman's schedule that would keep him from going right away and Sam's being halfway around the world. "It's down to you and me, Etta Mae. I figure he's going to need some nursing care, which is where you come in. Between the two of us, we'll get him back here where he can be taken care of. That bunch up there, starting with the sheriff, does not inspire the least bit of confidence, especially with Mr. Pickens suffering a gunshot wound in a hospital room that doesn't even have a telephone."

"Gunshot wound! Good grief, is he hurt?"

"I expect he is, Etta Mae, as I would be if somebody had shot me. But apparently, it's not all that serious, although it's serious enough to keep him in the hospital. That's why it's vital that we get up there and see what's going on."

There was silence on the line for a few seconds, then Etta Mae said, "Ah, Miss Julia, I hate to tell you, but I've never nursed a gunshot wound. I might not be much use to you."

"Don't worry about that. You're more capable than any of us. Besides, you can bring your nursing book and read up on it as we go. Will you do it, Etta Mae? I really need you."

"Well, if you're sure, of course I'll go. This is the first weekend I've had off in a month, so it'll be fun to have something to do."

I wasn't too sure how much fun it would be, but I was grateful for her willingness to accompany me. She and I had been on a few other expeditions and she'd proved her worth many times over.

"I'll pick you up in about an hour," I said. "Oh, and, Etta Mae, you won't need to pack a lot, but be sure to bring your nurse's uniform. Mr. Pickens might require special nursing care. And also, his doctor might be more willing to discuss his condition with a fellow professional than with me."

There was another long pause as she considered the request. Then, in a halting way, she said, "Okay."

After hanging up and looking at the time-almost eight-I went back into the dining room. Hazel Marie was stirring scrambled eggs around on her plate, but not eating any, while Lillian urged her to keep up her strength. Lloyd sat next to his mother, but he'd hardly eaten anything, either. His face was almost as white and drawn as hers.

James stood in the door to the kitchen. "Miss Julia, you want some eggs? I can fix you some right now. Them on the table is already cold."

"No, thank you, James, I don't have time to eat. Now listen, everybody," I said as I stood by the table. "With Sam gone and Coleman held up here until later in the week, we have to make some plans on our own. So here's what we're going to do: I just spoke to Etta Mae Wiggins and she and I are leaving in about an hour to drive to West Virginia. We're going to bring Mr. Pickens home, come that sheriff or high water.

"Lillian, I want you and Latisha to stay here with Hazel Marie and help her, if you will. Lloyd, you'll finish the school year and help wherever you're needed, and, James, I'm leaving them all in your care. Now, I've got to get home and get ready to go."

Everybody sat still for a minute, staring at me, then they all began talking at once, telling me I shouldn't go and one of them should go with us and it was too long a trip for two women alone.

"I want to go, Miss Julia," Lloyd said. "I can help."

Lillian said, "You sure you know what you doin'?"

But James's face brightened after hearing the responsibility I'd given him. He drew himself up, straightened his shoulders, and went back into the kitchen. But Hazel Marie, who hadn't said a word, rose from the table and put her arms around me.

"Thank you," she whispered against my shoulder. "Thank you with all my heart."

"There, there," I murmured, slightly embarra.s.sed by her display, but appreciative of it too. "Lloyd, if you've finished, I need you to come with me. While I pack, I want you to get on your computer and figure out how we should go, how long it will take and whatever else we'll need."

"I can do that," he said, getting to his feet. "Mama, I'll be back in a little while."

As he and I started out the door, James came running out with a sack. "Here, Miss Julia. Here's some bacon biscuits. You gonna be hungry 'fore long."

"Why, James, how thoughtful. Thank you so much. You watch over them now. I'm trusting you to do that."

He beamed, nodding his head. "They be safe with me, don't you worry. But y'all be careful goin' to whatever place you goin' to."

When Lloyd and I got in the car to return to our house, he said wistfully, "I sure wish I could go. I'm awful worried about J.D."

"I know you are, sugar. And I'd take you if you didn't have final exams and if we had room. But I'm planning to bring him home and he'll need the whole backseat, most likely. I hope you can see that Etta Mae is the best one to go because she has experience with sick people." I didn't mention that she'd had no experience with shot people. Even so, she was the pick of the litter under these circ.u.mstances and better qualified than any of the rest of us.

"Three-quarters of a tank," I said as I pulled into our driveway and glanced at the gas gauge. "That'll get us well on the way. Lloyd, you get on your computer and map out our route and I'll throw some things in a suitcase."

We hurried inside and Lloyd immediately went upstairs to his room to start the search. "Mill Run, West Virginia?" he called to me as I trudged more slowly up the stairs.

"That's what Coleman said. I hope you can find it."

"It'll be on MapQuest, and I'll print out the directions as well as a map. And with the GPS in the car, you won't get lost."

Going to my closet, I pulled out a medium-sized suitcase and began filling it with underclothes, gown, robe, slippers, comb, brush, toothbrush and toothpaste, and a jar of face cream. Then I stopped. I didn't know what else to take, so I stood there for a few minutes considering the matter. What kind of weather would they have? It was early June, so not too cold, but they were north of us, so the nights might be cool. I put in a heavy cardigan. What kind of people lived there? Some small towns could be quite dressy, so I put in a Sunday suit. Then again, people in a small town up in the mountains would most likely dress in a casual manner, so I put in an everyday dress, wishing again that I'd invested in a tailored pantsuit.

Then I pulled out a larger suitcase and repacked, knowing I was taking too much for a weekend trip, but wanting to be prepared for whatever we ran into.

Money. I would need some cash, and it was Sat.u.r.day, when the banks were closed. Then I remembered my personal ATM cache and reached for a shoe box on the top shelf of the closet. Speaking of being prepared, I thought, smiling to myself as I drew out a wad of bills from the toe of a shoe I never wore, kept there just in case. In case of what, one might ask, and my answer would be: in case I need it, which I currently did.

"Miss Julia?" Lloyd said, as he came into the room with a handful of papers. "Here you go. And look, it's not such a long trip after all. MapQuest says it's about three hundred and sixty miles from Abbotsville to Mill Run. I figure it'll take you seven hours or so to get there. MapQuest says about six, but it doesn't count rest stops. I expect you'll be there before suppertime."

"That's wonderful, Lloyd. I was afraid it'd be much farther. With Etta Mae and me taking turns driving, we'll be in good shape. We could be back here tomorrow night. But," I quickly added, "don't worry if we aren't. I'm thinking Monday at the earliest."

"Just stay in touch," he said in his serious manner. "You have your cell phone?"

"Oh, my goodness, no. I forgot it."

"I'll get it. You ought to keep it in the car or in your pocketbook. And the charger. I'll put that in your suitcase, so don't forget to plug it in every night."

"Thank you, Lloyd. Is there anything else I'm forgetting?"

"No'm, I just wish I was going with you. If I could drive, I'd even go by myself. Then you wouldn't have to."

I drew him to me and held him close. It was not something I frequently did, both of us preferring to express our affection in other ways, but the boy needed rea.s.surance. He loved Mr. Pickens dearly, and I knew he would fret until we rolled back in with the daddy he'd only recently gained with his mother's marriage.

"I better go, honey," I said as he straightened up. "Etta Mae will be waiting for me. You take care of everybody and try not to worry too much. I'll let you know what we find out and when we'll be home."

"Yes, ma'am, we'll be all right. And don't you worry, either, because I'm gonna be praying for y'all to have travel mercies the whole time you're gone."

I quickly turned and lifted the suitcase from the bed, not wanting him to see the tears that had sprung up in my eyes. From the way both of us were carrying on, you'd think I was flying off to the Holy Land instead of making a road trip to Mill Run, West Virginia.

Chapter 12.

Etta Mae, grinning and waving, bounded out the door of her single-wide as soon as I pulled up beside the awning. She was dressed for travel or for anything else that came up. I could tell because she was wearing what she always wore when she wasn't working: tight jeans, plaid cotton shirt and pointy-toed cowboy boots, which she called her Dingos.

It wasn't until we'd loaded her suitcase in the trunk, buckled ourselves in, tapped in instructions on the GPS and pulled out of the Hillandale Trailer Park, where she lived, that it hit me. What in the world were we doing? Heading off north-northeast, according to Lloyd's map, into unknown country to meet with strangers, hoping to wrest Mr. Pickens from their clutches-it was enough to give a person pause.

But not me. I gritted my teeth and kept driving. We were packed and on the way, wholly committed to our rescue mission. But first I pulled into the drive-through at a McDonald's on the edge of Delmont so we could get coffee to go with James's bacon biscuits.

"Etta Mae," I said, as I merged onto Interstate 26 West, "when you finish eating, reach into that tote bag in the back and get the map and the directions Lloyd got for us. You'll have to help navigate because I'd feel better having a backup to this electronic voice. I'm not sure I trust some satellite roving around up there."

"Me, either," she said, leaning between the front seats to retrieve the papers. "We need some idea of where we're going. Even," she said with a giggle, as she brushed biscuit crumbs off her jeans, "some idea of where we are at any given time."

After several minutes of studying the map, Etta Mae folded it up, then read the printed directions with an intensity that meant she was memorizing them.

As we approached Asheville, barely thirty miles from Abbotsville, I took an off-ramp. "We better fill up," I said. "I get nervous when the tank's close to half empty."

Etta Mae proved her worth again, self-serving the gas as efficiently as she did everything else. I took advantage of the ladies' room, then she decided she should do the same.

Once we'd cleared Asheville and were on the beautiful stretch of interstate north of the city, Etta Mae said, "Now tell me again where we're going and what we'll do when we get there."

So I did, recounting to her each step that had brought us to the current point. "So you see," I summed up, "somebody has to do something, and we're the only ones who can. Mr. Pickens needs someone to speak up for him because it seems he's not able to speak for himself."

"Well, I don't understand why the sheriff is holding him incommunicado. Is he under arrest?"

I almost ran off the road. "I didn't think of that! But, no, he can't be. Surely the sheriff would've told Coleman if he was. At least you'd think he would. But that's a good question, Etta Mae, because it would explain why they're keeping Mr. Pickens from contacting anybody."

"Yes'm, but even a hardened criminal is allowed a phone call, and I know J.D. is not that."

"Of course he isn't," I said, although I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd come close a few times. "But it could be that that call he made, looking for Sam or Coleman, qualified as his one call, even if the connection was so bad I couldn't understand him."

We rode along in silence for a while as Etta Mae absorbed the information. Then she said, "Something else must be going on. A hospital doesn't withhold patient information from family members. Not that I've ever heard of anyway."

"Well, I didn't want to mention this because I didn't want to scare you. And I don't believe it anyway. But Coleman told me that the sheriff implied-take note of that, Etta Mae, he only implied-that Mr. Pickens is suspected of being mixed up in growing marijuana. Or making something in laboratories, which is ridiculous because Mr. Pickens is certainly no scientist."

Etta Mae's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "Meth labs? You're talking about meth labs? Listen, Miss Julia, the people who grow marijuana are bad enough, but we need to stay away from meth labs. Those people would as soon shoot you as look at you."

"Oh, Lord," I moaned, letting the car ease down below the speed limit. "That must be what happened to Mr. Pickens. He must've gotten too close. But, Etta Mae, if he did, it would be because he was trying to stop them, not because he was one of them."

"Then I guess we'll just have to convince the sheriff of that." Etta Mae thought about this for a while, then she said, "Wonder what kind of man he is. The sheriff, I mean."

By the time we'd gone through the easternmost tip of Tennessee and picked up Interstate 81 North into Virginia, I was feeling the effects of the coffee we'd had. I pulled off at the first rest area we came to and we both availed ourselves of the facilities.

When we were back on the road, Etta Mae adjusted her seat and dropped off to sleep. I kept myself alert by running over in my mind the various ploys we might use to get in to see Mr. Pickens. Should we go straight to the hospital? See the sheriff first? Try to find his doctor? Wander around like tourists until we knew more?

I drove on, watching the traffic, which was heavy with trucks, and fiddling with the radio. Stations came and went as we moved on through the rolling countryside of western Virgina, which was dotted with small towns off the interstate and farms along the side with cattle on seemingly a thousand hills. Giving up on finding a radio station with decent music, I listened for a while to a preacher who was exercised about the downward trend of our country while I became more and more exercised about finding another place to stop.

When Etta Mae stirred and sat up, I said, "There ought to be a rest area fairly near. Would you like to stop?"

"Would I ever!" she said, then yawned. "I'm getting hungry, too. Those biscuits you brought hit the spot, but it's getting close to lunchtime."