Part 2

Chapter 7: Slim and Porky

When I woke up Wednesday morning the shock that had kept me in a cloud the day before was gone and reality had set in. I found myself dealing with the real possibility that I could lose Holly. I still couldn't get my head around the idea that someone would want to kill her. Was this a random act or did someone we know do this? It seemed that every few minutes the impact of what happened would hit me and I would start crying. I called work to let them know that I wouldn't be in and then I called the police station. Detective Olson wasn't in yet but I managed to find an officer who could help me. I was told that they had processed my car and I could go home and get it but I wasn't to go inside the house until the forensic people were done with their investigation.

I took a cab to the house, got my car and drove to the hospital. I was allowed to see Holly for ten minutes every two hours always with a police officer in the room. Holly's face was very pale and swollen. I was told that there had been no change in her condition since I left the hospital the previous evening.

Several friends from PAP, as well as friends of Holly's from the library and the diner, stopped by the hospital to offer their support. Detective Olson came to the hospital around four o'clock, apparently to see if I wanted to change any of my answers to his questions from Tuesday night. He finally left me alone around seven o'clock.

At 7:15 I headed over to the Riverside Diner to get something to eat. I could not face eating in the hospital cafeteria for the third time that day. I had just pulled into the parking lot at the diner when my cell phone rang.

"Mr. Blanchard, it's Detective David Olson."

"What now?" I asked.

"I thought you might be interested to know that we believe that we have the gun."

"The gun that was used to shoot my wife?"

"Yes."

"Where did you find it?"

"It was hidden under a stack of newspapers in your garage."

"Why would he hide the gun in my garage?"

"Who is he?"

"Who is who?"

"You asked why he would hide the gun in your garage. Who is he?" Detective Olson asked.

"The guy that shot my wife."

"Do you know who he is?"

"No, I don't know who he is."

"Then how do you know it's he and not a she?"

"I don't know. I just have a hard time thinking of a woman doing something like that."

"Well, the gun has been dusted for finger prints and is being test fired to determine if it was the gun used to shoot your wife."

"Good, let me know what you find out," I said.

"Actually the reason I called was that I wanted to have you come down to the station."

"Now? I haven't eaten since noon. I was just going to get some dinner."

"Where are you now?" Detective Olson asked.

"I'm in the parking lot at the Riverside Diner."

"Good. I am close by. I'll join you there in a couple of minutes."

Detective Olson disconnected before I could say anything else. I slammed the car door and stood leaning against the car and waiting for him.

I sensed rather than saw that someone was approaching me from behind but before I could turn around something hard was pressed into the side of my head.

"Don't move or you're dead," said a voice from behind me.

Was I being robbed, perhaps a car jacking or was I being arrested.

"Who are you and what do you want?" I said.

The man behind me gave me a sharp rap in the head with his gun and pushed me up against the side of my car.

"Shut the fuck up and just do as you're told," he said. "Give me your keys and your cell phone."

I passed the keys and my phone back over my right shoulder and he snatched them from my hand. I was beginning to panic. I was terrified of what would happen when Detective Olson arrived. Would there be shooting? Would I survive the next few minutes? These were the questions that occupied my thinking and I didn't have to wait long to get the answers.

When I saw the brown Ford Crown Victoria turning into the parking lot my heart began pounding and my hands began to sweat. I, apparently, wasn't the only person to recognize the brown Ford as a police car.

Another voice from behind me said, "Shit, it's a cop."

The man with the gun squatted down next to me pressing the gun into my kidney and said, "Don't fucking move and don't say anything."

Detective Olson spotted me as soon as he got out of his car and started walking toward me. "You didn't have to wait for me out here," he said.

The man with the gun moved behind me and stood up using the car and my body to hide himself from Detective Olson. The detective was about fifteen feet away from me when the gunman, slide his gun up my side and then pushed it through my armpit and fired three quick shots. The gun must have had a silencer on it because the thwap, thwap thwap sound I heard was just barely loud enough to hear over the sound of the traffic passing on River Street. All three bullets hit Detective Olson in the chest and he went down onto his back and didn't move after that.

I was staring at Detective Olson's body lying in the parking lot when the gunman spun me around and pushed me toward the open trunk of a red Toyota Camry. This gave me my first look at my antagonists. The guy who had shot Detective Olson was about five foot five, weighed at least 300 pounds and was bald. The other man was the complete opposite. He was about six foot five and maybe weighed 170 pounds soaking wet. In my mind I immediately began to think of these two as Porky and Slim.

Slim, who also had a gun, ordered me to climb into the trunk of the Camry while, Porky climbed into my Mustang. As I climbed into the trunk I heard my Mustang fire up and spin the tires leaving the parking lot. Once I was in the trunk, Slim wrapped my wrists and ankles with duct tape and then closed the lid. My fear level had spiked when I saw that I would be sharing the trunk space with a shovel. What possible use could these two men, who had just killed a cop and abducted me, have for a shovel?

With my hands taped behind my back I could not reach the trunk release nor was there anyway I could use the shovel as a weapon. The best I could do was to try and remain calm so that I would be ready if and when an opportunity to escape presented itself. I couldn't see my watch so I could only estimate how long I had been in the trunk when we finally stopped. I guessed that the trip had only taken about fifteen minutes.

Slim opened the trunk and grabbed me by my shirt collar and tried to pull me out. He quickly realized that I wasn't going to be able to help with my legs tapped together so Slim pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and used it to cut the tape and free my legs.

I had my left foot on the ground and was lifting my right leg out of the trunk when Porky arrived in my Mustang.

"Did anyone see us leaving the parking lot?" Porky asked as he got out of the car.

"Didn't look like it," Slim said.

Porky came over and grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my face close to his. When he spoke to me his breath smelled so foul it almost made me retch.

"You know what's really funny asshole?" Porky said. "Everyone's gonna think you shot that cop."

I heard Slim laugh but I didn't think there was anything funny about it.

A quick look at my surroundings told me exactly where I was. We were standing in the old Union Pacific rail yard. The main rail line through the yard was still used occasionally but the sidings were no longer used. If I walked about a mile and a half down the main line tracks they would cross over Fifth Street Road and from there the tracks passed within two hundred yards of the back of my house.

"Okay, let's go," Porky said as he pushed me toward the railroad tracks. I saw Slim grab the shovel out of the trunk of the Camry and then follow us across the tracks.

Once we crossed over the main line through the yard and three more sets of tracks that had been sidings when the yard was in use, we started walking up Parker's Hill. I don't know where the name came from but I knew this area well.

I hadn't been on top of Parker's Hill in fifteen years. When I was in high school my friends and I used to camp out on Parker's Hill. There was a clearing on top of the hill where we would build our campfire and lay out our sleeping bags. The spot was ideal because there were no houses around and our campsite could not be seen from the rail yard below. The side of Parker's Hill opposite the rail yard was heavily wooded with the trees growing so close together that it was nearly impossible to find your way through the ten acres of woods unless you could find one of the three paths that had been cut through the woods. Fortunately, I knew where the paths were and where they led.

As we walked up the hill I studied my abductors looking for potential weaknesses. Porky wasn't dressed appropriately for the weather conditions. He was wearing tight jeans, which did not look good on his egg shaped body. He was also wearing a long sleeve blue oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. The shirt was already sweat stained and Porky didn't look comfortable. Slim on the other hand was wearing knee length lime green Bermuda shorts with a matching Polo shirt. On his feet he was wearing penny loafers and no socks. He was dressed better for the weather but he looked like a giant green Popsicle with his skinny legs sticking out of those ugly lime green shorts. By the time we reached the clearing on top of Parker's Hill, Porky's shirt, as well as the waistband of his jeans, was completely drenched with sweat.

The clearing had changed some since the last time I had been on Parker's Hill. There were small trees growing where we used to have our campfire but I still recognized the place.

Porky stood behind me with his gun pointed at my head while Slim walked to the backside of the hill and stopped about fifty feet from the woods started to dig a hole. He worked at this for a few minutes and then stopped.

"I think our buddy Blanchard can dig his own fucking hole," Slim said.

"Whatever," Porky mumbled.

Slim came over and took me by the arm and led me back to where he had been digging. Then he cut the tape off my hands and handed me the shovel. "Start digging asshole."

I didn't move. My first thought was that I was not going to dig my own grave but after giving it a little more thought and receiving a little encouragement from Slim in the form of a slap to my head with his gun, I changed my mind. It occurred to me that having the shovel in my hand might give me a chance. At least it could be a potential weapon.

I started to dig while at the same time I watched for my opportunity to get away. As soon as I started digging, Porky tucked his gun into his belt and walked over to a tree and sat down under it. The fat bastard then pulled a candy bar from his shirt pocket and removed the wrapper.

As long as Porky was sitting on the ground I would only have to deal with Slim but Slim was not cooperating. Every time I tried to get closer, Slim moved staying just far enough away from me that I would not be able to reach him if I tried to swing the shovel at him. My chances of surviving weren't looking good. I knew I was going to have to find a way to deal with Slim before Porky got off his fat ass and I was running out of time.

In desperation I came up with a plan. My plan was to throw a shovel full of dirt in Slim's face and then charge him, swinging the shovel and screaming. My hope was that I would startle him enough so that I could get to him before he could shoot me. I scooped some dirt and was about to begin my attack when I saw them. It's funny how things work out sometimes. My salvation did not come as a result of my brilliant plan, as well thought out and foolproof as it was but rather from an attack from a tiny third party.

Slim was standing at the far end of the hole I was digging, watching me. I was sizing up how far I would have to throw the shovel full of dirt when I saw that Slim had placed his right foot on a soft mound of dirt. What I saw and Slim was unaware of was the thousand or so fire ants that were swarming over his shoe and up his bare leg. The amazing thing about fire ants is there ability to coordinate their attack. I knew with certainty that within the next few seconds, Slim was going to be in a lot of pain. I waited.

"What the Fuck! Oh Jesus Christ," Slim screamed.

When Slim bent down to try and brush the ants off his leg I lunged toward him and swung the shovel like a baseball bat. I connected with his gun hand, which elicited another scream from Slim as his gun flew at least sixty feet through the air.

Slim was screaming in pain as I bolted from the hole and ran toward the woods. I looked over my shoulder as I ran to see what Porky was doing. He was trying to stand up and draw his gun at the same time and was having a great deal of difficulty with both endeavors. I had just reached the woods and had slowed down to work my way through the thick growth when I heard the first bullet hit into the branches above my head. The next two shots missed by an even wider margin.

When I was about twenty feet into the woods I turned to see if they were following me. I could see Porky pacing back and forth along the edge of the woods. He was too fat to squeeze through the thick growth of trees. I could hear him yelling at Slim, telling him to go into the woods after me but Slim was still jumping around and cursing as he tried to get rid of the ants that were still biting his leg.

With no one pursuing me I was able to carefully work my way through the trees to my goal. It took me ten minutes but I finally found the path I wanted. The path led south, away from Parker's Hill. Apparently the path hadn't been used much recently because it was overgrown with weeds and branches from the surrounding trees. The path wasn't very wide and it had lots of twists and turns through the woods but it allowed me to move quickly away from my abductors. A glance at my watch showed me that it was 8:15. The sun was starting to go down but it was already getting quite dark in the woods. I stopped for a minute and listened for any indication that I was being followed. Except for an occasional bird chirping I didn't hear a sound. I was scared, I hadn't eaten in several hours and I was feeling weak but I had to keep moving. I just wanted to get out of the woods before it got too dark to see where I was going.

Chapter 8: The Farm House

I checked my watch again at 8:30. I had reached the point where the path exited the woods and I decided to wait there until the sun completely disappeared from the sky. It was 9:20 when I finally felt that it was dark enough for me to leave the safety of the woods. From my hiding place I walked another twenty yards down the path until it ended on a dirt farm road that belonged to the old Cheswick Farm. This was not a public road and hadn't been used in years. It was more of a wide dirt path that had been used by tractors and pickup trucks, than a road. I knew that if I followed this path to my left it would eventually cross under the Union Pacific railroad tracks and then end at a gate in the fence that ran along Rayburn Road. Rayburn Road was an unpaved county road. If I followed the farm path to my right it would take me alongside a couple of old pastures and from there it would lead me passed a barn and up to the Cheswick house.

I turned right and started walking. I remembered that the Cheswick house had been empty for a couple of years with a 'For Sale or Rent' sign in the yard. I was hoping the house was still empty so that I could hide there until morning. In the morning I would walk to a neighbor's house and ask them to call the police for me.

As I stumbled along the old farm road in the dark, I started to think about what I was going to tell the police. A short fat sweaty guy I call Porky and a tall skinny guy that looked like a green Popsicle and that I call Slim, grabbed me in the Riverside Diner parking lot. Porky shot Detective Olson and made it look like I did it then Slim forced me into the trunk of his car. They took me up Parker's Hill where I was forced to start digging my own grave but then Slim was attacked by thousands of fire ants and I got away. Being that I was the prime suspect in the shootings of my wife and Detective Olson, the police were certain to believe my story. Actually, I wasn't sure that I would believe my story and I knew it was true. I tried to make sense out of what was happening but I couldn't. What possible reason could Porky and Slim have for wanting me dead and did they also shoot Holly?

I followed the road passed the two empty pastures, the old barn and into the yard behind the Cheswick house. There were no lights visible from the back of the house so I walked around to the front. The front porch light was on but I could see no lights on inside the house. It appeared that someone was living in the house so I had to change my plans. I took a chance and rang the doorbell. I waited but when no one came to the door I walked out to the road.

I looked up and down County Route Fifteen, which runs in front of the house but saw only darkness. This was all farming country and the houses were quite far apart and I knew that the next closest house was to my left on CR 15. The house was almost a half mile away over a hill. I stood at the end of the driveway looking to my left and I had just about made up my mind that I would walk to the next house and ask them for help when I saw lights from a car coming over the top of the hill. Fearing that the car might be Porky and Slim searching for me I turned and ran to the back of the house and ducked around the corner. I peeked out and looked back toward the road. What I saw almost made my heart come out of my chest. There were two cars, my Mustang and the Camry and both had slowed and were turning into the driveway.

Could they have seen me? I didn't think so. I moved farther behind the house looking for a hiding place. Except for three steps leading up to the back door and a large propane tank there was nothing else along the back of the house that would provide a hiding place. I ducked behind the propane tank and lay down on the ground and watched the two cars drive past the house and all the way down to the barn. I broke into a cold sweat as I watched Slim get out of the Camry and open the barn doors so that Porky could drive my Mustang inside.

I was in trouble, again. The stairs going up to the back door were behind me so there was no way I wouldn't be seen when the two of them came up to the house. I tried to move closer to the house while keeping my eyes on Slim. I reached out with my left arm to find the wall of the house and discovered what appeared to be an opening for a cellar window right next to me. I took a quick look to see if the window casement was big enough to hide me but it was only a couple of feet deep and about three feet long. I did noticed, however, that instead of a window the opening was covered by what appeared to be a small door that was hinged at the top so that it would open inward. While Porky and Slim closed the barn doors I pushed against the small door as hard as I could. Luck was on my side as the door was not locked from inside. It shuttered a little and then with a squeak it swung open.

I could see nothing beyond the open door. I was terrified of what might be waiting for me in the darkness beyond the door but I was even more terrified of what would happen if Porky and Slim were to find me.

I quickly turned my body so that I could keep my eyes on Porky and Slim while I pushed myself feet first into the darkness. I worked my way backwards through the opening using only my arms as there was nothing but air under my feet. It took me thirty long seconds to push my body through the opening and drop down to the cellar floor.

I couldn't see anything at first but I could hear the two men approaching the house. From their conversation I knew that they hadn't seen me. I was able to clearly hear what they were saying as they climbed the steps and entered the house through the back door.

"I am not looking forward to facing Big Tony when he gets here," Porky said. "He's pissed and it's your fault."

"How's it my fuckin fault?"

"You're the asshole that let him get away."

"I couldn't help it. Those fuckin' ants were biting the shit out of me. Look at my fuckin' leg. It's all swollen and it hurts like a mutha-fucka," Slim said. "Then the asshole hit me with the shovel and I think he broke my fuckin' hand. And what the fuck were you doing? Sitting under that fuckin' tree stuffin' your face. You shoulda been watchin' him too."