Sweet Dreams by William W. Johnstone Page B

aspirin and see him Monday. He’d been tempted to tell her to take three hundred and sixty-five aspirin and call him next year.
    Jerry shook his head. “Gentlemen, I don’t know if she is or not.” He noticed the odd looks the officers exchanged. “We sleep in separate bedrooms,” he explained.
    â€œWould you please check, sir?” the lieutenant asked politely.
    â€œCertainly.”
    Jerry was back in a moment. He shook his head. “Her bed has not been slept in. Now would one of you please tell me what this is all about?”
    â€œThere are at least five state warrants out for your wife, Doctor Baldwin,” the MHP officer said, as blandly as possible. “And before it’s all over, probably more than that will surface. She ran a car off the road in Cape Girardeau. Gravel from her rear tires broke six windshields and some headlights at a bar parking lot in the Cape. She was seen traveling in excess of one hundred miles per hour shortly after that. She hit a car at a truck-stop parking area. She is wanted in Mississippi County for resisting arrest, speeding, failure to maintain control, and about ten other charges. You don’t have any idea where she might be?”
    Again, Jerry shook his head. “No. She went to a party at the Cape yesterday afternoon. I saw patients and could not accompany her. She was very irritated about that. As a matter of fact, gentlemen, she told me yesterday she was leaving me.” He wondered if he should have kept his mouth shut about that last bit?
    The phone rang in the den. Jerry said, “Excuse me, please.” He listened for a moment. His face paled and sweat broke out on his forehead. “I see,” he finally spoke. “Sir, the police are here now. Would you please tell them what . . .”
    The person on the other end broke the connection. Jerry looked at the buzzing phone, then slowly turned to face the police.
    â€œThe caller refused to give his name. He hung up on me. He said my wife’s Cadillac is parked out near the dig site, by some old railroad tracks. He said . . .” – Jerry cleared his throat – ” . . . he said my wife is lying on the ground and she is dead. What old tracks?”
    The chief deputy looked at his younger partner. “Roll. Seal it off. We’re right behind you.”
    Jerry said, “Let me get some clothes on. I want to go with you.”
    â€œThat would probably be best, sir,” the highway cop said, a slight edge to his voice. The attitude of the officers had not so subtly changed with the news of Lisa’s death.
    â€œI’m sure it would,” Jerry replied, an equally sharp edge to his voice. “Since, if you had taken the time to investigate, I am the county coroner.”
    He rode with the lieutenant of highway patrol. Jerry asked, “I gather I am a suspect in all this, right, Lieutenant?”
    â€œI really can’t answer that, Doctor. This is county business – so far. Besides, I am here only by accident.” He did not elaborate on that last tidbit of information.
    The caravan screamed past two young kids on bicycles. Heather and Marc. Jerry had just enough time to recognize them. They were riding on the blacktop, and doing so properly, with the traffic. They had bottles of water and small sacks tied to their bikes.
    Jerry waved at them and they returned his greeting. Good-looking kids, he thought.
    â€œ. . . happened out near the light, I guess,” the highway cop was saying.
    â€œThe what?” Jerry jerked his head around.
    â€œThe light. Old legend around these parts. A mysterious light that appears at night. I haven’t seen it in years, but it’s real, whatever it is.”
    â€œInteresting,” Jerry said, mentally recalling what Van had said about the light.
    Jerry looked in the side mirror. Heather and Marc were pedaling furiously. He smiled at their frantic efforts to keep up with the fast-traveling