My Baby's Gone

By Hewey Dixon

Mick Davis takes his usual, relaxing trip to the scenic island of Hilton Head just off of the coast of South Carolina. The annual trip is usually very uneventful. However, this trip turns out to be anything but, which results in Mick stumbling upon lies, kidnapping, murder, and yes, even romance.
While he is wondering how he got into this mess, he cant figure a way out.
But not to worry. There is a happy ending.
Or so he thought!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477296899

Hewey Dixon

In this, his first novel, Hewey L. Dixon does not wander from his roots in South Carolina. However, as a practicing accountant in a small community outside of Columbia, SC, he does not hesitate to wander from his educational background in business from the University of South Carolina to pursue his deep passion in writing. This effort not only fulfilled an inner desire but also gave him a break from writing something other than numbers.

Book preview

My

Baby’s

Gone

HEWEY DIXON

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AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2012 by Hewey Dixon. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 12/10/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4772-9690-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-9688-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-9689-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012923200

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER ONE

The trip began this year the same as any other. Arriving on the island two days prior to my birthday, I checked into the motel, unpacked, and made the short drive down Highway 278 to the Tiki Bar—a favorite watering hole of the locals and a must for the visiting crowds. The Tiki is outside, located between the beach and the Holiday Inn, and the crowds begin to stroll toward the hut structure around noon to watch the all-day volleyball games that are played adjacent to the hut. I’ve heard rumors that the bikini-clad girls jumping and falling in the sand manage to draw as big a crowd as the musical entertainment at night. After a relaxing Bacardi and Coke, I would plan the next ten or fifteen minutes. That’s all I plan at one time . . . just take it nice and easy. However, there is one preplanned place I would treat myself to each morning, and that would be across the street at my favorite café. Just me, a Grisham novel, and a table for one.

By 9:00 a.m., the small café was crowded, so I found a seat on a counter stool. I had paid for and poured a large cup of Joe’s Blend, a house favorite of locals who frequented Java Joe’s. This was my favorite coffee shop on the entire island. Good selection of beverages, nice atmosphere, laid back. Just across the street from the beach on the front side of Coligny Plaza.

Every year for the past twenty years, I’ve made the two-and-a-half-hour drive from the midlands of South Carolina to Hilton Head Island to celebrate my birthday . . . in complete solitude. Family and friends, some of whom think this habit is odd, have become accustomed to giving me their birthday wishes a week in advance. Over the years, some of my friends have even offered to make the trip with me, just to keep me company on my birthday. But I always managed to politely explain I prefer to be on no set schedule, just do as I please, and to consult only with myself when deciding what I want to do next. In other words, no thanks.

There are many things that attracted me to this particular café. You could people-watch very easily, coziness, non-pressuring staff, comfort, indoor/outdoor seating. But the one thing that keeps me returning would have to be the music selection that plays continuously. A very polite volume so there is no need for conversationalists to shout. The best selection of ’60s music I’ve ever heard. In fact, it is somewhat difficult to concentrate on my reading material because I get caught up in the music that automatically takes me to some memories of easier times, less stress, and romantic adventures (and the education that came with them).

This particular morning was an ideal example. While sipping my coffee and enjoying my Grisham novel with a soft sea breeze blowing in, the hit title song by Lulu from To Sir With Love began to play. It had been years since I had heard it. Immediately, and for the next two and a half minutes, I was back at Camden High School, remembering those teachers who had pushed and prodded me to give my best effort. After that came Incense and Peppermint by The Strawberry Alarm Clock. This one transported me to my days working at the local bowling alley in Camden and my summer trips to Myrtle Beach. Then each song afterward brought a flood of memories, most of which I treasured and wouldn’t trade for anything.

More coffee? The cute, counter girl had just interrupted a trip under the football stands during a Camden-Sumter game with Sandra Hendrix.

Oh, yes, thank you, I replied.

You were at least a thousand miles away. And from the smile on your face, I would say you were being naughty.

Well, actually, closer to 190 miles away. The naughty part, yes. With a cute wink and a sexy smile, she was off to serve a couple at the other end of the bar two cups of mocha latte and two bagels. I would add her to my list of reasons for my returning every morning.

The café had actually become less crowded over the last few minutes. As I sipped my coffee and looked around to enjoy some people-watching, I noticed a man seated at a corner table, holding a newspaper, staring in my direction. I turned my attention back to my Grisham book. But as I read a few lines, while listening to a Beatles tune, curiosity got the better of me, so I decided to take another sip, which gave me a chance to sneak a glance in his direction. Surprisingly, he was still staring. Where had I seen him and why the stares? I decided to finish my coffee and leave.

As I rose from my seat, the waitress came over, cleaning my area. Leaving me? she asked.

I’ll be back, promise, I answered as I glanced at the guy staring at me. With another wink and smile, she turned and got busy again. Exiting, I was thinking, She has to stop that. She could make me write bad checks with that smile.

After taking a few steps away from the coffee shop, I ducked into the Hilton Head Tee-Shirt Shop. I found a rack of tees near the front window and started fumbling through them, when I looked up, and there he was, slowly walking by. I watched as he walked to the corner of the shop. He looked both ways, removed a cell phone from his belt, and began to chat. The phone conversation ended, and he took a left. He appeared to be mid-fifties, slim, around six-foot to six-three, business shirt, slacks. Definitely not the usual beachcomber you see at Java Joe’s. Just as I was about to leave and pick up his trail, a cheerful Good morning rang out. I turned, Ooh no! Another one . . . just as cute as the one next door.

Good morning, I answered.

As she approached, I noticed the tee shirt she was wearing had printed across the front Just ask if you need anything. Then I managed to look up and saw two of the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen. Gorgeous smile and long blonde hair.

Find anything you like? she asked.

If you only knew! Just browsing for now, thanks, I replied. With a very pretty smile, she was off to a different part of the shop, and I was leaving. I was thinking . . . note to self: hide checkbook!

Since Mr. Mystery Dude had a few minutes’ head start on me, I stepped back into Java Joe’s. As I approached the bar, my waitress came over. Wow! You really do keep a promise. Another cup?

No, thanks, just one of your smiles, which I quickly received. But I do have a couple questions for you.

Okay, fire away.

I forgot to get your name earlier.

Sharon Hampton . . . and you are?

Michael Davis . . . friends call me Mick.

"Well, nice to meet you, Mick. And I presume question number two is if there is a Mr. Sharon Hampton?" she asked with another gorgeous smile.

Actually, number two was to jog your memory a bit.

Oh, about what?

Earlier when I was here, there was a guy sitting at the corner table dressed in—

Before I finished, she said, Yes, I remember the guy but never saw him before. He was like 85 percent of the people that come in . . . BN.

BN? I asked.

Yep, brand-new! She laughed and quickly turned to wait on another BN. As I walked toward the door, she yelled, See ya in the morning, Mick. I waved and exited. The thing I liked about Coligny Plaza, besides being so convenient to the beach and easy parking, was that it was an outdoor plaza, each store having a separate storefront with a common sidewalk running through the entire place. Easy to stroll through.

Since it had been ten to fifteen minutes since I had made my last decision, I felt it was time for another. I decided to stroll to my car and head up Highway 278 to the Hilton Head Diner for some lunch.

I always parked my car in front of Wax and Beyond. It’s a candle shop that makes candles by request while you wait. I’ve bought a couple there with University of South Carolina designs. As I approached my car, a ’94 Park Avenue, I noticed a ’65 Mustang in the space next to mine. Bright red. A nice set of wheels! The car looked to be in mint condition. Whoever owned that had a real jewel. I got in my car, turned the key, and it dawned on me . . . where I had seen Mr. Mystery Dude. He was sitting at the bar across from me last night at the Tiki. Maybe just a coincidence. As I backed away, I gave another glance to the Mustang: Georgia tags.

Thursday nights on the island, all of the restaurants are very competitive. All seem to offer early-bird specials, drink specials, and most offer some form of live entertainment. One of my favorites, and has been for years, is The Kingfisher. Great seafood and really good entertainment. The parking is not up to par, but the end result is worth the trouble.

I requested a table outside because the sun was about a half hour from setting, which made for a spectacular view of the bay, and the weather was an 11 on a scale of 1 to 10. The entertainment this particular evening was a local pianist who provided the huge, mainly older crowd with some wonderful dancing music. I was seated after a twenty-minute wait and ordered a Bacardi and Coke. My table was close to the wall, and I could hear the water gently lapping against the outer wall. The view was simply awesome.

There were several couples seated out on the dining deck. I was the only lone person out there. But, I had my book with me, so I could occupy myself and not sit there ogling foolishly. I ordered the sizzling shrimp over angel hair, and for an appetizer I had she-crab soup. The music, food, atmosphere . . . did I really deserve this? I finished off my meal with a nice cup of coffee, sipped to the pianist’s rendition of Memories from the musical Cats. A perfect evening, very relaxing. After paying and thanking the waiter for his service, I left the outside area, passing a table of about ten very loud but also very attractive women. As I slowed my gait, I took several glances, and I supposed all were in their mid to late forties. Nothing like ladies night out on the island. I was moving through the main room, approaching the door, when I glanced toward the bar on my right. There were three televisions, each showing a different sporting event. A few patrons were scattered around the bar area. And then I noticed a guy at the far end of the bar. He was staring at me . . . it was Mr. Mystery Dude.

One of the TVs was just over his head. I entered the bar, slowly walking in his direction. He then turned his attention to the TV. I positioned myself behind him for two reasons. One, to give him the opportunity to say something to me if he wanted to. And two, to determine if he could see my table on the outside deck from his seat. Yes. I could look out, at about ten o’clock, and see my table perfectly—no obstruction at all.

I left the restaurant and immediately began looking for somewhere to stand unnoticed and still observe the front door. Across the circular driveway were a few big trees that I decided was the perfect place. I stood among the trees for about ten minutes, when he exited the restaurant. Pausing for a few seconds to look around, he pulled his cell phone out, made a quick call, then proceeded to the parking area. When all I could see was the top of his head, I began to move. All of a sudden, I realized he was nearing my car. I increased my steps to a jog, and when I knew I was close enough, I hit the alarm on my remote. As soon as my lights started blinking and my horn blowing, he ran . . . very fast. I deactivated my alarm and got in. Hmmm . . . now what, I thought. Where is he? Is he sneaking back around to my car? What if he’s right next to my car now? If I leave, he will be able to follow me. Damn . . . I gotta pee! Not now! The drink, the water, the coffee . . . all at one time! Okay . . . think, Mick . . . think! Options: Sit here and wet your pants. Get out, pee beside the car, risk getting arrested or letting him scare more than pee out of you. Go back inside the restaurant and go to their restroom. No good . . . can’t afford to leave the car without knowing where he is. Best option . . . start car, drive back to motel, pee, go to bed!

As I left the parking area, I kept a close lookout behind me . . . no one. I reached Highway 278 with no sign of being followed. My motel was two and a half miles down the road. Once there and parked, I got out of my car, opening all four doors and my trunk, then ran into my room, leaving the door open, went straight for the bathroom. If I had ridden up on a similar situation, I would have thought what is that nut doing? Well, I was hoping if he were somehow following me, he would think the same thing and back off. Once relieved, I went back out, closed my trunk, locked my doors, and went in and relaxed.

My wake-up call rang at 7:00 a.m. The sun was already shining brightly, and the weather forecast for the day, Friday, May 16, was for clear skies, mid to upper 80s and a gentle breeze. Perfect! A made-to-order forecast for a beautiful birthday. After a big, birthday breakfast, a trip to Java Joe’s, then a relaxing day on the beach. Hmmm . . . too many plans all at one time. What the hell, it’s my birthday . . . splurge . . . go wild . . . plan ahead! After a quick shower, I walked the block and a half down to Stack’s Pancake House. Great breakfast. Four scrambled eggs, diced ham, two pancakes, toast and coffee. Happy birthday to me.

I arrived at my usual plaza parking spot about 8:45 and noticed the bright red ’65 Mustang parked a couple of spaces over. Instead of going straight to the café, I felt I needed to walk off some of the large feast I had just ingested. Taking an alley through a section of the plaza, I arrived on the front side where I crossed the road and entered a souvenir shop. As I was browsing, I glanced over at Java Joe’s. Not too crowded. However, it was only just before 9:00. Most people were just waking up, not even realizing it was my birthday!

After browsing for about ten minutes, I left the shop and walked down the sidewalk so I was directly across from the coffee shop. Well . . . what’s this? There was pretty little Sharon at the corner of the counter, chatting with who else but Mr. Mystery Dude. And he was actually sitting at my usual seat. To keep from being seen, I stepped behind a white SUV that was parallel-parked and watched through the windows while they were really engaged in a back-and-forth conversation. I had been observing for about five minutes, when I got the scare of my life.

May I help you? A deep, very stern voice rang out behind me.

I turn to see who I thought to be Hulk Hogan’s body double standing over my five-foot-seven, a hundred sixty-pound body.

Oh, I’m sorry . . . uh, I was just looking over—

"I know what you were looking at and there is nothing in the vehicle for you.

But I wasn’t looking—

He propped his huge hands on the top of the SUV, looked down at me, and offered me deal I could not refuse. Are you gonna let this get complicated or just leave?

I chose door # 2 . . . I left. Crossing the street, I suddenly had to pee again. I entered Java Joe’s and ran straight to the restroom. While in there, I made a note to self: bring extra underwear with you from now on! When I came out of the restroom, I noticed my bar stool was vacant, and as I looked around the café, saw no sign of Mr. Mystery Dude. I bought a cup of coffee and sat at the bar. Sharon had disappeared to the back and a tall, white-headed guy was taking orders at the counter. The phone by the register rang. The phone was answered with the usual Morning . . . Java Joe’s. He then said, Yes, she is, hang on. Putting the phone down, he called for Linda from the back. After another shout, Linda appeared. He pointed to the phone. Wait a minute! That’s Sharon. Who’s Linda? As she was talking on the phone, she was looking around as if looking for someone. When she glanced over her shoulder and saw me, she did a double-take. Then put her hand over the receiver as to muzzle what she was saying. She hung up and immediately disappeared to the back again. Strange. The white-headed guy came over to me and introduced himself as Ray. We shook hands, and he wanted to know if this was my first time in.

No, I said. I come down every year around this time, and this is one of my must-go-to places. I don’t know if that qualifies me to be a BN?

He gave out a big chuckle and said, "Awwww . . . I see you met Linda."

Linda? I figured I would find out as much as I could from Ray.

Yeah, I hired her about five months ago. She came over from Savannah, looking for work. She’s trying to save up enough to go back to college. Needs one year to finish.

So you are the manager?

Owner, manager, chief cup washer . . . you get the picture?

Oh, yeah. Tough way to earn a buck.

And what is it you do in . . . where is it you’re from? he asked.

Columbia. I have a small one-man tax business.

I didn’t want the conversation to get turned around to me, and I knew my time was very limited until she (whoever she was) returned to the counter.

Ray, I was in yesterday, and Linda looked awfully familiar. Her last name isn’t McLeod, by any chance? I was fishing in deep water now.

Nope. No bite.

I was just wondering. Throwing more bait out. I had a secretary who worked for me a couple of years ago, and Linda looks a lot like her. I thought maybe a sister or relative.

Nope, not McLeod . . . Davenport is Linda’s last name. Yes! A bite!

I see. She seems like a very good worker. Really takes care of your place.

Yeah, I’m pleased with her, but I think she’ll be heading back to Georgia sooner than I had hoped, he answered with a certain frown.

Good ones are always in demand somewhere else, I said.

Tell me about it, but with her . . .

Hey, Mick . . . see you’ve met Ray-Ray. Sharon . . . uh, Linda (whoever) suddenly appeared from the back. I smiled and nodded as Ray (or Ray-Ray) excused himself to the back and left Sharon (or Linda)