She should have been dead; my car missed her by inches. I rounded a corner and she stood there in the middle of the road. My angry words gave way to concern as she ran up to the car window. Her eyes looked scared; her clothes looked like she had been in them all night. There were smudges of dirt on her yellow blouse and her cheek.
She said in a scared voice, “I’m in terrible trouble and I’m desperate. Will you help me?”
I looked at her. She was about twenty-five or so with mousy brown hair that hadn’t been combed in a while. She had a nice figure and was about five feet six inches or so. When she leaned over to plead with me, I noticed that she had blue eyes and was not shy in the breast department. The only thing she had with her was a small purse and some type of gym bag.
“Did you have a car accident?” I asked.
“No, no; it’s much worse than that. Can I get in your car? They are looking for me,” she pleaded.
I made a snap decision that I knew was going to be a terrible mistake—my life was a series of snap decisions that always seemed to go sour. Nevertheless, whether it was that terrified look on her face or those very nice breasts, I said, “Get in.”
She ran around to the passenger side, opened the door and quickly sat down. I started to accelerate to get up to the speed limit and then glanced at my mystery guest. She was silently crying; tears were running down her cheeks. I thought, “She looks like a whipped puppy who has been chained in the backyard all night.”
I said, “Nothing can be that bad. My name is Bob Shipley and I’ll be glad to do what I can for you. First of all, what do I call you?”
She wiped her nose with the side of her hand and said, “My name is Carol Watkins. Thank you for picking me up; I am in serious trouble and don’t know what to do.”
I noticed the sign telling me that Oceanside City was three miles ahead. I knew that Oceanside City was a fairly wealthy suburb of Mobile, Alabama. There was only one way in and out of it on Route 8 according to the map. The map also mentioned the scenic ocean views, and so I took the less traveled road.
I said, “Well Oceanside is coming up in a few miles and we can get help there, but to get help, you have to tell me your problem.”
Carol looked at me frightened and said, “I can’t go back to Oceanside; that’s where all my troubles started. They are looking for me there.”
We were coming up to a sign that said ‘Blakely Park’ with an arrow pointing to a side road. I took the turn and pulled into the park—two baseball fields and six tennis courts. I turned into a parking spot by the baseball fields and stopped the car.
I quietly said, “Carol, I am not on any time schedule. I will help you if I can, but you have to tell me what’s going on. So just take your time and tell me your problem.”
Carol was silent for a few moments and then sighed. She said, “I have been a third grade school teacher in Gainesville, Florida for the last four years. It was my first teaching job, and my life was starting to settle down. My folks are both dead and I am an only child so I’m on my own. The school year ended and I decided to take a vacation and see New Orleans.
“I stopped in Oceanside last night and checked into a motel. There was a bar and restaurant across the street and I went there for some food. I went to the bar first and then planned to go into the restaurant.
“A man came up to me and started talking. He seemed nice so I let him talk. We had two drinks and he asked me to have dinner with him. I was shocked; but whether it was because I was on vacation or maybe the drinks, I said yes.
“Just as we were about to go into the restaurant I heard him say, “Oh shit.”
He looked scared and said, “Carol, I screwed up. I thought I had until tomorrow afternoon before they realized what was going on. I’m going to try to talk myself out of this, but in case I don’t, take this bag and have a good life. There is money in the bag--lots of it. It is drug money. I collect the money once a week from our distributors in Mobile. Tomorrow I would give my boss the money I collected.
“I knew it was only a matter of time before I would be arrested. The cops in Mobile would catch one of my guys and squeeze him; he would give me up for a shorter prison sentence. So I decided to get out--to steal the collection money and run.
“Two men just came into the bar and are sitting at a table. They are here for me. They probably think you are part of this, so you are in trouble too. I’m going to talk to them. If we leave together, take my bag and go out the back way. Don’t get caught; they are not nice people. Remember, Oceanside is where the big shot bosses live; they control everything here including the police, so don’t count on any help from them. If you go to the police, it is the same as giving yourself and the money to the drug bosses. Just take the money and enjoy it.”
Carol looked at me and said, “He walked up to the table with the two men; after a few minutes the three of them left the bar. I grabbed my purse and his bag and went to the women’s bathroom. There was an emergency exit and I went out. I saw them in the parking lot, and then I heard a shot; they shot him. I must have screamed, because they saw me and I started running into the woods. They shot at me three times before I could get out of sight.
“I ran and walked in the woods for twenty minutes and finally found my way back to Route 8. I walked back to my motel trying to stay out of sight, but when I got there I could see two police cars in front of my motel room—they were in my room and searching my car.
“I walked to this park and sat in the baseball dugout all night. I was so scared. Twice police cars drove through the parking lot, but they never stopped.
“I was desperate this morning and that is why I stopped you. Can’t we just turn around and go away from Oceanside?”
“Carol,” I said. “The police had a road block set up this morning when I drove through. They were only checking cars leaving Oceanside. Cars going to Oceanside were not stopped. We can’t get you out that way.
“And they know you are on foot and wearing the same clothes as last night; your yellow blouse is going to be an easy thing to spot. Just to be sure, I am going to drive through Oceanside and see if they still have a roadblock. If you see any police, just get on the floor so they can’t see you.”
Carol pleaded, “What am I going to do?”
I answered, “Let’s check Oceanside; just stay out of sight.”