"Catching Jane" Ch. 3

~Chapter Three~


Clark and Tucker remained at the “Painted Bucket” for almost two hours as Tucker unfolded the story that he had heard from Louise.

“I still can’t believe that a drug company as large as Talbot & Shuscht would be as bold as to try this in the United States. Perhaps in South America or Africa, but here, it’s ridiculous. They have too much to lose to do something so foolish.
Tucker shook his head slowly. “That’s what I thought too, Clark. I couldn’t make sense of it either, so I figured I could use some help in the matter. It’s why I called you.”
Clark frowned at the lukewarm coffee in front of him. “This is going to be difficult. If it is Talbot & Shuscht they are going to fight with bigger guns than you and I have.”
He glanced up at Tucker’s concentrated face.
“Tuck?”
“I was thinking, Clark, about your little friend that helps you from time to time.”
He turned his questioning gaze to Clark.
Clark sat back.
“You mean, my little felony friend, from the back streets of the Bronx.”
Tucker grinned and raised an eyebrow.
“She’s from the Bronx now?”
Clark smiled.
“She moved there after her last probation ended. Said she needed to disappear for a while.”
“Can you still find her?” Tucker asked, hopefully.
“Sure can,” Clark said with a sigh. “I’ll never be rid of that girl.”
Tucker laughed and stood from the booth.
“Looks like we’re going to have quite a party.”


The black motorcycle with flames roaring down its sides screeched in a cloud of dust to a halt in front of Clark and Tucker.
They stood on the eastern side of Brigton so as to prevent anyone from Horton to be able to surprise them.

A leather clad woman in a dark helmet stepped off the motorcycle and, removing the helmet, allowed a head full of raven black braids to fall around a beautiful, brooding face.

Clark’s face was screwed into a picture of disgust.
“You look ridiculous Daylin,” He said as he looked her up and down. “What happened to disappearing? The entire country could find you in getup like that.”
Tucker hid a smile with his hand. It was obvious that Clark had feelings for the dangerous and criminal Daylin. She had captured his heart and he didn’t like her present taste in clothing.
Daylin glared at Clark.
“What to you want?” she said with frustration while rolling her eyes at his comment. “I came all the way from the City, and I didn’t come to be griped at.”
Tucker smiled and held out his hand.
“I’m Tucker Ellis, Miss Daylin, and I haven’t met you, but I’ve heard a lot about you.”
She eyed him closely before reaching out a brown hand and taking his.
“From whom?” she said, surprising Tucker with her proper use of the English language. “If it was from this guy, I’m not sure any of it was any good.” she finished while pointing, accusingly, at Clark.
Tucker laughed
“It was all good. So good, in fact, that I have requested your help with something.
She turned to face him directly, raising one eyebrow.
“I’m listening.”
Tucker and Clark proceed to fill her in on the problem that was pressing close behind them.
After they finished, they watched as she frowned into the ground.
“It won’t be easy, and I expect to get paid.” She finally said, glaring at Clark.
Clark cocked an eyebrow. “Paid? How much?” he queried.
“I’ll tell you that when we finish the job, okay?” she said with a half malicious smile.
“I think I’m going to regret this.” Clark whispered to Tucker as Daylin returned to her motorcycle.
“I know you are bro.” Tucker said, laughing into his hand.



Two other farms in Horton County reported chickens being stolen.
Tucker and Clark went to each farm and on both occasions, found nothing to help.
“Do you think this is the company, or just some kids playing pranks?” Clark questioned over dinner after investigating one of the crime scenes.
Tucker shrugged.
“Do you really think kids playing a prank could pull it off without leaving so much as a minuscule clue for a trained sheriff and FBI agent to find? I’m telling you, Clark, I’ve been over every inch of every crime scene myself. There isn’t a fingerprint, footprint, hair, or DNA sample to be had at any of them.”
Clark gazed thoughtfully into his roast beef and mashed potatoes.
“Hey, didn’t you say something about a boot print at one of the crime scenes?” he said, suddenly looking up from his meal.
Tucker frowned. He had seen something at one of the sites. He flipped through his mental notebook, trying to recall.
“Oh, yes!” he said, remembering Old Man Ross’ place. “There was a coop where there were small indentations leading away from the cut wire. They looked like the toe of a boot print. I followed them until they reached the woods, but they disappeared in the undergrowth, and I couldn’t find them after that.”
He continued to stare off into space, trying to bring to mind why he had forgotten those boot prints.
“That’s not much of a clue,” Clark said, “But it is better than nothing.”
“I can take you by there this afternoon to see if they’re still there, if you want.”
“That’s fine.” Clark said with a mouthful of food.
The door to the kitchen swung open with force as a pretty blond headed girl pranced into the room and sat down at the table.
Tucker stared in puzzled amazement. Clark grinned.
“Hello boys!” said the soft and winsome voice of Daylin. “How do you like my disguise?”
Both of the men laughed.
“I must admit,” Tucker said smiling, “I thought I had fixed dinner in the wrong house. How did you change your appearance so well, and so quickly too I might add?”
Clark snorted with laughter as he stood to put his plate in the sink.
“Daylin can change the entirety of her personality, appearance, and mannerisms in a matter of hours, isn’t that right Day?”
She smiled, closing her eyes and laying her head on the back of the chair.
“Trade secrets, Tucker.” she said. “I always keep a few tricks up my sleeve for just such an occasion.”
Tucker smiled again and began to clean up his plate as well.
“I guess it’s time to get to work.” Clark mumbled as he opened a small notebook and began to write on the first page.
Tucker glanced at him, then at the notebook.
“What’s that for?” he questioned. He had never used a notebook. Most sheriffs didn’t need them. Not in his small town, anyway.
“I’m going to write a few things down that I think stand out about this case, and then we’ll go from there. Sound okay to you, Tuck?”
“Tuck?” came a sound from inside the open fridge. The blonde Daylin stuck her head over the edge of the door and said with a mouthful of something, “What kind of pet name is Tuck? It sounds like those hemorrhoid pads or something. Couldn’t you come up with a better name than that Clark?”
Tucker doubled over with laughter as Clark glared at Daylin with a lifted eyebrow.
“Oh, be quiet Day and eat your food!” he spat at her before he turned his icy glare to Tucker, who immediately stifled his laughter with his hand, and walked out the door.
Tucker winked at Daylin as she grabbed a soda along with her quickly made sandwich, and following Tucker, headed out the door.
“Got his britches in a wad today, doesn’t he?” she remarked, her mouth still full of food.
Tucker laughed again and locked the kitchen door.