Gone South (A Butterscotch Jones Mystery Book 3) Read Online Free

driven him to this insanity? Or was it something deeper, such as the strong feelings that he harbored for the woman in the back of his vehicle ? Whatever it was that had sparked him to action, it was rapidly dwindling now that the cold hard reality of the situation in which he found himself was beginning to sink in.
    The car two lengths ahead of his pulled away from the inspection station and he advanced. He was on deck. One more car to go and he would be in the batter’s box. He suddenly realized that he had to use the restroom, urgently.
    He heard a loud thump from the back of his R over as Butterscotch shifted position , and said a silent prayer that she’d stay still during the actual inspection. He watched as the officer stepped out of his booth to accept the papers handed him by the driver of the vehicle ahead of his. The officer stepped into the booth and soon returned, handing the driver his papers and flag ging him on through the station.
    Inspector Goodhead drove up to the booth, turned off his ignition, and rolled down his window.
    “Good evening, officer,” Chuck said, trying to sound casual but feeling self-conscious.
    “Good evening, sir. May I see your passport, driver’s license, and proof of insurance?” The kid in the uniform looked hardly old enough to shave.
    Knowing what to expect, the inspector had gathered all the required paperwork beforehand and set it on the passenger seat beside him. He now picked up the pile and passed it through the open window. Then he waited to be flagged on, trying to remain calm. Belated ly he wondered if some kind of flag had been set against his name by whoever had been looking for the black box in McIntyre’s Gulch.
    The American officer who had taken his papers stepped back into his lighted booth to examine each piece individually. He was whip thin, weedy. He wore a dark uniform with the Canadian Border Patrol emblem emblazoned on the sleeve of his heavy coat and some form of gold emblem holding up the brim of his fur lined hat. Chuck watched as his papers were examined before the officer stepped back out to his car.
    “Canadian Mountie, huh?” the officer asked. He sounded unfriendly.
    “Yep, that’s right.”
    “Where are you headed?”
    “Duluth.”
    “How long do you plan on staying in the country?”
    “Two days.”
    What was with all the questions ? Chuck’s mind screamed . The young officer hadn’t asked this many questions of the two drivers ahead of him.
    “Are you entering the country on business or pleasure?”
    “Pleasure. I’m going to see a friend.”
    “Who is that?”
    Chuck froze for an instant. He tried to think.
    “John Smith,” he blurted.
    “Where does Mr. Smith live?”
    “I don’t remember. I’d have to consult my driving instruction s .”
    Chuck figured that he’d somehow managed to pass the interview when it looked like the CBP officer was about to hand his paperwork back to him. But then he was blinded by a flashlight shined in his face.
    “Are you feeling alright, sir?”
    “Fine.”
    “Then why are you sweating so hard?”
    “I have a slight fever.”
    “I see. Maybe you should step out of your vehicle.”
    “Why?”
    “Sir, please step out of your vehicle.”
    “You didn’t make the others step out of their vehicles.”
    “I’m only going to ask one more time. Please, step out of your vehicle.”
    Chuck felt his bladder nearly let go as he removed his keys from the ignition and opened the door. Climbing out on shaky legs, he found that he was several inches taller than the young CBP officer. This gave him no added confidence or feeling of superiority. He stepped aside as the officer shined his flashlight into the front seat of his car.
    “Do you have any weapons inside your vehicle?”
    “No. I left my service revolver back in my apartment.”
    “Would you please open the back of your vehicle?”
    Oh no, now we’re in for it , Chuck realized. But still, there was nothing else he could do. Leading the