by E A Lake
"It'd be nice if we were around to see that," I countered, frowning at him. "Not sure I'm ready to die just yet; not if it can be prevented by just having a weapon at my side."
Ed shook his head as his eyes slowly closed. I noticed his almost peaceful expression.
"You need to be ready to meet your God at any moment, Quinn," he said softly. "It will be the greatest thing in your life. And that greatness will continue on forever and ever. I fear no evil, I do not fear death. God is waiting for me with opened arms, ready to take away all my earthly impurities and to make me whole again. Nothing, absolutely nothing could be as glorious as that."
I pushed out of my chair and headed for the bedroom. I needed to sleep on his wisdom. However, two things were for certain in my mind: I lacked the faith my father had come to embrace. He truly was a man of God. And, he had become a much better man than I could ever hope to be.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY-EIGHT
When I awoke the following morning, Morgan was gone but another person stood at my bedside. At first I thought it was my dad, but that wasn't right. As I shook the sleep from my head, I realized it was Art.
"Morning Sheriff," he called out happily like he was getting me at the office. "Trust you slept well."
"What do you want, Art?" I groaned, rolling away from him.
"Huh; here I thought you'd be all happy and such. You know, brand new missus to keep you warm and all every night. All that snuggling should make a fellow happy. Guess it just goes to show a fellow can't always–"
"What is it that brought you in my bedroom, Art?" I asked harshly. "Please tell me you're not just here to say good morning to me."
"Aw, hell no," he replied, merry as ever. "There's a man at the office who wants to talk to you. Showed up about an hour ago. I put him on ice for a while though. Told him all about your being newly married and –"
"Does this man have a name?" I requested through tight teeth.
"Yeah, it's that Preacher fellow. The one who's all hot for Chloe."
Huh, maybe it was good news. Perhaps he had a solution for my current predicament.
"Says he's got everything all worked out with Shaklin," Art added as though he could read my thoughts.
I leapt out of bed and got dressed. Maybe Ed didn't have the upper hand after all. Maybe I had my own grand plan. It was going to be a good day, I felt. No, make that a great day.
Ed insisted on accompanying Art and me back to the office. Something about wanting to see his boy in action, he claimed. I doubted that greatly. It was more like he wanted to see what business of mine he could stick his fingers into next.
We found Jack Preacher lounging in my chair with Petri standing behind him like he was guarding a prisoner. That boy could be so dense sometimes; especially when it came to telling friend from foe.
Preacher rose, smiled – really more of a grin – and extended his hand. "So nice to see you again, Sheriff Reynolds. Always a pleasure."
I cut to the chase. "What you got for me?" I asked hurriedly.
"I understand that this might be your father?" he continued as though we had time to chitchat.
"Jack, Ed," I said pointing between the two. "Ed, Jack. Now, what do you need to see me about?"
"A man who likes to get right to business," Preacher purred. "I like that."
"Spill the beans," I insisted.
"I said hello to your sister for you," he started. "Just as you asked me to. Told her everything had gone as planned."
I rolled my eyes at Preacher's small talk. "Get to the good stuff, please."
"Well, long story short," he said slowly. Why couldn't this clown just get to it? "I met with Tony Shaklin and I believe we have a deal."
I glanced away and then did a double take, followed by a triple take. I would have kissed Preacher on the lips if I hadn't been so stunned. All my prayers had been answered, and I hadn't even said them aloud.
With Preacher making a deal for the release of Chloe and Avellyn, I wouldn't need Ed's help. That meant I might live to see another week. And I wouldn't be indebted to my father and the crazies he called his congregation. Holy crap, talk about a perfect day.
"So you'll do whatever it is that you need to do with Shaklin, and he'll release my friends, right?" I figured it couldn't hurt to get the specifics before running all over town shouting the good news.
He nodded and smiled. God he was a happy fellow. "That's the plan."
Ed muscled between us. "So, if you don't mind me asking, what exactly are you giving up in this deal?"
Preacher acted un-offended. "I'm a man of considerable means. People like Tony Shaklin and I understand one another. I assure you it's a fair and mutually beneficial trade."
"And can you be more specific?" Ed pressed on.
"Don't be rude, Dad," I said, pushing him aside. "Him and Tony have an understanding. That's all we need to know."
Ed refused to budge as I pushed harder.
"I'd like to hear a few more specifics," he continued, his face full of concern.
"I'll go down next week and pick up the girl," Preacher answered. "Chloe will have to remain there until my part of the trade arrives. That shouldn't take more than a couple of weeks."
"Perfect," I said, clapping my hands together. "Sounds good to me. Morgan will be so happy to have Avellyn back. She can stay with us until Chloe–"
"The girl will be joining me in Terre Haute," Preacher inserted. "That's part of the deal. I need to have my collateral until my true prize arrives."
And suddenly, the air left the office.
"Say what?" Art barked form the other side of the room. "Did I hear you right?"
Preacher nodded to Art, and then to Ed and me. And he wore that same smile, rather smirk.
"I'd prefer Avellyn comes here until Chloe gets set free," I said, taking a step closer to the man. "To be more exact, I kind of insist. I'm not comfortable–"
The smiling man raised a hand to cut me off. "Non-negotiable. I'm afraid. If I leave the girl with you and Chloe decides she doesn't want to come join me in Terre Haute, I'll be out my payment. Bad business and that's not something I've ever practiced."
"But she's eight," I implored. "I don't think she’ll be comfortable going to live with a stranger...even for a week or two. You have to think of her feelings in all of this."
"Non-negotiable," he repeated. "I go and pick her up and she comes with me. I've already put the wheels in motion to make this all happen. There's no going back now. So, you'll just have to live with it, Sheriff."
"I'd like you to reconsider this, Mr. Preacher," I replied, reaching for his arm.
"Don't ask him to reconsider a thing, son," Ed said in a foul tone. "Do yourself a favor and lock this man up now."
Preacher looked like he'd bitten into a turd. "I beg your pardon, sir. I'm an upstanding member of the community. I've served on the city council, many charitable boards and my word is my bond."
Ed shoved a finger in his face. "And you're a predator."
What?
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY-NINE
Preacher finally appeared offended. He raised his hands to Ed as his mouth dropped open.
"Well, I neverrr," he stammered. "In all of my time on Earth, I've never been so insulted as I am right now."
Ed grinned and poked me in the ribs. "That's because no one's ever called him out before. Lock this guy up, son. He's not what he claims to be."
"I assure you–" Preacher implored.
"Let me assure you of something," Ed continued, getting into the man's face. "I was a trucker for 35 years. The industry is full of perverts and predators just like you. I knew many men who claimed to be decent, honest people. But some of them have a look and a sound. Just like you do, Mr. Preacher."
I faced the man with my arms crossed. "Before I reach for my gun, is there anything you'd like to say that might help ease Ed's mind?"
"I never!" he barked. I raised a hand. "Your father is a lunatic. One of those people who loo
ks for trouble everywhere. Even where it doesn't exist."
Well, that was sort of true. The lunatic part at least. Back when he was a trucker, he did have a tendency to explode over the dumbest things. And given his new career in the apocalypse...well, he fit the crazy mold.
However, I also knew him to be perceptive and a great judge of people. Back in the old times, he could tell you which politician was on the take way before the news folks got wind of it. He'd only lend certain people money and usually no more than five dollars. He had a sixth sense of who was worthy of a loan and who would welch. And that man could spot an unmarked police car two counties away. Sane he might not have been; perceptive, he was spot on.
Preacher's wide, opened eyes stared at me as if imploring for something he couldn't say. Ed's gaze, I noticed, never left the man's face. For a long few minutes we looked at one another in silence.
"He wants the girl," Ed finally said softly. "That's what he's after."
"Of course I want Chloe," Preacher spouted. "I've been honest about that since day one."
"No," Ed whispered. "He wants Avellyn."
I picked my gun up from the desk and cocked the hammer. Preacher studied the weapon nervously. Ed shook his head slowly.
"But I can't decide why you want her," Ed went on. "You don't give off the pedophile vibe I've seen before."
I raised my gun slowly and nodded at Preacher. "Now would be a good time for the truth."
He released a deep breath as his shoulders slumped forward. "You'd better lock me up," he said quietly. "Because I'm not changing my story. I've told you the truth and the truth shall set me free."
Walking him to our makeshift cell in the back room, an idea came to me.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY
I sent for help. When it arrived, I filled him in on the plan outside of the office. I'd announced that I had to run home for a minute and when I strolled back in, everyone acted as though nothing was up. But they knew. That was, everyone but poor Jack Preacher.
"Art," I said, taking a seat behind my desk. "Who's on duty today? Cooley or Petri?"
Art scratched his whiskers, staring at the ceiling. "Cooley is cutting fire wood for his aunt, so it must be Petri."
"I can't believe you trust either one of those two," Ed added from the far side of the office by the back room. "If I were you two, I'd–"
The front door burst open, slamming against the wall. "Where is he!?" the angry man shouted. "Where's that son of a bitch who wants to hurt my little girl?"
Art couldn't hold back his grin and to be honest, I was almost laughing myself. I rose from the desk and tried to compose myself the best I could.
"Now Brutus," I said, holding my hands out to him. "We don't know exactly what Mr. Preacher is up to. And it wouldn't be right to do anything until Judge Lampler comes back around sometime next month."
"Let me at him!" Brutus continued. "We don't need no judge. I'll get this taken care of today. Art, go dig a new hole in the east cemetery. We'll just say we found him on the road dead."
"Now Brutus," I begged, sort of.
"No!" he shouted. "Is he back in the cell? You just pass me the key and I'll take care of the rest."
With large, loud steps, Brutus made his way past my desk and my father. When he got to the opening, which he mostly filled, he pointed at our prisoner. "You and me need to talk," he growled. "Except you ain't gonna do much talking."
I waited for the reaction, assuming Preacher was busy trying to catch his breath. I decided to count to three in my head and almost made it to two.
"Sheriff!" Preacher shrieked. "Sheriff, please help!"
He just might spit the truth out after all.
"We let Brutus pound on the wall for a few minutes and Preacher's lips loosened right up." I took a sip of my water and shrugged at Morgan.
"He wasn't so altruistic after all, I guess," Sasha replied as she and my mother set plates down at the table. It looked like we were having some sort of stew for supper and from the smell, I assumed it was venison.
"He was going to sell the girl to some people he was indebted to," I said, releasing a sigh.
"Dear God," my mother said. "What are people coming to?"
"Satan dwells among us," my father added, as if I'd expect any other reaction from that man.
"And Chloe?" Morgan asked sadly. "Was he going to sell her as well?"
"Not according to what he said," I answered. "He had no intention on ever bringing her to Terre Haute. He was just looking for a way to separate mother and daughter. Apparently, these people he owed had some friends who had lost all of their children over the past few years. They wanted a girl, about eight, and he'd met Chloe a few years back over at one of her sister's places. Attempted crime of opportunity."
But even as I said the words, something didn't ring true. There were hundreds of girls within 30 miles, I thought. And while Avellyn was cute and sweet, I was sure many others were as well. Why her then? Why come to a hole-in-the-wall like Pimento for anyone, much less Chloe's daughter?
"Quinn, what's wrong?" Sasha asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
What was the man's angle? What did he really do? How had he become so wealthy when others struggled so badly? Why was he more like Shaklin than the rest of us?
"Shit," I growled. "He knows Shaklin. He's not just a casual acquaintance; he's just like him."
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY-ONE
Ed and I trotted back to the office after picking up Art at his place. I wanted as much help as I could garner, so I didn't do something stupid to my prisoner. Dead men, after all, tell no tales.
We found Petri lounging in my chair with his feet up on the desk. The good news was the boy was still awake. The bad news was he had Preacher out of his cell, sitting next to the desk. That damn helper of mine.
"Why is he out of the cell?" I barked, pointing at Preacher. "I told you to keep him locked up no matter what."
"He had to go to the bathroom," Petri answer, popping out of the chair.
"He can pee in the corner of the cell for all I care," I replied, approaching the prisoner.
"It required a trip to the outhouse," Preacher answered with an air of superiority. "I didn't think you'd want an unpleasant odor hanging in your lovely dwelling."
I stood above him and his smugness, tapping my lips with my left index finger. The butt of my right hand rested casually on the top of my pistol. I noticed Preacher take a quick peek at the gun.
"Something bothering you, Sheriff?" he asked, not quite as relaxed as before.
I wanted to make sure my first sentence, first words, were spot on. I wanted him to know that I knew more than he thought I did. Even if I hadn't pieced together the details of everything yet, I wanted him to know he was busted.
"Here's what doesn't make sense," I began, narrowing my eyes. "Avellyn is supposed to be going to another man as a prize from Shaklin. But you claim she's coming with you. That's a problem, don't you agree, Mr. Preacher?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Sheriff." He gave me another of his dirty grins and winked at Petri. Good, right where I wanted him: comfortable.
"Who's Shaklin gonna give to Winston Cutler?" I asked, my knees cracking as I knelt beside the man. "Shaklin told me the other day that while he didn't want to give the girl away, I was forcing his hand. But if you take her..."
I let my words sink in to see how he'd reply. And while he opened his mouth immediately to respond, I noticed just the slightest hesitation before he began.
"Winston Cutler's uncle is a wealthy man," Preacher replied. "Just like Tony Shaklin, Charlie Ebert understands that sometimes money and possessions are more important than fulfilling some lame promise of a new bride. We all have our prices, Sheriff Reynolds. Men like Shaklin, Ebert and myself understand how the world actually works and when an alternative deal works just as well as the original one."
I fought back a smile. Realizing my instincts were right, I rose and circled around to the
back of his chair.
"I never mentioned Charlie Ebert," I whispered into his right ear. "I didn't know you knew the man."
His head shook briefly as though he were about to deny something. But he couldn't; he'd stepped in it himself.
"Well-to-do people know one another nowadays," he replied with vigor. "There's only a handful of us in a 60-mile radius, you understand. It's hard to find honorable people to trade with in times like these. Men like us just seem to find each other."
I drew my gun and pressed it against the side of his head. He jerked feeling the barrel pressed into his skull.
"Let's go outside and have an honest discussion about honorable people, Mr. Preacher," I said, pulling him out of his spot by the back of his jacket.
"I'd prefer to talk inside, Sheriff," he replied nervously. "I like the light."
I pushed him towards the door. "And I don't want to get blood and brains all over my office. Just in case you don't give me the answers I’m looking for."
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY-TWO
I made him kneel in the middle of the street. Art brought a lantern out and it gave a slight illumination to the tense scene we found ourselves in.
"I need the truth and I need it now," I said, making Preacher look up from in front of me. "Let's hear it all."
"Sheriff," he begged. "If you'd just be reasonable about this I can cut you in–"
I cocked the hammer on my gun and pressed it against his forehead. "Start talking. Either you tell me or I kill you and find out by some other means. One way you live, the other you don't."
He held his hands up and began to shake. "Alright, alright," he stammered.
"What are you going to do with Avellyn?"
"I'm giving her to a man who will keep her safe until she blossoms," he cried. "Once she does, she'll be invaluable. There are plenty of men who will pay a large price for an untouched beauty like herself."