“And I told you I have no interest in fucking…”
Faye stepped forward and placed her finger over his mouth, stopping him midsentence. She flashed her coy companion grin, stepped back, and removed her yoga pants. Her Azalea Harbor University shirt hem kissed the top of her thighs. “I think you’re lying.”
He used every ounce of his willpower to stand stone-faced.
“I’m very good at what I do, Jack.” She drifted toward him.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Do you know why I do what I do for a living?” she asked, slowly moving closer to him.
“Because I love it.”
He chuckled.
She stopped moving toward him. “You find that funny?”
“You’re the one who’s lying.”
She twisted her face into a playful pout, slipped the T-shirt over her head, and tossed it to the floor. “Let me show you how much I love my work.”
Spivey’s knees twitched, and he felt excess saliva forming at the corners of his lips. He swallowed and said, “There’s a bill from Stone Bay Behavioral Health on your coffee table,” he said, motioning toward it with his head.
She furrowed her brow. “So?”
“In your bedroom, there are three prescription bottles: Zoloft, Paxil, and Ambien.”
She looked over her shoulder at her bedroom door.
“You have tiny scars in your armpits. Breast implants…”
She turned to him, furious. “Your point?”
“Someone who sees a therapist, takes two antidepressants, a prescription sleep aid, and surgically enhances her body doesn’t fit the bill as someone who loves her work. I’m guessing those things are necessary in your life because of your work.”
She stooped down in a huff and picked up her shirt. “Fuck you. Fucking asshole.” She slipped the shirt back on. “You can leave now.”
“I will, but some friendly advice first. Don’t let anyone find out you see a therapist. Your clients wouldn’t like it, particularly Nolen. If he finds out, I’ll be asked to make two visits. One to you, and one to your therapist. You understand?”
She nodded with a scowl.
“I’ll ask one more time. Has Nolen ever said anything about a woman named Luna Conway or a place called Titus Grove?”
“I told you I’ve never heard of either. Now get the fuck out.”
Spivey grumbled as he turned to leave. He pulled the door open and stepped out into the hallway of her building.
“Good luck finding your Luna Grove,” Faye said sardonically.
“Luna Conway,” he barked.
She slammed the door.
“And Titus Grove.” He gritted. “Tennessee,” he added.
He balled his hands into fists and took a deep breath. It took every bit of strength he had not to burst back into her condo and ravage every inch of her.
She quickly reopened the door. “Did you say Tennessee?”
“Yeah,” Spivey answered. “Why?”
She flared her nostrils and bit her lip. “There’s something going on in Tennessee. That’s all I know. I don’t know what it is, but it has D.B. nervous.”
“Nolen doesn’t get nervous.”
“No,” she said, “he doesn’t. Not normally, but I’m telling you whatever it is has him on edge.”
“That’s it? Nothing else?”
She shook her head. “He’s only mentioned it once, and that was after drinking a bottle of scotch. He said something right before he passed out about some shit in Tennessee that leaves him more exposed than he likes. He said it could cost him everything. He got involved with amateurs. He wants out, but there’s a loose end he wants to close first.”
Spivey nodded and pulled his money clip out of his pocket. “Thanks,” he said, handing her the remaining cash.
“What’s this for?”
Spivey turned and walked down the hall.
“What’s this for?” she asked again, her voice raised.
He stopped before taking the corner and turned to her. “After what I saw in there, it occurs to me you don’t charge enough for your time.” He disappeared around the corner.
For the first time in her career, a man who’d paid for Faye Starr Fontaine’s time made her blush.
Chapter 16
Randle no longer bothered waiting to be off duty to tie one on. He sat at the bar in Son’s and savored a cold beer. Son leaned on the cash register and read the newspaper. The evening crowd was hours away, and the only other patrons were a couple of barflies who cleared away from the bar as soon as Randle entered. They now stood near the jukebox, babbling incoherently about how fucked up the law was in Baptist Flats.
Randle sat with his back to the door and worked through thought after thought about how worthless he was. A splash of light washed over him from behind and he turned. His eyes narrowed as he observed the silhouette of a man standing in the open doorway, scanning the empty dive. The shadow man stepped inside and the heavy door pushed against the industrial hydraulic hinge until it clicked shut.
The man’s face inched into view as the backlight vanished. Randle knew him, but couldn’t place him. He returned his attention to his beer, but before he could swallow the next mouthful of fermented hops and barley, the man took a seat at the bar, two stools away.
“Bourbon, barkeep. Top shelf.”
Son groaned and pushed himself away from the register. “We ain’t got but one shelf.”
The man laughed. “Well, only-shelf it is, then.”
Son moved slowly, but eventually poured the man his bourbon and plopped it down in front of him. “Five.”
“Five what?”
“Dollars,” Son growled.
The man handed Son a fifty-dollar bill. “Ima run a tab.”
Son shrugged, retrieved the bottle of bourbon, and set it in front of the man. “On your mark. Get set. Run your tab, mister.”
The man smiled and gave a twitch of his head in Randle’s direction. “Get my friend a glass.”
Randle didn’t acknowledge the request with a response because he wasn’t aware the man was referring to him.
Son put a glass in front of Randle and said, “Don’t get yourself out of hand, boy.”
Randle looked at the glass. “What’s that for?”
“Man says get you a glass, I’m getting you a glass, but control your drunk ass because law or not, you’re on a short leash.”
Randle turned to the man. “I know you?”
The man stood and moved down the bar to pour Randle some only-shelf bourbon. “We ain’t never officially met, but we’ve run in the same circles.”
“Where would these circles be?” Randle asked as he sniffed the bourbon before throwing it back and slamming the glass down on the bar.
“I used to share your profession.” The man sat next to Randle.
The deputy gave the man a closer look. “Can’t place you.”
“Rock Hollow SD. I was the S in the D.”
Randle got a hitch in his spine as he figured out the man’s identity. “Rucker.”
The man sipped his bourbon. “That would be me. Stan ‘The Lawman’ Rucker. At least I once was. But no longer. That was my campaign slogan. Stan ‘The Lawman’ Rucker. Got a ring to it.”
“Rucker the motherfucker’s got a ring to it, too,” Randle said, pouring himself a fresh bourbon.
Rucker snickered. “I can see your boss has put a bug in your ear about me.”
Randle downed another glass of bourbon.
“Or was it that little deputy bitch in your department?”
Randle swallowed the taste of fire from the bourbon and stared straight ahead. “You might not want to sit next to me, Rucker.”
Rucker patted Randle’s shoulder. “I apologize. I do. That was uncalled for. I should’ve never called that bitch a deputy.”
Randle turned to him to find the perfect spot to crack open his skull, but caught Son’s look of warning in the turning. He sighed deeply and struggled to restr
ain himself. “Ima say it again. One more time. One. You might not want to sit next to me.”
Rucker chuckled and moved back to his original stool. “I’m just having a little fun with you. That’s all.”
Randle whistled to get Rucker’s attention. When the former sheriff looked in his direction, Randle slid the bottle of bourbon to him. “You forgot this.”
Rucker nodded. “Fair enough,” he said, pouring just an extra splash of bourbon into his glass. “Believe it or not, I didn’t come here to start trouble.”
Randle, back to this beer, engulfed a mouthful.
“I got a proposition for you.”
Another mouthful.
“You wanna hear it?”
Another mouthful.
“I want you to be my chief deputy.”
Randle snorted out a laugh. “Chief deputy to an out-of-work sheriff. That’s some proposition.”
Rucker smiled. “Shit, did I forget to tell you that Ima be the next sheriff of Baptist Flats?”
Randle stopped short of inhaling his next mouthful of beer. He turned to Rucker.
“The election’s what, a year away?”Rucker said.
Randle said nothing.
“County charter says you gotta be a resident for six months to qualify to run.”
Nothing.
“I just put in an offer on a place. A little tobacco farm off Edge Road. Just right inside the county line. That’s what the realtor said. Been on the market two years. I’m getting the place for nothing. Oh, you should see all that land. Comes out to twenty-two acres. Got a little duck pond with a gazebo just off the shore. Ima fill that thing with catfish and bass. The pond, not the gazebo.” Rucker laughed at his own joke. “You fish, Deputy?”
Randle stared at him a beat before saying, “Folks in Rock Hollow booted your ass. What makes you think you can come into Baptist Flats and win votes?”
Rucker smiled. “Because I know how to do something ol’ Otis don’t know how to do.”
When the disgraced ex-sheriff of Rock Hollow didn’t offer up his special skills quick enough, Randle asked, “And that is?”
“Campaign.”
Randle downed his beer and stood. “Folks know Otis. They like him. Mostly. They don’t know you and from what I hear, there ain’t much to like about you. So, my money’s on Otis.” He gave Son a quick nod. “Later, Son.”
As Randle headed for the door, Rucker called out, “Ima keep you in mind for the chief deputy position. I got a feeling you’ll come around sooner or later. Once you see what’s what. You strike me as a man who chases fortune not folly.”
Randle stopped short of exiting. Staring at his hand on the flat surface of the door he said, “How’s that?”
“It’s another way of saying you ain’t foolish. Once it becomes clear that this county is mine, you’ll do the right thing. You’ll switch your allegiance.”
Randle turned to him, his blood boiling. He was tempted to pull his sidearm and shoot the asshole in the back of the head. He saw himself do it. He saw himself firing shot after shot, and that’s exactly why he pushed the door open and stomped out onto the sidewalk, drawing in deep buckets of air, grasping on to every bit of self-control he could muster to prevent himself from walking back into Son’s and committing cold-blooded murder.
Chapter 17
Dani was greeted by Mr. Robbins outside his classroom. The tall, lanky man stood hunched over at the shoulders. His white, short-sleeved button-down was decorated around the pocket with black and red Sharpie ink, a state of appearance created by his unbreakable habit of forgetting to replace the caps before shoving the markers into his pocket. It was never a problem when the schools used chalk.
The middle school students babbled shrilly as they flooded the hallways, some to the lunchroom, others to classes they had no interest in attending.
“Miss…” Mr. Robbins stopped himself. “Or is it Mrs.?”
“Deputy,” Dani said with a smile. She held back the indignant tone because Mr. Robbins was new to town.
“Right, I should have…Of course. Deputy Savage, I called you…I mean, I really should have gone to the principal first. It’s just that…Sarah…She’s been to the principal’s office a number of times…”
“She has?”
“She’s a good…I really like her, Miss…Deputy Savage. I do…She’s really, really bright…Exceptionally so…”
“Mr. Robbins, what is it that Sarah’s done?”
Sarah’s teacher sighed and shifted his weight from his left leg to his right, and his aging bones creaked as he did. “She…Mollie Davis…Look, that girl is no angel. She’s…She’s trouble and a half, if you wanna know the truth, so I don’t blame Sarah altogether. I’m sure Mollie provoked her…”
“What did…” Dani barked out the first two words and then softened her tone with a forced smile. “What did Sarah do, Mr. Robbins?”
“She told…She told Mollie she was going to come to her house with a man…A big man, and she was going to kidnap her and lock her in a dungeon, and that the man would torture her before he chopped her up and made a soup out of her.”
Dani stood with her mouth agape.
Mr. Robbins nodded. “It’s quite dark imagery, isn’t it?”
Dani could only manage to bring her hand to her mouth to cover her unnerved expression.
“I didn’t want…If I had sent her to the principal…Well, just between you and me, Mr. Welles is not very…He would have disciplined her…severely…And, I know I’m accused of being a liberal-commie around here, but Sarah…She needs help…guidance…therapy. Discipline…The kind they give out around here…won’t do her any good.”
Dani pulled herself together. “Where is she now?”
“Well, luckily, this is her lunch period, and I have an open period, so I…She’s in my room…eating of course…I had Edward Jeffers bring her food from the cafeteria.”
Dani looked around his small potbelly to peek through the half-open door. Sarah sat at a desk near the window picking at a small mound of macaroni and cheese in the center compartment of her lunch tray.
“I’m afraid Mollie’s being a bit of a…beast about it. She’s made it clear that she’s going to tell her mother and get Sarah kicked out of school…I really should have gone to Mr. Welles about this…I’m going to get in a lot of trouble…Frankly, I can’t stand the man…He knows nothing about education…You won’t tell him I said that, will you?”
Dani shook her head. “I’ll handle Mollie’s mother. Don’t worry about her.”
“I don’t want to…It’s just that…It’s clear that Sarah’s suffered some sort of trauma…She exhibits antisocial behavior. She’s withdrawn. She doesn’t really have any friends…She manages to do fairly well on tests, but she doesn’t participate in class.”
“What’s your point, Mr. Robbins?”
“My point is…And I must stress that I have never recommended something like this before in my twenty-five years of teaching. Never. I just think you might want to pull Sarah out of school.”
Dani shot him the devil’s stare.
“It’s just…Children can be very cruel…Teachers can only do so much to protect the…vulnerable students.”
“So, you’re saying we should homeschool her?”
“We? Oh, good. There’s a father…husband…You’re not a single parent…That’s a relief…I don’t mean any offense. It’s just that raising a troubled child by yourself would be very difficult…”
“I’m not raising her alone, Mr. Robbins.”
“Good…And I’m not suggesting you homeschool her. I’m suggesting you get her into a program…I know of one…It’s not far…Eighty miles, maybe. This side of Knoxville. They provide boarding…”
“Boarding?”
“They’re really quite good. I worked there a few years ago…”
“I’m not…” Dani’s tone was less than friendly again. She did all she could to correct it. “I appreciate your input, Mr. Robbins. Can I t
alk with Sarah?”
“Yes,” Mr. Robbins said, stepping aside. “Please, do…I was actually thinking you could check her out for the day. I’ve already informed the nurse that she’s not feeling well.” He attempted to wink at the deputy, but he inadvertently shut both eyes, and it came off as an exaggerated blink.
Dani moved through the door. When it closed behind her, she turned to see Mr. Robbins stick his head in the small square window and mouth, “I’ll just give you some privacy.”
Dani smiled meekly and nodded. Turning back to Sarah, she took her cop stance, feet spread shoulder-width apart, her thumbs stuck under her gun belt. “You wanna explain yourself, missy?”
Sarah continued to pick at her mac and cheese.
“You scared that Mollie girl half to death.”
Sarah pressed her lips together into a frown at the mention of Mollie’s name.
“You can’t say those kinds of things…”
“She said I licked Tanner Clark’s boner at school assembly yesterday.”
Dani belted out a “What?”
“She told everyone in homeroom this morning. I didn’t. I never did.”
Dani ditched her cop stance and sat in the desk next to Sarah. “She said you licked his…Do you even know what a boner is?”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “I’m in middle school not kindergarten. I know way grosser stuff.” She let out a small gasp, realizing she’d given away a great state secret. She shifted her gaze and stared intently at her lunch tray.
“Right,” Dani said. “I guess I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be your age.”
“Everyone thinks I’m a creep anyway. I don’t want them to think I’m a creep that licks boners, too.”
“Why do you think everyone thinks you’re a creep?”
Sarah shrugged. “The way they look at me.”
Dani turned to the door and saw the back of Mr. Robbins’s head in the window and then returned her attention to Sarah. “Everyone thought I was a creep in school, too.”
Sarah looked at her, surprised. “Nuh-uh.”
Dani nodded. “Yeah, big-time. I went to a special school, one my dad sent me to so I’d be a better person. I didn’t exactly fit in.”
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