“I do know. I saw Miss Lana’s handprint.”
“If that was her handprint, we know she had blood on her hand. And that’s all we know. We don’t know whose it was or how it got there. If we’re going to assume, let’s assume in a positive direction. My money’s on the Colonel,” she said. She headed down the hallway, and returned a moment later with her shotgun. “But in case Slate wants to come calling, let’s ready a welcome.”
“What about Joe Starr?” Dale asked.
Her eyes went hard as emeralds. “Marla had me fooled,” she said. “Joe Starr could have fooled me too. We’ll assume they’re working together until we know different, and hope he doesn’t drop by.”
“He won’t. He’s staying at Miss Retzyl’s,” I said. “He radioed in while I was flattening Deputy Marla’s tires.”
“You flattened her tires?”
She flipped into Mother Mode just like that, like a werewolf growing hair beneath a full moon. “Maybe,” I said, sliding the Colonel’s packet onto the coffee table. “Let me try to remember.” I studied her a moment. “Just out of curiosity, how would you feel about flattened tires, if it was true?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Let’s see. Marla sat at my table and plotted against us, helped kidnap my friends, and held a gun on you and Dale. If you flattened her tires, Mo, I believe I could take it in stride.”
“She’s on the rims, all the way around,” I said, and she smiled, unleashing dimples. “So,” I said. “What’s our plan?”
“Our plan is to stay safe, and wait out the storm.” She held up her hand like a traffic cop, stopping my words. “It’s too late to go out there,” she said. “It’s too dangerous. We’ll stay here until the storm passes, and then we’ll find the Colonel. Would you put the candles around, please ma’am?” she said, handing me a box of matches as the lights flickered again. “Dale, I need a hand in the kitchen.”
I hated it, but I knew she was right. I set the candles out just in time. The lights died as Miss Rose and Dale spread armloads of treats across the coffee table: Oreos, cheese puffs, chips, pretzels. Dale grinned. “We normally eat boring during a hurricane, but Mama’s making you feel at home. She’s a natural born hostess.”
“Thank you, Miss Rose.”
Miss Lana’s hurricane parties are famous county-wide, as well as in Charleston. On hurricane days, when most women fill their grocery carts with bread and milk, Miss Lana loads ours with candy, cakes, and tapered candles. “If I die in the storm, I’ll drift away in the arms of a sugar coma and candlelight,” she always says.
Miss Rose pulled the card table out of the closet. “My pleasure, Mo. Dale, get the cards,” she said. “I need a party.”
For the next few hours Hurricane Amy battered the house and screamed through window screens. Razor-colored rain slashed sideways, shredding leaves, toppling trees.
Anybody that says he ain’t scared in a hurricane is a liar or a fool. That’s what the Colonel says. A hurricane spins up like you’re nothing, and takes your world apart like it’s nothing too. There’s no time in it, no sense of the sun moving, no waxing or waning light. All you can do is breathe, and ignore the world flying to pieces beyond your door.
To keep calm, we played cards, ate junk, and laughed too loud.
After a parade of losing hands I found myself staring at four fat aces. Dale bit his lip, a sure sign he’s bluffing. “All or nothing,” he said, pushing his pitiful three chips into the pot.
“Fine,” I said, nudging a double handful of chips to the center of the table.
Miss Rose stared from behind her mountain of chips. “I think you’re both bluffing,” she said. “All or nothing. What you got?”
Dale flipped his cards over. “A pair of fours,” he said, looking pleased.
I snorted. “Four aces.” As I reached for the pot, the door slammed open and the storm screamed into the room, snuffing out candles, knocking over lamps. Queen Elizabeth jumped up barking as Miss Rose leaped to her feet. “Dale! The door!”
Dale rushed the door, the wind pinning his shirt against his lean chest. A man stepped into the gloom, his face hidden by his hood. “Dale!” I cried. “It’s Slate!”
Miss Rose lunged forward, yanking Dale behind her. “Get out!” she shouted, throwing her weight against the man’s chest.
He staggered back, rocked forward, and grabbed her shoulders. “Shut up,” he growled, and shoved her across the room.
As he stepped inside, his hood fell from his face.
“Daddy,” Dale said, backing away. “What are you doing here?”
Chapter 26
Sorry
“What do you think I’m doing here, you little nothing?” Mr. Macon slurred, pulling the front door to. “You think I’m standing outside in this weather when I got a loving family to come home to?” He swayed like the pines outside, water dripping from his jacket.
“Dale,” I said, making my voice soft. “Back up.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw Miss Rose rise unsteadily to her feet.
Dale took a ragged breath and stepped back. Miss Rose pulled him behind her. “Macon,” she said, “you’re drunk. And you’re not supposed to be here.”
He looked at her the way a cat looks at a bird, his eyes glinting. “So?” he said. “Why don’t you call that detective boyfriend of yours and complain? You think I don’t know about him?” He leered at her. “Go ahead and call.”
So that was it. “Detective Starr ain’t Miss Rose’s boyfriend, Mr. Macon. He’s got the hots for Miss Retzyl. Of course,” I added, “you don’t need to take my word for it. He’ll be back in a few minutes and you can ask him yourself.”
“Shut up, Mo,” he growled, keeping his eyes on Miss Rose. “You talk too much. If you were my kid I’d knock some sense into you, wouldn’t I, Dale? Go ahead, Rose, call for help.” When she didn’t move, he sneered, “What’s the matter? Phone out?”
She glanced at us. “Dale, Mo, light the candles. It’s dark in here.”
I reached for the matches. I’d seen Mr. Macon drunk plenty of times, but I’d never seen him like this. Not this mean, not this bold. Outside, a tree crashed to the ground, but the storm outside no longer mattered. “Macon,” Miss Rose said, “if you insist on staying, we can at least sit down and act like—”
“Hey, boy, your mama tell you she took papers out on me?” he demanded, his face twisted. “Threw me out of my own house? She tell you that?”
Dale’s hand shook as he lit a candle. “She told me you don’t live here anymore.”
“Well,” he said. “Today’s your lucky day. I just moved back in. You,” he said to Miss Rose. “Get me something to eat.” She hesitated. I knew she wouldn’t leave us alone with him. “Did you hear me?”
The Colonel always feeds Mr. Macon when he comes to the café drunk. He says it sobers him up. “I’ll get you something, Mr. Macon,” I said. “How about a PB and J on Wonder Bread?”
“Am I talking to you?” he shouted, slamming his fist against Miss Rose’s bookcase and setting her red vase rocking. “Did I ask you to get me something? Sit down and shut up. Don’t, you’ll find yourself tied up like that loud-mouth stepmother of yours.”
My anger jumped like a flame to a wick. “What do you know about Miss Lana?”
“Macon,” Miss Rose said, “if you’ve hurt Lana, I swear I’ll—”
His hand snaked out. He grabbed the front of her blouse and yanked her forward, onto her toes. “You’ll what?” he growled. “Get me thrown out of my own house?”
“Daddy!” Dale cried. “Let her go!”
Time shifted into slow motion. Mr. Macon’s hand swooped down in a clean, vicious arc, slamming Miss Rose’s face, snapping her head back. She staggered sideways, her knees buckling as she crashed to the floor.
“Dale!” I shouted. “Karate! Fighting stance!”
I leaped in front of Miss Rose, hands up. Mr. Macon laughed and swiped at me like a big cat. I danced back, ready to kick. “Dale!”
Mr.
Macon smirked. “Dale won’t help you. He’s a coward.”
That did it. I kicked with all my might—leaning, twisting my body and throwing my weight into it, sending a perfect round kick to the side of his knee. I felt his knee give, and saw his face twist in pain. He lurched sideways as Miss Rose struggled to her feet. I darted forward to elbow his chin, but she grabbed my arm. “Stop,” she gasped. “He’ll kill you. Macon, please. She’s a child. Just … just sit down. I’m sorry, I’ll get you something to eat.”
His laugh came jagged as broken glass, and he stepped closer, fist raised.
The first shot rang out, and the vase on Miss Rose’s bookcase exploded.
I turned. Dale stood by the settee, face pale, Miss Rose’s shotgun pointed square at his father’s heart. His eyes met Mr. Macon’s. “Get out of this house or I swear I will kill you,” he said.
Mr. Macon’s laugh wobbled thin and uncertain through the stunned silence. “You won’t shoot me.” He stepped forward, and Dale backed up, biting his lip.
He was right. Dale was bluffing. He could never pull that trigger.
“He will too shoot you,” I said. “And I’ll swear it was self-defense.”
“Hush, Mo,” Miss Rose said, her voice scared. “Dale …”
Mr. Macon edged nearer. Dale eased back, stopping in the hallway door.
One more step and Mr. Macon would have the gun. Then what? I looked for a weapon. Nothing. I glanced at Dale’s terrified face. “Pull the trigger,” I said.
Mr. Macon snorted. “You ain’t got it in you, boy.”
“Maybe not,” the Colonel said, stepping out of the dark hallway and into the door. “But you’d better believe I have it in me.”
He reached across Dale’s body and took the gun. “Good work, son,” he said. “I’ll take it from here.” The Colonel pointed the shotgun at Mr. Macon. “Get on your knees and put your hands behind your head, you yellow-bellied traitor,” the Colonel said. “Soldier?”
“Yes, sir?” I said, my voice full of tears.
“Find me something to tie this coward up with.” He glanced around the room. “Where’s Lana?”
“Isn’t she with you?”
Fear flashed across his face like lightning. “Not yet,” he said. “But she will be.”
He glared at Mr. Macon. “I said, get on your knees. Soldier? Are you okay?”
I blinked back tears. “Yes, sir. You missed seeing me in battle,” I added, squaring my shoulders. “Hand-to-hand combat with an assailant twice my size.”
A smile whispered across his unshaven face. “I look forward to your report,” he said. “Right now, we have a prisoner to deal with.”
Mr. Macon barked out a laugh. “Prisoner? What are you talking about? Put that gun down.” He licked his rough lips. “Rose, I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he said, glancing at her. “You just make me so mad I can’t help it.”
“Dale, could you get your mother some ice?” the Colonel asked. “And secure the back door, please, sir. I’m afraid I jimmied the lock on my way in.” His gun hadn’t wavered. “Macon, on your knees.”
Mr. Macon bumped to the floor, hands high. “Cripes,” he muttered. “Your kid kicks like a mule.” He gave Miss Rose a sickly smile. “I said I’m sorry.”
“I agree,” the Colonel said, taking the extension cord I’d yanked from the wall. “Sorry is precisely the right word for you. Sit back and tie your feet together. Soldier, see if you can find another cord.”
As the Colonel bulldogged Mr. Macon’s hands, Dale came back cupping a dishtowel of ice. “Macon,” the Colonel said, “where’s Lana?”
“How should I know?”
“Then where’s Slate? Where’s your partner?”
Miss Rose gasped. “His partner?”
“We ain’t partners,” Mr. Macon said. “Slate hired me to drive some pizzas to the Blalock place. That’s all.” He twisted like a snake on a stick. “I didn’t know you and Lana were in trouble, Colonel. I swear I didn’t.”
“He’s lying,” I said, and the Colonel nodded.
Mr. Macon dropped the helpless expression, replacing it with his usual hard mask. “Fine,” he snarled. “Turn me in. Delivering pizzas ain’t a crime.”
The Colonel sat in Miss Rose’s straight-back chair and leaned close to him. “If anything happens to Lana, that’s first-degree murder—for Slate, and for you.”
“Macon,” Miss Rose said. “For God’s sake, if you know anything …”
“Try Jesse Tatum’s place,” he said, his voice sullen. “Slate said something about going back there. He probably took Lana with him.”
“Of course,” I said, watching Dale ice Miss Rose’s eye. He moved easy and sure, like he’d iced it a thousand times. “A criminal always returns to the scene of the crime. I should have thought of that.”
“Shut up, Mo,” Mr. Macon snapped. “You got too much mouth. No wonder your mother threw you away.” Dale froze, and I saw the Colonel’s hands tighten on his gun.
Finally, someone had said it out loud. And out loud, the words felt surprisingly thin.
I looked Mr. Macon in the eye. “Maybe she did throw me away and maybe she didn’t,” I said. “But if she did, she only did it once. You throw your people away every day that rolls around, and it sure ain’t because something’s wrong with them.”
I looked at the Colonel. “What’s our plan, sir?”
He sat still and quiet as a rabbit, his long, fine-boned hands draped delicately across the shotgun. “We’re going to ask to borrow Rose’s Pinto,” he finally said. “If she says yes, I’ll wait for the storm to break. Then I’m going to find Lana.”
Not by yourself, you’re not, I thought.
But I nodded, and bided my time.
Chapter 27
Storm Break
The Colonel placed a pistol by the front door, next to Mr. Macon’s chainsaw.
“My pistol won’t help you,” Mr. Macon sneered. “Ain’t got no bullets.”
“Slate doesn’t know that,” the Colonel replied, checking the gas in the saw.
Dale settled onto the sofa with a new bag of chips. “Deputy Marla conned us top to bottom,” he said, eyeing his father. “Looks like she was working with Slate all along. Maybe we should change our name to Dimwit Detectives,” he added, dropping a chip into Liz’s mouth.
“She conned me,” I said. “You figured her out. But why would Deputy Marla team up with a loser like Slate?”
“Only two possibilities,” he said. “Money or love.”
“Or in her case, probably both,” the Colonel said, setting his pack by the door. “Soldier, were you able to find that packet in my closet?”
I pointed toward the coffee table. “I’m sorry, sir, but a few clippings got away,” I said. “It’s hard to flatten tires and do paperwork at the same time.”
“Truer words were never spoken, my dear,” he said. He picked up the packet and disappeared into the kitchen.
I found him at the kitchen table a short time later. His candle flickered low, and he rested his forehead in his hands. He looked up, candlelight playing across the lines of his face. “Soldier,” he said, straightening the clippings. I slipped into the chair beside him and waited. “I will be honest with you, my dear. When Lana told me about these papers, I hoped she was just being dramatic. But after looking at them, I realize I was somehow involved in Slate’s robbery,” he said, his voice thick with grief. “I can’t imagine I’d have these notes if I weren’t. Apparently, Slate had at least one accomplice. I hope I’m not that man, but we have to prepare ourselves. I could be.”
I nodded. “You could run, sir,” I told him.
His smile flashed even and white in the candlelight. “Running isn’t in my nature any more than it’s in yours. I’ll accept responsibility for my past, whatever it is,” he said, sliding the clippings into the packet. “We can’t change the past, Soldier. We can only be grateful for the life of a new day, and move on.”
“Yes sir,” I said, lean
ing against him. “I’m proud of you, Colonel.”
He smiled. “And I’m proud of you. You’ve kept your head and your heart throughout all of this. You’ve shown uncommon courage. We’ll just need a little more courage to see this thing through.”
As the storm wore on, Dale and Liz napped, Mr. Macon sulked, and Miss Rose prayed. The Colonel paced like a leopard. I picked up Volume 6, and a pen.
Dear Upstream Mother, I wrote. I crossed out the words.
Dear Miss Lana,
Hold on. We’ll find you.
Mo.
As the hurricane roared, the Colonel patrolled. Once he stopped by a window. He winced and leaned forward, his forehead gently bumping the glass. “Colonel?” I said, rushing to him. “Are you okay?”
He put his wiry arm around me. “I am. But this feels so familiar. The storm, the danger.” Rain lashed the window. He looked across the room to Miss Rose, who’d settled on the settee with her eyes closed.
“She’s praying,” I whispered. He waited until she opened her eyes.
“Rose,” he said, “I think the storm’s breaking.”
“Of course,” she said, taking the Pinto’s keys from her pocket.
“I’ll take the back road to Jesse’s rather than going through town. I have less chance of downed trees in a forest than out in the open, where the trees stand exposed. I’ll have to cross just one small cleared field, where the winds will be strongest. I’ll come in by the Crash Pine, and drive the lane along the river.”
He looked at Mr. Macon. “If Macon gives you any trouble, feel free to shoot him,” he added, a smile in his eyes.
“Thank you, Colonel,” she said. “That’s very generous of you.”
“I’m going with you, sir,” I said.
“Thank you, Soldier, but no. You stay with Rose. That’s an order.”
I shook my head. “I lost my first mother in a hurricane. I ain’t losing Miss Lana in this one. I’m going, Colonel.”
Dale sat up on the settee. “There’s no point arguing when she gets like this,” he said. He sighed and scanned the cords binding Mr. Macon’s hands and feet. “You’re safe, Mama,” he said, his voice soft. “And Mo and me are partners. I’m going too.”
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