“Chloral hydrate,” Hick told him. “She gave it to me in my iced tea and she set my car on fire. It’s why the baby was so quiet … why no one heard anything. The baby wasn’t dead or asleep, she was drugged and couldn’t move.”
“Shit,” Adam said as he continued to pace. “Horse medicine. Everyone has it, we should have thought of that. But why the slough? Why didn’t she just bury the baby? It would have never been found.”
“Claire can’t dig anymore. Arthritis. Remember how hard Jack said the ground is this year? She had no choice.”
Adam’s face was rigid. “My God, Hick. First-degree murder. She planned on killing that baby all along.”
“As soon as she found out Iva Lee was pregnant. Ross wanted to marry her and Claire wouldn’t have it. I think on some level he really loved that girl.” He hesitated and lowered his voice. “There was an empty soda bottle on the floor of Ross’s truck.”
“You don’t think Claire….”
“I don’t know, Adam. We’ll never know.”
“I … I can’t believe it,” Adam said and rubbed his chin. “I’ve known her all my life.”
They were silent and Adam finally said, “Son of a bitch. We’ve got to arrest Claire Thompson.”
Hick’s face was drawn. He said nothing but nodded in agreement.
Adam rose. “And those boys are out there with her.” He groaned. “What are we going to do about those boys?”
Hick shook his head. “I just want to get this over with.” He rose unsteadily and grabbed the desk for support.
“I’ll get Wash,” Adam offered. “We’ll be back in an hour and then we’ll head over. We can do this quiet-like. Everyone will be at the park.”
As soon as Adam was gone, Hick staggered across the street to the diner. “Maggie,” he called, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Maggie came out of the kitchen smiling and said, “I wondered what happened to you when you….” Her smile disappeared when she saw him. “Hickory?”
He stumbled into her arms.
21
Hick showered at the station, inhaling the steam, and coughing hard to clear the smoke from his lungs. He let the water wash over him, stinging all the cuts and bruises, scrubbing the black soot and grime from his face and hands. Finally, he switched the water off. He toweled off, grabbed his extra uniform, and put it on.
For the first time in months, he really looked in the mirror. Jake Prescott was right. He was thinner. His ear was swollen, and the cuts and bruises from Claire dragging him were angry and bloody. A sense of finality draped over him, not unpleasant, but absolute. This job was too much for him. It was time to resign. He pinned on his badge and remembered the first time he had put it on. Back then, he had little concern as to whether he lived or died. Now, he thought of Maggie, thought of the baby in Belgium, and the baby in the slough, and for the first time in years, remembered the preciousness of life.
He walked into the main office of the station and tied his tie. Wayne Murphy was standing by the bars. “Please, Sheriff,” he begged, “you gotta let me go with you. This is the biggest story to hit these parts in its history. I got to be there to watch it unfold.”
Hick silently tightened the tie and put his hat on.
Wayne looked desperate. “Sheriff, the town has a right to know.”
Hick turned to him. “Do they, Wayne? Do they have a right to have everything they ever believed true swept out from under them? You don’t know what it’s like to live in a world you can’t comprehend. Sometimes the truth is more than a body can stand.”
“But I swear to you. I won’t embellish anything. I’ll just report the facts.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Hick heard Adam’s car stop and Adam and Wash entered. Wash was pale, shaken. He said little, but Hick could see it in his eyes, doubt and disbelief, the truth taunting him like a mischievous child.
Wash silently sat down and Adam marched to the back of the station. He threw open the gun case and pulled out three pistols. Wash looked up dully. “You really think we’ll need those?”
Adam squinted one eye and peered into the cylinder. He closed it and told Wash, “She killed that baby in cold blood, Wash. Premeditated. She tried to kill Hick. I ain’t takin’ no chances.”
Hick strapped the holster on. He hadn’t carried a gun since the war. It felt heavy around his waist, with the weight of life and death in its barrel.
Lastly, Wash put his gun on and shook his head in anger. “Goin’ up to arrest Claire Thompson with guns and handcuffs like she was some goddamned criminal.”
“She’s a murderer, Wash,” Adam said in a quiet voice.
Wash sniffed. “I don’t believe it. Hick, surely you made a mistake?”
Hick paused and then said, “Wash, I wish to God I had.”
The three men turned to leave and Wayne Murphy made one final appeal. “Boys, please. You gotta take me with you. I’m beggin’ you.”
Hick turned to him. “Wayne, you’ve been privy to more than you deserve already. Claire Thompson destroyed that baby … don’t let her destroy the town, too. I can’t stop you from putting this in the paper, but I can keep all the salacious details out. I can, at least, spare those boys that.”
Hick closed the door hearing as Murphy shouted, “Wait!” The men locked the door of the station behind them.
The drive to the Thompson house was made in silence, the only sound that of gravel grinding beneath tires. The moonlight bounced off the occasional puddle, its brilliance startling in the darkness. The rays danced in and out of the cotton rows as they sped past them. Hick tilted his head and leaned slightly out of the window in order to breathe in the damp air. He filled his lungs with it.
The fireworks began in town. Hick watched as a bright flurry of sparks tumbled from the black sky. The boom followed. Adam stopped the car down the road and turned the lights out. Claire was never one for celebrations. Even on the Fourth of July they kept farmer’s hours. At nine o’clock, the Thompson household was dark.
“We need to be careful,” Adam whispered. “I don’t want them boys to know nothing.”
The other two men nodded in agreement.
Quietly, they closed the car doors and crossed the yard. Another blast of color lighted the sky, followed by the inevitable explosion. Hick envisioned Jack and Floyd crouched before their bedroom window watching. There was no way they could be asleep.
They climbed the porch steps and Adam knocked quietly. Moments later, the door opened and Claire peered out. She seemed frail in her old-fashioned nightgown and night cap. The bright moonlight made her appear washed out and older, less capable than she seemed in the daylight. She opened the door a little wider and said, “Adam? What’s wrong?” She looked at him and then at Wash, and when her eyes landed on Hick, there was a flash of surprise followed by resignation. “Won’t you come in?”
They followed her into the house. It was dark, the only sound inside, the ticking of the old grandfather clock that stood in the entryway. She led them to the sitting room, as if this were any other visit, and there was nothing out of the ordinary in receiving visitors in her nightgown.
Instead of sitting, the three men stood, Adam’s arms crossed. While he could look stern, Hick was weary; his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slumped. Wash stood motionless, his face clearly betraying the idea that he didn’t believe Claire was guilty.
She rubbed an arthritic knuckle and then looked down at it. “I guess I know why you’re here,” she finally said.
“Why don’t you remind us,” Adam responded.
She sat down in the rocker and wrung her hands. “I still don’t see what all the fuss is about.”
“How can you say that, Claire? You took that baby and—” Hick’s voice was louder than he meant it to be. Claire quickly held up a hand. She stood up and moved across the room and closed the door to the boys’ bedroom.
Returning to her chair, she said, “You have to know, that baby
didn’t suffer. I wouldn’t have let her suffer.”
“You let her die,” Adam returned.
“Yes,” Claire admitted. “What kind of life would she have had? She had a half-wit for a mother, and a mouse for a father. Ross never could pick the right woman. I never wanted him to marry the first one, but he did. I told him from the start she’d be no use to him. Pretty and dainty. What good is a woman like that to a man, I ask you? I knew she’d never survive childbirth. I told him so. How she begged him to bring the doctor….” Claire shook her head in disgust. “Weak and soft.”
The three men stood unmoving as she continued, “I knew I’d end up raising those boys. I wasn’t about to raise the child of a moron, too.”
“Bill and Rose would have taken her,” Hick argued.
Claire laughed a bitter laugh. “They would have taken me, too. Ross had no business being around that child, he was too old. Even if her mind worked fine, and we all know it didn’t, it would have been wrong. I know what would have happened. Everything I worked so hard for would have been gone.”
“So you had to kill the baby?” Adam asked, his voice rising a little.
“I disposed of a problem, plain and simple. No one knew Iva Lee was pregnant, Ross told me that. There would have been no one on earth to mourn for that child but Ross, and I figured he deserved it. I told him so. I told him if he couldn’t solve his own problems, I’d solve them for him.”
“What happened to Ross?” Hick asked.
“Ross was meek and gutless,” Claire replied in disgust. “He reminded me of his father. I watched my husband come home from the fields, every day his hands bleeding. He wanted a large family, plenty of children. After Ross, I bore child after child, puny, sickly … weak. I knew they’d be nothing but trouble.” She shook her head. “Mr. Thompson always cried when his babies died, like the world was gonna miss out on something wonderful. He hadn’t carried those children for nine months. They were strangers to him. I knew those children, I nurtured them in my womb and then they were born worthless. A little chloral hydrate in the baby bottle and they just went to sleep. Oh, they never suffered … it’s the livin’ that do that.”
Hick felt his legs grow weak as he stared at Claire Thompson. The six little tombstones in the cemetery flashed before his eyes. Pam had once told him their mother sat in her room for two months after his brother died of meningitis. She never even opened the curtains. Did Claire ever mourn the children she murdered?
Silence filled the room, heavy and stifling. It was finally broken by Adam. “Claire, I am placing you under arrest for the murder of Birdie Lee Stanton. You have the right to remain silent. If you—”
Claire interrupted. “Excuse me, please.” She was very pale. “I need a glass of water. Can I get anyone anything? No? I’ll be right back.”
Hick followed her back to the kitchen. She stood before the sink, stooped, her hands grasping it for support. She heard his step. “I know what you must think of me,” she said without turning around. Behind her, Hick saw a bright flash in the sky. “I’m really not a devil. I loved my children. I love my grandchildren.” She turned to him. “I want you to take the boys, Hick. Once I’m gone they’ll have no one on earth to care for them. Jack and Floyd think of you and Adam as family already. I don’t reckon I’ll be back here any time soon.”
“No, ma’am.”
The fields were briefly illuminated by the silver sparks. “I wish it wasn’t so dark,” she said as another boom reverberated through the room. “I’d give anything to see it all one last time. Just to say good-bye.”
Hick watched as she raised the glass to her lips and a sudden thought occurred to him. Just before it reached her mouth, he placed his hand over the rim. He glanced at the counter and saw the bottle of chloral hydrate sitting there. His eyes met hers and then he shook his head. “Not like this, Miss Thompson.”
She dropped the glass into the sink, splinters of glass cascading against the white porcelain. Her head drooped.
“Now what happens?” she asked in a small voice.
“You’ll go to jail. It’ll be in the papers. There’ll be a scandal.”
“Yes.”
“I can’t help you. You brought this on yourself.”
“Ross brought this on me.”
Hick looked into Claire’s aged eyes. Did they ever tear when her children drew their last breath? “You brought this on yourself when you decided to end that child’s life. Ross was ready to be a man and take responsibility for what he did. You took something away from Rose and Bill Stanton, something that can’t ever be replaced.”
“But was I really so wrong?”
“Granny?” a voice called from the doorway. Hick and Claire looked over and saw Jack. “What’s happening?”
Adam was behind the child, grave and resolute.
Claire’s face grew sad. She crossed the room to her grandson and stared at him for a moment as if seeing him for the first time. She reached out her hand and stroked his cheek. “Jack, I’m going away for a while.”
The finale of the fireworks show lit the sky as they led Claire to the police car in handcuffs. Hick saw her glance at the bright sparks as they rained down from the sky, their light briefly illuminating her face. For an instant he thought he saw remorse written there. It was a brief, flitting moment and he realized it was only his own wishful thinking.
22
Yellow cypress leaves lay silent on the black water of Jenny Slough. Autumn’s chill bit into clumps of long, waving grass and soggy, gray clouds scudded over the now empty cotton fields. Steam rose from the water, ghostly and vaporous, and caressed the skeletal trees that seemed to give notice of their own impending demise. Hick stood in the dim shadows and watched the quickly moving squall line. The sound of a snapping twig drew his attention and he turned to see Jake Prescott trudging toward him.
“I thought I might find you here,” the doctor remarked, pulling a cigar from his pocket and biting off the end.
“I just wanted to see it, the way it was, one last time.”
The doctor lit his cigar and puffed meditatively. “Hard to believe in a year or two this will all be soybeans.”
“A lot of memories.”
The doctor nodded. “There’s no standing in the way of progress. Matt Pringle will have a lot more land to farm once these trees are cleared out and this swamp is dammed up.”
“Progress,” Hick echoed, reaching into his shirt pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes.
“I thought Maggie didn’t like you smoking.”
“Just not at the house.” He flipped open the lighter and cupped his hand over the flame.
The doctor shook his head. “You tell her that smoking is good for you. Maybe she should try it.”
“She can’t stand the smell.”
“It’s the baby,” Jake explained. “When she’s further along smells won’t bother her anymore.” After a pause he asked, “What’s she say about the election?”
Hick shrugged. “She thinks I should run again. She says this town needs me.”
“And what do you say?”
“I reckon I want to hang onto it … for the time being.” After a moment he added, “It’s funny how things change. You think things will always stay the same but they never do. My grandfather fished here. Wonder what my kids will do with this place gone.”
The doctor puffed his cigar. “Your daddy and I spent hours out here. Some of my best memories are coming out with a frying pan, cornmeal, and some onions. We had us some times when we were young.” He seemed lost in thought and then added, “Folks say the levee will make flooding a thing of the past. Still, I’m gonna miss this place.”
Hick’s eyes swept the eerie beauty of the slough. It was as if the landscape held onto the memories created there. He remembered days spent fishing and nights spent making love. He glanced at the Thompson place. The heavy machinery that would remove the timber sat parked beside the quiet house. “I wonder what Miss Thompson would have
thought,” he ventured. “The place seems eerie now that everyone’s gone.”
“Selling off was the best thing Adam could have done for those boys. Farming is so unpredictable.”
“I know,” Hick replied. “But it seemed like giving up their birthright.”
“A birthright can be a fearsome thing. Claire Thompson would have held onto that land kicking and screaming. She would have died to keep it.”
“She killed to keep it.”
“Yes,” the doctor agreed. “Claire Thompson had a hard life and it made her a hard woman. Her world was a place where only the strong survive and she couldn’t see past the here and now.”
“True. But I reckon there might be a little of Claire in all of us.”
“It’s the ones that ain’t figured that out yet that you got to worry about. Take Wayne Murphy. Cocky, arrogant, son of a bitch who thinks the world is black and white. He thought Claire was just a bad seed and if it helps him sleep at night, then so be it. I often think it was a mercy her dying in jail before the trial. It wouldn’t do to drag the past out into the light of day. She did wrong and there ain’t a soul on earth who can say otherwise. Still, Claire did good, too. She wasn’t plain bad. Few are. You got to take the good and the bad and make ’em fit together.”
“And you can do that?” Hick asked. “You can make ’em fit?”
“Hick, I’ve been in every house in this county. Ain’t one of ’em without some kind of skeleton in the closet. There’s those who sit on the porch and flaunt their demons, and there’s those who scurry like rats in the shadows.”
Hick considered what the doctor said. “I reckon we’re all about the same underneath.”
“The truth of the matter ain’t always the easiest thing to wrap your arms around. I ain’t no better or no worse than the next guy. My own humanness depends on me remembering that. You knowing that makes you a better sheriff.”
“Mercy,” Hick mumbled to himself.
“What’s that?”
“Mercy,” Hick repeated. “My dad always said it was what set us apart from animals. The fact that human beings had the capacity for mercy. I used to laugh at him and his patient ways. The kindness he showed to the backward farm boys, or to Coal Oil Johnny. I never understood how an educated man could waste his time with folks like that.” He paused and then added, “Funny how much I still learn from him.”
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