A Grant County Collection: Indelible, Faithless and Skin Privilege

by Karin Slaughter

  'Maybe.' He rubbed his eyes with his hands. 'The mother was pretty upset.'

  'I can't imagine what it's like to hear that kind of news.'

  'She really got to me.'

  'How so?'

  'She begged me to find out who did this,' he said. 'She might not like it when I do.'

  'You really think her family is involved?'

  'I don't know.' He stood to finish dressing, all the while giving Sara a more detailed impression of the group. One uncle was overbearing and seemed to have a lot more power over the family than Jeffrey thought was normal. The husband was old enough to be his wife's grandfather. Sara sat with her back against the headboard, arms folded across her chest as she listened. The more he told her, the more warning bells she heard.

  'The women are very . . . old-fashioned,' he said. 'They let the men do all the talking. They defer to the husbands and the brothers.'

  'That's typical of most conservative religions,' Sara pointed out. 'In theory, at least, the man is supposed to be in charge of the family.' She waited for him to make a wistful comment, but when he didn't, she asked, 'Did you get anything from the sister?'

  'Rebecca,' he supplied. 'Nothing, and there's no way they'll let me talk to her again. I have a feeling the uncle would string me up by the short hairs if he knew I talked to her in Abby's room.'

  'Do you think you'd get anything from her anyway?'

  'Who knows?' he asked. 'I couldn't tell if she was hiding something or if she was just sad.'

  'It's a hard thing to go through,' Sara said. 'She's probably not thinking right now.'

  'Lena got from the mother that Rebecca has run away before.'

  'Why?'

  'She didn't find out.'

  'Well, that could be something.'

  'It could be just that she's a teenage girl,' he pointed out, as if Sara needed to be reminded that one out of every seven children ran away at least once before the age of eighteen. 'She's pretty young for her age.'

  'I imagine it's hard to be worldly growing up in that environment.' She added, 'Not that there's anything wrong with trying to keep your kids away from the world in general.' Without thinking, she said, 'If it was my kid . . .' She caught herself. 'I mean, some of the kids I see at the clinic . . . I can understand why their parents want to keep them as sheltered as they can.'

  He had stopped dressing, staring at her with his lips slightly parted as if he wanted to say something.

  'So,' she said, trying to clear the lump in her throat. 'The family is pretty wrapped up in the church?'

  'Yeah,' he said, his pause letting her know he was aware of what she was doing. He continued, 'I don't know about the girl, though. I got this sense from her even before Lena told me she'd run away. She seemed kind of rebellious. When I questioned her, she sort of defied her uncle.'

  'How?'

  'He's a lawyer. He didn't want her to answer any questions. She did anyway.' He was nodding to himself as if he admired her courage. 'I don't guess that kind of independence fits into the family dynamic, especially considering it's coming from a girl.'

  'Younger children tend to be more assertive,' Sara said. 'Tessa was always getting into trouble. I don't know if that was because Daddy was harder on her or because she acted up more.'

  He couldn't hide his appreciative grin. He had always admired Tessa's free spirit. Men often did. 'She's a little wild.'

  'And I'm not,' Sara said, trying to keep the regret out of her voice. Tessa had always been the risk-taker while Sara's biggest childhood infractions were usually education-related: staying too late at the library so that she could study, sneaking a flashlight into her bed so that she could read past bedtime.

  She asked, 'Do you think you'll get anything out of the interviews Wednesday?'

  'Doubtful. Maybe Dale Stanley will have something. They're certain it's cyanide salt?'

  'Yes.'

  'I checked around. He's the only metal plater in the area. Something tells me this goes back to the farm. It's too coincidental to me that they've got a bunch of convicts running around on that place and this girl turns up dead. Plus,' he looked up at her, 'Dale Stanley's house is a brisk hike from the Catoogah line.'

  'Do you think Dale Stanley put her in the box?'

  'I have no idea,' Jeffrey told her. 'At this point, I'm not trusting anybody.'

  'Do you think there's a religious connotation? Burying someone in the ground?'

  'And poisoning them?' he asked. 'That's where I get stuck. Lena's certain there's a religious connection, something to do with the family.'

  'She's got a good excuse to be against anything that smacks of religion.'

  'Lena's my best detective,' he told her. 'I know she's got . . . problems . . .' He seemed to understand this was a gross understatement, but continued anyway. 'I don't want her running off in one direction just because it fits with her view of the world.'

  'She has a narrow way of looking at things.'

  'Everybody does,' he told her, and though Sara agreed, she knew he thought he was an exception. 'I'll give her this, that place is weird. There was this guy we ran into early on. He was out there by the barn toting a Bible and preaching the Word.'

  'Hare's father does the same thing at family reunions,' Sara pointed out, though her uncle's two sisters tended to laugh in his face so hard when he began to proselytize that uncle Roderick seldom made it past the first sentence.

  'It's still suspicious.'

  She said, 'This is the South, Jeffrey. People hold on to religion down here.'

  'You're talking to the boy from central Alabama,' he reminded her. 'And it's not just the South. Go out to the Midwest or California or even upstate New York and you'll find pockets of religious communities. We just get more press for it because we've got better preachers.'

  Sara didn't argue with him. The farther you got from a major metropolitan city, the more religious people tended to be. Truth be told, it was one of the things she liked about small towns. While Sara wasn't religious herself, she liked the idea of church, the philosophy behind loving your fellow man and turning the other cheek. Unfortunately, she didn't seem to find that dictum being upheld much lately.

  Jeffrey said, 'So, let's say Lena's instincts are right and the whole family's in on it. They're this evil cult and they buried Abby for whatever reason.'

  'She was pregnant.'

  'So, they buried her because she was pregnant. Why poison her? It doesn't make sense.'

  Sara had to agree. 'For that matter, why would they bury her in the first place? Surely they're pro-life?'

  'It just doesn't hold up. There has to be some other reason.'

  'So,' Sara said, 'it's an outsider. Why would an outsider go to the trouble of burying her alive then killing her?'

  'Maybe he comes back and removes the body after she's dead. Maybe we found her before he could finish doing whatever he does.'

  Sara hadn't considered that, and the thought now sent a cold chill through her.

  'I sent samples of the wood to have it analyzed,' he said. 'If there's some DNA on it, we'll find it.' He thought about it, then added, 'Eventually.'

  Sara knew the test results would take weeks if not months to get back. The GBI crime lab was so behind it was a wonder any crimes in the state were ever solved. 'Isn't there a way for you to just go out to the farm and start talking to people?'

  'Not without cause. That's assuming I don't catch hell from Sheriff Asshole for being out of my jurisdiction.'

  'How about social services?' Sara suggested. 'From what you said, I've gathered there are children on the farm. Some of them could be runaways, underage.'

  'Good point,' he said, smiling. Jeffrey loved it when he found a way around an obstacle. 'I'll have to be careful. Something tells me this Lev guy knows his rights. I bet the farm keeps ten lawyers on retainer.'

  She sat up. 'What?'

  'I said he's probably got ten lawyers –'

  'No, his name.'

  'Lev, one of the un
cles,' Jeffrey said. 'It's weird, but he kind of looks like you. Red hair.' He slipped on a T-shirt. 'Pretty blue eyes.'

  'My eyes are green,' she said, aggravated by his old joke. 'How does he look like me?'

  'Just like I said,' he shrugged, smoothing down his Lynyrd Skynyrd T-shirt. 'Do I look like a redneck who belongs in a strip club?'

  'Tell me about this guy, this Lev.'

  'Why are you so curious?'

  'I just want to know,' she said, then, 'Tessa is going to that church.'

  He gave an incredulous laugh. 'You're kidding.'

  'Why is that so hard to believe?'

  'Tessa? In a church? Without your mama standing behind her with a whip?'

  'What does that mean?'

  'They're just really . . . devout,' he said, combing back his hair with his fingers. He sat on the edge of the bed. 'They don't seem like Tess's kind of people.'

  It was one thing for Sara to call Tessa loose, quite another for someone else to do it – even Jeffrey. 'What are her kind of people?'

  He put his hand on her foot, obviously sensing a trap. 'Sara –'

  'Just forget it,' she said, wondering why she kept trying to pick a fight.

  'I don't want to forget it. Sara, what's wrong with you?'

  She slid down the bed, curling herself away from him. 'I've just had a really bad day.'

  He rubbed her back. The autopsy?'

  She nodded.

  'You called me because you needed to talk about it,' he said. 'I should've listened.'

  She swallowed as a lump came into her throat. That he had realized his mistake meant almost as much to her as if he hadn't made it in the first place.

  He soothed, 'I know it was hard, baby. I'm sorry I couldn't be there.'

  'It's okay.'

  'I don't like you going through something like that on your own.'

  'Carlos was with me.'

  'That's not the same.' He kept rubbing her back, making small circles with his palm. His voice was barely a whisper when he asked, 'What's going on?'

  'I don't know,' she admitted. 'Tessa wants me to go to this church with her on Wednesday night.'

  His hand stopped. 'I wish you wouldn't.'

  She looked at him over her shoulder. 'Why?'

  'These people,' he began, 'I don't trust them. I can't tell you why, but something's going on.'

  'Do you really think they killed Abigail?'

  'I don't know what they did,' he told her. 'All I know is that I don't want you mixed up in this.'

  'What's to get mixed up in?'

  He did not answer. Instead, he tugged her sleeve, saying, 'Turn over.'

  Sara rolled over onto her back, and a smile played on his lips as he ran his finger along the half-open zipper of her skirt. 'What did you have for dinner?'

  She was too embarrassed to say so she just shook her head.

  Jeffrey slid up her shirt and started to rub her stomach. 'Better?'

  She nodded.

  'Your skin is so soft,' he whispered, using the tips of his fingers. 'Sometimes I think about it and I get this feeling in my heart like I'm flying.' He smiled, as if a private memory was playing out in his head.

  Several minutes passed before he said, 'I heard Jimmy Powell's back in the hospital.'

  Sara closed her eyes, concentrating on his hand. She had been on the verge of crying most of the day, and his words made it harder to resist. Everything she had been through in the last forty-eight hours had tightened her up like a ball of string, but somehow his soft touch managed to unravel her.

  She said, 'This will be the last time,' her throat tightening as she thought of the sick nine-year-old. Sara had known Jimmy all of his life, watched him grow from infant to child. His diagnosis had hit her almost as hard as it had his parents.

  Jeffrey asked, 'You want me to go to the hospital with you?'

  'Please.'

  He lightened his touch. 'And how about later?'

  'Later?' she asked, feeling the urge to purr like a cat.

  'Where am I sleeping?'

  Sara took her time answering, wishing she could just snap her fingers and it was tomorrow and the decision had been made. What she finally did was gesture toward the boxes he had brought over from his house. 'All of your stuff is here.'

  The smile he flashed didn't do a very good job of hiding his disappointment. 'I guess that's as good a reason as any.'

  SEVEN

  Jeffrey kept the radio down low as he drove out of Heartsdale. He realized he had been gritting his teeth when a sharp pain shot up the side of his jaw. Jeffrey heard an old man's sigh come from his chest, and felt like opening a vein. His shoulder hurt, and his right knee was acting up, not to mention his cut hand was still throbbing. Years of football had taught him to ignore aches and pains, but he had found as he got older that this was a harder trick to pull off. He felt really old today – not just old, but ancient. Getting shot in the shoulder a few months ago had been some kind of wake-up call that he wasn't going to live forever. There had been a time when he could trot out onto the football field and practically break every bone in his body, only to wake up feeling fine the next day. Now, his shoulder ached if he brushed his teeth too vigorously.

  And now this hepatitis shit. Last week, when Jo had called to tell him, he had known it was her on the phone even before she said a word. She had a way of pausing before she spoke, hesitant, as if she was waiting for the other person to take the lead. That was one of the things he had liked about her, the fact that she let Jeffrey take charge. Jo refused to argue, and she had made an art out of being agreeable. There was something to be said for being with a woman who didn't have to think through every damn thing that came out of her mouth.

  At least he wasn't going to be sleeping on the floor again tonight. He doubted Sara would welcome him into bed with open arms, but she appeared to be getting over some of her anger. Things had been going so well between them before Jo had called, and it was easy to blame someone else for his recent problems. The truth was that it was starting to seem like every day with Sara was one step forward and two steps back. The fact that he had asked her to marry him at least four times and each time been basically slapped in the face was beginning to grate as well. There was only so much he could take.

  Jeffrey turned onto a gravel drive, thinking that between the farm and Dale Stanley's place, his Town Car was going to look like it had been through a war zone.

  Jeffrey parked behind what looked like a fully restored Dodge Dart. 'Damn,' he whispered as he got out of his own car, unable to conceal his appreciation. The Dodge was cherry, dark blue with tinted windows, jacked up in the back. The bumper was seamless, bright chrome sparkling from the security light mounted to the garage.

  'Hey, Chief.' An extremely tall, skinny man wearing work coveralls came out of the garage. He was rubbing his hands on a dirty towel. 'I think I met you at the picnic last year.'

  'Good to see you again, Dale.' There weren't many men Jeffrey had to look up at, but Dale Stanley was practically a beanstalk. He looked a lot like his younger brother, if someone had grabbed Pat by the head and feet and stretched the young policeman a good twelve inches either way. Despite Dale's towering height, there was an easygoing air about the man, as if nothing in the world bothered him. Jeffrey put his age at around thirty.

  'Sorry I had to ask you to come so late,' Dale told him. 'I didn't want to upset the kids. They get nervous when a cop pulls up.' He glanced nervously back at the house. 'I guess you know why.'

  'I understand,' Jeffrey said, and Dale seemed to relax a bit. Patrolman Pat Stanley, Dale's little brother, had been involved in a pretty intense hostage situation a few months ago, barely escaping with his life. Jeffrey couldn't imagine what it was like to hear about something like that on the news, then wait for a police car to pull up to tell you that your brother was dead.

  'They don't even like the sirens on TV,' he said, and Jeffrey got the feeling Dale was the kind of guy who scooped up spiders and took them
out of the house instead of just killing them.

  Dale asked, 'You got a brother?'

  'Not that I know of,' Jeffrey told him, and Dale threw back his head and laughed like a braying horse.

  Jeffrey waited for him to finish before asking, 'We're right on the county line, aren't we?'

  'Yep,' Dale agreed. 'Catoogah's that way, Avondale's here. My kids'll go to the school up on Mason Mill.'

  Jeffrey looked around, trying to get his bearings. 'Looks like you've got a nice place here.'

  'Thanks.' He motioned toward the garage. 'You wanna beer?'

  'Sure.' Jeffrey was unable to hide his admiration as they walked into the shop. Dale ran a tight ship. The floor was painted a light gray, not a drop of oil in sight. Tools were suspended on a pegboard, black outlines showing where everything belonged. Baby food jars containing bolts and screws hung from under the top cabinets like wine glasses in a bar. The whole place was lit up bright as day.

  Jeffrey asked, 'What exactly do you do here?'

  'I'm restoring cars mostly,' he said, indicating the Dart. 'I've got a paint shed out back. The mechanicals are done in here. My wife does the upholstery.'

  'Terri?'

  He tossed Jeffrey a look over his shoulder, probably impressed that Jeffrey remembered her name. 'That's right.'

  'Sounds like a pretty good set-up.'

  'Yeah, well,' he said, opening a small refrigerator and taking out a Bud Light. 'We'd be doing okay except for my oldest one. Tim sees your ex-wife more than he sees me. And now my sister is sick, had to quit her job over at the factory. Lot of stress on the family. Lot of stress on a man, trying to look after them.'

  'Sara mentioned Tim has asthma.'

  'Yeah, pretty bad.' He twisted the top off the bottle and handed it to Jeffrey. 'We've got to be real careful around him. I gave up smoking cold turkey the day the wife took him back from the doctor's. Tell you what, that liked to kill me. But, we do what we have to do for our kids. You don't have any, do you?' He laughed, adding, 'I mean, not that you know of.'

  Jeffrey made himself laugh, though considering his circumstances it wasn't very funny. After an appropriate interval, he asked, 'I thought you did metal plating.'