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The pretty agent paused like a doe caught in the crosshairs. Alert. At attention but frozen. Cocking her head, her gaze pierced through the woods, cutting right to him, right through him. She didn’t cower. Didn’t run. Didn’t retreat. But smiled. Didn’t she? Her eyes fixed on him the way sunlight glittered on the lake—a bright spot in the shadows.
He wanted her.
Something about her was familiar.
He watched her begin moving again, his mind running away with his fantasies.
Maybe the pretty agent wouldn’t say no.
Maybe he’d take what he wanted even if she did. But he’d have to be careful, a step ahead. After all, she wasn’t alone. But she didn’t know the holler like he did.
And the holler had ways of presenting prime opportunities for a man with patience.
Rubbing her aching and tired back, Ruby slammed the door of her ancient clunker that needed a new muffler and clambered up the cabin’s steps, opening the screen door with a screech and hollering, “Mother, it’s me.” She smelled the remnants of fried chicken and her mouth watered.
Mother rounded the corner in her pink housedress, her aqua eyes young for a woman of eighty-three. Thick gray hair hung to her waist in a braid. “Child, hush. Lula is taking a nap. I know it’s late, but she was tuckered out after dinner. You hungry? I saved you a plate.” She moved with precision to the oven and removed a warm plate of fried chicken, mashed potatoes with country gravy, cornbread and butter beans.
“That looks amazing.” Ruby sat at the table and wasted no time digging in. “Clark Powell was on a bender today. Do you know how hard it is to do your job with a sloppy drunk?” Ruby shuddered thinking of his bourbon breath and sweat-stained shirt. The man hadn’t bathed in days. His house had been a nightmare. Food-crusted plates and empty beer cans had littered his kitchen. She sopped up the butter-bean juice with her cornbread. “I heard a special federal agency was called in to investigate Atta’s death, and the anonymous call from the Black Feather said that local law enforcement wasn’t gonna do nothing about the murders, so that’s why the State Police cut and run and here they are. Saw Regis earlier.”
Mother sat across from her with a glass of water. “He say anything else?”
“Just that the two other bodies were most likely Tillie and Darla.” Her eyes burned at the thought of losing now three friends. “They’re fixin’ to bring in Tillie’s sister from Bowling Green, and I guess Amy to see if they can identify the...remains. If anyone would know if it’s Darla, it’ll be her roommate. They practically shared a closet.” She pushed away her plate at the thought of friends rotting in a cave to the point they were unidentifiable by their faces. “Who would do this?”
“I don’t know, but until we do, you watch your back.” Mother’s worried brow concerned her. Ruby rarely saw Mother fret. She always said the Good Lord didn’t need worriers. He needed warriors. Taking care of the needs of others was warrior work, and that was what she did; and those who loved her followed her example.
“Well.” She gulped her sweet tea. “We’ll figure it out. I can’t stay hidden in my house. I have to work.” Work to eat. Pay bills. Take care of Lula. “Oh, Regis also mentioned the feds would be setting up shop at the sheriff’s office, but no one wants to work with them.” No surprise there. The holler had its own way of dealing with folks and seeing to justice. “Anyway, since he’s the original detective on the scene, the short stick fell to him. He said he wasn’t too upset and he’d keep tabs.”
Mother tapped her long oval nails on the nicked wooden table. “He has good reason.”
Ruby paused midbite. She supposed they all had good reason. Her stomach roiled, and Lula’s cries startled her.
“I’ll get her. You finish up now.” Mother scurried from the room, and in a few beats brought in Lula, her dark hair damp on her forehead. Mother kissed her cheek. “Such a sweet baby. Look who’s here.”
“Mama!”
Ruby’s heart swelled, and her anxiety and worry faded away—at least for a moment. This life she had always wanted to escape dimmed in the presence of her three-year-old’s chubby face. She had Ruby’s dark hair and chin dimple, but her daddy’s dark eyes. She took her baby from Mother and hugged her tight.
Lula made everything better. She was the only good thing Ruby had ever done. And she worried about Lula’s future in the holler.
“What did you do today while Mama worked?”
“I played with Festus.”
Ruby chuckled. That old black lab belonged to the holler. Folks took turns feeding the poor thing. He ate better than most kids. “Well, good. Let’s go home.”
Mother raised an eyebrow. “Keep your doors locked.”
She shuddered. For a few days after Tillie had disappeared, she thought maybe she’d run off. Thought maybe Darla had gone to meet her, but deep down, the truth screamed they hadn’t left of their own accord. Wouldn’t.
Couldn’t.
“Yes ma’am.” She kissed Mother’s cheek. “Say bye-bye.”
Lula kissed Mother’s cheek. “Bye-bye.”
“Thanks for keeping her. Love you.”
“Love you too, hon. Be careful.” She saw them to the car, and they said their goodbyes twice more, then Ruby drove up into the holler, where her small double-wide was nestled along the trees with the crick running behind it.
