How can I help? I sat at the foot of the bed, turning my back on the pillows.
Mace, I found out who was cheating with Jim.
I sat up straight, sleep forgotten. Who?
I dont want to say over the phone. You never know who might be listening in. No sobs now; not even a sniffle. I couldnt sleep, as you can imagine. Im out driving around. I know this is a big favor, but I really need to talk this out with someone, Mace. I saw on
Oprah
that when something is bothering you, you need to get it out in the open. You need to confront it, or itll fester.
Thats good advice, Emma Jean, depending on what you mean by confronting. I thought of the ruckus at the church. Her threat of doing harm to the Other Woman. If you could say whos involved, itll help me know how to handle this.
She lowered her voice to a whisper. Not on the phone, Mace. Please.
It seemed pretty paranoid, but I didnt want to upset her. I remembered that tire iron.
As if shed read my thoughts, Emma Jean said, I know I made a fool of myself at Abundant Hope. I need somebody smart like you to tell me how to go about settling things. Im out on Highway 98 now, only a few minutes away from the old Raulerson cottage. Your mama told me you bought that old ruin, and fixed it up real nice.
I looked at the clock. It was 12:51. No, 12:52. What the hell? Id sleep tomorrow night.
Cmon over. Ill put on a pot of herbal tea.
Tossing a robe over my pajamas, I went into the kitchen. I lit a couple of Mamas carnation candles. The water boiled, and I poured it into a pot over three chamomile teabags. After choosing some pretty flowered cups, I set out two spoons and a plastic bear full of honey. By the time Id washed up a few dishes, read the headlines in the
Himmarshee Times
, and turned on the TV, I began to wonder what was keeping Emma Jean.
Im too cheap to pay the phone company an extra monthly fee for caller ID. But I can usually discover the last number that called me by punching in
star-69
on my phones keypad.
The display panel flashed:
Number Unavailable
.
I cursed the fact thered be a charge for the service, even though it failed to retrieve Emma Jeans cell number. Then I reminded myself to stop being a petty cheapskate. A fellow woman was in crisis, after all. And it was only ninety-five cents.
Clicking channels on the remote, I found an ancient rerun of
The Andy Griffith Show
. Sheriff Taylor was teaching some kind of life lesson to his boy, Opie. Deputy Barney Fife was wreaking havoc on an otherwise peaceful Mayberry.
And thats the last thing I remember, until my alarm went off from the next room at 7:30 am.
The sun streamed through the living room window. The glare bounced off one of the gators teeth, hitting me dead in the eye. I lifted my head from the couch, which was wet where I drooled in my sleep. The TV blared. One candle flickered, weakly. The other was burned out.
And Emma Jean Valentine was nowhere in sight.
___
I microwaved the leftover chamomile tea. No sense in wasting it. Along with a sliced banana between two pieces of buttered wheat toast, that was my breakfast. After last nights pig-out, I wanted to get something wholesome down my gullet for a change.
Within fifteen minutes, I showered, dressed, and was out the door. My second cup of honeyed tea was still steaming when I shook the rain puddles off the VWs tarp, and headed for Mamas house.
On the way out, I saw the aftermath of the raccoon fiesta. It was worse than I thought. My yard looked like the picnic grounds at Himmarshee Park after the Fourth of July: beer bottles, paper scraps, and chicken bones gnawed clean. Id clean up after work.
The VW bounced under a canopy of live oaks. The air smelled clean from the rain. The downpour had revived the resurrection ferns that grow on the trees branches, turning them from dull brown to deep green.
No sooner had I pulled onto Highway 98 than my cell phone started to ring. It was in my purse, which was on the floor. Of course. Bracing the steering wheel between my knees, I placed the mug of tea on the dashboards least perilous spot and reached for the phone with my free hand. Thank God there was no other traffic on the highway.
Hey, Mace. Ive got some interesting news for you.
At a bump in the road, the tea started to topple. To rescue it, I had to drop the phone. I played it safe and dumped the rest of the hot chamomile out the window.
Im sorry, I said, jamming the phone back to my ear. Who is this?
Donnie Bailey. From the jail?
I flashed on a massive chest and manly mustache.
Of course, Donnie. How are you?
Pretty good. I hope you dont mind me calling you on your cell. When your mama stayed with us, she listed you as her emergency contact. She gave us both your home and cell numbers.
I dabbed with a napkin from my purse at a small puddle of herbal tea on the dashboard. Did you say something about news, Donnie? I was an advertisement for dangerous distractions behind the wheel.
I thought you might want to know you were right.
About?
The other night on the road, when you said there was another car there? You were right and I was wrong. I owe you an apology. I just saw the report.
Now Donnie had my full attention. Driving was on automatic pilot. The road to Mamas rolled past, nearly unnoticed.
They found a second set of tire imprints where your car went off the road, Mace. Both tracks veered off the pavement onto the shoulder. Yours kept going, on into that ditch. But the other vehicle steered back onto the roadway. The investigator took a bunch of black-and-white pictures and made an impression with casting powder.
Whats that?
Its kind of like pancake batter, except youd never want to eat it. You pour it into the track, it gets real hard, and then you can lift it out. You can use the impression to compare to the bad guys tire. Thats the good news. The bad news is you have to find the bad guys car first, so you can compare.
Can they tell what kind of tire it is?
The impression wasnt the greatest. They know the tread was worn, and its a big tire, like for a pickup.
Great. That means it could have been just about anybody in Himmarshee. Trucks are as common here as taxicabs in New York. Everybodys got one; or knows someone who does.
Guilty as charged, Mace. Donnie laughed. Ive got a brother drives a pickup.
See? Thats my point.
Thats not all, Mace. They couldnt find any usable paint chip evidence, either. The other driver must have just tapped that spare tire that sticks out where its mounted on the back of your Jeep. It would have been better if theyd really hit you hard, painted metal to metal. That would have left behind something to analyze.
I remembered my terror on that dark road; the black water swirling around my legs. All that from a tap.
Yeah, well, a harder impact might have made me flip. And we probably wouldnt be having this talk right now.
Oh, Mace Im Im sorry. Donnie was flustered. I sure didnt mean that the way it sounded. Of course its better that youre alive.
Thats all right, Donnie. I thought of babysitting him. Teary eyes on the floor, hed stammered out an apology for breaking his mamas vase. I know what you meant.
I was approaching Himmarshee. Id been so intent on talking to Donnie, I could barely remember getting there. Luckily, it wasnt an auction day, when the traffic on the highway would be busier.
Listen, I better get off the phone. You being in law enforcement, Id hate to tell you how little attention Ive paid to my driving this morning.
Donnie chuckled. Youre not the only one, Mace. Have you seen all the things people do in their cars these days? I saw a girl yesterday with a hamburger in one hand, putting on her mascara with the other.
Did you bust her?
Nah. She poked herself in the eye and dropped the hamburger in her lap when she saw me in my uniform. Nobody pays attention to the road anymore, Mace.
Donnie was right about that. And, on this morning at least, that wasnt a good thing.
Mama stood on the walkway in front of her house, tapping her foot and staring at her watch. The color of the day was yellow, from the chiffon scarf around her neck to the sling-back sandals on her feet. Standing in the bright morning sun, she looked like a four-foot-eleven-inch lemon slush. Her white puff of platinum hair could have been a straw, peeking out over the rim of the slushy cup.
Teensy was barking, spinning like a circus dog, on the other side of her living room window. Mama turned to blow him a final kiss, and rushed to the car. I thought youd never get here, Mace.
I looked at my watch. Mama, its only twenty-five minutes after eight. Im early.
Settling into the seat, she glanced again at her wrist. So you are, Mace. Im sorry. Im as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I barely know Pastor Bob. I cant imagine why hed call me for this meeting about Emma Jean.
I told her about my own strange call.
She never even bothered to show up, Mama, after calling past midnight.
Thats nice, honey. She turned the rearview mirror to apply more lipstick. Fishing a tissue from her purse, she blotted. Now, what do you suppose Pastor Bob is going to want me to do about Emma Jean?
I have no earthly idea, I said sharply. And theres no sense in worrying about it now. Why dont you wait the five minutes itll take us to drive over? Then you can ask him yourself.
She aimed a glare at me. You know, little Missy, youre not too old to spank. No one likes a girl with a smart mouth.
I punched on the radio. Theyd just started a news break. We arrived at Abundant Hope before theyd even finished the weather. Temperatures in the nineties. Afternoon thundershowers. Not exactly news in central Florida in September. Still, it was the height of hurricane season, and the northern edge of the county was still recovering from a relatively weak storm in June. So the fact nothing new was gathering strength in the tropics was a hopeful sign.
Someone peered out of the mini-blinds of the storefront churchs window, following our progress into the parking space. All I could see were heavy eyebrows and dark eyes. Within moments, Pastor Bob opened the front door and walked out to greet us. His eyebrows needed a trim, but his smile was as blinding as a Hollywood actors. And just about as authentic. The work in his mouth had surely financed a brand-new luxury car for some dentist somewhere.
The pastor raised his hands skyward. Isnt this a beautiful morning, ladies? Its a gift from God.
Not to be sacrilegious, but if God had asked me what kind of day to send, Id have requested a break from the summer swelter. It wasnt even nine oclock, and already the sun was baking the VWs roofless interior. The temperature on the Big Lake Bank sign read 94 degrees. We peeled ourselves off the sticky car seats and joined Pastor Bob on the sidewalk.
He escorted us through the entrance, by the card table of DVDs, and past folding chairs now stacked against scuffed walls. When we came to a small office to the side of the pulpit, he motioned us into two steel-frame chairs, thinly upholstered in a black, scratchy fabric. Then he took his seat behind a tidy desk, his small frame nearly disappearing in a leather chair befitting the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. He leaned toward us, elbows on the desk, and straightened the monogrammed cuffs on his powder blue dress shirt.
Now, he said, showing us a mouthful of teeth, what can I do for you this morning?
Mama and I looked at each other. Maybe he had us confused with a mother-daughter counseling appointment. Not that we couldnt use it.
Were here about Emma Jean, Mama said. You called and asked me to come by?
Oh, my goodness gracious! Rosalee! Im sorry. I wasnt expecting you to bring someone else along.
This is Mace, my middle daughter.
I nodded hello as I tried to place his accent. Flat, Midwestern, a bit nasal. Ohio, maybe, or Illinois.
Youll have to forgive me, ladies. Last night was such a muddle. And Im still having a bit of trouble placing everyone in the congregation.
Mama smiled sweetly and said, Perhaps you should ask your lovely wife for help. Delilah seems to know all the lambs in your flock quite well.
I pinched her on the leg to stop her from being catty. She pinched me back.
By the way, Mama continued, where is Delilah? I was expecting her.
Pastor Bob pressed his lips together. He started fidgeting with one of his silver cufflinks. His eyes did a quick scan of his desktop. Then he looked at the ceiling, like maybe his wife was hanging up there behind the fluorescent light. Before he got up and lifted the Persian rug to look, I figured I should say something.
