Sara woke in a sweat, her head spinning as she sat up too fast. She looked frantically around the room, trying to remember where she was. The Auburn memorabilia was almost comforting. Even the orange and blue blanket Nell had given her last night was a welcome sight. She sat back on the couch, tucking the blanket up around her neck as she adjusted to the quiet sounds of the neighborhood. Coffee was brewing in the kitchen, and somewhere, a car horn beeped.
Sara pulled her legs up, resting her chin on the top of her knees. She had not dreamed about Atlanta in a long time, but seconds ago, she had been back there—back in that bathroom at Grady Hospital where she had been raped. Her attacker had handcuffed her arms behind her and defiled Sara in ways she could still feel if she let her mind stay there long enough. Then he had stabbed her in the side and left her to bleed to death.
At the memory, her throat constricted again, and Sara closed her eyes, trying to breathe through her emotions.
“You okay?” Nell asked. She stood in the doorway with a cup of coffee in her hand.
Sara nodded, trying to find her voice.
“Possum’s gone to open the store. Jeffrey went to check on Jessie. He’s a fool if he thinks she’ll be out of bed before noon.” She paused when Sara did not respond. “He said to tell you to be ready to go at eight-thirty.”
Sara looked at the clock on the mantel. It was half past seven.
Nell said, “Coffee’s ready when you are,” and left Sara alone in the room.
Sara sat up, hitting her toe on her suitcase. Jeffrey had put it there a few hours ago while she pretended to sleep. He had sneaked in like a thief, and she had watched him go, wondering exactly what she had gotten herself into. Jeffrey Tolliver was not the man she thought he was. Even Cathy Linton would have been surprised by his behavior last night. Sara had felt threatened, and at one point she had been frightened enough to think that he would actually hit her. She could not let herself get involved with someone like that. There was no denying that she had feelings for Jeffrey, maybe she was even in love with him, but that did not mean she had to put herself in a situation where she was afraid of what might happen next.
Sara pressed her lips together, looking at the framed magazine cover of Jeffrey on the wall. Maybe being back home had altered him in some way. The man Sara had seen last night was nothing like the Jeffrey Tolliver she had grown to know over the last few months.
She found herself trying to reason out his behavior. Prior to this, there had been nothing in his personality that would have pointed to last night’s outburst. He was frustrated. He had punched the wall, not her. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe the circumstances had brought him to the edge, and she had done nothing but help push him over. He had grabbed her arm, but he had also let it go. He had warned her not to talk, but when the sheriff came, he had done nothing to stop her. In the light of day, Sara could understand his anger and frustration. Jeffrey was right about one thing: Alabama was a death-penalty state, and not just a death-penalty state, but almost as gung-ho about it as Texas and Florida. If Robert was found guilty, he could be looking at the electric chair.
Though she was punch-drunk from lack of sleep, Sara tried to go over in her mind again what she had seen in Robert’s bedroom last night. She was no longer certain about what she had heard in the street, nor was she sure about the sear pattern she had seen when Robert had removed his hand. He had been fast about it, and had done a very good job of smearing blood around the wound. What it came down to was that Sara had to ask herself why he had gone to such great lengths to cover the entrance wound if there was nothing to hide.
If she was correct, the muzzle of the gun that shot Robert had been placed at an upward angle against the skin. The hot metal had seared a V-shaped impression of the muzzle into the flesh. Either the person who shot him had been in an inferior position, squatting or kneeling, or Robert had held the gun to his own side and pulled the trigger. The second theory would explain why so little damage was done. The abdomen contained seven major organs and around thirty feet of intestines. The bullet had managed to miss them all.
Sara would have voiced her suspicions to the sheriff last night, but after taking one look at the man, she knew that, like Jeffrey, he was going to do everything he could to give Robert the benefit of the doubt. Clayton “Hoss” Hollister screamed good ol’ boy, from his nickname to his cowboy boots. Sara knew exactly how his kind operated. Her father certainly wasn’t part of Grant’s network of powerful old men—he hated doing favors because he had to—but Eddie Linton played cards with most of them. Sara had learned how they worked her first week as coroner, when the mayor explained to her that the county had an exclusive contract to order all their medical supplies through his brother-in-law’s company, no matter how much he charged.
Today, Sara wanted to see Robert’s wound again, and even if Jeffrey wouldn’t—or couldn’t—keep his promise to let her do the autopsy, she wanted to watch while whoever was in charge examined the slain man—or victim, depending on how you looked at it. After that, all she wanted to do was get the hell out of Sylacauga and away from Jeffrey. She needed time and some distance so she could get her head together and figure out exactly how she felt about him in light of last night’s explosion.
Sara tested her weight on her feet. Her soles were bruised from the impromptu run last night, and something sharp had taken a chunk of skin out of her heel. She would stop to buy Band-Aids once she got on the interstate.
Nell offered a faint smile when Sara limped into the kitchen. “Kids won’t be up for another hour.”
Sara tried to be polite. “How old are they?”
“Jared’s ten, Jennifer’s ten months younger.”
Sara raised an eyebrow.
“Trust me, I got my tubes tied the second she was out.” Nell took a coffee cup out of the cabinet. “You like it black?” Sara nodded. “Jen’s the smart one. Don’t tell Jared I said that, but Jen’s a full grade ahead of him in school. It’s his own damn fault—he’s not stupid, he’s just more interested in sports than books. Boys that age just can’t sit still for anything. You probably know all about that with your job.” She put the cup down in front of Sara and poured coffee as she spoke. “I guess you want a houseful of kids when you settle down.”
Sara watched steam rise from the cup. “I can’t actually have children.”
“Oh,” Nell said. “There’s my foot in my mouth again. You’d think I loved the taste of leather.”
“It’s okay.”
Nell sat down across from Sara with a heavy sigh. “God, but I’m nosey. It’s the only thing my mother says about me that’s true.”
Sara forced a smile. “Really, it’s okay.”
“I won’t press you for details,” Nell said, but her tone of voice implied she would be more than open to hearing them.
“Ectopic pregnancy,” Sara provided, though she went no further.
“Does Jeffrey know?”
She shook her head.
“You could always adopt.”
“That’s what my mother keeps saying,” Sara said, and for the first time she voiced the reason why she couldn’t bear the thought of adoption. “I know this sounds horrible, but I take care of other people’s children all day. When I get home…”
“You don’t have to tell me,” Nell said. She reached over and squeezed Sara’s hand. “Jeffrey won’t mind.”
Sara gave her a tight smile and Nell breathed out a heavy sigh, saying, “Well, shit. Can’t say I didn’t see that coming, but I was hoping it would last a little longer.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Forget about it.” Nell slapped her thighs as she stood. “Nothing bad between you and me. Jeffrey’s loss is my gain. First damn time that’s ever happened, I can tell you.”
Sara stared down at her coffee again.
“You want pancakes?”
“I’m not that hungry,” Sara told her, even as her stomach grumbled.
“Me neither.” Nell took out the griddle. “Three or four?”
“Four.”
Nell put the griddle on the stove and went about preparing the batter. Sara watched, thinking she had seen her mother do this same thing thousands of times. There was something so comforting about being in a kitchen, and Sara felt the nightmares from the night before start to fade.
“Stupid neighbor,” Nell said, tossing a cheery wave at someone outside the window over the sink. A car door slammed, followed by an engine starting. “He’s gone every weekend with some whore he met in Birmingham. Watch it,” she said, tossing Sara a look over her shoulder to make sure she was paying attention. “Soon as he pulls out of the driveway, those dogs will start barking and they won’t shut up till he comes back around ten tonight.” She stood on the tips of her toes and craned her head to see into the neighbor’s yard. “I’ve talked with him ten times about getting those poor things some shelter. Possum even offered to build him something. God, they howl when it rains.”
The dogs started barking on cue. Just to keep her talking, Sara asked, “They don’t have a doghouse?”
She shook her head. “Nope. He kept having to come home because they jumped the fence, so he put them on chains. So, of course every morning like clockwork they knock their water bowls over and I have to trudge over there and fill ’em back up.” She handed Sara a carton of eggs and a bowl, saying, “Make yourself useful,” before continuing, “Boxers are so damn ugly. They’re not even the cute kind of ugly. And Lord, do they slobber. It’s like taking a spit bath every time I go over there.”
Sara broke the eggs into the bowl, not listening to Nell’s words so much as the cadence of her voice. She was thinking about Jeffrey and trying to put logic to what had happened last night. Sara knew that both her biggest strength and her biggest weakness was that she saw things clearly in black and white, but right now, for the first time in her life, she was seeing the gray. She had been tired last night, and upset by everything that had happened. Had she really seen the sear mark? The more she thought about it, the more she convinced herself that she had not. But her gut still told her to go with what she had first thought. And why would Robert keep covering the wound unless he really had something to hide?
“Sara?” Nell said. She had obviously asked a question.
“I’m sorry,” Sara apologized. “What?”
“I asked did Robert recognize the man?”
Sara shook her head. “I guess not or he would’ve said something.”
“It hasn’t made the papers yet—we only get a weekly here and it’s not due until next Sunday—but I heard on my walk this morning that it’s Luke Swan. The name won’t mean anything to you, but we all went to school with him. He used to live a couple of houses over.” She pointed toward the backyard. “Possum was born here and I grew up across the street—did I tell you?” Sara shook her head. “We moved in after his mama died. I couldn’t stand the woman—” she knocked three times on the wooden cabinet under the sink, “but it was nice of her to leave the house to us. I thought Possum’s brother would make a stink, but it all worked out.” She paused for breath. “Where was I?”
“Luke.”
“Right.” She turned back to the stove. “He lived here a few years before his father lost his job, then they moved over by the school. He didn’t exactly run with our crowd.”
Sara could guess she meant the popular crowd. The same groups had been at her own school, and though Sara had been far from popular, she was lucky enough not to have been picked on for it.
Nell continued, “I heard he’s a troublemaker, but who knows? People say all kinds of things after somebody’s dead. You should hear Possum talk about his mama like she was Mary Poppins, and that woman was never happy a day of her life. She was a lot like Jessie that way.” Nell poured four pancakes onto the griddle. “I heard Jessie’s at her mama’s.”
“Yes,” Sara confirmed.
“Good Lord,” Nell mumbled, taking the bowl of eggs from Sara. She beat them with a fork, then dumped them into a frying pan. Even though Sara had graduated in the top ten percent of her class at one of the toughest medical schools in the country, she always felt inadequate around women who could cook. The one meal she had prepared for her last boyfriend had resulted in the throwing away of two pots and a perfectly good garbage can.
Nell said, “I ebb and flow with that woman. Maybe it’s because Robert and Possum throw us together all the time and expect us to make happy. Sometimes I think she’s not that bad and sometimes I just want to pop her upside the head to knock some sense into her.” She tapped the fork on the edge of the pan before setting it on a napkin. “Right now I just feel sorry for her.”
“It’s an awful thing to have happen.”
Nell flipped the pancakes with a spatula. “Bobby’s a real doll but you never know what they’re like until you get them home and take them out of their packages. Maybe he sucks his teeth. Possum started doing that a few years ago until I threatened to beat him with a bat.” She put the pancakes and some of the eggs onto a plate and handed it to Sara. “Bacon?”
“No thank you.”
Nell took three strips of bacon out from under a napkin and put them on Sara’s plate. “I was hating her something awful until a few months ago. She had a miscarriage. I was over at her house every day making sure she didn’t do something stupid. Liked to tore the both of them up. She’s wanted a kid ever since I met her. We’re talking back in junior high school. Never been able to have one, though.”
Sara poured syrup onto the pancakes. They were all perfectly round and the same thickness. “What stupid thing did you think Jessie would do?”
“Take too many pills,” Nell said, flipping the pancakes one by one. “She’s done it before. If you ask me, it was just to get attention. Not that Robert seems all that inattentive, but you just never know, do you?”
“No,” Sara agreed around a mouthful of bacon. Until last night, she never would have guessed that Jeffrey was capable of threatening her. She could still feel the breeze from his fist passing just a few inches from her head as he punched the wall. “Would she ever cheat on him?”
“Ha,” Nell laughed, filling up her plate. She sat down across from Sara, pouring a liberal amount of syrup over the pancakes as she talked. “If she did, it’d have to be with somebody up in Alaska. Robert knows everything that goes on in this town. He’ll probably take over for the sheriff if the old fart ever retires. Hoss has held the office since before dirt. I think the only way he’ll leave is feet-first. Hell, knowing this town, people’d still vote for him, even if he was dead.”
“You don’t have a police force, it’s only the sheriff’s office?”
Nell took a bite of egg. “You know how small this town is? If we had both, there wouldn’t be anybody left to work at the gas station.” She stood up. “Juice?”
“I’m fine.”
Nell got two glasses out of the cabinet and put them on the table. “Mind you, if Jeffrey was around, Hoss would have retired years ago.”
“Why is that?”
She poured the juice. “Heir apparent. Robert’s father was half useless, but better half useless than being stuck with Jimmy Tolliver. That man was a monster. Jeffrey won’t talk about it, but that scar under his shoulder came from his daddy.”
Sara had seen the scar, but not wanting to open a conversation about scars, she had never asked about it. Now she asked, “How?”
Nell sat back down. “I was standing right there,” she said, taking a bite of pancake. Sara waited while she chewed, wishing for once that Nell would get on with it. Finally, she swallowed. “May said something smart-ass and Jimmy just laid into her. I mean like a fury. I’ve never seen anything like it. Never hope to see it again, knock wood.” She rapped her knuckles on the table.
Sara swallowed, though she had nothing in her mouth. “He hit her?”
“Oh, hon, he hit her all the time. It was like she was his own private punching bag. Jeffrey, too, when he was home. Not that he was home much. He spent most of his time out by the quarry, trying to get away from it. He’d just sit out there and read until the sun went down. Sometimes he’d sleep out there unless Hoss found him, then he’d make Jeffrey sleep at the station.” She drank some juice. “Anyway, this one time I was there, they were hauling off on each other and Jeffrey tried to step in between them. Jimmy backhanded the shit out of him and Jeffrey went flying—and I do mean flying—across the room. Cut his back open on the stovetop. This was back when they had those knobs with the sharp metal edges, not like now where it’s all just buttons and dials.”
After a while, Sara said, “I didn’t know.” She tried to imagine what it must have been like for Jeffrey growing up in that kind of environment and could not. Like most pediatricians, she had seen her share of abused children. Nothing made her more angry than a cowardly adult who took out his or her frustrations on a child. As far as Sara was concerned, they should all be left to rot in jail.
“Takes a hell of a lot to get Jeffrey angry,” Nell continued. “I guess that’s a good thing, though maybe not. You’ve got to wonder about him holding that in all the time. He hates to argue. Always has. You know he had an academic scholarship to Auburn?”
“Jeffrey?” Sara asked, trying to absorb this new information.
“Part of it was football, but they don’t give you a full ride to warm the bench.” She gave a surprised laugh, as if she could not believe what had just come from her mouth. “Don’t ever tell Possum I said that, but it’s the God’s truth. The minute Jeffrey got to Auburn, he hated football. He would have quit the team if Hoss’d let him.”
“What did Hoss have to do with it?”
Nell put down her fork. “You know why Jeffrey’s called Slick?”
“I can take a wild guess.”
She snorted a laugh. “Yeah, he’s slick, I’ll give him that, but the name came because no matter what kind of trouble he got into, he was real slick at getting out.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Oh, not anything big when you consider what kids get up to today. Stealing things from the five-and-dime, borrowing his mama’s car while she was passed out on the couch. The same kinds of things his daddy probably did when he was that age. We’re talking ten or twelve. You gonna finish that?” Sara shook her head and Nell reached over with her fork and took the last bite of pancake. “Jeffrey’d probably be where his daddy is if Hoss hadn’t come along.”
“What did Hoss do?”
“Made him cut the grass at the jail instead of spending a couple of nights locked up in it. Sometimes, he’d take Jeffrey back in the cells and make him talk to some of the guys who were hard cases. Basically, he scared the shit out of him. Robert, too, but he didn’t need as much scaring. He’s always been more of a follower, and with Jeffrey straightened out, you got Robert, too.”
“It’s a good thing Hoss came along.”
“Sometimes I wonder,” Nell said, sitting back with her coffee. “Jeffrey’s got a tender heart. I guess you noticed.”
Sara did not answer, though she wondered if Nell had an accurate picture of him. A lot could happen in six years. A lot could happen in one night.
“I always saw him ending up teaching, maybe coaching football at the high school. After Jimmy went up for life, he changed. Maybe Jeffrey thought joining the force and being a cop would make up for the fact that his daddy was a criminal. Maybe he thought it’d make Hoss happy.”
“Did it?”
Nell pushed away her plate. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”
Sara saw Jeffrey walk by the kitchen window and she stood from the table, telling Nell, “I should get dressed.”
Jeffrey opened the back door. He seemed surprised to find Nell and Sara eating breakfast.
Sara said, “I was just going to get changed.”
He gave her a quick glance, saying, “You look fine,” even though she was still in the pajamas she had been wearing when she ran out of his mother’s house last night.
Nell asked, “How’s Jessie and them?”
“Like you’d think.” He indicated their cleaned plates. “That smells good.”
“I didn’t marry Possum to cook for you,” she said, standing up. “There’s plenty of batter left in the bowl and the eggs shouldn’t be too cold. I’ve gotta go check-see if those stupid dogs have knocked over their water bowls yet.”
Nell took all the conversation with her when she left the room. Not knowing what else to do, Sara sat back down at the table. She felt like the pancakes she had eaten were expanding in her stomach. The coffee left in her cup was lukewarm, but she managed to swallow it.
Jeffrey chewed a piece of bacon as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He put the pot on the warmer, then took it out again, holding it up to see if Sara wanted more. She shook her head no, and he put it back, eating another piece of bacon as he stared at the kitchen faucet.
Sara took up her fork and traced it around the syrup in her plate, wondering what, if anything, to say. Really, the burden to speak was on him. She put down the fork and crossed her arms, staring at Jeffrey, waiting.
He cleared his throat before asking, “What are you going to say today?”
“What do you want me to say?” she asked. “Or are you going to threaten me again?”
“I shouldn’t have done that.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” she told him, her anger coming back in sharp focus. “I’ll tell you this right now, between the way your mother talked to me last night and your threats, I could leave right now and never look back.”
He looked down at the floor, and she could feel his shame without seeing it. His voice caught as he tried to speak, and he cleared his throat before he could manage, “I’ve never hit a woman in my life.”
Sara waited.
“I’d cut off my own hands before I did anything like that,” he told her, his jaw working as he obviously tried to fight the emotions welling up inside. “I watched my daddy beat my mama every day of my life. Sometimes she pissed him off, sometimes he did it just because he could.” He kept his face turned away from her. “I know you don’t have any reason to believe me, but I would never hurt you.”
When Sara did not answer, he asked, “What did my mother say to you last night?”
Sara was too embarrassed to repeat it. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I brought you here to this…this place.” He chanced a look at her, and she could see his eyes were bloodshot. “I just wanted you to see…” He stopped. “Hell, I don’t know what I wanted you to see. Who I really am, I guess. Maybe you’re seeing that now. Maybe this is who I really am.”
She felt sorry for him, and then she felt stupid for doing so.
He pulled out the chair Nell had vacated, dragging it a few feet from the table before he sat. “Bobby wouldn’t talk to me this morning.”
Sara waited for the rest.
“I walked in the room and he was getting dressed to go home.” Jeffrey paused, and she sensed rather than saw his feelings of helplessness. “I told him we needed to talk and he just said no. Just like that, ‘No,’ like he has something to hide.”
“Maybe he does.”
He tapped his fingers on the table.
“Was Jessie with him?”
“No. She wasn’t even awake yet when I dropped by the house to check on her.”
Sara chewed her lip, debating whether or not to tell him what she had seen.
“Go ahead,” he said. “Go ahead and say whatever it is that I’m not seeing.” He slammed his palm against the table, frustrated. “Jesus, I’m not doing this on purpose, Sara. No matter how many years have passed, he’s still my best friend. It’s not exactly easy for me to be a cop right now.”
Sara took a deep, calming breath. She had flinched when he hit the table, and her first response had been to get up and leave. Just because he came from a violent family did not mean Jeffrey was a violent man, but she could not help but see him differently now. His broad shoulders and well-muscled body, which she had once found so attractive, only served to remind her of how much stronger than her he was.
He must have sensed this, because he moderated his tone. “Please don’t look at me like that.”
“I just—”
When she said nothing, he prompted, “What?”
Sara tucked her chin into her chest, not ready to have this conversation. She directed him back toward the problem at hand, saying, “I want to see Robert’s gunshot wound again.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure, but…” she began, but even as she said it, she was sure. “There was a sear mark at the bottom of the wound.”
“You’re not sure?”
“I don’t want to be, but I am.”
He gave a humorless laugh. “He kept covering it with his hand.”
“He used the shirt to stanch the blood.”
“Did he let you see the shirt?”
She shook her head. If the gun had been held at contact range, the sear mark as well as soot would be on the shirt.
He said, “They probably threw it away at the hospital.”
“Or he did.”
“Or he did,” Jeffrey conceded. He shook his head again. “If he’d talk to me, try to explain what’d happened…”
“What are we going to do?”
He kept shaking his head. “Why won’t he talk to me?”
Sara did not volunteer the obvious answer.
He said, “Luke Swan could have been going for him. His body was only a few feet away.”
“Probably three or four feet.”
“Robert pushed him,” Jeffrey said. “Swan would have been crouched or on his knees.”
“Could have been.”
She could hear the strain in his voice as he tried to explain it all away. “Swan could have heard Robert getting his gun. He moved toward him. Maybe he held his gun up and in front of him.” Jeffrey illustrated, holding out his hand, his fingers in the shape of a gun. “He shot Robert, then Robert shot him.”
Sara tried to see the holes in his theory. “It’s possible.”
His relief was palpable. “Let’s see what the autopsy says, okay? We’ll just keep this to ourselves until then. The autopsy will show what happened.”
“Did you ask if I could sit in?”
“Hoss wants you to do the exam.”
“All right.”
“Sara…”
“I’m already packed,” she said, standing. “As soon as it’s finished, I want to leave.” Then, to make herself clear, she said, “I want to go home.”