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  The door of the unpainted shack opened a crack and a gnarled hand signaled him closer. He took three steps and waited, the dogs more agitated than before. He’d seen hungry dogs feasting on the bodies of the dead. He held perfectly still. “Who are you?” a voice called out.

  “Deputy Frank Kimble with the Jebediah County Sheriff’s Department.”

  The door opened wider and an old man stepped onto the porch. “Yeah, he said you’d be comin'.”

  Frank nodded. He didn’t move forward. The old man was no threat, but there was no telling who else was in the house. If Hubbard was there, and if he was desperate, it would be a stupid thing to threaten him.

  “I’m looking for a man called John Hubbard. He’s wanted as a witness to a kidnapping and rape.” He wanted to give the old man every chance to understand what he was involved in.

  “So you say,” he said. “Hubbard says differently.”

  “I’d like a chance to hear his side of the story.” The rain was so loud, Frank found that he was yelling.

  “Can’t do it,” the old man said. “He ain’t here no more.”

  Frank felt the tension leave his shoulders. The hand that had crept up to his waist, where his gun was tucked in the holster, dropped back to his thigh. “Where’d he go?” he asked.

  “I took him into town. About an hour ago.”

  “Into Drexel?” Frank asked, surprised.

  “Yep. Took him to the drugstore and let him out. He’s a sick man.”

  The dogs had relaxed, but they hovered under the edge of the porch. Frank took a step closer so that he could hear the old man easier. The dogs growled a warning.

  “Could I come up on the porch and talk to you?” he asked.

  “I don’t have much truck with the law,” the man said.

  “I’m only looking for Hubbard. A young girl was kidnapped. There’s a big reward for her return. If you help out, you could claim some of that money.”

  He’d spoken the magic word. Money. The old man stepped fully onto the porch. “Git, you mangy dogs!” He stomped hard on the porch and the dogs scattered. “Come on up here,” he said. “Tell me about the re-ward. How much is bein’ offered?”

  Frank smiled as he took the four wooden steps up to the porch. Stepping out of the rain was like entering a new world, one where his senses had the luxury to perform properly. “A good bit of money. The missing girl is Suzanna Bramlett. So, what did Hubbard tell you?”

  The old man wore coveralls and no shirt. He pulled at one strap and rubbed a hand over his unshaven face. “Said some men attacked him and his girlfriend in the woods. Said he had some kind of condition where he fell out. When he came to, everyone was gone.”

  “Who was he going to see in Drexel?”

  The old man shrugged. “How much money can I git?”

  Frank pulled his billfold from his pocket. “How about five dollars for now?”

  The old man took the bill and studied it. “That ain’t much re-ward.”

  “It’s all I have on me now,” Frank said. “When the girl is recovered, there’ll be more.”

  “Johnny didn’t say who he meant to see. He just said he had to get to Drexel and make things right.” He pulled his lips in over toothless gums.

  “How long was Hubbard here?”

  “Let’s see. He came in sometime Friday. Looked like hell.” Frank nodded. “Where’d you find him?”

  “Wanderin’ down one of the old loggin’ trails. He didn’t have a clue where he was. Said he had a car, but we looked on the road and never saw it. I wasn’t sure if he was lyin’ or not.”

  “He has a car,” Frank said. “Did he say anything about the girl?”

  The old man shook his head. “Nary a word about a girl. Talked about a woman. The first day he was here, he was sick. He had some kind of fit, and when he was over it, was like he was havin’ a nightmare. He screamed about some woman.”

  “What’s your name?” Frank asked.

  “Lemuel Dearman,” the man said. “Where do I collect my re-ward?”

  “Once the girl is found, I’ll be back around with it.”

  He nodded. “I’ll be here.” He started back in the house and then turned back. “You can sit here if you’d like, but it’s gonna be a spell before that rain lets up.”

  “Do you have a vehicle?”

  The old man snorted. “Cost more than five dollars for me to drive in weather like this.”

  “Take me to my car down by the river, and I’ll drive back out here later and give you ten more,” Frank said.

  The old man smiled. “You got a deal.”

  The wind and rain roared around the Kimble house, shaking the windows and rattling the shutters against the outside walls in a manner that made Jade remember the stories about the house. She sat in a wing chair, the butcher knife clutched in one hand, the house in total darkness. The power had gone out ten minutes earlier, probably from a tree falling on the line. The phone was out, too. She’d gone back out in the rain and pulled her car to the back of the house. Her intent had been to hide it in the old shed in the back, but once she got the doors opened, she’d found another car. Dotty Strickland’s car. And no sign of Dotty. Her first reaction was anger, that Dotty had come to Frank’s house waving her ass under his nose, but that anger had quickly given way to concern. Dotty was not a woman to set out on foot for anywhere.

  Jade watched her sister’s pale face in the constant flashes of lightning and tried to sort through the possibilities of what had become of Dotty. Someone might have come to the Kimble house and picked her up. But that didn’t address the car hidden in the back shed. Jade had the terrible sense that if she walked up the beautiful staircase Mose Dupree had imbued with a life of its own, she would find Dotty’s body in one of the unused bedrooms. To halt the macabre thoughts, Jade bit down on her bottom lip until she tasted blood.

  She’d given up on calling Frank at the sheriff’s office even before the phone went out. It had to be a tree on the line. The other possibility, that someone had cut it, was terrifying.

  She felt panic like a clenched fist. She had to remind herself that Junior Clements had gone to Pascagoula to deliver the body of the man killed on the highway. He’d be gone for most of the rest of the evening. She picked up Marlena’s chill hand and held it, tracking her thoughts in another direction. Jonah and Ruth would be worried sick about her, but there was no one to worry about Marlena. Jade wondered if she’d even been missed in the hospital yet. Tom and the other janitors would not tell. They could not risk their jobs.

  She thought of Lucas, his handsome face so devoid of anything tender. Would he even acknowledge that his comatose wife had walked out of a hospital and disappeared? Things were not right between Marlena and Lucas. They were so bad that Marlena had not even wanted her husband called and told about her recovery. Guilt was a possible answer, but so was fear. Lucas was not a man who would take his wife’s infidelity with calm understanding. And Marlena had not wanted her mother called. Jade pondered that. Lucille had always been domineering and controlling. She’d packaged Marlena and sold her for her, Lucille’s, betterment. Lucille would be more than angry at Marlena’s behavior, behavior that could, and most probably would, cost Lucille her comfortable lifestyle. Lucas would not support ingrates.

  A gust of wind knocked the shutters against the house with such force that Jade started. She released Marlena’s hand and stood up, pacing the room. It was near the end of August, a time of stifling heat, but the ferocity of the storm had blown in a chill that went straight to her bones. She decided to go out the back door and see if she could find some dry wood to light a fire. The flickering of a fire would be cheerful and provide some heat for Marlena.

  The compress bandage she’d rigged up had staunched the bleeding of Marlena’s wound, but Jade knew a doctor was needed. There was a greenish cast to Marlena’s skin and a coolness to her forehead that bespoke death. Since arriving at Frank’s, she’d slipped into a stupor. She could answer when spok
en to, but her responses were monosyllabic and monotone. As soon as Frank returned, he would take Marlena to Dr. McMillan. As soon as Frank returned, things would be okay.

  She picked up one of the towels she’d gotten to dry Marlena and held it over her head as she opened the back door and dashed across the yard to the shed. If there was dry wood, it would be stacked in the shed. As she entered the darkness, she felt a rush of apprehension. She paused in the darkness, listening. The storm was so loud she couldn’t hear anything except the whine of the wind and complaint of the trees. She moved slowly into the shed and stopped again; the sense that someone watched her was so powerful that her skin prickled and danced.

  There was no person in Jebediah County that frightened her except Junior Clements. Dantzler Archey, who lived God knew where, also scared her, but both of those men were gone. She’d seen Dantzler driving out of town, and she’d heard the nurse tell Junior that Mr. Lavallette needed him to drive a body. There was no need for her skittishness. She stepped firmly into the darkness and made her way around Dotty’s car to the back wall of the shed. She bent over and felt along the wall, hoping for some dry wood and praying that there would be no rats in it.

  Her fingers found a log as big around as her upper arm, and she picked it up. She found another and grabbed it, too. She could tell it was good, dry wood. Frank had probably cut it the winter before, and it had aged and dried in the shed. She found a dozen more pieces and stacked them in her arms. Just as she stood up, she felt a puff of warm breath on the back of her neck. She froze, the wood clattering to the floor as she let it drop. Her fingers curled around one stout piece.

  “I told you I’d see you soon,” Junior Clements said, his voice disembodied in the darkness of the shed.

  Jade didn’t speak. Her response was the fire log that she swung with all of her strength. It caught Junior a solid lick. He cried out in pain and stumbled backward. Jade threw the wood at him and darted out of the shed.

  “You goddamn nigger bitch! You’ll pay for this. You and that white slut.”

  Jade rushed into the back door, flung it closed, and threw the thumb bolt into place. She leaned against the door and panted. Remembering that the front door was unlocked, she ran through the house, slammed it, and threw the lock.

  “Jade?”

  Marlena’s voice was weak. Jade began checking the windows, making sure the locks were turned. Of course, Junior could simply break the glass.

  “Jade?”

  “I’m coming,” Jade said. She hurried to her sister and knelt beside her. She had to hide Marlena. “The storm is getting worse. I found a safe place.” She spoke quickly, trying to keep the panic out of her voice.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s the storm,” she said. “Marlena, I’m going to help you to the pantry.” She could move a chair there, close the doors, and maybe Junior wouldn’t find Marlena.

  There was the sound of glass breaking in the front parlor.

  “Jade, what was that?”

  Jade grasped Marlena and picked her up. “It was a tree limb crashing through one of the windows,” she said. Struggling beneath the weight, she carried her sister through the kitchen and to the small pantry where glass jars of preserves lined the wall. She dragged a chair from the kitchen table and eased Marlena into it.

  “Stay here,” she told her. “Don’t say a word.”

  “There’s someone here, isn’t there?” Marlena’s voice was dead. “It’s Junior, isn’t it?”

  Jade tasted the terror. “He hurt you, didn’t he?”

  “He’s back.”

  Jade saw her sister’s lifeless expression in a flash of lightning. “It’s going to be okay,” she said. “Stay here. Don’t make a sound.” “He’s going to kill us both.”

  “No, Marlena. He isn’t.” Jade stepped out of the pantry and closed the doors.

  30

  Rain swept over the highway in slanting sheets, and gusts of wind pulled at the patrol car as Frank drove back to Drexel. Lemeul Dearman had let him off near the river, where he’d left the patrol car. The old man had not gotten his truck above five miles an hour, and now Frank made up for lost time. He had the sense that things were happening all around him, things that would impact him for the rest of his life. Through the dense rain, he saw shadows moving among the trees. The dead were walking, but he had no time for them. One thought drove him—to get back to town.

  A puddle of deep water pulled the car toward the shoulder, and he wrenched the wheel, going into a sideways slide. When he finally righted the car, he was sweating. As he dropped over the crest of the last hill, the gray, abandoned town came into view. The dread that gripped him intensified.

  He drove through town and went to the drugstore where the old man had dropped Hubbard off. The store lights burned dimly, and Frank parked and ran inside.

  There was no sign of Hubbard. The store was abandoned except for the elderly pharmacist, who stood on a wooden platform behind the back counter where the drugs were kept.

  “Mr. Hart, did you see a stranger? A man about six feet, dark hair and eyes, probably needing a shave.”

  Percy Hart pulled on his left earlobe and frowned. “Fellow came in here a little while ago. He looked mighty bad, if that’s the fellow you’re looking for. He asked to use the phone and then left.”

  “Who did he call?” Frank asked.

  “I couldn’t be sure. Herman Nyman came in about that time and needed some medicine for his croupy young’un. I didn’t hear the call, but it was Lucille Longier who drove up and fetched him.”

  “Lucille?” Frank didn’t hide his surprise. “I thought Jonah did her driving for her.”

  “Me, too, but it was Lucille. I noticed because she came close to taking out that pecan tree by the store. You might get Huey to have a talk with her about getting some glasses or staying out of the driver’s seat.”

  “Sure. I’ll do that. You say she picked up the stranger?” Frank asked, though he’d heard Percy the first time. He hoped for more details.

  “That’s right. He was soaking wet, and he got right in the front seat with her.”

  The questions that lined up in Frank’s mind were disturbing. How would Lucille know John Hubbard, her daughter’s lover? Why would she drive, alone, into Drexel to pick Hubbard up?

  “Is something wrong?” Percy asked. “They took off before the worst of the storm hit. I’m sure Lucille made it home safely or we’d have heard something by now.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Hart,” Frank said before he ran back out into the rain.

  Dotty had never heard a storm like the one that battered the small cabin, but her mind wasn’t on rain and lightning. Precious time was ticking away. If Archey and the men got back before they could escape, she wouldn’t have another chance. The fate that loomed in front of her was hell, and she wouldn’t accept it without a fight.

  With the boy’s help, they’d torn a hole in the wall that was almost big enough to get out. Almost. And time was running out. Dotty took a piece of wood and slammed it into the exhaust pipe. It loosened but didn’t fall. “Help me,” she said to the boy.

  They struck the pipe together, knocking it loose from the stove. Dolly grunted with exertion as she helped the boy push it to the ground outside. They now had an escape route.

  “Go on,” she said to the boy.

  He hesitated for a moment and she pushed him roughly. Her hands were blistered and raw, her fingernails torn to the quick. “Get out there,” she said. “We have to move.”

  “It’s raining hard,” the boy said.

  “At least they won’t be able to track us,” Dotty responded coolly. “Now get out there or I’ll leave the both of you. I can only imagine what he’ll do to you for letting me get away.”

  The boy slithered through, and Dotty grasped the woman’s arm. Dotty had pulled the curtain down from the doorway and wrapped it around the naked woman. “Let’s go.” At first the woman resisted, but Dotty glared at her. “Get your ass out th
at hole,” she said. “If it were up to me, I’d leave you, but that boy of yours wouldn’t help me if I did.”

  The woman, so thin she only needed half the space, disappeared. Dotty glanced around the kitchen. There was a pone of cornbread and she grabbed it, tucking it into the top of her dress. They’d need something to eat. The woman looked like she’d blow away in a good wind. More food would be nice, but there was nothing else to take. Dotty crawled out the hole. The boy and the woman stood in the rain like animals, patiently waiting.

  “What now?” the boy asked.

  “Head out toward the road,” Dotty said. She thought for a minute. “No, that’s where they’ll look. Is there another way?”

  The boy nodded. “The river’s about four miles to the west. We could go downstream. With this rain, the current will be fast.”

  Dotty wiped the rain out of her eyes. The boy was hideous and the woman was dead weight. She’d been condemned to hell with half-wits and the deformed as companions. “Is there a boat?”

  “A small one. And paddles.”

  “Let’s go,” Dotty said. She didn’t ask him where the river would take them, or how long they’d have to ride the current before they reached civilization. The harsh cost of survival could be paid only one leg at a time. First, they had to get to the boat. She let the boy lead, followed by the woman, and she took the rear. Rocks and sticks stabbed into her feet, but she ignored them.

  They passed a shed where saws hung, the double-handled blades used by two men to bring down the big trees. She snatched one off the wall, and though it was awkward, she kept it with her. Boats were often chained to trees, and Dotty had no intention of letting a tree get in her way to freedom. Though the rain muffled the sound, she thought she heard a truck door slam. The afternoon had bled into night, or perhaps the storm was so dense that it blotted the sun. It didn’t matter. She liked the night. The darkness cloaked her from the gaze of her enemy. She put her hand on the woman’s thin shoulder and urged her into a jog. The boy picked up the pace. She slogged through mud and briars, the saw dragging and bumping behind her. She held onto it with grim intention. If push came to shove, she’d saw Dantzler Archey’s legs off at the crotch.