Southern Cross (6 page)

“Cause
of death was the same?” I asked.

“No,
sir,” Buddy said with a shake of his head. “They found him with his throat cut.
But he was dressed in some nice clothes his kids never saw before. Left on the
side of the road just outside Paducah.”

“But
there hasn’t been anyone since then,” I said. “Those are the only two?”

“So
far as I know,” Buddy agreed. “I went through our records lookin’ for anything.
Seems as though it would’ve made an impression if somebody had seen it before.”
He looked at me. “You know where that mark come from? The original cross, I
mean?”

Solomon
was all ears.

“Yeah,”
I said. I put the photos back and closed the file.

“Where
did it come from?” Solomon pressed.

“Reverend
Jesup Barnel,” the deputy said. “We told you, he’s got some… odd ideas about
the ways of the Lord.”

“So,
is Barnel still working the same circuit?” I asked before Solomon could pursue
the next logical line of questioning.

“Not
so much no more,” Buddy said. “His health’s gone south, but he still does tent
meetin’s when he can. There’s one out in Miller’s Field tonight. It’s a hike,
but worth the gas if you ask me. He puts on quite a show.”

“And
the rattlers,” I said. “Are they part of that show?”

“Not
officially,” Buddy said. “Snake handlin’ is illegal in Kentucky now, ‘course.
But everybody knows he skirts around it, brings ‘em out for those middle o’ the
night, invitation only services out to his place, like he used to run.” 

I’d
heard enough. I sat up, nodding across the room. “All right. Since I’m
apparently not about to drop dead of rattlesnake fever, somebody toss me my
pants.”

Buddy
looked to Solomon, no doubt hoping she’d talk some sense into me. But Solomon’s
never really been that girl. She shrugged.

“He’s
been here eight hours—there’s not much chance the venom’s gonna hit his
bloodstream unexpectedly at this point. I’ll be watching if it does, and I’ll
just bring him back.” She fetched my clothes and tossed them on the foot of the
bed. “I’ll grab us some coffee while you get dressed.” Her gaze slid back to
the files, now in Buddy’s hand. She shook her head. “Leave it to you to piss off
someone crazier than Will Rainier.”

Buddy
looked at me inquiringly after she’d left. “It’s a long story,” I said. The
understatement of the century.

After
his harrowing misadventure with impotent rattlesnakes, Diggs and I got back to
the Durhams at ten o’clock the next morning. Wyatt’s funeral wasn’t until two,
and we’d passed the window in which Diggs was most likely to swell up and die
from his snake bite. Since I hadn’t gotten any sleep to speak of since leaving Maine, I apologized to anyone who may have been expecting sparkling conversation, grabbed
my dog, and retired to the Durhams’ attic guest room.

I lay
on the bed beside Einstein and idly scratched his fuzzy belly. He groaned,
stretching out his front paws while one of his hind legs kicked into gear when
I hit a choice spot. It would be so much easier to be a dog. I thought of Diggs
cradled in my arms last night, his heart racing. My heart racing. Unlike the
nightmares I’d been having for the past six months, though, at least with the
snake bite I could do something when he was in danger, instead of just standing
there, frozen, like I always did in those freaking dreams.

Einstein
turned his head and lapped lazily at my jaw.

Yeah...
definitely easier to be a dog.

I retrieved
my cell phone and dialed Juarez. He answered on the second ring, though it was
the middle of the work day.

“Hey,
baby,” he answered. He always answered that way—or he had since we’d started
dating, anyway. Terms of endearment aren’t usually my thing, but I was getting
used to it. It didn’t hurt that Juarez made ‘baby’ sound just a little dirty
when he said it.

“Hey,”
I said. “Is this an okay time?”

“Just
catching up on paperwork,” he said. “Perfect timing.”

“Sorry
I didn’t call last night. Things got a little… crazy.”

“I
figured they would. Don’t worry about it. How’s Diggs?”

I
hadn’t lied when I told Diggs me coming to Kentucky was Juarez’s idea. In fact,
he’d kind of insisted on it.

“He’s
all right,” I said. “You know Diggs. He’s solid as a rock, right up until he’s
not.” I tried to figure out how to broach the subject of the rattlesnake
attack.
Funny story: how much do you know about pit vipers?

“And
you’re doing okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,
I am. I’m actually getting ready to take a nap.” I hesitated. Open, honest
communication isn’t usually my thing, either. “I just wanted to hear your
voice.” I rolled onto my back, still holding the phone to my ear. “Tell me
about your day.”

We
did this a lot. Juarez isn’t a phone sex kind of guy, but with the smooth voice
and the subtle accent, he really missed his calling. Since we were still
working out the whole long-distance thing between Maine and D.C., most weekday
evenings for the past three months had been spent on the phone. Lately, I found
myself craving the sound of his voice at bedtime. Jack Juarez: Human Xanax. May
be addictive, but no groggy drug hangover in the morning.

“Erin?” Juarez said after a few minutes. I forced myself back to some state of coherence.

“Yeah,”
I said.

“Were
you sleeping?”

“No…
not yet. Almost.”

“I
should go, then.” He paused. “You think you’ll be back in Maine by the
weekend?”

It
was Wednesday. The funeral was today… I wasn’t sure how much investigating we’d
be doing into Wyatt’s death after that, though.

“I
think so,” I said. “I’ll let you know as soon as I have a better idea. Why? You
miss me already?”

He
laughed. Juarez has a great phone laugh. “I always miss you, baby. Be safe.
I’ll talk to you soon.”

We
hung up. I slept.

When
I emerged, the house was unexpectedly quiet. Eventually, I found Danny—the
miscreant son Wyatt and Mae had named after Diggs—sitting on the front porch
alone. For a kid with no actual Diggins blood in him, he really did have an
uncannily Diggs-like vibe. Not that he actually
looked like
Diggs, mind
you. But clearly there was some hero worship going on there:His shaggy blond
hair was gelled within an inch of its life, his rumpled suit was a size too
small, and he held a joint in his left hand. He looked up, startled, when I
opened the front door.

“Uh—sorry,”
I said. “I was just looking for Diggs.”

He
made no effort to hide the weed, though he did have the decency not to keep
smoking it while I was standing right there.

“He’s
just gettin’ dressed. He said I could ride with y’all. Hope you don’t mind.”

“No,
of course not.”

“Good,”
he said, nodding. He patted the seat next to him. “Come on out. Diggs’ll be
along. It’s too dang stuffy in there.”

He
was right about that, anyway. I’d already changed into my funeral clothes, so
there wasn’t a whole lot else I could do with the next ten minutes until Diggs
wandered down to join us.

Einstein
loped out into the yard with one of the resident hound dogs. They sniffed
butts, he graced the hound with one of his best play bows, and they raced off
together. There were clouds on the horizon, and rain was in the air. I took the
seat Danny had indicated. He offered me his joint.

“Just
to take the edge off,” he said.

It
was tempting, but I’ve never been much of an enthusiast myself. Diggs smoked
enough for both of us back in the day.

 “No,
thanks. You sure you should be out here in the open with that?”

“Everybody’s
already headed on out to the church,” he said. “Except you and Diggs, I mean.
And I knew you guys’d be cool with it.”

I
wasn’t sure how accurate that was as far as Diggs was concerned anymore, but
who was I to burst the kid’s bubble?

“So,”
he continued. “Is it true what happened last night? Somebody really locked
Diggs in with them rattlers?” He looked more curious than horrified. That could
have been the pot, though.

“Yeah,”
I said with a nod. “It was nuts. You have any idea who would have done
something like that?”

He
took a long hit from his joint, held the smoke in his lungs, and then put it
out and pocketed the roach before he responded. His eyes were glassy,
splintered with red veins.

“Diggs
made some enemies when he was here before,” Danny said. “I was just a kid then,
so I didn’t pay too much attention. He was just ol’ Uncle Diggs, you know? But
the stories are still around—Mama doesn’t even know we’ve heard half of ‘em.
How he knocked boots with the sheriff’s wife and then was out on the front lawn
of the Motel Six butt naked. Plus everything that happened with Reverend
Barnel...”

“What
did
happen with Reverend Barnel?” I asked.

Danny
considered that for a minute, clearly torn between loyalty to Diggs and the
high of being the one in the know.

“Forget
it,” I said. “I don’t want you to betray any confidences, kid.”

“I
ain’t no kid,” he said lightly. “I got a truck. I got plenty of girls for any
night I choose. I got a band, even—and we’re good, too. Play out down to Nashville and Memphis, Louisville and Lexington.” He looked at me knowingly. “But good job
makin’ me feel like a loser just so I’d spill Diggs’ secrets to feel like a big
man.”

“I thought
the weed might slow you down,” I said with a rueful smile. “Maybe you wouldn’t
figure my angle.”

He
shook his head with exaggerated disappointment. When he looked at me, there was
a predatory gleam in his eye. He was a good looking kid, and he knew it: the
kind cougars the world over would stand in line for. I’ve never been much for
younger men, though.

“Don’t
give me that look, Dimples,” I said. “I’ve got enough problems with your uncle.
Now, what do you know? Let’s have it.”

He
saluted gravely. “Yes, ma’am. Well, when he lived here before, with Aunt
Ashley, I know him and the reverend got into it a couple times. Diggs was
always writin’ articles about Barnel’s church, you know? And he went to a
couple of his services, rip roarin’ drunk, and Sheriff Jennings had to haul him
off.”

“Why
does he hate Barnel so much, though?”

“Same
reason my mama loves the guy so much, I reckon,” Danny said. For the first
time, he looked uncomfortable. “Anyway, that seems more like a story Diggs
should tell you himself. What happens at Barnel’s camp… that changes a body.
It’s not so much a story you want other people tellin’.”

“You
sound like you speak from experience.”

I
might as well have suggested he was secretly into wearing his mom’s lingerie.
He looked at the ground, shaking his head.

“Just
telling you what I’ve heard,” he said. “That’s all.”

Diggs
came out a minute later, freshly scrubbed and sporting jacket and tie. Being a
manly man, he’d of course scorned the hospital’s recommendation of
crutches—though he’d bizarrely been fine with George Durham’s old man cane.

“You
moving in on my girl?” Diggs asked when he came out, eyeing Danny. 

“First
off, I’m not your girl,” I said. “And secondly… he was just giving me a little
dirt on you, as a matter of fact.”

“Dirt?
On me?” Diggs asked, wide eyed. “Pfft. None to be found.”

“Well,
except for that summer you and Daddy—” Danny began with a spark in his eye.

“Hey—all
right, you proved your point. I think we best be on our way.” Diggs sniffed the
air knowingly. “But first, what’s that I smell? It’s vaguely familiar. Smells
like…”

“Teen
spirit?” Danny said. Wiseacre.

“Smells
like weed, shithead,” Diggs said. “And if I catch you smoking it on your Mama’s
front porch again, I’ll kick your ass six ways to Sunday.”

Danny
nodded. Clearly, it wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. So much for Uncle Diggs,
frat brother in arms. “Yes, sir. Won’t happen again.”

“Good,”
Diggs said. He held out his hand. Danny took it, letting Diggs pull him up.
“Now, come on. Put some eye drops in, and let’s do this thing.” He draped his
arm across Danny’s shoulders and looked at me. “You ready, Sol?”

“Go
on ahead—I just have to grab something, I’ll be right there.”

I
went in, settled Einstein and the other dogs inside, and grabbed my purse. When
I came out, Diggs and Danny were walking together, heads tilted toward one
another. I had one of those brief, not-at-all advisable flashes of What Might
Have Been between the two of us. If that night when he’d learned I was marrying
Michael had gone differently… Of course, he’d already started using by then—not
to the degree he did later, but he was on that road. And he was drinking. And
lying. Most likely, if we’d tried to make something happen then, we would have
imploded way more spectacularly than he and Ashley ever did. Our friendship was
strong, but I doubted it could have withstood that.

He
was four years’ sober now. A changed man in any number of ways, from the one
I’d known back then.

“Get
the lead out, ace,” Diggs called back to me. “We’re not getting any younger
here. You coming or what?”

Okay,
not totally changed. I set my tumbling thoughts aside and made for the car.
Danny got in the back despite my protests, and Diggs gave me a cryptic smile as
he put the car in gear.

The
sky was getting grayer, though it hadn’t started raining yet. We’d been driving
maybe ten minutes when I noticed Diggs checking the rearview again. We were on
a rural road, only a few cars in any direction. It made it very easy to spot
the dark blue sedan with tinted windows keeping pace a couple of cars back.

I
fisted my hands in my lap, feeling the bone-deep fear that had become a
constant since Black Falls. Diggs caught the movement.

“We’re
being followed,” I said quietly.

He
nodded, not even bothering to deny it. “I know,” he said grimly.