voice, heavy and rich enough for a church, filled the reception area.
‘Up, running, and bleeding us dry,’ she said.
The pastor laughed, said something I didn’t catch but it must have been sweet as the Drake’s cheeks lit up red.
‘You called about John and Jenny Royal,’ he said.
He saw us a second later, said his thanks to the Drake and walked over. He passed by Mr Wakefield, the man stuck in his spot since the pastor walked in. Their eyes met. Held. Then broke apart.
‘Well,’ Mr Wakefield said, then turned back to Samuels, ignored the pastor. ‘If there’s nothing else, Len. We’ll be going.’
Samuels shook his head. ‘I’ll be in touch if there’s any follow-up.’
Mr Wakefield left, Gloria trailed behind. No more parents, just the pastor. A swell of relief rose up in me. If Momma had burst through that door, we’d be ear-clipped and screamed at. We’d feel it worse when we got back to the farm. My kids, Momma would say, don’t end up in the sheriff’s station. My fuhking kids don’t go playing with dead bodies, I raised them right, I raised them good. And on and on. Jenny would get the worst. She always did.
But it was Pastor Jacobs, here, now, for us.
He knelt in front of Jenny, between Rudy and me, all concern in his eyes. ‘You two okay?’
We nodded.
‘How about you, Rudy?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Rudy replied. ‘They called my old man.’
Jacobs made a face. ‘They got through, huh?’
‘He’ll be here soon, I reckon.’
Jacobs patted Rudy and me on the knee. ‘You hang tight here a minute, let me find out what’s going on.’
He strode to Samuels. Low voices but sharp. I caught words like parental supervision, and questioning minors, a barked unacceptable.
A film of sweat covered the pastor’s forehead, a huge slab of light tan skin made worse by dark hair cut too short. It was swelter outside and the poor man had to wear his black shirt buttoned up to the throat. He had a square jaw and stubble but somehow always looked neat and well-presented. He’d only been our pastor for two years, shipped over from somewhere out east, and right away shook things up. The young radical, some of the old ladies from the Gardening Society called him. Mrs Ponderosa said he was a dish and if she was ten years younger. Ladies like to think kids aren’t listening but we are. They file into the church hall after we clear out from Bible Study. They gossip. We linger. We hear it all. Mostly they say Pastor Jacobs is nice. Friendly. He even gave a good sermon on one of those few Sundays Momma got us up and dropped us off at service. You go to your church, John Royal, and I’ll go to mine. Then she’d gun the truck toward the interstate.
Jacobs broke away from Samuels and came back to us, stood right in front of Jenny again. ‘He just wants to ask a few questions. You feel up to that? I’ll be right there with you.’
Jenny looked at me. Rudy looked at me.
‘Yes, sir,’ I said, all my nerves and worry gone.
‘Good.’ Seriousness cracked, relief shone through. ‘Jenny, would you like to go first?’
She nodded and Jenny, the pastor and Samuels went into the office. Door closed. And me and Rudy were alone. He hopped into Jenny’s empty chair.
‘This is messed up, isn’t it?’ he said.
‘Sure is.’
Rudy shuffled in his seat. ‘Spill, Johnny. Why’d you go back to the Roost?’
‘Doesn’t matter. It’s stupid.’
‘Try me.’
I sighed through my nose. A little lie, that’s all it would be. I couldn’t really explain what Jenny was thinking last night because I didn’t know and Jenny would hate me to be telling tales about her, even to Rudy.
‘Momma was drunk,’ I said and he nodded. ‘We didn’t much want to be at home, figured we’d sleep down at the Fort like normal. But it was weird there, you know, with the body. I was afraid animals would get to her before the cops so we stuck around. I don’t know, we just fell asleep.’
Rudy nodded along with me as I spoke. ‘Makes sense. I thought about doing exactly the same. Perry, man, he was being a Grade-A asshole last night, kept flicking his cig ends at me, still burning too, the fucker. Crushed a beer can on my head an’ all. I could’ve gone for a night under the stars. Should’ve. Felt hinky though. You’re braver than me, Johnny.’
Then he started talking about something else. Riding in the cop car or what would happen when Bung-Eye got here. I wasn’t listening. I had all my attention on Jenny. Through the window, sitting where Gloria had sat. Pastor Jacobs had his hand on the back of her chair, angled himself toward her, head going from her to Samuels and back.
‘Johnny, earth calling Johnny.’ Rudy waved his hand in front of my face.
‘What?’
‘I was saying I hope they question my dad.’
‘Why?’
He laughed but only half because nothing to do with Bung-Eye was wholly funny. ‘Because if anyone knows anything about some dead girl, it’s him. Shit, that bastard probably did it and dumped her there himself.’
‘That’s dangerous talk for a place like this,’ I said, lowered my voice. ‘Your dad would whip you bloody if he heard it.’
Rudy threw up a hand, slumped back in the chair. ‘Screw him. Like he’ll even show up. I’m going to be here all day.’
The office door opened and Jenny stepped out. No tears. No red eyes. No fear tensing up her body. She was okay.
‘John? You’re up, buddy,’ the pastor called and I went. I’d tell the truth, at least most of it, and what’s there to fear in that?
Jenny took my seat next to Rudy. Her feet dangled and she kicked them back and forth like she did in the river, lazing on the bank, face turned to the sun. All calm now.
Inside the office, I took the chair across the desk from Samuels. The pastor rested his hand on the back of it like he had with Jenny. Like he would his own child, if he had them.
‘Am I in trouble?’ I said because nobody else was speaking.
Samuels’ too-small eyes darted between me and the pastor, landed on me. ‘Should you be?’
‘Come on, Len,’ the pastor said, looked at the sheriff like he was looking at a tiresome child. I liked him more and more.
Samuels picked up a pen. ‘All right, let’s start with an easy one. Why were you on Hayton Briggs’ land?’
‘Mr Briggs’ name is Hayton?’
Samuels
