or even trigger-happy. Still, with some characters in the outlying areas, he felt as if he had a bull’s-eye on his doors and on his back. Could Mariah have run afoul of any of them?
“One of my little causes around here,” he told her, “is reminding people to lock their doors. The times, they are a changin’’ round here.” She seemed very far away, not just across the console; she looked as if she was glued to the outside door. “Seat belt,” he reminded her, then had to help her click it in the unfamiliar lock.
“Lots of locks. So big-time crime’s coming in here?”
“I wouldn’t go that far. In the four months I’ve been on the job, it’s hardly been cops and robbers,” he admitted, as he turned on the headlights, pulled out and headed toward Cassie’s. “I broke up a fight between the Talbots and the Enloes so that feud wouldn’t restart.”
“As I recall, that feud went back to the Civil War. If the truth were known, probably to the old clan wars of Scotland. So that was a good day’s work. What else?”
He was touched that, despite her own problems, she seemed genuinely interested. About half the local population insisted there was no need for law enforcement here. He almost confessed to her how hard it had been to see the sneers and overhear the snide comments about Drew Webb, of all folks, from all families, coming back to uphold what the government said was right.
“I arrested a guy from Frankfort for letting his six-year-old son chase deer on a noisy ATV. The dad was hopping mad, said he’d sue—he was a lawyer, no less, who should have had some brains. The kid could have been killed with the ridges and rills around here. I deal with a lot of pranks from kids who are just plain bored,” he told her. “I think we can both sympathize with that.”
A moment’s silence stretched between them.
“Yes.”
“I do a lot of knock-and-talks, playing counselor as well as enforcer. The things I thought would cause me the most problems, drinking and policing illegal patches of marijuana, haven’t taken much time. Hardly anyone makes their own moonshine anymore, and when I find pot patches, I destroy them. But I don’t make an arrest or apply to have the land legally confiscated if I’m not sure who planted it.”
“Unless you catch them in the act, you’re never sure.”
“Right. Besides, like sang spots, a lot of it is planted far outside of town.”
“I’m sure sang is even harder to police,” she told him, slanting her body slightly in his direction as he turned off onto the side road toward Cassie’s. “I mean,” she went on as they began to bounce down the long, rutted lane, “sang’s more of a heritage here, a God-given medicine and moneymaker.”
“That’s exactly it. Local diggers and foreign buyers alike don’t give a damn what the endangered species laws say.”
“And your knock-and-talks?” she asked. Again, it really got to him that, as whipped and upset as she was, she was focusing on what he’d said. He hadn’t realized he’d been so lonely, coming home to Deep Down.
“I’ve arrested two guys and driven them into jail in Highboro for domestic violence. I owe my mother that much. Above all else, I took this job because I can’t stand guys who rough up their women and kids, and there’s still a lot of it in these patriarchal parts. I—I almost lose control—again—when I see that. Sometimes I think life was easier in sunny Naples, Italy, when I was MP—military police. I was in charge of the brig for drunken sailors and marines. They didn’t expect favors from a onetime bad boy from a hellfire family.”
He realized he sounded angry. He hadn’t really let loose with anyone since he’d been here, not even with Chuck Akers. He’d been walking a fine line between building bridges and enforcing the law.
Cassie’s house came in sight, pouring light into the darkness of Fancy Gap Hollow where she’d been raised. Her form appeared at the window, then disappeared before her front door opened. In a long, ghostly white nightgown, with a shawl around her thin shoulders, she came out on the porch as they pulled up. Jess opened the door before he could get out.
“Jessie!” he heard Cassie cry as she embraced her friend. “Despite the troubles, welcome home!”
4
Cassie Keenan had known Jessica Lockwood her whole life. Both only children, a rarity in the area, they had clung together like sisters, however different their personalities. Cassandra and Jessica—Cassie and Jessie—their lives had seemed to rhyme like their names, until Mariah sent Jessie away. If folks thought Mariah did that just because of Drew Webb, Cassie knew they were wrong, ‘cause Mariah had always wanted a different life for her child.
Still, however distant their lives had become, Cassie treasured how they could pickup where they’d left off, just like they hadn’t been apart a long time. Though Jessie hadn’t visited Deep Down this August as usual, she’d been here last Christmas with all sorts of gifts for her and Pearl. But things might be different now with Mariah missing. Desperate to help her friend get through this, whatever befell, Cassie hugged Jessie hard, then led her inside while Drew followed with her suitcase and matching smaller bag.
“I hope we won’t wake Pearl,” he said as Cassie sat Jessie down at the plank table, shoving potted herbs aside to make a spot for her. She’d meant to straighten up the little house a bit when she heard Jessie would spend the night, but there was nowhere to put her precious plants unless she carried them outside with the others. Herbs, both live and dried, covered the floor, walls and ceiling. It was like a grotto in here, Elinor Gering had said, when she’d come to record Cassie talking about life here in Deep Down.
“Now don’t you all fret about making noise,” she told Drew. “Once that little angel’s out, she sleeps like the dead.”
Cassie saw Jessie wince at that. She scolded herself for not thinking ahead of her mouth. “This here’s ginseng tea with a touch of chamomile,” she told her friend as she set a cup before her. “Gives you energy and yet makes you sleep. Drew, you want some coffee? Won’t take a minute.”
“No, thanks. I’m coffeed out for the day and need to hit the sack myself for a couple of hours.”
Looking beyond exhausted, Jessie wrapped her hands around the hot cup, then lifted it to her lips.
“I’ll be going,” Drew said. “Jess, I’ll be here at eight sharp, though I know you need the sleep.”
“What I need is my mother back,” she said, turning to face him. Then she added, “Sorry about the heavy bag. I didn’t repack at home, just got my car and headed out.”
Cassie watched the two of them talk, both tipping their heads in the same direction and leaning slightly toward each other as if they were straining against a fence. She recognized the wild wind between them, the kind you couldn’t hold back. She’d figured both of them still had feelings for each other, and now she knew it. Tarnation, she understood that sort of pull, that turning toward the sun as if it were the source of life itself.
“‘Night and thanks, Cassie,” Drew said as he started for the door.
“Come a few minutes early for pancakes,” she told him. “I’m gonna put a good, hot meal in Jessie first thing tomorrow, so you come, too. Thanks for that bag of groceries you brought me back from Highboro the other
