Sweetwater: The Kihn (The Sweet Series)

by Rivi Jacks

  I’m back at the house a little after two, and I plan to spend the rest of the day straightening the house, sweeping floors, and doing laundry. For supper, I brown some pork chops and plop them in a casserole dish with cut-up potatoes, carrots, and thick slices of apple. After adding a couple cans of sauerkraut, I cover the dish with foil and pop the whole thing in the oven on a low temp. It should be ready about the time Jake gets home.

  As I come up the basement steps after loading jeans in the dryer, I hear someone knocking at the front door. I glance out the corner of the front window, surprised to see a sheriff’s car in the driveway. An awful feeling settles in my stomach. I open the door to sheriff’s deputy Jem Porter. I greet him by his first name since I’ve known him most of my life. Jem graduated from high school with Ben, and they are still friends. However, his main interest in my family is my aunt Jordanna. He’s had it bad for her for years.

  “Well, Sofia Reece, I heard tell you were home. How you doin’?”

  “I’m fine, thank you, and yourself?”

  “Good, good. You’re lookin’ all grown up, and you for sure look like a Walker woman. All you Walker women are beautiful.” He beams at me.

  “Thank you, Jem.” I know my cheeks are red because my face is hot. “What can I do for you?”

  “Is Jake home? I need to speak with him.”

  I just knew this wouldn’t be good. “He’s not here right now. No doubt he’s still at Ben’s.” Under normal circumstances, I would never have told where Jake was, but I decide it won’t hurt to remind Jem that Jake is his friend’s brother.

  “Hmmm.” He looks in the direction of Ben’s place. Reaching up, he scratches the side of his head. He looks at me with speculation. “Did he talk to you about last night?”

  I think it’s odd, him asking me that. “He told me about the McNish being gone and about things looking suspicious.”

  “Yeah, yeah—does look strange.” I didn’t say anything about strange. What is he up to? “You’re pretty tight with Sawyer, aren’t you?”

  “He’s my cousin.”

  “What did he think of the unusual goin’s on?”

  “Well, he never mentioned anything to me about ‘unusual goin’s on.’”

  Jem Porter looks at me as if he thinks I’m lying. “Have you been to the McNish place?”

  “Two years ago, I went to pick up a hunting dog with Sawyer.”

  Again, the staring silence. If he’s trying to make me squirm, it’s about to work. “Not a very nice place to take a young girl.” I wish he’d leave or spit out what he wants. “Right, right—well,” —he moves back toward the steps— “tell Jake I came by and have him give me a call, please.”

  “I will.”

  “Good to see you again. You, for certain, are a beautiful young woman.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper. My voice doesn’t seem to want to work. I watch Jem all the way to his car. When I go inside, I watch out the front window as he slowly drives away.

  I call Jake as soon as the patrol car is out of sight. “Jake, Officer Jem just paid me a visit.”

  “What did he want?” Jake asks.

  “You, Sawyer, maybe me.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Not on the phone, but don’t come home for a while.” I don’t trust that Jem isn’t watching the house. I don’t dare call Sawyer about Jem’s visit. He’d come tearing over here.

  When Jake gets home later, I tell him about my conversation with Jem Porter. We sit at the kitchen table, having finished supper.

  Jake says, “He was fishing.”

  “For sure,” I reply. “I think he wants to believe you and Sawyer are as sick as the McNish.”

  “No doubt you’re right. He and every cop in this county know something illegal and un-natural has been going on at the McNish place for years. Add to that what’s been going on with the cattle and...”

  “And they think they’re about to solve their case,” I finish his sentence. Jake raises his brow in agreement. “You don’t suppose they want to pin you and Sawyer to this too, do you?”

  “They will if they can find a way.” This scares me. Everyone knows innocent people can go to jail.

  Jake calls Sawyer after our talk and asks him to come over. We sit with him and Sam around the kitchen table, talking over Jem’s visit. They agree to stick to the truth—other than that Nick, Taylor, and I were at the McNish—and that’s the best they can do. Jake decides to tell Ben everything.

  After Sawyer and Sam leave, I shower, give my hair a quick blow dry, and joyfully crawl into bed before nine. I haven’t let myself think on the happenings of the night before. I don’t want to now, either. It makes me think about what can happen to Sawyer and Jake, and that scares me even more.

  The phone rings, and I let Jake answer since I’m near sleep. He comes to my bedroom doorway and lets me know Taylor called, just making sure I’m okay. I think it’s real good of Taylor to check up on me. I get a mental image of his handsome face and his gorgeous smile. My last reflection before I drift to sleep is that I haven’t heard from Nick all day.

  The daily special at Murphy’s on Tuesday is fried chicken—Gram’s recipe—with brown beans, turnip greens, and cornbread. Once again, the special runs out before folks stop asking for it. I work with Reenie and Bobbi in the kitchen, and Bobbi’s surly and downright rude. Reenie and I ignore her the best we can. I’ve missed spending time with Reenie, and we make plans to go out to lunch.

  Nick knocks on my door shortly after I get home from work. He asks me out to supper, and we dine at a restaurant in Marshfield. We don’t talk about the McNish. We don’t need to; everyone else is talking about the mystery. On the way home, Nick apologizes for leaving me alone in the truck, and I tell him about my visit with the county deputy. He is also worried that the law might try to connect Sawyer and Jake to the McNish disappearance.

  The rest of the week flies by. I invite Nick and Taylor for supper Thursday night. I feel I need to invite Taylor since he’s Nick’s houseguest, plus I like Taylor. I ask Diane and Emma Rae too, but Emma Rae has previous plans. She’s certainly been spending a lot of time with that Andy.

  On Friday night, the guys decide to play poker at the Shotgun Shack again, and they discuss holding poker night there from now on. Once again, Nick doesn’t show for poker.

  Saturday dawns bright and cold. I’m glad I get to spend the day in. I putter around most of the morning killing time until I need to get ready for my date with Nick. We have plans to go to the movies that evening.

  We’ll see.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  November is over before we know it.

  The daily special seems to be working well at Murphy’s. Murphy told me the lunch revenue has increased by over twenty-five percent, which makes me real proud.

  Nick and I are pretty much an item, and we spend most of our evenings and a good part of the weekends together.

  Right before Thanksgiving, two more head of cattle disappear. Jem Porter finds them mutilated, and both Jake and Sawyer have to prove their whereabouts. Never mind that one of the cows belonged to Ben.

  Nothing new about the McNish has turned up. Since they kept to themselves and didn’t encourage friends or visitors, there’s little for anyone to know.

  The menfolk gather at the community center and try to organize teams to patrol our town and surrounding areas. Trying to get something going without everyone on board is hard.

  Not enough people are interested in taking part in something they think the sheriff’s department should resolve. How do you tell people they have monsters?

  Taylor leaves town after they find the second cow. Nick says Taylor’s going to help Santiago get to Sweetwater.

  December arrives with a cold front that leaves us with subzero temperatures. I’m thankful we have a basement, so we don’t have to deal with frozen pipes. We do have to get out and break the ice on the ponds and get food to our livestock every day, as do most in this area. Trudging across ice-c
overed fields with an arctic wind blowing isn’t much fun.

  I go out with Jake in the mornings on my days off to help him and Ben. Even if it’s just driving the feed truck for them, it helps. Some mornings, Sawyer, Sam, and Billy lend a hand too. They don’t have as many cattle as Ben and Jake.

  On this cold Friday morning, the wind howls through the naked trees, making an ominous sound. A heavy cloud layer leaves the day dark and gloomy. Sawyer and I are breaking the ice on the pond and dumping grain in the upper hayfield where Sam and Jake delivered hay earlier. We’re in the area where Jake saw the Kihn creature. I’m keeping a sharp eye out.

  Around noon, Sawyer calls the others to tell them to meet us at Murphy’s for lunch. I’m about to die of thirst. I don’t want to pee out in the cold, so I haven’t had a drink for hours.

  Murphy’s is busy. He keeps plumbing, electrical, and fencing supplies on hand, and in this weather, someone’s always fixing something. Folks are stocking up on groceries in case the weather gets worse. In addition, we’re not the only frozen souls in search of a hot meal.

  Emma Rae greets us as we come in, or I should say as we blow in. The wind pushes at us as we open the door, forcing it wider and blowing us into the store. Sawyer heads for the bathroom as I go for coffee.

  Emma Rae follows me to the coffee counter. “What’s up?” I ask.

  She sighs heavily. “I’m tired and want out of here.”

  “Busy day? I’m close to wishing I was working here, just to be warm.”

  “I wish you were too,” she declares, grumpily. “Working with Bobbi is the pits. I swear she’s got two speeds: slow and stop.”

  We both look up as Linda Stewart comes around the corner. “Hi, Linda,” I say.

  “Hi,” she replies as she heads to the coolers in the back of the store. Linda is only sixteen, but she already has a reputation. The outside temperature is well below zero, but Linda’s wearing a short-skirted skimpy dress more fitting for a summer’s day. She sashays past us with a Coke.

  Emma Rae scowls at her back. “That girl is just like a doorknob—everyone gets a turn.”

  “Emma Rae!”

  “What? It’s true. Sad, but true.”

  “I feel sorry for her,” I admit.

  “Can’t be easy comin’ from that family. Imagine having Calvin for a brother,” she says.

  I shudder. On my way to the dining area, I stop and speak to Polly Walker. I leave my food order with Bobbi, who gives me the stink eye. For about the hundredth time, I wonder why she has such a problem with me. Mary Burns, early for her dinner shift, calls to me from the kitchen. I can tell Murphy isn’t in the building because Emma Rae has the music cranked with Nirvana’s “Heart Shaped Box” blasting.

  The dining room doesn’t seem too crowded, and I notice Jake and Sam haven’t arrived yet. I stop at the table where Jerome Wooten sits with his cousin Terry Joe and Jed Turner.

  “Jerome, are you doing okay in this weather?” I know Terry Joe sees to his cousin’s needs since Jerome has limited abilities.

  “I’m doin’ real good, Miss Sofie. Got plenty of wood and ’nuff to eat. That’s all a person can ask for in the winter.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Well, y’all enjoy your lunch.” I head to the booth where Sawyer sits.

  Sawyer has company: Linda Stewart. Sitting in the vicinity of—his lap. I set two cups of coffee on the table and slide his over. I give him a look. He grins, and I shake my head.

  “I’ve been wantin’ to come by your place, Saw-yer,” Linda drawls out his name in her best little girl’s voice. She talks this way all the time no matter with whom she’s speaking. Linda wears too much makeup for a girl her age, well, too much for any age. Emma Rae says she wears enough to make the whores on Bourbon Street proud. I asked her how many whores on Bourbon Street she knows.

  “Sorry, darlin’, we have an age limit,” he tells her.

  Thank goodness.

  “That’s what Calvin said.” She pouts prettily. “Why does she git to go?” she asks with an unconcealed look of petulance in my direction. In the process of sipping my coffee, I swallow a gulp. “Excuse me?”

  “She’s not jailbait,” Sawyer whispers in her ear loud enough for me to hear.

  Emma Rae sets our burgers and fries on the table. “Linda, your brother’s out front honkin’ the horn.”

  “Oh shoot!” She slides across the seat and scoots back to give Sawyer a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll be seein’ ya, Saw-yer.” With a bat of her eyelashes, she sashays out the door.

  Emma Rae and I stare at her as she leaves, my mouth hanging open. We both look at Sawyer.

  “What?” he asks, looking up from dumping ketchup on his fries.

  “You—wouldn’t—” He knows what I mean.

  Emma Rae makes a rude noise I can’t master. She sits down by Sawyer. “I hear Scotty Yates is bangin’ her like a screen door in a hurricane.” I choke on my bite of burger and give her a look. “What?” She shrugs.

  “I heard that too,” Sawyer replies between bites of his burger. Sawyer and Emma Rae both say the most outrageous things. I’ve often wondered if they sit around thinking up the colorful expressions they use.

  “Who’s Scotty Yates?” I ask.

  “He lives out by Rader and runs with Calvin some,” Sawyer answers.

  “He’s sleeping with his friend’s sister?” I ask, astounded.

  “Hah! Knowin’ Calvin, I wouldn’t doubt he pimps her out,” Emma Rae responds with disgust.

  I shake my head; she could be right. Calvin Stewart is not a nice person. The front door opens and Gary Fenton and Benny Perkins wander in.

  “Oh looky, looky.” Emma Rae gives me a sly look.

  “Don’t. Say. One. Word,” I warn her. Not that it’ll make any difference with Emma Rae.

  “What?” she asks innocently. I glare at her and she laughs. “I gotta get back to work.”

  Leroy Benton asks her for some ketchup. “And hurry!” he calls after her, sounding as if he’s already been hitting the bottle.

  Emma Rae gives him a hard glare. “I have three speeds, Leroy: on, off, and don’t push your luck.” She’s not kidding.

  Leroy ducks his head and mutters, “Sorry.”

  Sawyer chuckles. Gary and Benny head our way and sit at the table across from us. Gary gives me a curt nod. He never speaks to me in Jake or Sawyer’s presence. In fact, he usually doesn’t get this close to me in their presence.

  “How you two doin’?” Benny asks.

  “Fine, boys, how y’all doin’?” Sawyer replies. I smile. I don’t want to encourage anything, but I won’t be rude.

  “I’ve been meaning to call you, Sofie,” Benny informs me. I glance over and catch Gary giving Benny a dirty look. I don’t say anything, but I dip my head to acknowledge Benny has spoken to me. “I was hopin’ you’d want to go out sometime.”

  Is this really happening? I’m embarrassed and not good in these situations.

  “She’s dating someone,” Sawyer tells him between putting his French fries away and starting to work on mine.

  “Oh, I didn’t know. Sorry.”

  “That’s okay,” I mumble, ducking my head.

  “Where are Sam and Jake?” I ask Sawyer, hoping Benny won’t say anything else. Sawyer hands his cell to me, so I text Sam. He calls me back within seconds.

  “Sorry, I was getting ready to call you.”

  “Where are you guys?” I ask.

  “Diane called. We came over here to help her get her car goin’, and she insisted she fix us lunch. Sorry I didn’t call you.”

  “That’s okay. Have a good one, and we’ll see you in a few.” I hand Sawyer his phone. “They’re eating at Di’s. She had car trouble, and they went to help.” Sawyer’s attention is focused toward the front of the store, so I lean forward to look. “What?”

  “That fella who’s talking to Emma Rae…”

  She’s standing just inside the front door speaking with a stranger. He’s not much tall
er than she is, but he seems stocky or maybe muscular. As if she hears Sawyer, Emma Rae turns to look at us with an odd expression.

  Sawyer stands and stalks toward her and the stranger. I watch and notice Terry Joe and Jed keeping an eye on the situation, too. After a few minutes, I decide to mosey up front and check out what’s going on. I move to the other side of the doorway, close enough to listen in. I’m there for a minute or two when Terry Joe stands and ambles over, right in front of me.

  When I start to step around him, he turns his head and growls in a low voice, “Stay there.”

  So, I do. Terry Joe is a big, burly, rough kind of guy, and if he tells me to stay—I’ll stay. I peek around him, keeping an eye on the situation in case I need to help Sawyer.

  “So, you’ve not seen any of the McNish in the past week?” the stranger asks as he glances at his notepad.

  “That’s right,” Sawyer responds as he stands in his aggressive stance. His legs are spaced apart with his arms crossed, body tense.

  What now? I wonder.

  “When was the last time you spoke with” —the stranger looks at his pad again— “Race McNish?”

  “I told you: a couple of days before we reported the family missing.” I catch a glimpse of Sawyer’s face. He’s pissed.

  “Oh yes, you did, didn’t you?” The man flips through the pad. “And you discovered something strange going on out there.”

  Sawyer gives the stranger a hard glare. “I don’t know about anything strange going on out there.”

  “You were the one who called the sheriff.”

  “I was,” Sawyer agrees.

  The man turns his attention to Emma Rae and studies her. “And you’re sure you know nothing? I mean, that is what you told the sheriff’s deputy, right?”

  What? Emma Rae hasn’t spoken to anyone. She knows nothing about what happened that night.

  “I know nothing,” she mutters. Just then, a couple of ladies stroll in the front door, and the stranger has to move to let them by.