BOUND

by Akeroyd, Serena

  “You're lucky he's too big of a dumbass to realize he could have had you for assault, not the other way 'round.”

  Smirking, Eva murmured, “You're too smart for this hick town, Jessie.”

  “And don't I know it,” came the wry retort.

  Lifting her cup to her mouth, she took a sip of coffee then asked, “Were you involved in that article, Jess?” It was the only option that made sense.

  She cocked a brow. “Which article?”

  “The one on that website. No one else would have the wherewithal to do something like that. You're one of two people in town who aren't really offended by the paper. I can't imagine anybody else wanting news to get out about the Neuview New View.”

  “I'm not sure I know what you mean,” Jessie retorted, looking like butter wouldn't melt.

  After snorting at that innocent look, Eva mumbled, “Yeah, yeah. You can drop the innocent act. I'm the only one around here who realizes you're sharper than a tack.”

  Jessie winked. “Anyway, I'm sure it will be good for your circulation. That has to be good, right?”

  “I guess.”

  “You don't sound very excited about all the free press.”

  “That's because I'm not.”

  “Why not?”

  Eva shrugged. She couldn't exactly tell Jessie why, now, could she?

  “That's no answer.”

  “I'm about to be vilified by the whole country, Jessie.” She took another sip of her drink. “That is if the story gets out, and considering the way my luck runs, it probably will.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that people might find it amusing to a point, but when shit comes to shit, the general population doesn't appreciate folk who air their dirty linen...to borrow one of Joanie's phrases.”

  “You said it yourself, you're selling more copies.”

  “Yeah, I know, but that's different. People are sick fucks. They get off on reading about what their neighbor's doing, but when it comes to their own secrets, they get angry.” She jerked a shoulder. “For myself, I can't believe I have enough to write about on a weekly basis. This place is small, but a lot of shit happens.”

  Jessie's smiled widely. “It's all the farming. It's so boring we have to get our kicks in different ways.”

  “You don't have to tell me.” Eva thought back to Marjorie's photo of yesterday, and today, she'd had a letter slipped under her door. Apparently, one of the keep-fit ladies who ran the local slimming group had been seen eating a double decker hamburger over on the border, close to Rapid City.

  In New York, that shit wouldn't sell, but here, that was gold dust.

  Amused at the thought, she finished off her coffee, laid out a couple of bills, and grabbed her book. “I have mischief to make.”

  Jessie saluted her. “Go with God.”

  Eva sniggered. “I'm not sure what I'm doing could be considered as having a holy sanction.”

  “Maybe not, but you've shoved a firework up this county's ass. We sure as hell needed it.”

  Eva just smiled and waved bye as she headed out onto Main Street.

  Dorman was the main town in this county. There were about five smaller seats, but the action all hit here. Dorman was the city, and it was the only place in two-hundred miles to have a post office, general store, diner, and other knickknacks that Eva had taken for granted back in the real city.

  Paris, Grainger, Harris Town, Lleuwelyn, and Scarborough boasted nothing more than a grain coop. But they were densely populated with farms and ranches. Which meant people, and people were her bread and butter.

  After that, there were around sixteen townships, but they all circled Dorman.

  Dorman, for all its size, was a relatively nice place to live. She was a city-girl, born and bred, and while this was considered a city, it sure as hell was nothing like the one she was used to.

  Did she miss New York?

  Maybe. A tad.

  Sure, it was vital and filled with a frenetic energy, a buzz of power that was almost symbiotic, feeding and nourishing the people who lived within its confines, but this... Dorman? Hell, it was nice too.

  It was big and spacious. Main Street wasn't even the size of a block in New York. But all around, there were fields. She could even hear animals baying in the distance. It was so unlike what she was used to, the novelty enchanted her.

  As she headed down the road to the library, a small, barely there public building, the scent of petunias filled her senses. The beautiful purple blooms perfumed the air as she moved, only for apple blossom to overtake it with its delicate pungency. Joanie might be a prick, but he kept the city spic and span. She had to give him that. Who knew, she might even vote for him in this year's elections.

  Maybe not.

  With a smile, she nodded at Harriet Chester, the seventy-year-old librarian, as she headed deeper within the library. It was about the size of a small store back in the city, but it was ample for her needs. Surprisingly enough, they had a large psychology section, and as she always tended to do when the dream struck, she fell back on the textbooks.

  “Another one of those hocus pocus books, Eva?” Harriet chided as she tucked the library card into Eva's listing.

  “They're not hocus pocus, Harriet,” Eva chided right back, taking a second to lean against the counter and talk to the old woman. Only Jessie and Harriet had anything decent to say in this place.

  “They're not exactly fact, though, are they?”

  “Nothing is fact where the mind is concerned. That doesn't mean we can't learn more about what goes on deep inside.” When Harriet sighed, Eva commented, “If you're totally against it, then why have such a large section on the damn topic?”

  Harriet sniffed. “My personal preference has nothing to do with the books I select to stock the shelves.”

  “Really?” Eva mocked.

  “Really. I hate Steinbeck, but if you go over to that section over there—” She pointed at the social literature section. “—we have the finest collection you've yet to see. I spent a fortune on some of those books. There's even a rare first edition of Cannery Row.”

  “Well, for that, I applaud you. Most people aren't so generous.”

  Harriet smiled. “You wait until you reach my age. That word most is being generous.” She peered over her half-moon specs, tucking a stray piece of white hair behind her ears. Save for her hair and glasses, Harriet did not look seventy. Even Eva, who couldn't give a crap about her appearance, recognized that with a bit of dye, Harriet would look a good fifteen years younger.

  “I guess I should ask why you’re spending thousands of dollars on rare first editions, huh? Or maybe where a small-town library’s getting those kinds of funds?”

  The older woman tapped her nose. “I wasn’t always a librarian, Eva.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  Harriet rolled her eyes. “Use your imagination, dear. I worked in a bank. I made good investments, and have a fabulous pension. If I choose to sow seeds in the library, it’s in the vain hope we create a broader minded generation than Jonah!”

  Because she couldn’t argue that, although her mind did boggle at that level of generosity, Eva just gawked at the older woman. “Well, it’s not often I’m speechless, Harriet. But you’ve managed to achieve the impossible.”

  She snorted, then promptly changed the subject, “What's going on in this week's edition, Eva? Any exclusives you can share with me?”

  Eva shook her head. “Every week you ask that, and every week it's the same answer.”

  “You're mean. I don't let just anybody have seven books out at a time, you know.”

  “You're bribing me for gossip, is that it?” Eva demanded with a chuckle.

  “Well, bribe is such a harsh word, but yeah. I guess I am to a point, honey. Now, spill. Just a teeny piece.”

  “I'm shocked at you, Harriet. I didn't think you'd be interested in the tattletaling this woman has to spread.” Joanie's voice
boomed through the library like a foghorn through an empty harbor.

  Before Harriet could reply, Eva snapped, “Are you following me?” She knew he wasn't, but she got a kick out of making the man stutter. “I'll go to the sheriff, don't you think I won't.”

  Joanie's cheeks turned a ruddy-purple. “I came to renew my library book, Ms. Kingston. The whole town doesn't revolve around you, I'll have you know.”

  “I never thought it did, but the way you go on about my paper, I'm surprised you feel the same way as I do. What Harriet chooses to purchase is her business. Unless I'm mistaken, this is America, where freedom of the press is still as vital today as it was when the constitution was first written.”

  “Now, don't you go quoting your goddamn constitutional rights at me, Ms. Kingston. I won't stand for it. You know what you're doing is destroying our community, but what do you care? You're just a nomad. You'll be here for however long it suits you to create chaos in our little county, and then, you'll be off, leaving the damage behind you.”

  “I think the county needs my paper more than you believe. I don't fill the sheets myself, you know. I get intel. People provide me with the information I print. There's obviously a demand for it.”

  “Only because you're here to peddle their mischief.”

  “I make sure all of the facts are fully in line before I include anything in an edition. I verify every piece of information as much as I possibly can. So, there's no need to sniff your nose at me. I'm obviously fulfilling a service the county believes it needs.”

  “If you think that, then you're more in need of those books than anyone I've ever met.”

  “Judge not lest ye be judged, Joanie,” Eva retorted, wishing like hell Marjorie had had more than just a shitty photo of this prick going into the reverend's house.

  Her supposedly loose principles wouldn't let her print anything without something to verify the evidence she had, and that really sucked at a time like this.

  She didn't want to incite sexual hatred, but she'd love to take this prick down a peg or two.

  When Joanie turned another shade of purple, she merely turned to Harriet and murmured, “I'll get your copy to you tomorrow as usual, Harriet. Have a good day.”

  Harriet, gaze filled with mirth, nodded. “See you tomorrow, Eva.”

  Eva sniffed as she walked past Joanie and headed out onto the street without a backward glance. Leaving the picket fenced-in yard of the library, she made her way back to her office.

  It only took a few minutes, but as she did, a squad car pulled up at the diner. The lights were flashing but the siren was off. As the sheriff climbed out of the car, the deputy switched off the lights, and together, they headed into the diner.

  Interest pricked, Eva diverted from her original path and headed back to the diner. The last time she'd seen the lights flickering, one of the farmers, Mr. James had been rushed to hospital. His wife had tied him to the bed with a pair of handcuffs, only the key hadn't opened them again, and one of the part-time firemen had been called out to cut off the cuffs. The shame of it had made him have a minor heart attack.

  The weirdest shit really did happen here.

  But in a way, it was a cute place too. In New York, being caught tied to the bed would be seriously embarrassing, but here? It was enough to induce a heart attack.

  It hadn't stopped her from printing the story.

  In her defense, the readers had wanted to know the juicy details. Mrs. James had been keen to tell her more, wanting to spare other folk in the county from shoddy cuffs brought in from China.

  It was one of the only times Eva had been able to use full names.

  The diner was relatively quiet at this time of the morning. Most had already eaten before Eva even bothered to wake up, and they were back on the fields, tending their crops and cattle. Now, a few stragglers were in, but the sheriff and deputy were seated at a corner booth. It was their usual spot, and few folk dared to sit there through the day in case the duo popped in.

  Dorman was sweet like that.

  From the scowls on their faces, whatever had required the lights was serious business.

  The diner was one of those cutesy silver spaceship kinds. The front was a shiny metal, and multiple signs declared this place as producing the best burgers in the area—they were lies, the local burger was shit here.

  Inside, the booths were cracked blue leather, the tables were scratched Formica, and the cake display looked like it had lived through the last two wars without surviving.

  Eva's sneakers squeaked as she headed down toward the sheriff's booth. Before they could tell her to fuck off, politely of course, she took a seat. “What's up, boys?”

  Sheriff Ramsay glared at her. “Ms. Kingston, the deputy and I are discussing police business. This has nothing to do with you.”

  “Maybe not, but my readers would still like to know.”

  “Your gossip rag...”

  “Excuse me, my paper is highly popular within this county. I'm sick of having to defend it today. Yes, I print tidbits about the county's daily life, but that is apparently what the people want to read. I do include news, if anything is worthy of printing. Now, from the looks on your faces, I'd say that my instinct was right.”

  “I'll state again this is police business.”

  Before Eva could complain, Jessie appeared with the coffee pot and two mugs. She put them down on the counter, poured the coffee, and asked, “Is it true what they're saying about old Marj?”

  “Old Marj?” Eva asked, brow puckered.

  “You know, Jonah's secretary.”

  Eva froze. “What's happened to Marjorie?”

  “It's police business,” the deputy stated, but the sheriff held up his hand.

  “How the hell has news already spread?”

  Jessie just shrugged. “Burt saw the squad car over by her house. He just popped in for a burger.”

  “Only Burt could eat burgers at this time of the day,” the sheriff complained, scrubbing a hand over his bristly jaw. At fifty-two, Ramsay had been the sheriff for the last twenty years.

  Unlike New York, the worst action he'd ever seen was probably Mr. James’ wrinkled old frame as he wriggled on his mattress trying to get free of some crappy cuffs. It wouldn't take much for the pallor of his face to turn from its usual ruddy hue to the blanched white of now.

  “Is she okay?” Jessie asked, a concerned frown on her brow.

  “We don't know. She never turned up at work this morning.”

  “Then why were you at her place?”

  Jessie snorted and answered Eva's question. “Marjorie hasn't missed a day's work since she took the secretary's post twenty-four years ago. If she didn't turn up at work, then something's wrong.”

  “She wasn't at home, but her car was there.” Ramsay took a deep sip of his coffee. “Dimwit, her dog, wasn't there either.”

  “In the city, it isn't a missing person’s case until forty-eight hours have passed.”

  “You might not have noticed, Ms. Kingston,” the deputy snarled. “But this ain't a big city like your New York. When reliable people don't show up at work, we take the time to check on them. If Marjorie wasn't at work, then Jessie's right, it's for a reason. We figured she might have fallen ill, but seeing as she wasn't at home, we don't know where she is.

  “We're going to have to ask around, see if we can figure out her last movements.”

  Eva nibbled her lip. “I saw her at around eight forty-five last night.”

  Ramsay stared at her. “You did?”

  Nodding, she blew out a breath and settled into the cracked leather backrest. “She wanted to meet me, said she had something for the paper.”

  Deputy Harrow glared at her. “Marjorie would never have dreamed of talking to the paper about anything that happened in this county.”

  “Well, that's where you're wrong. It's the first time she has ever come to me about anything, mind, but she wanted to show me a photo.”

  “What kind of photo?�
��

  “It was of a meeting with the reverend and the mayor.”

  Ramsay scowled. “Why did she want to show you that?”

  Eva cleared her throat. “I think she thought there was something going on between the two of them.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Look, deputy, there's no need to have an attitude. I'm being cooperative here, aren't I? Marjorie, well, she thought they were being intimate with each other.”

  Ramsay snorted. “But Joanie's married.”

  Sometimes, she feared for people's brain power. Here in Neuview, it was like stepping back to another time when brains simply did not function. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “He can't be gay if he's married,” Ramsay confirmed his stupidity with that one statement.

  “You've never watched TV, have you?” Jessie retorted wryly.

  Ramsay flushed. “You want me to believe that Old Marj came to you with a photo she wanted to put in the paper? A photo that would tarnish our mayor’s and reverend’s good names?”

  Eva nodded.

  “What was in the picture?” Harrow pulled at his shirt collar.

  “Nothing revealing,” she murmured, hiding a smile at his relief. “She said that it could only mean one thing, but I didn't see that, so I told her she had to get more proof of something going on between the two of them before I could print anything.”

  “That's real decent of you,” Ramsay mocked.

  “I'm all heart,” she snapped back. “Joanie was going into the reverend's house. That was it. Sure, it was dark, but that was all.” At her words, Jessie, Ramsay, and Harrow all reared back.

  “It was dark?” Ramsay hissed, leaning toward the table.

  She frowned, her gaze flickering over the three faces gawking at her. “Yeah.”

  “How dark?” Harrow asked.

  “Dark. It was night.”

  “Shit.” It was Harrow's turn to rub a hand over his jaw.

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  Jessie patted her on the shoulder. “Folk don't visit each other at night in these parts, Eva. Morning’s when we do our visiting.”

  “You have to be kidding me. So that means they have to be gay?”