Give Me Some Sugar

by Gen Griffin

  “And I will always want you!” She sang as the brand new Dodge bounced over the curb in front of the Sheriff's department and pulled into the parking lot. Makinsley collapsed in giggles against the door as the song ended. She pulled a half-empty liquor bottle out of her purse and held it up. “Who wants one last shot before we go in?”

  Addison grinned as he turned the radio down slightly and cut the engine of the truck. “Not me, babe. I gotta act sober. I'm a cop, remember?”

  “Ah, what the hell.” David gestured for Mak to pass him the bottle. He twisted off the lid and took a healthy swig of the pale gold liquid, only to come up coughing a minute later. “Damn, that's rough.”

  He held it out to Cal, who waved it away. “I'm good.”

  “You ain't hardly drank nothing tonight,” David slurred his words slightly.

  “And you've had way too much. Between the two of us, our alcohol consumption will average out.” Cal pushed his door open and climbed out of the backseat of the four door truck. Truth be told, he felt too old to be getting drunk on tequila and riding around giggling and singing in Addison's truck. He didn't necessarily blame his friends, or Makinsley, for wanting to blow off some stress. God knew, it had been a bad summer. Still, Cal just couldn't seem to make himself feel young and free. The sillier everyone else acted, the older he felt.

  Makinsley hopped out of the truck. She swished her hips and spun a tight ballerina's twirl on her spiked high heels. “It's a beautiful night. Kerry is in jail!” She let out a giddy little squeal.

  David slid out the door on his own side of the truck and stumbled. He had to grab the side of the truck to stay on his feet. He still had the tequila bottle in his hand. “Fuck. I'm lit.”

  Addison took the liquor away from him. “Been awhile since you drank?”

  “I've been trying to be a better person,” David slurred. “You know, 'cause Trish. Trish is a good girl. She deserves better.”

  “Trish is solid and she loves you. God only knows why, but she does.” Addison shook his head at David. He was grinning from ear to ear. “Can you pull yourself together and pretend to be sober inside the station or do I have to leave you in the truck?”

  “I'm not about to miss seeing Kerry locked in a jail cell. Give me a minute.” David closed his eyes and leaned against the truck, taking several deep breaths. When he opened his hooded green eyes, his expression was clear.

  “You good?” Addison asked him.

  David grinned, looking every bit like a rattlesnake that was preparing to strike. “Never been better.”

  “Why are the lights out?” Cal asked as he headed towards the front doors of the sheriff's department. “I thought the front office was always supposed to be manned.”

  Addison frowned. “Are the lights out?”

  Cal gestured to the sides of the building, which were normally lit with floodlights. The floodlights were dark and the building was being illuminated solely by the streetlights that ran all the way down Main Street. The space beyond the glass front door was also dark.

  “Power's not out, is it?”

  “The streetlights would be out if the power were out,” Makinsley said. She walked up to the front door of the building and pushed open the door. It was unlocked and opened easily. “Is anyone supposed to be here besides Kerry?”

  “Meg should be here,” Addison said. He opened the toolbox of his truck and pulled out a huge black metal flashlight. He pointed to a small red sedan parked in the far left corner of the parking lot.

  “You got another flashlight?” Cal asked.

  Addison dug deeper into the toolbox and found a smaller blue metal light. He tossed it to Cal. “Still afraid of the dark, Walker?”

  Cal let out an uneasy laugh as he turned the light on to make sure it worked. He didn't like how still and dark the sheriff's department building was. If Meg was on the clock and inside, why didn't she have any lights on.

  “Hello?” Makinsley leaned through the open front door. “Meg? Are you here? It's me. Mak.”

  No one answered. Makinsley stepped into the dark front office. “Hello! Meg! Meggy? We brought you a present. Where are you?”

  David was starting to frown. He began walking towards the front door as Makinsley turned back towards them. Her broad, drunken smile had begun to fade. “Addy, she's not answering me and I don't see her.”

  “Well, she's not outside and her car's still here. She's got to be in there. Maybe she went back into the jail to babysit Kerry.” Addison turned on his own flashlight and joined them at the door. He played the light over the familiar room. Nothing looked out of place. The huge oak desk that sat in the center of the office was undisturbed. Everything on it was still neatly it its place. The computer screen had gone dark. The heavy black landline phone was still sitting in its cradle.

  Addison walked into the building with Makinsley on his heels. “Meggy?” she called out. “Where are you?”

  David cast one look back at Cal and then followed them into the building. Cal had just let the door shut behind him when Makinsley screamed.

  “Shit!” Addison cursed. “Dammit.”

  “Meg! Oh god!”

  Cal turned his flashlight in Makinsley's direction. She had run through the doorway that separated the waiting room and office from the main working area of the Sheriff's department. A familiar girl with shaggy brown hair was collapsed in a heap next to Addison's desk. There was blood pooling in the carpeting underneath her as Makinsley knelt down beside her. “Meg! Meg can you hear me?”

  David pushed past Addison and knelt down beside the injured girl. “Is she breathing?”

  Makinsley reached for Meg's neck. “I can feel her pulse but her breathing is raspy. Call an ambulance, one of you. Quick.”

  “Shit.” Addison grabbed for the cell phone that was hooked to his belt. He punched in the private number for the EMT and fire station on the other side of town and then tossed the phone at David. “Tell them what's happened. Get an ambulance down here and then call Uncle Frank.”

  “Where are you going?” David asked.

  “To see what's happened to Kerry,” Addison replied.

  “Hang on, baby. Help is coming.” Makinsley was whispering to the girl on the ground. She had taken Meg's limp hand into hers. “Help is coming. Just keep breathing. Stay with us.”

  Cal hesitated and then he handed his flashlight to Mak. “Keep this. I'm going with Addy.”

  She nodded as David began talking into the phone. “Hey. No, this isn't Addy. It's David. We've got an emergency down here at the sheriff's department. I don't know what happened, but Meg is unconscious on the floor. She's bleeding pretty good. I can't really tell where the wound us. Y'all need to hurry.”

  Cal didn't hang around to hear what else David told them. Addison had made it halfway across the dark room. He had to hurry to catch up with Addison as he reached the door at the very back of the building that separated the main operating area of the sheriff's station from the old jail.

  “Jesus Christ.” Addison played his flashlight over the broken door.

  “What the hell?” Cal reached out and brushed his fingertips across the dented sheet metal. “Who would want to break this door down?”

  “Why break the door down is a better question,” Addy said as he walked through the doorway. “No one ever locks the door that separates the main office and the jail. Ever.”

  “Hey Kerry, you still in here?” Addison called out.

  There was a whimper from inside Kerry's cell. Addison shone the flashlight in his direction. “Holy shit.”

  The floor of the cell was covered in blood and so was Kerry. His cream colored polo shirt was splotched with red and brown. His pants were wet and the smell of urine was heavy in the air. He had both of his arms clasped over his head and he was whimpering. He screamed as the light hit his face.

  “Woah. Is that an arm?” Cal pointed at a dark lump laying just outside the jail cell. Addison moved the light onto it to reveal a graying, rotti
ng severed limb.

  He nodded.

  “Help me,” Kerry whispered. “Help me, please.” He still wasn't looking at them. He kept his head hidden under his arms.

  “The cell's still locked,” Cal said. He studied the old-fashioned locking mechanism that held the cells closed. “It doesn't even look like it's been tampered with.” It was more than he could say for the back wall of the jail, which looked like someone had driven a truck through it. He could see the night sky clearly through a massive hole in the brick wall.

  “Kerry. Hey Kerry.”

  “Help me. Help me. Help me.”

  “Kerry!”

  Kerry finally looked up. “Who's there?”

  “It's me. Addy.” Addison re-angled the flashlight so that Kerry could see his face.

  “Addison.” Kerry let out a slow breath and lowered his arms. “Oh thank God. I was attacked.”

  “By who?” Cal asked.

  “A ghost,” Kerry said as tears streamed down his blood spattered face. “He was a ghost.”

  Chapter 19

  It was a little after one o'clock in the morning when Katie spotted Ian's truck off in a ditch on the side of the long two lane country highway that connected Canterville and Possum Creek. Ian, his new buddy Lowery and a mangy looking blonde woman who was easily ten years their senior were sitting on the tailgate with a battered cooler. Ian tossed the beer can he was holding into the woods, but he didn't do it fast enough. Katie saw the label flash briefly in the light of the headlights before it hit the treeline.

  “Lord, give me patience.” She closed her eyes and sent up a silent prayer as Gracie steered Cal's gold Chevy onto the shoulder of the road behind the ancient Chrysler Lebaron convertible that Katie had been borrowing from her mother since Hannah Mae's birth.

  Ian stood up and headed for the Chevy, bypassing Katie and the convertible completely. She couldn't help noticing that her husband was weaving slightly as he walked.

  “You got the tow bar?” He called out.

  “I doubt it,” Gracie replied as she got out of the driver's seat of the Chevy. “What the hell, Ian?”

  “Gracie?” He squinted at her through the headlights. “Fuck. Where's David?”

  “What did you do to our truck?” Katie asked, cutting him off before he had the chance to complain about his rescue party. “And how much have you had to drink?”

  “Did he really rat me out to y'all?” Ian rubbed his eyes unhappily. “Remind me not to count on my cousin again.”

  “Blood ain't thicker than water, huh Ian?” Lowery had heaved his rather substantial bulk off the tailgate of the S-10. His white 'wife-beater' tank top was stained a grim and disgusting shade of splotchy gray. His jeans were sagging low across his hips and covered in stains that Katie didn't want to spend too long dwelling on.

  “Guess not.”

  “Is it broken down or did you run off the road?” Gracie demanded.

  “Damn! Holy mother of sweet God. Lookit you.” Lowery had gotten a good look at Gracie as she walked across the front of the Chevy. Katie watched with disgust as Lowery took in her best friend's long legs, skintight dress and flawless figure. Not an ounce of fat on Gracie Malone and all her curves were in exactly the right places. Katie normally managed not to be jealous. She had long ago come to terms with being short, flat chested and a little bit on the plain side. Still, between Addison's unexpected confession that he was in love with Trish and Ian's drunken stupidity, tonight wasn't going to be one of her better nights. She sent up another prayer to Jesus.

  “Baby, I need your number.” Lowery grinned up at Gracie through rotted, tobacco stained teeth. He reached out to grab onto her arm.

  Gracie held up her left hand to him, displaying her 2-carat diamond. “Don't touch me.”

  “Aww, damn. Don't be that way. We could have us a good time tonight and he'd never have to know.”

  “He'd kill you, Lowery.” Katie crossed the distance between the cracked rear bumper of the Chrysler and the front of Cal's truck. “Gracie, this is Ian's new best friend, Lowery Vaughn. Lowery, don't hit on my friends. They're too good for you.”

  “You're such a bitch, Katherine.” Lowery spat on the ground, inches from Katie's feet.

  “Did you seriously just call my best friend a bitch?” Gracie took a step towards Lowery.

  “I call 'em like I see 'em,” Lowery drawled.

  “Y'all, I think maybe David needs to come deal with this.” Trish had her phone in her hand as she got out of the passenger's side of the Chevy. “Want me to call him back?”

  “Who dat?” Lowery asked as he squinted in her direction.

  “My cousin's wife,” Ian said, his voice slightly strained. “Why didn't David come himself? Why'd he send y'all?”

  “David's drunk,” Trish said flatly.

  “Since when did that matter?” Ian asked. “David's always drunk. Never stopped him from helping me before.”

  Trish took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. “Ian, are you stuck or did you break down?”

  “Stuck. I dunno. Might have broke something. I didn't realize the ditch was that deep.”

  “You were playing in the mud with our only vehicle?” Katie didn't even know what to say. “What the heck are we supposed to do if you broke it?”

  “Why do you think I called David and not you?” Ian finally turned his full attention to Katie. His bright blue eyes were bloodshot and bleary. His pupils looked wider than they should have been. “I can't believe he ratted me out to you.”

  “I can't believe you took our piece of crap truck through the mud. It barely makes it down the regular highway. Were you trying to break it?” Katie blinked back tears of frustration. “How am I supposed to go to work now, Ian?”

  “You got your Mom's car.”

  “She needs it back. We've been sharing it, remember?” Katie nearly choked on her anger. “I can't use it on days she has to work.”

  Ian shrugged his slender shoulders at her. His wide, guileless blue eyes and cheery copper curls did a lot to mask what Katie was finally starting to accept was a truly unfortunate lack of personal integrity. “Well, if David were here...”

  “He's not here. We are. Though, I'm pretty sorely tempted to drive off and leave your ass here.” Gracie walked back around to the rear of the Chevy and peered into the toolbox. “I have a tow rope. Hook your own shit up. I'm not messing up my shoes in the mud for you.” She gestured down at the high dollar heels she was wearing.

  “And to think you're wondering why I've found new friends,” Ian muttered under his breath. Katie knew the words were directed towards her.

  “We have amazing friends. They're just getting sick of your crap. Same as me.” Katie spoke the words in a hissing whisper.

  Lowery snickered. “I think your sugar momma is getting tired of you, Ian.”

  “Shut up, man.” Ian walked over to the rear of the Chevy and pulled the thick tow rope free from the toolbox. He staggered slightly under its weight as he lugged it towards the back of the S-10. The girl who was sitting on the tailgate moved slightly to left so that he could reach the tow hitch without having to go between her scrawny legs. Ian said something under his breath to her and she giggled.

  Gracie walked back around to the front of the Chevy and eyed the girl. “Who is she?”

  “No idea,” Katie admitted. She was fuming mad and more than a little bit scared that whatever Ian had done to the truck was going to be fatal to the already decrepit vehicle.

  “Do we care?” Gracie asked.

  “I don't know.” Katie shrugged her shoulders as she watched the girl bat her eyelashes up at Ian. He was cute. God, Ian McIntyre was cute. Always had been. Probably always would be. Just a down home, friendly country boy with a sloppy smile and too many freckles across his nose. She'd been crazy about him at 16. She'd been madly in love with him at 18. She'd said her wedding vows at 22 with complete confidence that her feelings for Ian would never change. They were going to be one of those couple
s who met in high school and celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary with their great-grandkids.

  Of course they were.

  Because Katie was a stand by your man kind of girl and Ian loved her. Even though he was currently flirting with a scruffy looking blonde with huge tits and shorts so short they could have passed as underwear.

  She took a deep breath and counted to ten in her head. Please, Jesus, help me stay sane long enough to save my marriage. I don't look good in prison stripes.

  “Katie, do you want me to call David back?”

  “No,” she said. “I don't want to make this any more of a circus than it already is. We should be able to pull the S-10 back on the road with the Chevy.”

  “Then what?” Trish asked.

  It was a valid question.

  “Ian's too drunk to drive,” Gracie said. “Trish, do you mind driving the S-10 back to Possum Creek?”

  “I can't drive a stick,” Trish reminded her.

  “Oh, crud.”

  “The convertible is an automatic,” Katie offered. “If you don't mind driving it, I can drive Ian's truck home and just come get the car back from you in the morning. Ian should have sobered up enough to drive by then.”

  Trish nodded. “That works. Sort of. What do you want to do with the drunks?”

  “It wouldn't be very Christian of me to leave them on the side of the road, would it?” Katie gritted her teeth as she watched Ian laugh with the girl. The blonde was rubbing his shoulders through his t-shirt as Ian finished hooking the tow strap up.

  Gracie followed Katie's gaze to Ian. “I wouldn't tell the pastor if you did.”

  “Don't tempt me. I'm about four seconds away from losing it completely,” Katie's voice cracked and she had to fight back tears of frustration and anger.

  “Are you sure you don't want David?” Trish asked.

  “I just want to go home,” Katie said.