Erin Solomon Mysteries, Books 1 - 5

by Jen Blood

  “I’ve been thinkin’ about that,” Buddy said. “The only place I can think of where they’d be out of the way would be the reverend’s camp—but we already sent folks out there to check it out. No luck.”

  “The man at the radio station mentioned something about Barnel extending the property lines at his compound. Do you know anything about that?”

  The deputy shook his head. “Can’t say I ever heard anything about it, but I’ll look into it.”

  “What about targets?” I asked. “This isn’t making a lot of sense to me. I would think the point of whatever they have planned at midnight is mass casualties, but with the warning they’ve given and the amount of damage they’re doing leading up to it, everything’s shut down. The Feds are keeping a close eye on the few gathering spots left—mostly churches.”

  “Don’t seem like Barnel would want to take out the churches, though,” Buddy said. “I expect the sheriff picked the Dairy Queen because that’s where all the local kids in rougher crowds hung out—used to drive him crazy.”

  “And this is a dry county, so I’m assuming there are no bars,” Juarez said.

  “We used to have the Wilson Club,” Buddy said. “You remember that place, Diggs…”

  “Sure,” I said. I remembered it all too well, as it happened. “It’s an old factory they turned into a bar back in the ’70s. There’s a loophole in the law where private clubs can serve alcohol, so we’d all go there to raise hell.”

  “That sounds like a good bet,” Juarez said.

  “Except the reverend and Sheriff Jennings shut ’em down last year,” Buddy said. “Now some rich fella from away owns the place. He keeps to himself, mostly.” He shook his head. “Thanks to Reverend Barnel, there’s not too many places left to cause trouble round here.”

  The deputy took off his hat and scratched his head. “You know, for a while there it seemed like Wyatt was gettin’ along all right with the reverend. George was never much of a fan, but I think Wyatt made more of an effort ’cause Mae was so partial to Reverend Barnel. Whatever happened between ’em back this fall, though…”

  Juarez looked at him expectantly.

  “They cut all ties,” I finished for him.

  “More than that,” Buddy said. “Seems to me around that time is when the sheriff went just a little more off-kilter than he’d been before.”

  “But you don’t know what their falling out was about?” Juarez asked.

  Buddy shook his head. “Wish I did. I’m not sure that anybody did, really, short of Wyatt, Reverend Barnel, and the sheriff. And…”

  He looked at me guiltily. I knew exactly what was coming next.

  “And…?” Juarez prompted.

  “I could be wrong,” Buddy said. “But it seems to me that the only other person Wyatt would tell that stuff—short of you, Diggs—would be his sister.” He winced sympathetically. “Sorry. I don’t know if she’ll talk to you or not, but it seems to me Ashley’s the surest one to know why all of a sudden the reverend just up and cut Wyatt out of his flock.”

  As soon as we were in the truck, Juarez looked at me. “You know where we need to go next, don’t you?”

  “Disneyland?”

  He rolled his eyes. Juarez is funny, in that you think you have him pegged as this Latin creampuff until he gets tired of playing that role. Not a lot gets by the guy—something I’d learned while he was staying with me the year before. “Have you talked to your ex-wife at all since you got here?”

  “In passing.”

  “So you think the deputy’s wrong. You don’t think she might have some idea what’s going on?”

  Actually, I thought Buddy was completely right: Ashley would have a better idea what was going on than anyone in Justice. Ashley isn’t just some hillbilly I picked up after Sunday service when I was sixteen—between scholarships and summer jobs, she paid for a private high school back east out of her own pocket, graduated summa cum laude from Wharton, and knows money better than the Pope knows Rome.

  “She’s not real fond of me these days,” I said. “Truth is, I’m a little afraid of her.”

  “Get over it,” he said. “I’m not sitting by while this town implodes because you’re too much of a pussy to talk to your ex.”

  I looked at him in surprise. “Pussy? Damn. You’ve been spending too much time with Solomon. All this time I thought you were a nice Catholic boy.”

  He started the truck, shaking his head. “Between the two of you, you’ve knocked a lot of the nice out of me.” He continued before I could reply. “You knew about the falling out between Wyatt and Reverend Barnel.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Yet you never mentioned anything. Why?” He put the truck in gear.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “George and Wyatt and I disagreed on just about everything…except Jesup Barnel. It doesn’t seem like George’s feelings have changed any. According to Mae, though, Barnel and Wyatt developed some kind of friendship. I’m not clear on why that changed.”

  “Did you get a chance to talk to George Durham about any of that the other night? Before the rattlesnake attack, of course.”

  I wondered what Solomon had told him about that night. I assumed she hadn’t mentioned the ride to the hospital…or the fact that I was in her arms during the bulk of it. At least, I was hoping she hadn’t. Juarez was the calm and steady type, but I didn’t think he was that calm and steady. I pushed aside any residual guilt I might have felt for kissing Solomon when I knew she was Jack’s girl, and considered his question.

  “I didn’t really know anything was happening at that point,” I said. “I mean, all we had then was Wyatt’s murder. We weren’t thinking about the end of the world yet. I know George was a little off that night, but I just assumed that was about losing Wyatt. And everyone was so busy reminiscing and chugging moonshine, we didn’t really get into the nitty gritty of the investigation.”

  “You didn’t mention anything about George Durham to Erin, then?” he asked. “You don’t think she may have noticed something that you didn’t?”

  “I didn’t talk to her about it, really. She’d had a little to drink that night. Between that and the incident with the pit viper, we didn’t have much time to debrief.”

  He didn’t say anything to that. Too late, I remembered that Solomon had told me at some point that she was supposed to call Juarez that night, but never got the chance. And now here I was, telling him she hadn’t called because she was off getting wasted with me and my old cronies. I looked out the window, watching smoke rise from a distant fire on the horizon. I took a deep breath and let it out, nice and slow.

  “I know you probably weren’t crazy about her coming down here with me,” I said. Juarez glanced at me. Shook his head.

  “You’re important to her. She needed to be here for you—it was as much for her as anything.”

  “Jesus, Jack. Are you applying for sainthood now?”

  He laughed dryly, a trace of sadness in there. “I just want what’s best for her.” He paused. The silence stretched on. I’d almost given up on the conversation by the time he spoke again. “How are you, anyway? Since the summer?”

  The million-dollar question. I shrugged. “You mean apart from quitting my job, dumping my girl, and running off to the beach for two months? Apparently Black Falls didn’t slide off me quite as well as some people.”

  His jaw hardened as soon as the words were out. He glanced at me, then back at the road. His hands were tight on the wheel.

  “If you think anything just slid off Erin after last summer, you don’t know her as well as I thought.”

  “She’s pulled herself together pretty well from where I’m standing. She looks better than I’ve seen her in a long time. She’s working out, taking classes. She quit smoking. Dumped the whole quest for her father.”

  He didn’t say anything for a long time. I watched the world go by, and didn’t speak.

  “She still has nightmares, you know,” he said, after a whi
le. I went still, waiting for him to tell me things I knew Solomon never would. “She wakes up in the night, calling your name. She barely left the house for two months after she was released from the hospital—though I don’t know that firsthand, of course. I only know what her mother has told me. Erin wouldn’t take my calls after we got back. The only way I eventually saw her was by showing up on her doorstep one day in December.”

  He paused, waiting for me to say something. I didn’t have a clue what that might be, though. He continued.

  “Did you know she lost the use of her hand after the second surgery?” he asked.

  I shook my head silently. Something dark and heavy settled itself at the pit of my stomach.

  “The doctors weren’t sure she’d ever get it back. I thought Kat was going to murder someone until we knew that the third surgery had gone well. Erin refuses to talk about what happened in the woods that night—who killed Rainier and Max. What they did to her. What they did to you. She added a security system to the house. Asked me to teach her self-defense. And up until you left town, she called Maya nearly every day to get an update on how you were, and to make sure you were safe.”

  “She told you all that?”

  He laughed humorlessly. “Of course not. I learned all that from paying attention. She doesn’t talk to me. She talks to you.” He didn’t sound bitter—merely resigned. “As far as I can tell, you’re the only one she’s ever talked to.”

  “I hate to burst your bubble, but she’s never talked all that much to me, either.”

  As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew they were a lie. Solomon might not spend all day everyday telling me every little thought that crossed her mind, but I knew she confided in me more than anyone else. And I had a feeling that whatever she’d held back over the years was as much my fault as hers: no one wants to lay all their cards on the table when the other guy holds his hand as close to the chest as I tend to. Juarez shot me a look that suggested he was well aware that I was full of shit.

  “Why are you telling me all this?” I asked. “Nothing’s going on between us, Jack. Solomon’s not the cheating kind, trust me.”

  “I know that,” he said. “But you act as though she was unaffected by what happened in Black Falls. That’s not fair to her. Trust me: whatever went on over those forty-eight hours changed things for her.”

  I hesitated a long while before I spoke again. Finally, I blew out a long exhale and stared out the window, carefully avoiding Juarez’s gaze when I spoke again.

  “I know she wasn’t unaffected—I’m just pissed off that she’s doing all right without me. That you two are together, and she’s focused and sane and moving on with her life, when I feel like I’ve been walking a flaming tightrope over a sea of great whites for the past six months. I know what happened out there. There’s no way anyone comes out of that unchanged.”

  I waited for him to ask me just what, exactly, had happened. I wasn’t sure what I’d tell him. I thought of the warmth of Solomon’s skin against mine in the shower; the sight of her on her knees with a belt looped around her neck, gasping for air; the words Rainier had said to me just before I lost it and nearly killed him with my bare hands. Juarez never asked, though. We drove the rest of the way in silence.

  15:20:02

  I thought when she first answered the door that Ashley would slam it in my face. She debated it for five seconds, clearly, before she turned around and walked away.

  Juarez and I crossed the threshold.

  When we’d been together, Ashley had a gassy boxer named Winnie who followed her everywhere. There was no sign of the dog now, though. The walls had been repainted and new furniture replaced what had been there before. With the power out and the day shadowed by clouds, it was dim inside. Not so dim that I couldn’t tell the place was in a hell of a lot better shape than it had been when I was living there.

  Crying came from the kitchen. Ashley looked over her shoulder at us. “I was in the middle of giving Angus his breakfast. Come on.”

  The kitchen had always been a good spot for us—maybe the only one in the house. Like the rest of the place, it had been completely refurbished since I left: new appliances, stylish backsplash, trendy paint job, the works.

  “It looks great,” I noted.

  “Terry’s good with his hands.”

  Terry: the new husband. “Where is he, anyway?” I asked.

  She looked at me like I was trying to start something. I really wasn’t. “He works out toward Paducah. He’ll be back by six. He’s committed to his job, but he won’t let it keep him from us when it matters.”

  That may not have sounded like a jab at me, but I knew it was. She sat down in front of Angus, who was in his high chair with a cup of Cheerios, a waffle cut into tiny squares, and a plastic Sesame Street train.

  “Sit,” she commanded Juarez and me.

  We sat.

  “What do you want, Diggs?”

  “I need to ask you about Wyatt,” I said.

  Her eyes flickered to me, then back to the kid. She was good at lying—I’d learned that over the years. I’d also learned her tells. “What about him?” she asked.

  “I want to know why he was targeted for this. Why Barnel turned against him six months ago.”

  She popped a waffle square into Angus’s mouth and pushed a strand of hair back behind her ear. Angus chewed amiably, blue eyes watching me.

  “I don’t know,” Ashley said.

  “You’re lying,” I said. Her eyes flashed. “The hair thing, Ash—remember? This is me. We know he was into something. Was he having an affair?”

  “You’ve been gone way too long if you think something like that. There wasn’t another woman on the planet for him but Mae. You know that.”

  I did. I was unaccountably relieved to know that hadn’t changed, though.

  “I’ll tell you what I think, then. You can just tell me how close I am to the mark.”

  Angus picked up a yellow train car with Big Bird in the driver’s seat and smashed it into his Cheerios. The cup went flying. Ashley righted it without so much as a grimace, moving the food safely out of reach.

  “What do you think, then?” she asked me. There was no mistaking the challenge in her tone.

  “I think Danny was in a band,” I said. “His bass player—Casey Clinton—got knocked up. She couldn’t go to her father, and she didn’t know where else to turn. So, I think Danny took her to see Wyatt.”

  Ashley didn’t argue. She didn’t look at me, either, her attention focused on Angus.

  “I think Wyatt probably started out with the usual spiel on the subject,” I continued. “She was young, sure, but she could always put the kid up for adoption. Life is precious. Et cetera, et cetera.”

  Her mouth tightened at my blasé treatment of a subject I knew she took very seriously.

  Juarez took over. “I can understand your perspective,” he said. “I was raised Catholic. I feel the same way that you do—trust me on that. But sometimes there are circumstances that can shift your perspective.”

  To my surprise, her eyes filled at that. She sighed wearily. “A year ago, Danny got a girl pregnant.” She looked at Angus like she was afraid he might somehow understand the words. I took the toy train cars from him and crashed them into one another gently. He giggled, his attention successfully diverted. Ashley continued.

  “Danny didn’t tell anybody about it, of course. But the girl was new around here—didn’t know much about anything, and I guess she panicked. She went to old lady McCintock—she’s still doing those abortions out in her back shed, even though Sally Woodruff’s threatened everything short of stringing the old bat up. So, Sophie ends up on the old lady’s table, and she almost died—it was an awful mess. Danny’s a pain in the butt sometimes, but he’s got a good heart. It shook him up; he came to me later, and we talked. He said he would’ve kept the baby. Married the girl, even, the romantic little fool.”

  “Sophie… That’s the same Sophie who was ki
lled in the explosion the other day?”

  “That’s the one.” Her eyes clouded. “I wasn’t crazy about the girl myself, but she didn’t deserve that.”

  “So, he must have been pretty upset when Casey came to him and told him the same thing happened to her,” I said.

  “I thought the boy was gonna have a stroke,” Ashley said. “I never did figure out who the baby’s daddy was, but Danny was fit to be tied… I think he would’ve taken her to Sally himself, but she started to miscarry.”

  “So he brought her to Wyatt,” I guessed.

  “He didn’t have time to do anything else—she was in bad shape. Wyatt called Sally, and she came to his office. They did the whole thing right there.”

  We sat there in silence. Ashley put another waffle square in Angus’s mouth. Her hand was shaking. He spit it out, focused on her now.

  “Afterward, Wyatt came to me,” Ashley continued. “He was torn up—you know how he was. I can be reasonable about this stuff, but his heart was just too big. He wasn’t sorry, though; I think that’s what confused him more than anything else. After that, he went out to Sally’s place, and he started helpin’ out. Just doing some chores around the house, taking care of stuff that needed fixin’. All quiet as could be, of course, but you know there are no secrets in this town.”

  If I’d been there, I thought, Wyatt would have told me. We would most likely have done the whole thing together. Wyatt was like that: If he thought something was right, he’d make it happen. No matter the personal cost.

  “Did Mae know?” I asked.

  “No,” Ashley said. “You know how she feels about this. I’ve got my opinions, but I can at least see both sides. With Mae, this is one of those sins you can’t get around. It would’ve killed her.”

  “What about your father?” I asked. “Did anyone tell George?”

  She paused. Her hands were still trembling. “Wyatt didn’t want to, but somebody let him know—I always suspected Reverend Barnel was behind it. That maybe he told Daddy just to hurt him. He and Wyatt fought. Didn’t talk for close to a month, before Daddy finally gave in. After that, they’d still play cards, have a drink or two at the end of the day, but I know Daddy didn’t get over it.”