by Nick Russell
She was straddling him digging deep into the muscles of his neck and shoulders.
"Oh, I think if I massage certain things enough you'll wake up to do what I need done."
"I'm just a piece of meat to you, aren't I, Beth Ann."
"Is that what you think?"
"Sometimes."
"And what's wrong with that. Ain't I just a piece of ass to you?"
"No."
She stopped for a moment, then asked, "Then what am I?"
"I don't know. Does it have to have a label?"
She resumed the massage. "I don't know. I never thought of it that way. I mean, I can't be your girlfriend. You're still married to my sister. And don't get me wrong, I don't want to be your girlfriend. And I don't think you want me to be, either."
He didn't answer because he didn't know what to say. No, he didn't want a formal relationship with Beth Ann. So what was it they had? They both filled a need for the other person on a purely physical level, but he didn't feel the emotional connection with her that one would expect for a lover.
"So we're just friends with benefits?"
"I guess."
"I don't have any problem with that, John Lee."
"Okay."
"We both know this ain't forever, right? I mean, sooner or later you'll find somebody and this'll end. I just want you to know that I'm okay with that when the time comes."
"Or you might find somebody."
Beth Ann laughed. "Not me. Least not for a long time. I'm just sowin' my wild oats, as Mama calls it. I'm not ready to be tied down to anybody yet."
"Okay."
He was totally relaxed and didn't want to talk. He just wanted to sleep. When Beth Ann told him to roll over on his back he did not hear her. There would be no happy ending to the massage. John Lee Quarrels was dead to the world.
Sometime, hours later, his full bladder woke him up and he got up to go to the bathroom. Back in bed he was drifting back to sleep when he heard a vehicle slow down out front. He was instantly awake, wondering if it was Maddy. But then it continued down the road and he recognized the rumble of Phil Robinson's Dodge diesel pickup as his neighbor returned home.
***
"Hi. It's John Lee."
"John Lee? Do I know a John Lee? Oh yes, I seem to remember a cracker deputy sheriff from someplace named John Lee. But you can't be him, because he's one of those guys who takes a girl to dinner and gets what he wants out of her and then never calls again."
"I'm sorry, Shania. It's been really crazy over here. I wasn't ignoring you."
"Sure you were. But that's okay, I understand. You've got good reason to."
"If you think it's the racial thing..."
"Oh, stop it, I was just pulling your leg. What's up?"
"I was wondering, is it possible to get any DNA from those bones we found after all these years?"
"How much do you know about DNA?"
He shrugged his shoulders, even though she couldn't see him, and said, "I don't know, I guess about as much as anybody else. Or at least as much as any average cop."
"Okay, DNA stands for deoxyribonucleic acid. Every organism has DNA. It's made up of four chemicals, which are called nucleotides. They are guanine, adenine, cytosine, and thymine."
"You lost me already. Remember, I'm just a boy from the piney woods."
"I'm sorry. Sometimes you sound almost civilized and I tend to forget that. Let me try to dumb it down for you."
He smiled at her sassy attitude as he poured milk into his morning coffee and spooned in sugar.
"From the moment somebody or something dies, DNA starts to degrade. But not nearly as quickly as soft tissue. A lot of it depends on the conditions where the body or bodies are located, just like I told you, with the condition of the bones themselves. Scientists have been able to extract DNA from mammoths and things like that that died 50,000 years ago."
"That's a long time."
"Did you ever see the movie Jurassic Park?"
"No. I'm not much for sci-fi and fantasy."
"Really? That surprises me, I pictured you as a man with a very active fantasy life."
"So are you still busting my balls because I haven't called before this?"
"Yes, I am."
"How long is this going to continue?"
"I don't know, John Lee. How long is it going to be before you call me again? Preferably a social call, not just to talk about bones."
He laughed and said, "I have a comeback for that, but I'm going to keep it to myself."
"Yeah, there you go, lying to me again. I don't think you keep a certain bone to yourself at all."
"If you were a real scientist, you'd know that's not a bone."
"If you were real good ol' boy, you'd be driving this way right now to prove it."
They both laughed, and she said, "Anyway, back to the movie. In Jurassic Park they found DNA from mosquitoes that had been preserved in amber. And while that was fiction, there's some basis in scientific fact. Amber is an excellent preservative. Some scientists have claimed they were able to extract DNA from organisms that died over fifteen million years ago."
"Okay, then that means you should be able to get DNA from the skeletons, right?'
"Possibly. But again, it depends on conditions. Just like it does with meat in a refrigerator, freezing can slow the rate of DNA decomposition. That's why when they find ancient people or prehistoric animals who were frozen in places like Alaska or Northern Russia they can extract DNA sometimes. Dry places help, too. They have recovered DNA from 20,000 year old dung found in caves in arid places like Nevada and Arizona. On the other hand, heat and wet conditions like we have here are just the opposite. They hasten the decomposition of DNA."
"So is it worth a try?"
"Anything is worth a try. I did an internship at the Armed Forces Institute of Pathology in Washington, D.C. when I was in college. Before they closed down they were able to use DNA to identify the remains of over 150 casualties dating all the way back to World War II."
"Why did they close?"
"Why does anything close with the government? Budget cuts."
"That sucks."
"There are other facilities that still work to identify MIA remains. The big one's in Hawaii and they focus on Vietnam War casualties. Anyway, yes, I can try to extract DNA and we can see if we can get a profile for you. But then what?"
"I don't know," John Lee admitted. "Is there any kind of a national database it can be entered into?"
"The FBI has the Combined DNA Index System, or CODIS for short. They obtain DNA profiles from federal, state, and local DNA collection programs and make it available to law enforcement agencies across the country for identification purposes."
"Wouldn't this fall into that category?"
"Yes, it would. But you have to understand, John Lee, this isn't something that happens overnight. First of all, we've got to be able to extract the DNA and create a profile, and there's no guarantee we'll be able to do that. If we can, then we enter it into the system. And then, if there is anything that matches, which is probably going to be somebody with a criminal conviction, or else a John or Jane Doe, you may have something to start with. But if you expect results this evening, you're going to be disappointed."
"I understand that," he said. "But I'd really appreciate it if you could try."
"I'm on it," she replied. "I'll let you know if I find out anything. But don't forget, you owe me. I'm thinking dinner the next time you're in town."
"Please tell me it's not gonna be sushi."
"I guess I could make you a mess of chitlins and black-eyed peas."
"You like screwing with me, don't you?"
"I don't know. At least not yet."
John Lee was taking a drink of coffee as she said that and spewed it all over the counter in his kitchen. He coughed and choked, then wiped tears from his eyes.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I just choked."
"I don't know, John Lee, maybe I should
take a rain check on dinner. Better yet, maybe you should just send me a gift card for Red Lobster or someplace like that. I'm not sure you could handle anything else."
"I'm gonna say goodbye now. I'll be in touch."
"Promises, promises. You have yourself a good day, John Lee."
Chapter 41
Dixie Landrum looked up when John Lee came into the newspaper's office. "I heard some woman tried to rip your face off the other night. Looks like she did a pretty good job of it."
"She did put some effort into it," John Lee said.
"What can I do for you?"
"Well, I really don't know. I'm trying to come up with something on the skeletons we found out there on Turpentine Highway, but I'm not making a lot of progress."
"How can I help?"
"I was wondering how far back the newspaper records go. I was thinking that maybe there might be something about those men coming up missing or something."
"Do you know when they might have gone missing?"
"Not really," he admitted. "The best the folks over at the crime lab in Tallahassee could say was at least 50 years, maybe more."
"Nothing like narrowing it down, is there?"
"I know it's a pretty tall order. I'm just grasping at straws here, Dixie."
She opened the wooden gate at the end of the counter and said, "Come with me."
Leading him back past a couple of desks with computer monitors on them, then past the office of Arnold Kelly, the newspaper's editor and publisher, she opened the door into a large bay of a room that was a warren of stacks of old newspapers piled chest high.
Waving her hand, Dixie said, "There you go, help yourself."
"You've got to be kidding me."
"Well I damn sure don't have the time to sort through all of them for you."
"How far back do these things go?"
"At least back to the 1940s, maybe even the 30s or 20s."
"How would I ever find anything back here?"
"Well the good news is, Arnold does have them semi-organized. These stacks here? Those are from the last five years. The ones behind them go back another five years or so."
"It would take forever to find anything back here."
"What did you expect?"
"I don't know. I thought maybe you had things on file on a computer or something that you could look up."
"For the last five or six years we've done everything on a computer and we have searchable PDF files of those. But before that every issue was pasted up by hand, then they took it over to Lake City to get printed."
"Maybe this isn't such a good idea," John Lee said, disappointed.
"I wish I could help you more, but with Arnold in the hospital getting his hip replacement and then going to a rehab facility, it's all on me right now to get the next couple of issues out. But even if he was here, I just don't have the time John Lee. I'm sorry."
"Well, it was worth a try. Thanks anyway, Dixie."
He was back out on the sidewalk and opening the Charger's door when an idea hit him. He went back into the office and Dixie looked up from her computer.
"We're going to have to stop meeting this way. People are starting to talk."
"People have to have something to talk about," he said. "I just had an idea. What if I had somebody helping me? A couple of volunteers who would go through those old newspapers? Would that be okay?"
"I guess," Dixie said. "As long as they were careful and didn't rip the pages up or anything like that, and they put things back in order when they were done with them. But it's going to be dusty, boring work, so I don't know how many volunteers you are going to be able to find for something like that."
"Oh, I know where I can find a couple," John Lee assured her. "I'll be back in touch."
***
"John Lee. What's up?"
"How's your boy doing, Dave?"
"I think if his knee was hinged in the other direction he'd be kicking his own ass. I really am sorry about all this, John Lee. How's your face?"
"It only hurts when I eat, drink, or sweat."
"Lorraine is just... she's a bitch. I don't know how Gene puts up with her. Is she still in jail?"
"Yeah. The judge wanted to let her go yesterday but she had to be stubborn and she earned herself another 24 hours."
"Gene called and told me about that."
"Hopefully she'll be in a better mood when she goes back to court this afternoon."
"I hope so."
"Listen, the reason I'm here is I've got an idea. You know that D.W. said the boys have to do some kind of community service?"
"Yeah, they're not looking forward to that. Not doing the work, I think they both know they're getting off light. Just having all the other kids in town walking by and seeing them picking up trash or whatever."
"Then this might work out good," John Lee said. "Let me tell you what I've got in mind."
***
By the time she was led into court for the second time, Lorraine Matthews appeared to have learned her lesson. She kept her head bowed and only looked up when the judge asked her for her plea.
"Guilty, Your Honor."
"Before I pass sentencing, is there anything you'd like to say to the court or the victims. Victim, I guess, since Mr. Atterbury isn't here. But Deputy Quarrels is."
"I made a mistake. I got scared when I thought about my little boy being shot and I overreacted. I'm sorry."
The judge studied her for a moment before he passed sentence. "I have to tell you, Mrs. Matthews, yesterday I was inclined to give you some serious jail time after the way you acted out in this courtroom. However, Deputy Quarrels has asked me to be lenient with you. He thinks you deserve a break. I can't say as I agree with him, but if he's willing to turn the other cheek, literally in this case, I'll let it be. I'm fining you $1,500 and I'm putting you on one year's probation. I'm going to defer the payment of the fine and order you to get some anger management counseling. If you can bring me proof of completing a six week counseling program, I'll waive the fine, assuming you stay out of trouble for the duration of your probation."
"Thank you, Your Honor."
Judge Taylor studied her for a moment longer, as if he still wasn't sure he was doing the right thing, then he rapped his gavel and said, "Court is adjourned. See my clerk to handle the paperwork."
***
"If you asked me, those little bastards and that bitch all got off way too easy," Flag said.
"I don't recall askin' you," D.W. said.
"There was a time when we had chain gangs to deal with shit like this."
"There was a time when the Klan lynched anybody that got in their way. Those days are gone, too. What's your point?"
"My point is, you're too damn soft, D.W. You're soft on crime and you're soft on deputies, too. Lettin' those kids and that woman get off like that! And now you got Obie ridin' the gravy train claimin' he's got stress or whatever. You should'a canned his ass a long time ago."
"Did ya' just come in here to bitch and complain about what a terrible job I'm doin' Flag, or did ya' have somethin' else you wanted to talk about?"
"It ain't right D.W.! You need to let me start handlin' a lot of this stuff. That's my job."
"No, your job is to do what I tell ya' to do."
"Then what am I supposed to do? You keep take'n stuff away from me. I'm the friggin' Chief Deputy, but you override me on everythin'."
"That's because I don't trust you any further'n I can throw ya', Flag. You and I both know you're just bidin' your time and tryin' to work up the courage to run against me come election time."
"I haven't decided that, one way or the other."
"See, that's what I mean, right there. That's bullshit and you know it and I know it. You ain't man enough to look me in the eye and say it, because you're a chickenshit backstabbin' son of a bitch. I'd have a lot more respect for you if ya' had the balls to tell it like it is. But ya' don't. Only reason I don't fire you is I don't want to sleep on the couch.
But I'll tell you right now, Flag, for you to run against me, you've got to resign your position first. It's written right in the county ordinances that way. And when you do, and when you lose that election and come back here tryin' to kiss ass and get your job back, it ain't gonna happen. Now get outta' my sight."
"You're a joke, D.W. You know that? You got one daughter who's supposed to be a married woman, but she's livin' with a dyke instead of her husband. And the other one ain't nothin' but a tramp who's sleepin' with her sister's husband. You ain't got the balls to put a stop to that, but ya' want to threaten me?"
"I said get out of here! That's an order, Deputy. And as long as I'm sittin' at this desk, you'll damn sure follow my orders. So either take that star off your shirt and drop it on my desk, or get on about your business. Either way, I'm done talkin to you."
They were almost nose to nose, both men leaning over the sheriff's desk, eyes locked on the other. Dispatcher Sheila Sharp was sure they were about to come to blows when she appeared at the sheriff's office door with a handful of reports she needed him to sign off on. But finally Flag backed down. For the moment at least. He brushed past her without a word as he went down the hall and back to his office
Chapter 42
"Most people have the courtesy to call for an appointment, not just show up unannounced," Charlotte said, looking at him with disapproval.
"I guess I'm not most people," John Lee told her.
"Mr. Somerton is a very busy man, I can't be interruptin' him every time you want to drop in and chat."
"Sure you can. You just push that little button on your phone and you tell him I'm here."
"Would you like to make an appointment, Deputy Quarrels?"
"No, ma'am, I'd like you to do what I said and push that little button and tell him I'm here. What's so hard about that?"
She folded her arms and glared at him. "My job is to see to it that Mr. Somerton is not bein' disturbed all the time by people without appointments!"
"I'll tell you what, I'll just do your job for you, since you don't seem to be up to it today."
He walked past her desk and knocked on Troy's door.
