“Linda’s never been real good at picking men. At least Dillard’s taking care of her. That’s more than some folks can claim.”
Jesse cut her a hard look.
“Comes home after work like he should. Has a nice truck. Nice house.”
Jesse turned his head and spat loudly. “That house was bought with dirty money.”
Polly shrugged. “Better than no money.”
“I gotta go.” Jesse turned and started down the steps.
“If you’re wise, you’ll steer well clear of that man.”
Jesse stopped, turned around, and looked Polly straight in the eye. “Linda’s still my wife, y’know. A little fact that everyone seems to have forgot but me.”
“I’m just saying don’t go stirring him up. You don’t need that kind of trouble. No one needs that kind of trouble.”
“Well, if he thinks he can just take another man’s wife, then it’s my job to set him straight.”
She laughed, a mocking sound that set Jesse’s teeth on edge. “Jesse, you wanna think you’re mean, but you just ain’t. That much I do know about you. Now Dillard, on the other hand, now there’s a man cut from mean stock. His daddy was shot six times in his life and is still here to tell about it, while them men who done went and shot him—every one of them’s lying beneath the stone-cold ground. And his granddaddy, well, that man was so mean they had to hang him before he was twenty-two. Dillard’s got deep roots in this county, got the law on his side. Can send you away, one way or another. So you need to dial it down a notch while you still can.”
Jesse’s face flushed. He didn’t need Mrs. Collins to lecture him about Dillard Deaton, or Police Chief Dillard Deaton, which sounded much more important than it really was, as there were only two full-time police officers in Goodhope. It wasn’t the badge that troubled Jesse but the fact that the man was ear-deep with Sampson Boggs, better known around town as the General. Boggs and his clan ran every sort of racket: gambling, dog fighting, prostitution, welfare fraud, and could sell you any drug you could name. Chief Deaton’s sworn civil duty seemed to include keeping the law off the General’s back in return for a cut on the take—been that way as long as Jesse could remember.
Dillard’s ties ran deeper stilclass="underline" the Boggs clan and Dillard’s kin had a long, crooked history together. Dillard’s old man had taken those bullets Mrs. Collins had spoken of running moonshine for the Boggses back in the day. Blood ties meant something in Boone County, and feuds and disputes were more often than not settled outside the law. And a man needed to be careful who he messed with, because blood always came first. Jesse, on the other hand, didn’t have much kin left to speak of, and the few he had were of no account. Without kin to back you up you didn’t matter much; that was just the way things worked around here.
“What’s going on between me and Dillard,” Jesse said. “Well, that’s a different sort of thing. When a man messes around with another man’s wife, it’s personal. It’s understood he’s crossing a line and what happens after that is between them and no one else. You won’t find anyone gonna argue me on that.”
The stubborn left Polly’s face, leaving her looking old and sad. “Jess, Linda’s finally got something. Don’t you go spoiling it for her. Just you leave her be. You hear me?”
“Mrs. Collins, you have yourself a Merry Christmas.” Without another look back, Jesse got in his truck and drove away.
JESSE SAW NO sign of Dillard’s patrol car and let out a breath. He pulled into the police chief’s driveway, parked behind Linda’s beat-up Ford Escort, and cut the engine. The house sat on a couple of nicely secluded acres backing up against the river, just on the outskirts of town. Everything had been recently renovated: new bricks and wraparound porch. A late-model white Chevy Suburban sat in front of the three-car garage. “Nice house. Nice car. Amazing what a man can afford on a townie’s police salary these days.”
Jesse opened his door, started to get out, then hesitated. What the hell am I doing? He realized it was easy to talk big in front of Mrs. Collins, but now that he was here he didn’t feel so cocky. He glanced up the road keeping an eye out for the patrol car. Abi’s gifts could wait. Always another day. He shook his head. “I don’t think so. She’s my daughter and this is Christmas. I’ll be goddamned if I’m gonna be cowed by some old limp dick.”
He got out and felt naked, exposed. He glanced at the glove compartment, but something in his gut told him bringing the gun would be a bad idea. Instead he walked around, lifted the gate on the camper, pushed his guitar aside, and pulled out the two sacks of toys. He walked up the pathway, stashing the two bags behind the hedge, then mounted the porch. He pushed his hair back out of his face, straightened up his shirt, and pressed the doorbell. Deep chimes echoed from inside.
A minute later, Linda opened the door with a big smile; the second she saw Jesse, her smile fell. She wore a plush lavender robe. Jesse noticed right away the frilly lingerie peeking out from beneath the robe.
“Santa bring you that?”
Linda shot him a cold look and tugged her robe closed. “What’re you doing here?”
“Merry Christmas to you, too, honey.”
“You shouldn’t be here.” She glanced behind Jesse, her eyes anxious. “He’s gonna be back anytime.”
“I’m here to see my daughter.”
“Jesse, you can’t be making trouble.” Linda lowered her voice. “He’s just looking for an excuse. He’ll take you in this time. You know what that’ll mean.”
He did. There were times, when the gigs were slow, that Jesse picked up odd jobs to fill in. On more than one occasion he’d run contraband for the General. The Boone County sheriff was an honest man, wasn’t on the General’s payroll, didn’t care much for Chief Dillard Deaton either. One night, the sheriff pulled Jesse over during a run and that contraband turned out to be three kilos of weed. Jesse ended up in jail. Since it was Jesse’s first offense, the judge let him off with probation and a stern warning that any more trouble and he’d serve hard time. Chief Deaton liked to remind Jesse about his probation, about what would happen if Jesse were to get out of line.
“Last I checked,” Jesse said, “it wasn’t against the law for a man to visit his little girl on Christmas.”
“Jess, please go. I’m begging you. If he finds you here it’ll be bad.” And Jesse caught a note of panic, understood that she didn’t mean bad just for him.
“Linda, you’re twenty-six. What are you doing with that old creep?”
“Don’t you do this. Not here. Not now.”
“Well, okay, fine. But I’m still Abigail’s father and as such I got some say on her welfare, and it don’t set well with me one bit that she’s living under the roof of a man in cahoots with the General.”
Linda looked at him as though he’d lost his mind. “Really? Are you kidding? I can’t believe you even said that.” She laughed. “Weren’t you the one sitting in county jail a couple months back? And for what? What was it, Jesse? Running drugs I believe. Who exactly were you in cahoots with?”
Jesse flushed. “That ain’t the same and you know it.”
She just stared at him.
“Besides, I didn’t know it was drugs.”
Linda rolled her eyes and let out a snort. “Jesse, I happen to know you aren’t that stupid. Well, okay, I tell you what. I could move her into that little trailer of yours. That’d be a wonderful place to raise her. Don’t you think?”
“Doesn’t the fact that Dillard murdered his wife bother you at all?”
“He did not,” she shot back, a noticeable edge in her voice. “That’s just talk. Dillard told me what really happened. She emptied his bank account, took his car, and run off. That’s all there is to that. He was shattered by what that crazy woman did to him.”