“What d’ya want, Jannee? Nothin’ goin’ on ‘round here,” Butcher snapped, making a circular motion with the stump of his left arm.
The sheriff frowned. The man’s backwoods accent grated on Janney’s ears. He knew Jim Butcher didn’t like him. That was fine in his book since the feeling was mutual. But it drove him crazy that the man felt no need to keep up appearances. He was so damn disrespectful. “Good to see you too, Jim. Always a pleasure.”
Butcher turned to the side, rotating his gut in the curve of the bar until he had a straight line of fire down to the floor behind the bar. A gob of spit ejected from his mouth and hit the floor with a splat. The bar owner swiveled back around to face Janney, a thin line of spittle hanging from his chin. Janney’s lips lifted up into an involuntary sneer. Jim Butcher had gotten worse with time. Still the same backwoods hick, he’d added a cocky arrogance to what had already been a distasteful personality. Janney glanced down the bar at the man sitting on the stool down the way. He turned back to Butcher and said “Look here, I’ve got to talk to you about Jack Tremont.”
“Whut ’bout ’im?”
“He was here two nights ago.”
“Lemme think.”
Janney had meant it as a statement not a question. Butcher obviously wasn’t going to make things easy. Janney licked his lips and looked down the bar again. “I know he was here, Jim. I know you remember. I just need you to remember how much he drank, if you get my meaning.”
Butcher shrugged his shoulders.
A muscle twitched on the side of Janney’s mouth. He lowered his voice. “C’mon Jim.”
Butcher smirked and said nothing. He looked over Janney’s shoulder and focused on the T.V. playing on the far side of the room.
Janney stretched across the bar, the veins in his neck sticking out like braided rope, his lips curled back over his teeth. His words came out harsh and slow, just loud enough for Butcher to hear. “You better help out with this, Butcher. If you know what’s good for you.”
Butcher didn’t move. Not so much as a muscle twitched on his face. Janney didn’t back down either. His body was taut, stretched across the bar. The two men stared down each other.
Finally, Butcher’s lips moved, “Next time yah go threatenin’ me, someone’s bound t’get hurt.”
Janney winced from a sharp pain in his abdomen. He didn’t look down. He didn’t need to. Carefully, he slid back and stood upright at the bar. As he moved, he saw a flash of motion as Butcher returned the hunting knife under the counter. Janney reached down and felt where the pain had been. The skin itched. He reached in between the buttons of his uniform shirt and scratched it. When he removed his fingers he held them up to the light and rubbed them together. Blood.
He slammed his fist on the bar. Aware that the man down from him was now craning his neck to listen, Janney whispered, “You idiot. You only had to do one thing. There’s a lot at stake here.”
Butcher ejected another gob of spit on the floor and turned back to the T.V.
Janney clenched his jaw hard. God, he wanted to pull out his gun and teach Butcher a lesson. It would feel so good squeezing the trigger, burying five or six slugs into the man’s gut. That would show the smug bastard once and for all where he stood in the hierarchy of things. But he knew he couldn’t. Self control won the battle and he reined himself in. He reminded himself that lack of self control had created the current situation to begin with.
Deciding against the drink he craved minutes before, Janney marched across the bar and exited without a look back. He climbed into the squad car and flipped on the two way. “Sorenson, are you there?”
The response came back with a little static, “Yeah, right here.”
Janney tapped the mouthpiece on the dash. Thinking. Thinking.
“Sheriff?” Deputy Sorenson asked.
Janney pressed the button to speak. “Forget it. I changed my mind.”
“All right. I’m out here watching the Tremont house. Nothing going on.”
“Roger that. I’m out for the night. Call me if something happens, right?”
“Roger. Over and out.”
Janney hung the mouthpiece back on its handle and started up the car. He rolled out of the parking lot without knowing exactly where he was going, just a vague notion that he ought to do something.
He still didn’t know where the girl’s body was. He had no leads. Nothing. Without the body, the situation was still dangerous for them.
Janney looked down at the cell phone in the seat next to him. He knew sooner or later it would ring and he would have no choice but to answer and give the caller the bad news. Janney shuddered at the thought of having to deliver the message.
The Boss wasn’t going to like it.
TWENTY-TWO
The alarm went off for the fourth time. Cathy Moran stretched out an unsteady hand and slapped at the blaring black box until she hit the snooze button. Burying her face back into her warm pillows she laid there waiting for sleep to take hold of her again.
She didn’t care if she was late for school. First period was Mr. Detrich for chemistry and she could flirt her way out of anything with him. Just arch her back and show a little cleavage and he forgave all her trespasses. How could she think about chemistry this early in the morning anyway? Then again, Bobby Mazingo was in that class and he sat next to her last week during an experiment. Maybe she should…
“Hey! Time to get up. Let’s go.”
She groaned at the voice; she forgot her dad was home today. Worse than any alarm clock. He banged on the door but it sounded more like he was kicking her in the head. “I’m up! I’m up!” she cried.
She rolled over and swung her legs off the side of the bed and yawned. Gathering enough will power she pushed off the bed and dragged herself to the bathroom. At least her new so-called brothers were with their other parents for the week. A bathroom she didn’t have to share was one of the few benefits of divorce, and there weren’t many. Her dad’s new Barbie-doll wife was nice enough even though she was half her mom’s age. Or at least half the age her mom would have been if she was still alive.
The shower usually woke her up. She cranked up the heat until it stung the skin on her back. Then she shampooed twice just like she’d learned by reading Young Ms. magazine. The magazine was the discovery of the year. Everything from healthy roots to getting rid of pimples to being sexy enough to get any man she wanted. She felt a little weird reading some of the more graphic articles. Of course, those were the ones she read twice. The writers at Young Ms. knew their stuff.
Even though she was already running late, she stayed in the shower longer than normal. She couldn’t shake how tired she felt over the last couple of weeks. Sleep wasn’t the problem. She was actually getting more sleep than normal, napping throughout the day and crashing early at night. Still, her body ached for more.
She hoped she wasn’t coming down with something. The weekend was coming up and her friend Gertie’s parents were out of town, the perfect opportunity to invite some boys over. Maybe even Bobby Mazingo. The thought put a smile on her face and was enough motivation to get her going. She turned off the water and toweled dry before climbing out of the shower.
Steam covered the bathroom mirror. When she wiped away the condensation she gasped at the image of herself. There was something strange on her chest and shoulders. The image disappeared in an instant as the steamy room fogged up the mirror again. She reached out and wiped it away with her towel.
Faint purple botches covered her skin. They were around her breasts, up to her chest and throat and down her shoulders. It looked like someone had beaten the hell out of her the night before.