As he pulled into his driveway, he glanced up to see Marybeth at the window pulling the shade aside. The porch light lit up the cab of the truck, and he looked down to see if Maxine was awake. He didn’t really want to have to carry her again.
That was when he noticed something wrong. Her coat seemed lighter than it should.
He snapped on the dome light and simply stared. Whatever she had seen or experienced had scared her so badly that her coat was turning white. “Okay,” Joe said aloud. “Enough is enough. Now I’m starting to get mad.”
Sheridan and Lucy were still up, even though it was past their bedtime, because Marybeth wanted them to tell Joe what had happened earlier on the Logue property. As Joe entered the house and hung his jacket on the rack in the mudroom, he saw two guilty-looking girls in their pajamas standing near the stair landing. Marybeth was behind them in the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel.
“Tell him, girls,” Marybeth said to them.
Sheridan sighed and took the lead. “Dad, we screwed up this afternoon and we’re sorry for it. We went out to that shack on the Logue place . . .” He leaned against the doorframe of his office and listened to Sheridan tell him how they had deceived their mother and how they snuck up to the old shack. She described the contents inside the shack; the bedroll, books, stove, the long line of gleaming silverware on a dark cloth, then the appearance of “Bob” who called her a bitch. Lucy twisted the bottom of her pajama top in her fingers while her sister spoke, betraying her guilt.
“He called Sherry a bitch!” she repeated unnecessarily. “But he didn’t follow you,” Joe said, wary.
Both girls shook their heads. “You’re sure?”
Sheridan nodded. “We checked behind us when we were running. I saw him go back into the shack.”
Joe asked Marybeth, “Did you call the sheriff ?”
“No, I wasn’t sure if you would want him involved. We still can, though.” “Cam Logue needs to call Barnum,” Joe said. “I don’t know why he didn’t the first time the girls saw this guy.”
“I think he was just some homeless guy,” Sheridan said. “I feel bad about bothering him, now. I feel sorry for a grown man who has to live like that.”
Marybeth shot Joe a look. She was admonishing him to hold the line, to reinforce the talking to she had given the girls earlier in the evening. She knew Joe well enough that she feared he would soften. She was right, he thought. He tried to keep his expression stern and fixed.
“Girls, it’s past your bedtime now,” Marybeth said. “Kiss your dad goodnight and get into bed. We’ll discuss your punishment later.”
Relieved to be done with it, both girls approached Joe. It was then that Sheridan froze, looking around Joe toward the figure in the mudroom. “What’s wrong with Maxine?”
“She’s exhausted, girls,” Joe said. “I thought for a while tonight I lost her.” Sheridan stepped around Joe and turned on the light switch in the mudroom.
“She’s white!” she howled.
“What happened to her? Did she fall into some paint?” Lucy asked.
Joe said, “No. I think she got really scared. I’ve heard of it happening sometimes to animals. They get so scared that their hair turns white.”
“Is she okay?” Sheridan asked, bending over the dog and patting her white fur.
“I think so,” Joe said. “She’s probably just tired from running to catch me.” He watched as both girls nuzzled the sleeping dog, telling Maxine that everything would be okay. Marybeth gave it a few moments before scoot-ing the girls along.
When the girls were in bed, Marybeth turned to Joe. “I can’t believe how white she is.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it before,” Joe said, slumping into his office chair. “I’ve never seen a lot of things before, that have happened around here.”
“What are you doing now?” she asked.
He sighed. “I need to check my messages, see if anything is happening. Then I’ll be up.”
“Don’t be long.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
He called to her before she went upstairs. “Try not to go to sleep right away, I’ve got some things I want to talk with you about.”
“Oh, sure,” she said, smiling at him. Her smile took him off guard, and he welcomed it. With her schedule, it had been a while since they had gone to bed together with both of them not too tired.
“Really,” he said, grinning back. “It was quite a day. I investigated a crop circle that wasn’t a crop circle, met with Nate, then lost our dog.”
“Hmmmm,” she purred, obviously thinking of what to say next. “I had an interesting day as well. Don’t be long.”
Nothing from Robey, nothing from Trey Crump, nothing from anyone. Except another email from deenadoomed666@aol.com.
“Oh, no,” he whispered aloud.
There were no photos this time, only text.
Dear Joe:
I hope you got my last e-mail—didn’t hear from you so I wasn’t sure :) I hope you liked the pictures O¨¢ . things are getting a little crazy here now so this has to be short. i’ve got some very important things to tell you that you will want to know. don’t know how much longer i’ll be able to tell you these things. please come by as soon as you can or at least reply to me. i know a lot more now. i’ve got to go. He’ll be back any minute. Just when you think that things can’t get any weirder they get weirder.
Love O¨¢ , Deena Joe replied:
Deena:
I’ll be by in the morning. I hope you’re okay. If you need to talk to me away from him let me know and we can go somewhere. It’s important that you stay safe. If you need help now, call 911 or my direct line.
Joe Pickett As he prepared to go to bed, his head swimming once again with the unwanted images she had previously sent him, he saw a glow of light from beneath the closed bathroom door. He stopped and knocked.
“Come in.” It was Lucy.
He opened the door wide enough to stick his head in. Lucy was standing at the sink, looking carefully at herself in the bathroom mirror.
“What are you doing, darling?”
Lucy’s cheeks flushed red. “I was really scared today, Dad, when that man came out. Sherry said I looked funny. So I was just checking myself.” Joe smiled. “You were checking to see if your hair was turning white?”
“I guess so. That’s what Sherry said.” “Don’t worry, sweetie. It’s still blond.”
To Sheridan, as he passed their dark bedroom: “Quit scaring your sister, Sheridan.”
“Sorry, Dad,” Sheridan said from beneath her covers, where she had no doubt been hiding to muffle her giggles. “She deserved it, is all.”
“Good night.”
Marybeth was in bed and she looked as beautiful as he could ever remember. Her blond hair was loose and brushed to the side, fanning across a pillow. Her knees tented the covers, but the quilt was turned down enough that he could see she was wearing the dark-blue silk chemise that drove him crazy. One of the thin straps had fallen over a shoulder.
“Get in here now,” she said. “We can talk later.”
24
Joe was in a foul mood at breakfast when he heard the sound of an engine and the crunching of gravel outside. He’d been stewing about what Marybeth had just told him about Cam Logue. Although she had handled it well—Marybeth always handled these things well, he thought—the very idea of it infuriated him. She had made Joe promise that he wouldn’t do anything; wouldn’t go to the office and confront Cam, or urge her to find another job. Chances of finding another job with this kind of promise in Saddlestring, as they both knew, were remote.
“I knew I never really liked him,” he told her, buttering his toast. “Joe,” she cautioned him, imploring him with her eyes to let it go. As she did, Sheridan came to the table. She was always first, before Lucy. Lucy took much more time to color-coordinate her outfit and determine what her hair would look like for the day.