Final Justice (21 page)

"I won't. And it's okay that you told me. Besides, I wasn't surprised. Frank is like that. I've seen how he acts around women, especially when he's drinking."

"You have?"

"Oh, yeah." He stepped up on the porch and leaned back against the railing. Folding his arms across his chest, he continued, "To tell you the truth, I think when married folks go to those dances, they're asking for trouble when they dance with other people and get to flirting and all. Frankly, I'm surprised Rudy took you there. I remember in high school he was always crazy jealous over whatever girl he was going with."

"I think he wanted to dance with Inez Turnage. He was real hugged up to her a few times till Bobby Ray Walston cut in. Then Ronnie got mad and left, and, well, you know what happened after that. Such a shame, all them folks getting killed over what went on at a dance."

"Well, you lost your baby for the same reason." Realizing what he'd said, he was quick to apologize. "I shouldn't have brought that up. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I told you I didn't care I lost it. Oh, dang it!" She stamped her foot. "There I go again, saying something I got no business saying."

"It's all right."

"What I mean is, I don't feel like I'm ready to have a baby yet, so it's just as well I lost it. I didn't mean I didn't want one by Rudy."

He knew she was lying. "Well, if you feel that way, maybe it was for the best."

She was wearing a dress made from a feed sack. Luke knew because he had been at the Seed 'n Feed the day the truck unloaded the bags with that particular pattern. He had thought it was pretty then, and even prettier now on her. It was a soft plaid, turquoise and gold with a few splashes of tiny white daisies woven into the pattern. She had fashioned it into a neat little dress with puffed sleeves, a sash, and a billowing skirt.

"You sew real well," he said, a bit awkwardly, because he wasn't sure how she would feel about his complimenting her on something personal like her clothes. But he need not have worried. Not used to praise, Emma Jean was delighted. "Why, thank you, sheriff. Nobody's ever told me that before. Miss Ruby is always criticizing, saying I make things fit me too tight or too short."

"Don't pay her any mind. She's wears her clothes big to try and hide her fat, but you don't have to do that. She's got ugly legs, too. Like a knock-kneed goat."

Emma Jean giggled, and it was a good feeling because she could not remember the last time there had been any laughter in her life. "So have you always lived here, Sheriff?" she asked, sitting down on the top step.

He dropped beside her, keeping a proper space between them. "Yes, except for when I was in the army. And call me Luke."

"Luke," she repeated softly.

He felt a little shiver deep inside. Nobody had ever said his name like that before, like they were stroking it with a velvet hand.

"Okay, and you can call me Emma Jean."

He nodded in acceptance of the new familiarity between them, then felt the need to remind, "I meant what I said, you know, about your calling me if you ever need me."

"Oh, I don't think I'll be doing that again," she said quickly, nervously.

"Then you don't think Rudy will hit you again? I hope you're right, but I've always heard and known it to be true that if a man ever hits a woman the first time, he'll do it again." He boldly added, "I've got a feeling the other night wasn't the first time anyway."

She did not say anything, and he had learned early on in law enforcement that silence usually meant assent. "I thought so," he said. "And I know it's none of my business, but why do you put up with it? Are you that crazy about him?"

The look she gave him was one of horror that he could think such a thing, but it was with careful control that she responded, "I took vows for better or worse."

"Bull!"

She blinked. "You don't believe in keeping your marriage vows?"

"You're just making excuses, and you know it. Either you're crazy or you're a coward with nowhere else to go. Those are the only reasons I can think of that a woman would put up with a man low enough to beat on her. So which is it? You seem to have plenty of sense to me."

"I guess I got nowhere to go."

"Everybody's got someplace to go. Where's your family?"

She met his probing gaze and was struck to think how he was probably the easiest person to talk to that she'd ever met in her whole life, and she had never wanted, or needed, a friend more.

"Would you like some coffee, Luke?" she suddenly asked. "I've got some left over from lunch, and it might not be as good as fresh, but I can heat it up and bring it out here so's if anybody should happen by they won't think nothing about our talking out in the open like this, even if it is nighttime."

How well he knew the reason for such precaution. He smiled at her, really smiled, for the first time in too long to remember. "I'd really like that, Emma Jean. I'd like it a lot."

Chapter 11

"Wait till you hear what went on at Junior Kearney's place last night."

Luke did not look up as Kirby rushed into his office. He was going over the latest "Wanted" posters, not that any big-time fugitives ever passed through town. It was just something to try and keep his mind off Emma Jean. "Yeah, I heard a rumor he's been selling moonshine again. We need to check it out."

"It's worse than that. He made two little colored kids put on a show last night."

"What kind of show?"

"A sex show."

"Say again?"

"The way I heard it, Junior caught Rufus Bynum's boy, Wooly, stealing soda and cigarettes at the fruit stand and told him if he'd bring his girlfriend in and put on a show he wouldn't have him arrested."

"How old is this kid?"

"Twelve or thirteen. I'm not sure. Lehman Fuller was there and told it at Creech's this morning. Wooly brought a little girl. Lehman said she couldn't have been over eleven or twelve, and she was crying the whole time."

Luke clenched his teeth. "Who was she?"

"Lehman didn't know, but I figure we've got Junior on contributing to the delinquency of a minor, and no telling what else once you check the statutes. Want me to go pick him up?"

"I'll take care of it."

"Okay. I'll tell Wanda to get the warrant ready."

Luke started leafing through the posters again. "That won't be necessary. I'm just going to have a talk with him."

Kirby's eyes bugged. "A talk? Is that all?"

"For now."

Luke's face was like granite, his voice cold and final. Kirby knew he was plenty steamed, just like he knew he probably had a good reason for not rushing to arrest Junior. But he wasn't about to ask what it was. When Luke was mad, it was best to leave him alone.

* * *

Luke had been keeping an eye on Junior for some time. He knew Friday nights were when he drove out to the old logging road to meet his bootlegger. Probably the bootlegger was from somewhere up on Cheaha mountain, but he wasn't after him. Let the revenue boys do their job. All he wanted was to catch Junior red-handed.

It was cold, drizzling rain, and foggy. Luke backed his car off the road into a pine thicket. He was directly across from the rendezvous point, which was a clearing next to the old grist mill and the stream flowing down from the mountain. Kids swam there in the summer. Fishermen came around in the spring. Other than that, there was no traffic because Hampton Mill owned the property and had no intentions of selling. The Hamptons had always been a greedy lot and would have owned everything in the whole damn county if there had been a way.

He opened a second pack of cigarettes. He'd been chain smoking since he had got there shortly after signing off to Ned for the night. He just hoped Alma didn't call in looking for him. If she found out he'd gone off duty, she'd accuse him of being with another woman.

He acknowledged as he stared out the window into the fog that there was a time when she would have been right. But he had learned a long time ago that if he was with the same girl more than once or twice, she wanted a serious relationship, and he didn't want to get all tangled up. He wanted to keep his promise to his mother, then leave town and get on with his life.

At least that's how it had been till Emma Jean.

Time had gotten away from them that night on her porch as they had drifted into easy conversation. It was like they had once been old friends, separated for a time, but reunited and anxious to share everything that had happened since.

After the coffee, she had gone inside and made a pitcher of grape KoolAid and found a box of vanilla wafers. They might as well have been drinking champagne and eating caviar at some fancy, big city party because they fell into fun and laughter so easily.

After a while, he said maybe he should leave because somebody might come by and get the wrong idea. She said it was too late for folks to be out, and she wasn't the least bit sleepy and really enjoyed having someone to talk to.

So he stayed, and she chatted on about how Rudy was going to get her an old car but not so she could gad about. He warned her not to even think about that. He wanted her to have a way to get to work at the laundromat that his cousin, Bert Veazey, ran, but only during the months she wasn't working for Mr. Dootree in the fields. Part of the deal when Rudy rented the house was that she'd be available for picking tomatoes or any other work in the fields.

At one point, their knees had accidently touched, and Emma Jean jumped and moved away. Luke had self-consciously cleared his throat and said he really ought to be getting home. Then she thanked him for going to see her at the hospital and said she knew he had been right in urging her to take out a warrant against Rudy but just couldn't.

That opened the door to more intimate conversation, and she wound up telling Luke the story of how she had come to marry Rudy in the first place, out of fear of being on her own in a world she never learned to cope with.

He listened and thought he understood and dared to share a bit about his own past: the shame of growing up illegitimate, having to get married when he was still a kid. He did not, however, tell her of his quest for revenge. That was a secret he vowed he would, unlike his mother, carry to the grave. Hardy and Burch and Buddy might wonder, but he was damned if he would let them know that he was aware that one of them was his father.

"Don't you ever wonder who your daddy was?" Emma Jean had innocently asked.

And he had given her the answer he always gave himself when he pondered the same thing: "Nope. Being here is all that matters. How I came to be doesn't."

When they finally called it a night, and he got up to leave, he marveled at what a tiny thing she was, her head barely coming to the bottom of his chin. Lord, how he ached to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight so nobody could ever hurt her again. Instead, he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his khaki uniform jacket and reminded her that she had his number if she needed him.

He saw her a few days later, and, sure enough, Rudy had bought her a car, a 1950 Ford that was a real klunker and blew black smoke out the exhaust pipe. She was proud of it, nonetheless, and waved and grinned at Luke the morning he passed her as she was turning into the laundromat.

He glanced at his watch, saw it was five to eight, and ever since he made it a habit to try to be at the corner at that time every morning. So far, he hadn't missed her a single day and was starting to wonder if maybe she was timing him, too.

He had sense enough to realize he was playing with fire, and it worried him that he didn't care. There was just something about her that warmed a spot in his heart that had been cold for a long, long time, maybe since that day he got the letter in Nam from Sara telling him why she could never return his love.

Suddenly headlights loomed in the distance, coming from town. Luke got out of his car fast, making sure the overhead light did not flash on to give him away. Crouching behind a tree, he waited for the truck to turn into the clearing and saw it was Junior. At the same time, lights approached from the north, from Cheaha, and in a few minutes, a sleek Cadillac pulled in.

Luke stealthily crossed the road and eased into the drainage ditch running alongside so he could be close enough to hear what was being said without being noticed. He recognized Junior's voice.