Nobody seemed to be making headway with getting Stormy to talk to them. The EMTs were walking her through everything they were doing, but they might as well have been talking to an automaton, one that looked as if it had walked off the set of a horror movie. Drying blood and mud were in her hair, crusting on her skin, ruining her dress—yet her face, his Sienna Red woman’s face, was serene.
He ran a hand over his head, hoping he hadn’t broke her with all this foolishness.
Moving toward the end of the porch, he shifted his focus to the police and emergency medical vehicles in his grands’ front yard. The partially-revived bodies of PaPere and Thibideux were handcuffed and placed in the back seats of separate cop cars.
Belle Mère was wide awake and fighting mad. She was cuffed but refusing to get into the back of a third sheriff’s car and the deputies seemed real hesitant in the handling of her, likely because of the protections the sheriff had extended to her. They should have knocked her upside the head and tossed her in the car.
When the sheriff’s car came rolling up the drive, Belle Mère became a tearful, simpering mess.
“Oh, she’s good, Big Luc,” Deputy Harlan said, watching the theatrics from the bottom of the steps.
“Yeah boy, she da best,” Armand said as he stepped out of the house.
The sheriff parked further down the drive and walked up past his men, glanced at PaPere and T-bo, tipped his head at Belle Mère before scuttling past her which seemed to reignite her anger. She called that poor man names a person shouldn’t want to say to another person.
The sheriff was red in the face by the time he reached them, lowering his head in shame and rubbing the back of his neck. “Hell of a morning, ain’t it?” the sheriff said, by way of greeting.
Big Country crossed his arms over his chest, remaining silent as he stared the sheriff down.
“Goddamn it, Paul, get her in the goddamn car!” the sheriff shouted at the younger deputy trying to contain Belle Mère. Wiping the back of his hand over his forehead, the sheriff looked at Harlan. “What we got here, fellas?”
Harlan ran down the situation with precision. He’d always been methodical in nature even when they were younger.
“Hey Harlan,” a woman’s tearful voice said over the CB radio. “We just got a call reporting two dead bodies at the Mollybrook Inn. Floyd and Anna Hutchins were shot in their beds.”
Harlan pushed off the porch rail and cursed softly before pressing the button on his shoulder mic. “We’re stretched thin here, Gail. Have Hank go over and secure the scene, I’ll be there in a bit.”
“What the hell is going on? Has everybody forgotten who’s sheriff around here?” The sheriff frowned.
“Yeah, we was real sorry to hear about you resigning this morning,” Big Country said. “But it makes sense, yeah, given how Merlee had to leave our home because you wouldn’t do yourfuckingjob. I suspect that spate of poor judgment can also be tied to Will’s assault in the barn, and to a number of folks in town being harassed and threatened by the people in the back of those cars. The ones you wouldn’t do nothing about because you got caught up in some rancid pussy. It’s understandable you’d want to hand the mayor your resignation letter in person by days’ end, because if you don’t…you know me, sheriff, you know what I can do.”
When the sheriff finally gathered his balls, he looked at Big Country. “I’m sorry I caused your family harm, son. Just one foolish choice and…”
“Don’t beat yourself up too much. Belle Mère has screwed, and screwed over better men than you,” Armand said.
The sheriff turned to Harlan. “I’ll head on over to the Inn, help out there.” He looked over toward the squad cars again. “You think they killed Floyd and Anna?”
“Naw, that was Delilah, damn near guarantee it,” Big Country said.
“She was just unnecessary crazy, yeah,” Armand muttered.
The sheriff headed back to his car, and one of the EMTs came to the door, motioning toward the inside of the house.
“Hey Big Luc, your woman’s responsive and on the phone talking to her mama oramama. Either way, think you can get her to agree to go to the hospital?”
Big Country nodded, clenching and unclenching his fists as he headed inside to cajole Stormy into leaving. She needed to be away from him and the Brood, live a normal life, but every part of him was fighting the idea of letting her go.
Navigating around Delilah’s body, the coroner, and the crime scene investigators, Big Country squatted down in front of Stormy. She reached out and brushed her knuckles across his cheek and he closed his eyes and clenched his jaw.
Lord, he wasn’t ready to let her go.
“Mama just got off the phone with Merlee. Lynx is in surgery and she said we shouldn’t worry, that Cizan says Lynx won’t be dying anytime soon.”
He nodded, feeling relief and gratitude.
If Lynx had a bad feeling, something bad was likely to come of it.
By the same token, if Cizan said Lynx would live, Big Country knew his best friend would live.
