When Devils Sing(47)
Andrea finished typing the number into her phone, then eyed Isaiah once more. Her gaze alternated from present to gone, like she struggled to remain here or was somewhere lost in her thoughts. “You have the same sort of eyes as my boy. Kind. Trustin’.”
“Thank you.”
“It ain’t a compliment.” Andrea shook her head. “Not anymore.”
Isaiah’s chest felt heavy as he climbed into his car and made the drive back home to the farm. He rolled the BMW’s windows down, willing himself to breathe the fresh morning air, to think clearly about the story unraveling before him.
Of the town he loved taking shape into something he no longer recognized.
As he drove down the flat stretch of the two-lane road, the cicadas sounded with their morning rallying call. All at once, their cacophonous screams echoed around Isaiah, doing little to drown out his racing thoughts and the uneasy feeling burrowing beneath his skin.
CHAPTER 18SAM
That afternoon, Sam recognized Sheriff Buckley guarding the closed door of Ben’s hospital room like a pig-faced sentry.
What the hell is this?
It’d been three days since the accident, since Sam had last seen her brother. She hesitated around the hallway corner, frowning at the paltry gift in her hand. A hazelnut chocolate bar that had already turned soft from the heat of the late June morning. Ben wouldn’t care if it was melted—he’d never been picky like that. The gesture alone would bring a smile to his face, showing his freckled cheeks. But as she eyed the sheriff down the hall, Sam feared she wouldn’t even get the chance.
Approaching the door with confident steps, Sam pretended she didn’t notice Sheriff Buckley. Once he spotted her, he began to slowly shake his head.
“You can stop right there, Samantha,” Sheriff Buckley said. “Go on ahead and turn around before this gets ugly.”
Sam slowed. “What’re you talking about, Buck?”
The sheriff snorted at the nickname reserved for use by friends and family. He’d been a longtime family friend of her parents, as was most trailer trash of Carrion, where everybody knew everybody. And everybody did well to stay on the good side of her daddy.
Wiley Calhoun and Sheriff Buckley were as thick as thieves. If her daddy was Russ Langley’s attack dog, Sheriff Buckley was the authority that looked the other way when someone got bit.
“You ain’t allowed in there,” Sheriff Buckley said, chewing on a black wad of tobacco like a grazing cow. “More specifically, you ain’t allowed within fifteen hundred feet of here.” He materialized a manila folder from the nearby chair, pulling out several sheets of legal papers and extending them to Sam.
“A restraining order?” Sam took all of a moment to look it over before shoving the papers back into the sheriff’s hands. “My parents can’t keep me from Ben. They have no right.”
“Sure they do,” Sheriff Buckley said. “You threatened your brother’s life with that accident. You’re an endangerment to a minor. It matters not that he’s your blood.”
“I never endangered him,” Sam snapped. Her fingers twitched into a fist as she stared at the sheriff’s satisfied face. He was the kind of person who derived joy out of cruelty, and she wanted to punch him for it. “Why don’t you do your damn job and find the person who’s actually responsible?”
“What was that?” Sheriff Buckley’s expression turned hard, his cheeks going ruddy. “You wanna spend a night in county?”
Sam’s jaw went tight at the threat. “I just wanna see my brother. That’s not a crime.”
The sheriff waved the restraining order in her face. “It is now.”
Sam took a step back, ready to bolt before he could make a grab for her, but she froze before she could. She found her mama standing a few feet away, her arms filled with a bouquet of vending machine food. The two stood in a gridlock, assessing each other with the green eyes they both shared. Maggie Calhoun may have been Sam’s mama, but it was in title only. She was as motherly as a lion that eats her cubs.
“Buck,” her mama began. “Can you give us a minute?”
Sheriff Buckley nodded, then peeled away from the door. He shot Sam a pointed look before walking down the hallway, disappearing around the corner.
“Was the restraining order your idea?” Sam finally broke the silence. “Or Daddy’s?”
Maggie held Sam’s gaze. “I couldn’t let you hurt my baby again.”
“Have you lost your damn mind?” There was no sense of self-preservation for Sam in that moment. She bridged the distance between them, causing Maggie to drop the plastic-wrapped food in her hands. “Since when have you ever cared about Ben’s safety?”
Despite the shock of Sam’s closeness, her mama remained resolute. “What you did to Ben is far worse than anything Wiley has done.”
Sam blinked. “I saved him.”
“Bones and bruises heal,” Maggie said slowly. “But people … they don’t just come back from the dead. What you did was not savin’.”
Sam’s anger began to sputter out, giving way to fear. The sort of fear that had been taught to her since she was a kid, when her mama would whisper warnings of devils and desire and all-consuming hellfire—teachings she’d spent years trying to unlearn. But Jack appearing two days ago, and performing the inexplicable, upended it all. Now, she wasn’t sure what to believe.