“Y-y-yes,” Kelly managed. “Tyson, put the gun—”
Tyson forearmed the deputy up under the nose, and Kelly yelped in pain as blood gushed out of his nostrils. “You’re in no position to give me orders, Deputy. If I wanted to kill you right now, I could do it, and there’s nothing anyone would say or do. Five people on either side of this road could witness it, and they’d all say that they didn’t see anything. And it wouldn’t make a tinker’s damn that you’re an officer. You know why? Because this is Sand Mountain, bitch.” He forearmed Kelly again, and the officer’s eyes rolled back in his head.
Tyson eased the gun off the lawman’s neck and leaned back in his seat. “Drive.”
Five minutes later, Deputy Flowers pulled into a used auto parts place on Highway 75. “Thanks for the ride,” Tyson said, stepping out of the car and drinking the last of his Sun Drop. He motioned for Kelly to roll down the window. Holding the empty bottle in his right hand, Tyson leaned his elbows on the seal and squinted at the officer.
“Let me know when she lawyers up,” Tyson said.
“Yes, sir,” Kelly said.
“Is there anything else? Any other news?”
“I . . . I spoke with Trey Cowan.”
Tyson smirked. “What the hell for?”
“Trey has a motive because of the malpractice lawsuit. And he doesn’t have an alibi.” He paused. “The sheriff wanted us to check all our boxes.”
“So . . . what was the golden boy doing on the Fourth of July?”
“Watching fireworks from the Sunset Trail . . . by himself.”
“My, how the mighty have fallen. That kid is going to rue the day he chose not to work for me. But what the hell? You can’t fix stupid.” Tyson flung the empty bottle of soda into the footwell of the cop car and grinned at the officer. “Speaking of which . . . what happened back there was a warning, Kelly. You’ll only get one. Stay in your lane. Do as I say. And everything will be fine. In a few short months, Jana Rich will be convicted of murdering her husband, and you’ll stand to gain a sizable raise.”
Kelly wiped blood from his nose and nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“That’s my boy,” Tyson said, winking at him just as he’d winked at Dooby Darnell at the grocery mart. Then he turned and walked toward the entrance to the store. As he did, he put three sticks of gum in his mouth and tossed the wrappers on the ground, drawing a dirty look from one of the salesmen that evaporated when the man recognized Tyson. After shooting him the middle finger, Tyson laughed.
Littering might be illegal in Marshall County, but, as Tyson had told Kelly Flowers . . .
. . . this is Sand Mountain, bitch.
20
Jason had never loved Lake Guntersville. Weird, since he was born and raised there, but he just never took to it. Jana, of course, was the opposite. She’d gotten up on her skis the first attempt, had tubed, wakeboarded, and boat surfed like a champion. She could line a fishing pole after a cursory explanation from their father and was driving the boat at ten years old. She’d been the proverbial duck in water, while Jason had been, as his father joked, like a monkey fucking a football.
Confidence is a strange thing. When you are good at something, you want to do it more and more, and confidence breeds repetition and practice, which produces excellence. Jason had never felt confident on the water. Everything took him longer to do, and his sister was always three steps ahead. When he was thirteen years old, they’d boated over to Goat Island, a popular spot with a cliff that kids and adults liked to jump off. The highest precipice was fifty feet up in the air. Naturally, Jana climbed to the top and jumped from it without a moment’s hesitation. When Jason managed to jump from the smallest cliff—still a good twenty feet high—his feat felt like a failure. A whimper in the face of Jana’s scream.
The memories had flooded Jason’s brain during his drive home, and, as Harry had warned, he did pass a few convenience and liquor stores that seemed to be calling his name. Fortunately, he’d pressed on without stopping, though the Porsche had topped out at 110 miles per hour several times, and he was lucky he didn’t get a ticket.
Now, sipping hot complimentary coffee from a Styrofoam cup that he’d gotten in the Hampton Inn lobby, Jason gazed out at Lake Guntersville, thinking of his jump from the Goat Island cliff those many moons ago and his insufferable sister, who he’d be seeing again in a little less than an hour. He’d gotten the hotel room for a couple of nights with the option of extending his stay if needed. In all honesty, Jason didn’t have a clue how long he’d be here. He’d thought about going out to the family homestead, and he knew he would eventually, but first he needed to get his bearings.