enough for the both of you, eh?”
The sheriff lifted her eyebrows in resignation. “Maybe that was it. Maybe it was just a case of having two hens in the same barnyard,” she said. “You could be right. Lord knows…everything she did that summer sure seemed sinister to me.” She listened to an inner voice for a moment and then said, “Wasn’t just me, though. Lotta people in town felt the same way. For a while there, all anybody could talk about was who was this girl and what was she doing here.”
“So?”
“So, right there in the middle of that sweltering summer”—she made an expansive gesture with her arms—“it was like this girl was everywhere. No matter what sidewalk you walked down, she was there. No matter what tree you stopped under, she was there. If you went to the library, she was sitting over in the corner reading a book. If you—” She read Corso’s expression. “Okay, so maybe I’m exaggerating a little…”
“You make it sound like it was yesterday.”
She got serious. “It’s like it was. I didn’t realize how much she’d affected me until I looked into that barn Friday morning. How I’d practically forgotten about Eldred and Tommie and James. But how Sissy”—she waved a finger—“how Sissy Warwick had never been far from my thoughts. How something about that woman was still grinding away at me, all these years later.”
“The damnedest things stick in our hearts, don’t they?”
She thought it over. Decided she agreed. “Something about her just didn’t ring right for me,” she said finally. “That was a really vulnerable time for me. I was trying to figure out who I was and didn’t like some of the answers I was getting from the universe. I didn’t believe in myself, and something about her made it impossible for me to believe in her either. It was like neither of us was for real.”
“Interesting.”
“It was like a voice inside of me said we couldn’t both exist and have things be right with the world. Like I couldn’t be the person I was and have her alive on the planet at the same time. It was that visceral. I felt like we were mutually exclusive or something.”
“What else?”
“She was just way too friendly. Remembered everybody’s name. Had that smarmy, car salesman quality about her. Always asking questions. By the time she’d been here three months, she knew as much about the town and everybody’s business as people who’d lived here all their lives.”
“And then?”
She swallowed hard. “So, you know…she’s been around for about six months when I start hearing the rumors, and—” She stopped herself again. “—I was probably the last to know. I was so busy driving back and forth to Madison, pretending to look for a job, I nearly missed the whole thing.”
“What rumors were those?”
Corso watched as her professionalism failed to defeat her obvious discomfort. Her hands made quotation marks in the air.
“She had a number of ‘things’ going on with local men.”
“Affairs?”
She nodded. “Prominent local men.”
“Such as?”
“Such as my predecessor, Sam Tate. Which is how I ended up being sheriff.” When Corso didn’t speak, she pointed a finger at his chest and ambled his way as if to impale him on its blunt tip. “You’re like a snake on a rock,” she said. “You just sit there sunning yourself until people blurt out what it is you want to know.”
Corso smiled. “Way I see it, most everybody has an intense desire to tell their story. All you got to do is shut up and give them a chance to spit it out.”
Her eyes narrowed. “As I recall, that was pretty much Sissy’s MO too.”
Corso’s face was stiff. “You figure that means I’m fated to develop an unquenchable yen for local law enforcement personnel?”
“I don’t think Richardson would like that at all,” she deadpanned.
“You’re probably right,” he said with a smile. “So…it was this Sam Tate’s sexual proclivities that
The sheriff lifted her eyebrows in resignation. “Maybe that was it. Maybe it was just a case of having two hens in the same barnyard,” she said. “You could be right. Lord knows…everything she did that summer sure seemed sinister to me.” She listened to an inner voice for a moment and then said, “Wasn’t just me, though. Lotta people in town felt the same way. For a while there, all anybody could talk about was who was this girl and what was she doing here.”
“So?”
“So, right there in the middle of that sweltering summer”—she made an expansive gesture with her arms—“it was like this girl was everywhere. No matter what sidewalk you walked down, she was there. No matter what tree you stopped under, she was there. If you went to the library, she was sitting over in the corner reading a book. If you—” She read Corso’s expression. “Okay, so maybe I’m exaggerating a little…”
“You make it sound like it was yesterday.”
She got serious. “It’s like it was. I didn’t realize how much she’d affected me until I looked into that barn Friday morning. How I’d practically forgotten about Eldred and Tommie and James. But how Sissy”—she waved a finger—“how Sissy Warwick had never been far from my thoughts. How something about that woman was still grinding away at me, all these years later.”
“The damnedest things stick in our hearts, don’t they?”
She thought it over. Decided she agreed. “Something about her just didn’t ring right for me,” she said finally. “That was a really vulnerable time for me. I was trying to figure out who I was and didn’t like some of the answers I was getting from the universe. I didn’t believe in myself, and something about her made it impossible for me to believe in her either. It was like neither of us was for real.”
“Interesting.”
“It was like a voice inside of me said we couldn’t both exist and have things be right with the world. Like I couldn’t be the person I was and have her alive on the planet at the same time. It was that visceral. I felt like we were mutually exclusive or something.”
“What else?”
“She was just way too friendly. Remembered everybody’s name. Had that smarmy, car salesman quality about her. Always asking questions. By the time she’d been here three months, she knew as much about the town and everybody’s business as people who’d lived here all their lives.”
“And then?”
She swallowed hard. “So, you know…she’s been around for about six months when I start hearing the rumors, and—” She stopped herself again. “—I was probably the last to know. I was so busy driving back and forth to Madison, pretending to look for a job, I nearly missed the whole thing.”
“What rumors were those?”
Corso watched as her professionalism failed to defeat her obvious discomfort. Her hands made quotation marks in the air.
“She had a number of ‘things’ going on with local men.”
“Affairs?”
She nodded. “Prominent local men.”
“Such as?”
“Such as my predecessor, Sam Tate. Which is how I ended up being sheriff.” When Corso didn’t speak, she pointed a finger at his chest and ambled his way as if to impale him on its blunt tip. “You’re like a snake on a rock,” she said. “You just sit there sunning yourself until people blurt out what it is you want to know.”
Corso smiled. “Way I see it, most everybody has an intense desire to tell their story. All you got to do is shut up and give them a chance to spit it out.”
Her eyes narrowed. “As I recall, that was pretty much Sissy’s MO too.”
Corso’s face was stiff. “You figure that means I’m fated to develop an unquenchable yen for local law enforcement personnel?”
“I don’t think Richardson would like that at all,” she deadpanned.
“You’re probably right,” he said with a smile. “So…it was this Sam Tate’s sexual proclivities that
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