Deployed by Mel Odom Page A

none of those people in Darlton’s will come forward and tell the truth.”
    “Buck Miller and his friends have a reputation for hurting folks who cross them.” That said, Bekah felt an uneasy feeling slide through her. “We might need to watch ourselves for a while.”
    “Pshaw!” Granny waved that away. “I keep a loaded shotgun at home and I’m carrying my pistol in my purse. Buck Miller and his trash had better not come around and try to start trouble.”
    Bekah glanced at Granny’s purse. “You carried the pistol into the courthouse this morning?”
    “Of course not. I left it out in the truck, in the glove box. I just put it back in my purse while you were taking Travis to the bathroom.”
    Smiling, Bekah took a deep breath. Her granny had carried the .38 revolver for years. Her grandpa, a retired volunteer peace officer himself, had insisted on it. He’d given Bekah her first pistol, a .38 just like her granny’s, when she’d turned sixteen and started working at Hollister’s Fine Dining, the local greasy spoon where Bekah picked up shifts when she wasn’t with the Marines. She hadn’t carried it, though, and had left it at home in the box it came in. She’d grown up with shotguns and .22 rifles, and she’d been qualified as a marksman on the Marine range. She took pride in that skill because shooting was something her grandpa had taught her.
    Travis climbed through the PlayPlace, squealing with joy as he chased after his new friends. Bekah watched him. “I’m in a lot of trouble, Granny.”
    Her granny reached out and took her hand, squeezing it briefly. “Trouble’s something this family is familiar with, baby girl. You just remember that, and remember that we’ve always seen it through. We’ll see this through too. Just you wait and see.”
    “The courts are calling this a felony. I can’t have a felony on my record and stay a Marine. Not something like this.”
    “You don’t know that yet. One step at a time. Just like me and your grandpa taught you to do. No matter how hard you try, you can only live life like that.”
     
    After excusing herself and leaving Travis in her granny’s care, Bekah walked into the McDonald’s parking lot and punched in Connie Hiller’s number. The phone rang and rang at the other end of the connection. When the voice mail picked up, Bekah hung up and called right back. She was mad and couldn’t let it go.
    Finally, Connie picked up and her voice was thick and sounded congested. “What do you want?”
    “I want to know why you’re telling everyone that you slipped in Darlton’s.”
    “Are you recording this phone call?”
    Bekah couldn’t believe it. “No. Of course not.”
    “Because if you are, I slipped and fell. You can’t make me say anything else.”
    “Buck Miller was slapping you around like a rag doll.” Bekah’s voice got higher than she’d intended. An older couple with three grandkids stepped away from her on their way into the restaurant.
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you trying to make yourself out to be some kind of hero, Bekah Ann?”
    “No, but I’m in trouble with the law, and I’m in that trouble because of you.”
    “I didn’t ask you for no help.”
    “You weren’t exactly able to, as I recall.” Bekah wanted to scream, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good.
    “I got my nose broke and stitches in my cheek trying to help you get your child support.”
    “Fine. Then tell it that way. But tell it.”
    “This wouldn’t have happened if you stood up to Billy Roy. I was only doing what you’re too afraid to do.”
    “That’s insane.” Bekah couldn’t believe it. “I stood up to Buck Miller, and he had a knife.”
    “I got hurt because you wouldn’t take care of your own business. Now you want to blame this all on me? You want me to stick my neck out where Buck Miller and his thugs will snap it off? And you know he’s running with some of those methheads now. You’re not a very good