fast. And, to be truthful, I wasn’t looking for no child’s car seat.”
“Why would Timber run from Abe when all the sheriff wants to do is talk to him?” Mama asked softly, like she was talking to herself.
“ ’Cause he’s guilty,” Daddy replied.
“If he’s guilty,” I said, “why is Timber hanging around Otis, driving in the heart of town in broad daylight? Why hasn’t he skipped town long before now?”
“ ’Cause he’s stupid,” Daddy said. He headed for the kitchen.
Mama sighed. “There are so many questions with so few answers.”
Midnight started barking.
“Simone, girl,” Daddy called back to me accusingly from the kitchen, “I bet you didn’t feed my dog!”
“No, dear father,” I answered, without bothering to give him an excuse.
Daddy looked in the family room and grinned; he knew that I knew his statement was nothing but a friendly jab.
“Okay, be that way,” he said as he walked toward the back door. “Midnight won’t suffer, ’cause I’llfeed my own dog.” Midnight kept barking. “I’m coming, boy,” Daddy said.
When Daddy hollered a few minutes later, I ran. My father was on his knees in front of his dog, gaping down at the grass. It took only a moment for me to understand his bewilderment.
Midnight stood wagging his tail and looking pleased to have deposited another tiny skull at my father’s feet!
CHAPTER
SEVEN
A t nine-thirty, Mama and I were sitting in my Honda, which was parked under the canopy of an old oak tree on Elm Street. Directly in front of us was a shanty. Wooden-framed with four rooms, it was painted red. This was the third of six that are lined side by side in a single row on the street. Townspeople call the area the Redline.
The June night sky was clear, the quarter moon crisp overhead. Mama sat on the backseat with Sabrina Miley, who wore a light pink robe and whose hair was rolled in fat curlers. “Sabrina, what did you get Cricket caught up in?” Mama asked pointedly.
When Sabrina didn’t answer Mama right away, I looked back, but the only thing I could make out of the young woman was a silhouette. “I—I ain’t gotCricket into anything that she didn’t want to get in,” she finally answered defensively.
Mama must have taken note because when she spoke again, her voice was softer, lower. “You’re absolutely right. Cricket was a big girl. She did exactly whatever she wanted to do.”
Sabrina’s tone hardened. “People like to think that once a person is dead, they never done anything wrong while they were alive. I know better than that. Far as I’m concerned, what you do when you’re alive don’t change just ’cause you die.”
“I agree with you,” Mama said.
“My daddy beat me and my mama
almost
up to the day he died,” Sabrina continued. “At his funeral the preacher said he was headed for heaven. But my daddy was mean and evil when he was alive and I ain’t got no reason to believe that changed once he died.”
“I see what you mean,” Mama said, her voice even softer.
“Cricket was my friend ’cause we liked the same things, the same kind of people,” Sabrina continued.
“That may be true, but it’s possible that there’s one person, perhaps somebody you and Cricket liked a lot, who is a killer,” Mama told her gently.
Sabrina made a short nervous sound that I surmised was meant to be a laugh. “N—none of our friends would hurt Cricket.”
“Somebody stabbed Cricket five times, then choked her to death. There is a
dangerous
man walking around in Otis.”
“Nobody me or Cricket fool with is like that.”
Mama took a deep breath. “Sabrina, if one or more of your friends, someone who was also one of Cricket’s
special
friends, were the kind to get rough while they were playing, who would they be?”
“Th—the kind of friends Cricket and I played with didn’t get too rough,” Sabrina sputtered.
“Okay, then if one of your friends got angry because you threatened to tell a secret
“Why would Timber run from Abe when all the sheriff wants to do is talk to him?” Mama asked softly, like she was talking to herself.
“ ’Cause he’s guilty,” Daddy replied.
“If he’s guilty,” I said, “why is Timber hanging around Otis, driving in the heart of town in broad daylight? Why hasn’t he skipped town long before now?”
“ ’Cause he’s stupid,” Daddy said. He headed for the kitchen.
Mama sighed. “There are so many questions with so few answers.”
Midnight started barking.
“Simone, girl,” Daddy called back to me accusingly from the kitchen, “I bet you didn’t feed my dog!”
“No, dear father,” I answered, without bothering to give him an excuse.
Daddy looked in the family room and grinned; he knew that I knew his statement was nothing but a friendly jab.
“Okay, be that way,” he said as he walked toward the back door. “Midnight won’t suffer, ’cause I’llfeed my own dog.” Midnight kept barking. “I’m coming, boy,” Daddy said.
When Daddy hollered a few minutes later, I ran. My father was on his knees in front of his dog, gaping down at the grass. It took only a moment for me to understand his bewilderment.
Midnight stood wagging his tail and looking pleased to have deposited another tiny skull at my father’s feet!
CHAPTER
SEVEN
A t nine-thirty, Mama and I were sitting in my Honda, which was parked under the canopy of an old oak tree on Elm Street. Directly in front of us was a shanty. Wooden-framed with four rooms, it was painted red. This was the third of six that are lined side by side in a single row on the street. Townspeople call the area the Redline.
The June night sky was clear, the quarter moon crisp overhead. Mama sat on the backseat with Sabrina Miley, who wore a light pink robe and whose hair was rolled in fat curlers. “Sabrina, what did you get Cricket caught up in?” Mama asked pointedly.
When Sabrina didn’t answer Mama right away, I looked back, but the only thing I could make out of the young woman was a silhouette. “I—I ain’t gotCricket into anything that she didn’t want to get in,” she finally answered defensively.
Mama must have taken note because when she spoke again, her voice was softer, lower. “You’re absolutely right. Cricket was a big girl. She did exactly whatever she wanted to do.”
Sabrina’s tone hardened. “People like to think that once a person is dead, they never done anything wrong while they were alive. I know better than that. Far as I’m concerned, what you do when you’re alive don’t change just ’cause you die.”
“I agree with you,” Mama said.
“My daddy beat me and my mama
almost
up to the day he died,” Sabrina continued. “At his funeral the preacher said he was headed for heaven. But my daddy was mean and evil when he was alive and I ain’t got no reason to believe that changed once he died.”
“I see what you mean,” Mama said, her voice even softer.
“Cricket was my friend ’cause we liked the same things, the same kind of people,” Sabrina continued.
“That may be true, but it’s possible that there’s one person, perhaps somebody you and Cricket liked a lot, who is a killer,” Mama told her gently.
Sabrina made a short nervous sound that I surmised was meant to be a laugh. “N—none of our friends would hurt Cricket.”
“Somebody stabbed Cricket five times, then choked her to death. There is a
dangerous
man walking around in Otis.”
“Nobody me or Cricket fool with is like that.”
Mama took a deep breath. “Sabrina, if one or more of your friends, someone who was also one of Cricket’s
special
friends, were the kind to get rough while they were playing, who would they be?”
“Th—the kind of friends Cricket and I played with didn’t get too rough,” Sabrina sputtered.
“Okay, then if one of your friends got angry because you threatened to tell a secret
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