Smoke by Kaye George

That was odd. She knew the door had to be closed when they smoked the jerky. Maybe the health department was airing it out. Maybe it had been left open by accident. Maybe she should close it.
    She stole across the dirt parking lot and peeked inside. The tantalizing smell of smoked meat lingered, strong. It was dark, but the air didn’t seem smoky. The door must have been open for awhile. She tried to push it open farther to see inside, but the door was heavy. Even with the door ajar, the smokehouse was hot. And dark.
    She hesitated. Maybe she should try to raise someone at the house. The back door was closest to the shop so Immy rapped on it. Little Zack opened the door.
    “Is your Mommy or Daddy home?”
    He shook his head. “Mommy’s sick. Daddy’s not here.” A tear squeezed out of his eye.
    Oh dear. Maybe Tinnie was poisoned, too. “Can I see her? Maybe she needs some medicine.”
    “She said she needs Daddy to be dead.”
    Immy froze at the horror of those words. His mother must have spoken them to him. A four-year-old boy wouldn’t come up with that on his own. What was the matter with Tinnie that she would do that? Was everyone going crazy this week?
    “I’d like to see her,” said Immy. She needed to make sure Tinnie wasn’t having a breakdown, like Amy JoBeth. She shook her head, amazed that so many people could get so emotional over a pig!
    Tinnie lay on her back on a rumpled bed in a floral bedroom, more suitable for a single woman than a married couple, Immy thought. One arm covered her eyes. The other hand fingered the fringed edge of the spread. The blinds were drawn and the room was murky, even in the middle of the sunny day. The room felt cold. The AC must have been turned down low.
    “Tinnie?” Immy spoke as softly as she could.
    “What?” Tinnie moved her arm and opened her eyes. “Who’s there?”
    “Can I do anything? Are you going to be all right?”
    “No! You can’t do a damn thing and I’ll never be all right. Not until that bastard is dead.”
    Zack was standing in the doorway. “Zack,” Immy said, “could you get a glass of water, pretty please?”
    When he had gone she leaned close to Tinnie and whispered. “Do you see what you’re doing to your son? You need to straighten up and quit talking that way about Rusty in front of him. You hear me?” Her hushed words came out harsh, but that was okay. Tinnie needed some sense knocked into her.
    “I don’t care. I can’t do it.” Tinnie sat up and started to wail. “And I don’t know where Rusty is and that damn Poppy has disappeared. I never want her here except today and now she’s, poof, gone in a damn puff of smoke.”
    Immy blew out her cheeks. She wasn’t going to be able to make Tinnie come to her senses. She could at least shield Zack. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll take Zack to our place for a few days until you feel better. Would that be good?”
    Tinnie fell silent and reached for a tissue on the nightstand. “Maybe that would be a good idea.” She nodded. “Yes, that would be good. I think I’ll go to Mom’s for awhile. A couple of days? We can probably get him then.”
    Probably? She’d keep Zack as long as needed. He was a sweet kid, wouldn’t be a problem. “Drew’s party is today anyway. He was planning on coming, wasn’t he?”
    “Oh god, yes. There’s a present on his dresser. It’s wrapped.” Tinnie collapsed onto the dented pillow, took a deep breath, then sat up on the side of the bed. “I suppose I can help him pack a few things.”
    “Oh good.” Maybe Tinnie would come around.
    “Why did you come in here, anyway?” Tinnie asked.
    “I almost forgot. The door to the smokehouse is open and I wondered if that was how it’s supposed to be.”
    Tinnie frowned. “No, Rusty is smoking pork today. I know the health nuts closed us down, but he ought to be able to open up tomorrow. One of the cutting blades wasn’t all the way clean, they said.”
    Immy was glad she hadn’t looked