Tin God by Stacy Green Page B

said. “You’re coming with me, and you’re bringing that letter. You got it, right?”
    “Yeah.”
    “You should have taken it to the Jackson police.”
    “Why?” Nick said. “They haven’t been able to do shit for four years.”
    Footsteps echoed off the hardwoods, and Lorelei appeared. Her eyes were puffy and red, her perfect make-up smudged. “No more talk of unpleasant things tonight. I want to make a good meal for Nick and get caught up on his life.”
    “Not much to get caught up on, but I’m always ready for a home-cooked meal.” Nick smiled, even though his gaze lingered on Cage. The younger man nodded in understanding. Tomorrow, their investigation would begin.

6
    The lunch rush had left a mess. Mrs. Danders had brought her young twins, and the two spawns of Satan had a French fry flinging contest. Mushy fries and half-dried ketchup were now streaked across the back window.
    “Unbelievable.” Jaymee crawled into the old booth, sprayed window cleaner, and started scrubbing. “We’d have never gotten away with something like this as kids. We would have been dragged outside and had our butts whipped.”
    Tourists armed with maps of Roselea’s historic district traipsed past the picture window. At this hour, most of them would tour antebellum homes all afternoon to escape the heat. Too bad the quality of the town’s residents didn’t match the majestic homes.
    An enormous glob of ketchup held fast to the window. Jaymee fisted the cloth and rubbed as hard as she could.
    The door dinged opened. Over her shoulder, she called, “Sorry, we’re closed until four.”
    “Not here to eat.”
    Jaymee’s hand stilled. Sickness rolled through her stomach. She didn’t want to see him.
    “You hear me, girl?”
    “Paul, please.”
    The second voice had Jaymee spinning on her heels. “Reverend Gereau. I suppose I have you to thank for Paul’s visit?”
    “Don’t disrespect me,” Paul said. “I won’t have it.”
    “Oh, right. Dad .” The title almost made her laugh. Dad was a term of endearment, an affectionate term used for a man who protected his kids and loved them unconditionally. Paul Ballard didn’t deserve the honor of being called Dad.
    “I’d like to speak with you.”
    Jaymee turned away from the men and sprayed more cleaning solution on the red goop sticking to the table. “And Reverend Gereau is just tagging along?”
    “Here to keep the peace.”
    “Lovely.”
    “Put that rag down and look at me,” Paul said.
    Disgust rose within her. After all this time, he still thought he could boss her around. Clutching the rag, she turned to face her father. His steel-gray eyes glared back at her with disdain. New wrinkles had popped up around his surly mouth since Jaymee last saw him, and his potbelly was rapidly approaching the spare tire stage. Maybe he should use some of his precious prayer time asking God to slow down the aging process.
    “Why are you here?”
    “You came to work in a police car. What kind of trouble are you in now?” Paul brushed the booth off and then sat down, being careful not to let his pressed, gray dress shirt touch the edge of the table.
    “I’m sure she’s not in trouble,” Gereau said. “Right, Jaymee?” His kind tone made her want to shove the dirty rag down his throat. How dare he speak to her as though he cared?
    “It’s something to do with the Newton woman,” Paul said. “You do more than find her body, girl?”
    Jaymee went back to scrubbing the table. Her fingernails dug into the Formica. “Detective Charles had more questions for me. He offered a ride, I took it.”
    “You like taking rides, don’t you?”
    “What are you talking about now?”
    “Day you found the body, you got picked up by the town whore.”
    Jaymee laughed. “Why do you care, anyway?”
    “Your name’s being tossed around with a whore’s and a dead woman’s. You’ve already embarrassed us enough. Now our family name’s being desecrated by your