The Forsaken

In sloppy, loose letters, the message read SHUT YORE GD MOUTH.

God damn it, Diane thought, shotgun resting up on her shoulder. If she could’ve just gotten a little closer, she might have taken a nice hunk out of his ass.

Shut your GD mouth.

Now, that was fucking original.

•   •   •

“You’re soaked,” Qui

“So I am,” Diane Tull said.

Qui

“Let’s head inside, ma’am.”

“I thought we covered the ma’am thing,” Diane said, giving a nervous laugh. Hair in a ponytail, black, with that one silver streak hanging down loose. “I can’t take that shit tonight, Sheriff. You say that again and I’ll punch you.”

Diane was still holding a shotgun and she seemed agitated and quite nervous. The wind and rain had grown worse, blowing across the headlights of Qui

“Do you mind, Miss Tull?” Qui

They walked back into her driveway and she showed him what he had done to her truck. Qui

“Well,” Qui

“Some dumb shit.”

“And your tires?” Qui

“Seeing that bastard’s face in my kitchen window was enough to give me a start.”

“I bet,” Qui

“You get a decent look?” he asked.

“Hell no,” Diane said. “He was a white man with a scraggly beard and long hair. He had on jeans and a red fla

“How tall?”

“A little shorter than you.”

“Less than six feet?”

“Just under.”

“Build?”

“Ski

“Age?”

“I can’t say for sure,” Diane said. “Not old. Not young.”

“Thirties?”

She nodded. “Sure,” she said, “I figure.”

“Eye color?”

She shook her head.

“Hair color?”

“Could’ve been lighter, but it seemed brown,” she said. “He was wearing a ponytail and his hair was wet. Oh, hell.”

Qui

“And he just ran?”

“I shot at him,” she said. “Twice. Damn, I was too far away.”

Qui

“Toward the Square,” she said. “He got two streets down and got on a motorcycle. I saw him ride away, up over the hill, to the Square.”

“I know it was raining and dark, but did you see anything about the bike?”

“No,” she said. “I heard it more than saw it. It had those special mufflers folks have, really loud, you could’ve heard the damn thing ten miles away.”

“Any chance you got him with the shotgun?”

Diane’s face looked drawn, hands trembling around a glass of water, as she shook her head. “I wish.”

“I’m going to call dispatch with what we know,” Qui

“That’s not necessary,” she said. “I don’t think that bastard’s coming back.”

“Maybe not,” Qui

“Ke

“He’s tougher than he seems.”

“God, I hope so.”

Diane put down the glass of water and wrapped her arms around herself. She shivered a bit and used a dishtowel to dry her face. She was more than twenty years older than Qui

“Who else knows you and I spoke?” Qui

“That’s it,” she said.

She looked away, thinking on something. Qui

“Well, there’s another. But he’d never say a word. He’s too sensitive about things.”

“Who?”

“I’d rather not say,” Diane said.

Qui

“If he’s the only other person,” Qui

Diane swallowed and nodded a bit. “Hank Stillwell.”

“He upset you’re bringing all this up?” Qui

“No,” Diane said, shaking her head, wiping the rain off her arms and across her chest and over her wet tank top, “not at all.”

“How can you be sure?”

“He’s the one who come to me and asked me to stoke it,” Diane Tull said. “He said you’re the only man who can find out who murdered his daughter.”

“This may not be the time,” Qui

“The man who got burned up?”

Qui

“It’s been a hell of a night, Sheriff,” she said. “I got to get those tires changed before I get to work in a few hours and then figure out how to get those cusswords off my truck. I’d rather not churn all that up right now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Qui

“Appreciate that, Sheriff,” she said. “You’re a good man.”

“Your vote in this spring’s election would be much appreciated,” Qui

My brother isn’t too fond of your friends,” Jean Beckett said, sitting on the back of Jason’s baby blue Shovelhead Harley, looking pretty as can be, ru