John Locke - Box

Gawd.

I don’t want to talk to Dr. Box with Clem in the room, nor do I know if he’s available to talk right now. So I text him a simple, two-word message: Call Me! And type in my cell number. If he calls, I’ll ask Clem to give me some privacy, and maybe Dr. Box and I can sort out our true feelin’s.

My guess is Dr. Box wants me back. He was headed to Ralston to visit Faith Hemphill, a woman he met on a datin’ site, but that didn’t work out. Their date got cut short when two burglars broke into Faith’s house and shot each other before Dr. Box turned up.

Don’t ask me how two burglars can shoot each other to death while tryin’ to rob an unarmed widow, but that’s how it went down, accordin’ to Sheriff Boyd, who spoke to the Ralston police. Of course, when I heard the burglars were Cletus and Renfro, it all came together.

Cletus and Renfro were Darrell’s meth cookers. While I don’t like to speak ill of the newly departed, it’s no secret that mentally speakin’, their driveways didn’t quite reach the road.

Darrell, whose own mental antenna can’t pick up the premium channels, obviously told them to drive to Faith’s house and kill Dr. Box. Darrell’s widely known for his jealousy, which makes me partly to blame for the twins’ death and Dr. Box’s busted date. What I mean to say is “broken date,” since I don’t know if Faith is busty or not.

But speakin’ of Faith, you might be wonderin’ how Darrell knew who she was and where she lived. Those are good questions, and here’s another: how did Darrell know Dr. Box was headin’ to her place for a date?

Only one way I can think of.

Daddy.

Sheriff Boyd must’ve questioned Dr. Box, and shared the information with Daddy. And why wouldn’t he? Him and Daddy have been thicker than thieves since before I can remember. If he told Daddy about Faith Hemphill, you know he told Daddy about the hand job. It’s embarrassin’ enough Clem knows about it. Can’t wait to hear Daddy’s take on it.

So Sheriff Boyd told Daddy about Faith, and Daddy told Darrell, hopin’ he’d tell Cletus and Renfro to kill Dr. Box.

Why?

Best I can tell, Daddy benefits from Dr. Box’s death two ways. First, it keeps him out of my pants. Dr. Box, I mean, not Daddy. Second, it prevents Dr. Box from testifyin’ against Daddy in court for attempted murder.

Hang on a sec, I’m getting a text.

This is weird.

It’s from my half-sister, Renee Williams. It says: Keep your ass away from Dr. Gideon Box! I won’t tell you again!

What?

Oh, my!

Poor Gideon.

If he’s hooked up with Renee he’s in for wild ride.

What circumstances could possibly come together to cause the two of them to run into each other? I wonder where they met, and which story she’s told. She usually poses as a fundraiser for an organization that helps grant memorable experiences for dyin’ children, but sometimes she pretends to be a librarian, kindergarten teacher, undercover cop, or fishing guide.

Fishing guide’s the worst. If Renee takes you out on her bass boat, you’re likely to stay wet a long time, since fishing lures don’t run deep enough to snag clothin’ where she claims to sink her bodies.

That’s a terribly unfair statement for me to make, since it’s based totally on rumors and a recording of drunk talk from Renee herself taped by a shiftless Tennessee reporter who misrepresented himself as a suitor and got her plastered one night, hopin’ to break the story of what become of Renee’s husband and best friend.

That was nearly two years ago, and while the rumors and drunken statements were inadmissible, they were deemed credible enough to cause officials to devote two weeks to draggin’ the lower part of Kentucky Lake for the bodies. Of course, it was wasted effort, since the lake’s a hundred and eighty-four miles long, up to two miles wide, and three hundred-sixty feet deep. Not to mention Renee could have cut through the pass to Lake Barkley to sink the bodies. That lake is almost as long, wide, and deep.

Being that Renee’s family, I try extra hard not to judge her.

But others have.

The only reason she’s on this side of prison bars is the lack of bodies and two barely-hung juries. Both juries polled guilty, eleven to one. But eleven ain’t twelve, and the small Tennessee county where she was livin’ didn’t have the funds to try her a third time.

Renee bounced back, wound up marryin’ her jailer, Roy Williams, got a teachin’ certificate, and seemed to be headin’ in the right direction with her life. But Roy suffered a stroke and lost his job, and Renee divorced him, moved to Logan County, and got a job teaching kindergarten that came to an end a few weeks ago when her past caught up to her.

“Somethin’ wrong, Trudy?” Clem says, from his post at the back of the room.

“Nope, I’m fine.”

“Want me to re-arrange your pillows again?”

“Nope, I’m good. Thanks.”

Dr. Box arranged for me to receive ten thousand dollars a month for the next two years. While it’s much more than I need, it’s an insanely generous gift. It wouldn’t be right to accept that much money.

But I’ll accept some.

Enough to get me started with a new life.

My relationship with Dr. Box seemed to end before it got started. I was hopin’ for more, but I think my family history scared him off.

As it should have.

I’d been prepared to step aside and let him go on with his life, but that was before I realized how much he needs me. And he does, at least for the near future.

Dr. Box is in serious danger, and I need to warn him.

What concerns me most?

Renee texted me from his cell phone.

I can’t think of any scenario in which Dr. Box would willingly allow my crazy sister to screen his messages or text people from his phone.

Especially me.

I know he wants to talk to me, or he wouldn’t have called me twice this afternoon.

I shake my head, thinkin’ about the rough twenty-four hours my family’s put Dr. Box through. First, Daddy knocked him unconscious. Then he robbed him, kicked his nuts, and hung him. Then the barn roof collapsed on him. Then he lost a possible love connection with Faith, when the people my brother and husband Darrell sent to kill him shot each other instead. And now my sister Renee is likely holdin’ him against his will, and makin’ threats against me that’ll eventually drive her to punish him.

If I can somehow manage to protect Dr. Box from Renee, Daddy, Darrell, and the local police, and if he and I wind up gettin’ engaged someday, can you just imagine the scene my kinfolk will make at our weddin’?

“Clem, could you give me a few minutes of privacy?” I say.

“You’re not gonna call him, are you?”

“That’s none of your business.”

He frowns. “I don’t like it. And I sure as hell don’t like him.”

Great.

Dr. Box has managed to make yet another enemy in law enforcement.

When Clem leaves the room I call Dr. Box, but get no answer.

“Clem!” I shout.

He comes flyin’ through the door.

“What’s wrong?”

“Call Sheriff Boyd.”

“Why?”

“I need to talk to him.”

“What about?”

“Just call him.”

“He’s gonna ask why.”

“Maybe so, but he’ll come.”

He glares at me a minute, and I glare back.

“I don’t like it,” he says.

“Why am I not surprised?”

Dr. Gideon Box.

I’ve gone through a lot of emotions over the past twenty-four hours. Heard good things, weird things, bad things. Learning I was about to be hung was the worst, hands down. I mean, literally, my hands were down, cuffed behind my back. So that was the worst.