James Smith - Hybrid

“But we take care of them,” Marilee chimed in again, “like they was our own.”

“We take care of all Joseph Vincent’s children,” Katherine Belle added. “From whatever womb they may have emerged.”

Molly gritted her teeth with each rehearsed word that spewed from Katherine Belle’s mouth. This woman, her black hair with streaks of gray piled high in such a perfect pompadour, was nothing but a flimsy shell surrounding a rotten yolk. So decayed, so foul with brainwashing by her parents, her husband, and her church. She speaks with such eloquence, so confident in herself, her credo, her lifestyle. This woman actually believes all the bullshit she tries to force-feed others with a silver fork from a bone china platter.

One step at a time. “Why do you think Charlene runs away?” Molly asked.

“She’s different,” Katherine Belle replied. “The dear girl struggles with her inner soul. Joseph Vincent often counsels her in private. Reads to her from the scriptures. At times he has to punish her, severely I am afraid.” She looked up sharply at Molly. “And in ways others may think harsh.”

“Satan tries hard to win our souls, Miss Schoonover,” Marilee added. “If Charlene doesn’t return this time, Joseph Vincent says we must pray for her—”

The hand grabbed Marilee’s knee again.

“Pray for her blood atonement?” Molly asked.

“Joseph Vincent warned her before this,” Katherine Belle said.

Molly leaned back in her chair. “Do you think being raped had anything to do with her leaving?”

Katherine Belle reared her head back as she slowly drew in air. Marilee’s pale frightened face darted back and forth between her sister-wife and Molly, as if wondering who was going to throw the first punch.

Helluva time to be without your shotgun, isn’t it, Marilee?

After Katherine Belle gathered herself again, she spoke. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand your question, Miss Schoonover.”

Molly didn’t flinch. “Yesterday, when Marilee caught me snooping through the shed window, I witnessed a beating and rape. I assume the victim was Charlene who was being raped by a man old enough to be her grandfather.”

Katherine Belle’s face flushed.

“And it sure looked a lot like you,” Molly said, “helping the scoundrel and humming as if this was just another sorry day at the ranch.”

The women jumped up from their chairs and grabbed their purses.

“And you think that condoning the rape of an innocent girl who couldn’t be a day older than fifteen is supposed to be blessed by God?”

They charged for the door. Marilee wrestled with the doorknob before rushing out past the Judge sitting on the front porch. Both women tried to avoid Toby and Big Mac, but the dogs chased the women, licking at their ankles.

Molly leaned into the threshold with her arms folded and a sneer across her face.

The Judge held steady as he watched them speed away in their truck. “Does this have anything to do,” he asked, “with why you’ve been on another p-planet today?”

“It’s a long story. But I’m planning to change the ending to this one.”

“They’reonto us, Josh.” Dieter held the phone close to his ear and spoke softly.

“What do you mean?” Josh asked.

“When I took the kids to school this morning I was surprised by a Gallatin County deputy. He said that they got a phone call Friday night about suspicious activity around the funeral home. He asked me questions. Lots of questions. It was the same guy who almost caught us red-handed.”

“How you know that?”

“The way he talked about what he saw. I made a stupid mistake, Josh. I dropped Claire Manning’s business card on the floor when we were there. He tracked her down and learned that we had recently met. That along with knowing I found the body on the Madison. He was trying to put it all together.”

“What did he want from you?”

“He told me to stay around home and said I was a person of interest. I would’ve stopped by your place, but truthfully, somebody may be following me. I didn’t want to give any impression that we’re in cahoots.”

“Lay low, partner. I’ll be in touch if and when any of ‘em stops by here.”

Thank God, Molly thought, that she didn’t have to drive all the way to Bozeman. The Gallatin County Sheriff’s Office was headquartered there, eighty miles to the north. But there were deputies’ offices spread throughout the county and fortunately one was located in Colter. Although close to sundown, she knew Deputy Sheriff Harlan Ward worked late most days and hoped that he wasn’t out and about somewhere around town, struttin’ with his badge and combed Stetson hat.

Harlan Ward had a visitor when she arrived. Preston Cody, the only patrolman who worked for Ward, invited her to sit while she waited. She’d known Preston since Margie and Allen Cody brought him home from Deaconess Hospital two days after his birth. She remembered it because Margie always talked about how they had to use instruments to take Little Preston out of the womb. Left him with ugly scars over his right eyebrow and under his left cheekbone. Whenever she saw Preston she always paid careful attention to his face, looking for any sign of a remaining scar.

She tried to hide her surprise when Deputy Ward’s office door opened and Ranger Jack Corey walked out. She didn’t know what to say, but it didn’t matter. He tipped his hat and strolled away without speaking.

Harlan Ward greeted her with a polite but reserved smile. “Come right on in, Molly.” As he closed the door behind her, he asked, “You see that Bucky Lambert died?”

Bucky Lambert was a popular kid who played football at Lakeview High where she and Harlan went to school. Harlan and Bucky had graduated in 1976, but she never finished her senior year. Taking care of her dad after his stroke was a full-time job.

She took a seat in front of his desk and they proceeded to discuss the status of former classmates, like those who had died an untimely death, moved out-of-state, attained a parcel of land that equaled a kind of rancher’s wealth, or performed some deed, good or bad, that got one of them in the newspapers.

“Does the chief park ranger visit you often?” she asked.

“Jack stops by occasionally. Sometimes we have to coordinate our duties with the Park. How’s the Judge doing these days?”

“He sends his regards.”

“We could use him back in the courtroom, you know.”

“An awful lot of people would go along with that.”

They both sat for a moment and nodded agreement with each other. “I don’t have a lot of time, Molly. What’s on your mind?”

“There’s a girl missing, Harlan.”

“Missing from where?”

“Colter.”

“Nothing’s turned up here,” Harlan said.

“That’s because I’m just reporting it now. Do you know the Loudermilks from down on Duck Creek?”

She told him everything that happened—witnessing the rape and the strange follow-up conversation with the two Loudermilk women in her living room.

“How come old man Loudermilk hasn’t reported her missing?” he asked.

“That girl is just another piece of… property for the SOB.”

He pushed back his chair and leaned on his desk. “Look, Molly. What a family chooses to do in the privacy of their own home is none of my business. And, frankly, yours neither.”

“It’s against the law, Harlan.”

“Beating your wife is against the law, too, Molly. But there’s nothing I can do if it’s not reported by one of the victims. I need evidence. Or at least a court order to go after lawbreakers. Now you can check that out with the Judge.”