Page 50 of Brimstone Hollow

Hollis snorts and says, “You got me there. I was hoping for some dang inside information. Word in town is there’s a serial killer running rampant in Mount Zion.”

I almost spit out my beer.

“Come on, Hollis. Seriously?”

He takes a little bite of his supreme pizza slice while I eat my first slice almost whole and then he says, “And you didn’t tell me Billy Shepherd went and died with his finger lopped off! I had to hear about it from the boys down at the pool hall.”

“Chief Dishman asked me to keep quiet about it,” I say and watch as Hollis rolls his eyes. As if the idea of anything staying secret in this town is about as likely as a unicorn prancing down the street.

“And I heard you found drugs in Ezra King’s RV?” he says.

“I guess nobody could keep that quiet either,” I say. Hollis chuckles and I go back to my pizza. It’s from a local chain, still piping hot, and the grease drips down my hand as I eat.

Hollis asks, “So what are you working on now? Did you find Nickels?”

“No,” I tell him. “I’m trying to find a connection between all of them.”

“All of who?”

I picture my mental clothesline again. On one end, Ezra King. On the other, Joel Shepherd. Between them, Dean Griffon. Nathaniel Nickels. Billy Shepherd.

A driver. A leg breaker. A dealer.

The line sags with the weight.

“I think Ezra King and Joel Shepherd might’ve been connected,” I say. “But it’s just a hunch. I’ve got nothing solid to prove it.”

“Whatdoyou have?” Hollis asks, finishing his slice and neatly dabbing at his mouth with one of the paper napkins he’s brought along.

“Well,” I say. “It was his RV in Dean’s garage, but Ezra might never have known about the marijuana, heroin, and fentanyl hidden inside. And Joel Shepherd might once have done a healthy trade in weed, but he’s been behind bars for twenty years and never—as far as anyone knew—dealt the strong stuff. They’re all connected but…”

“Everyone’s connected in a small town,” Hollis says, finishing my thought, using almost the exact words Dishman had used earlier.

My phone buzzes and I look down to find a text from Katie.

Just checking in. Everything going okay?

I hold the phone in my hands, thumbs poised over the screen, and sigh. I could tell her about my brakes being cut, but what purpose would that serve but to worry her? I could tell her about the traces of drugs in her father’s RV, but without corroborating evidence, it doesn’t yetmeananything. I’ve got nothing solid. Not yet.

Instead, I type:Following up on some leads but nothing solid yet. Should have more tomorrow. Talk then?

I wait while she types and then, eventually, the next message comes through.Sounds good. Thank you, Annie.

Hollis gives me a questioning look.

“Text from Katie—Ezra’s daughter—just checking in,” I tell him.

He nods, takes a swig of his beer, then says, “You know, I do kind of remember them. Her and her mamma, Maggie. I used to see them in the Dairy. Cute little girl. It’s a shame Maggie ran off like she did. I always heard she went off with another man, but…”

“You didn’t believe it?” I ask.

His mouth twitches and then he says, “I never knew her enough to know anything about it, if I’m honest. But, looking at the pair of ’em,her and Ezra King, I could see a million reasons a girl like that—pretty, young, smart—would leave a man like him. He was dangerous, wasn’t he? I mean, even without the snakes and what have you. He had a gambling problem, you know, going way on back. And then—as he’d tell anybody with ears—he had a little talk with Jesus and that cured him.”

Hollis pauses, takes another long drink of his beer, looks down into the bottle. Still looking away from me he says, “Far as I know, Ezra King always kept his nose cleaner than clean. But… I never trusted him. He was a show-off. Did Jesus really tell him to trade cards and dice for snakes and sermons?”

“Or,” I say, “did he just find another way to get his kicks?”

“Exactly,” Hollis says. “And now here you go finding drugs in his RV.”