Page 92 of Brimstone Hollow

“It’s Ezra,” I tell her. “Apparently he was never dead but…”

“Now he is?” she says, eyebrows raised. She fans herself with her hand and says, “Lord have mercy! Then who on earth did we bury on Sunday?”

“That’s what we need to find out,” Dishman says, as he comes out onto the porch.

Will squirms in my arms, coming to, and looks up at me. “He’s really dead? Brother Ezra is… He’s not coming back?”

“I’m sorry, Will,” I tell him.

He bites his lips together, as if trying to keep himself from crying, but the effort is in vain. Tears fill his eyes as he sits up, away from me. Then, with a gasping hiccup, he hunches forward and sobs. Thelma sits down beside him and rubs his back in slow circles.

“Can you keep an eye on him?” Dishman asks her. “We can’t have anyone going in the church.”

She gives us a silent, sure nod, and Dishman and I walk away from the steps, meeting Gavin, who approaches with Crystal tucked against his body. Her eyes are red and puffy from crying and Gavin’s shoulder is damp.

“All right,” Dishman says to me. “I’m gonna have to question Crystal for myself.”

“Sit her down somewhere quiet,” I tell him. “She’s a fragile type. I know she’s an adult but… Look, I think Ezra manipulated her in more ways than one. You know?”

“Yeah,” he says, softly. “I get it. I’ll go easy.”

He tells Gavin to get the crime scene kit out of his trunk and then steers Crystal slowly off to the side to speak with her in the shade of a tall oak.

“We really need to find that body,” I tell Gavin as I walk toward the parking lot with him, figuring I’ll help him collect evidence or, at the very least, help the other officers look for whatever car Ezra drove here.

“Seems like the best lead we have,” Gavin says as he pops the trunk of Dishman’s cruiser. “To prove whatever really happened.”

“Yeah,” I say. “If only we could find it. In this heat, unless the corpse is in cold storage somewhere, it’s not going to last long.”

“Well, you know where I’d hide it?” Gavin says, as he pulls out the crime scene kit. “I’d put it down the Smell Hole.”

“You mean the Hell Hole?” I ask.

He blushes. “My mamma wouldn’t allow mean language in the house. We always called it the Smell Hole.”

“Okay,” I say. “But we already looked there. You know that.”

“Yeah,” Gavin says. “Idoknow that. And so does the whole rest of town.”

I grin at him, an idea of what he’s getting at forming in my mind.

He shuts the trunk, sets the crime scene kit on top, and says, “When me and my sister were kids, she wouldalwayseat all her Halloween candy as soon as we got home. But I was the opposite. I’d save mine. And if I wasn’t careful, she’d steal it. So, I had to hide it. And I had to hide itgood. If she weren’t kin, I’d say my sister was devious as the Devil but… Anyhow, I figured out pretty early that if I kept an eye on her, I’d know the places she already looked. Then, I’d go right behind her and hide my candy there. Because she wasn’t gonna look in the same place twice, was she?”

I think about the Hell Hole, reeking with toxic gas, tucked away in Brimstone Hollow. I think about how it was the first place Dishman and I went. The first place we checked. Because that’s where people throw all the stuff they never want to see again. And Gavin was right, Mount Zion’s virulent grapevine had meant that news of our sinkhole excursion reached town before we did. By the time I got to the Dairy that day, everybody there knew where I’d been.

“Thanks, Gavin,” I say. “That’s really smart.” He grins at me and I watch as his cheeks flush bright red.

I look around for Dishman and don’t see him. “You know where the nearest spelunking place is?” I ask, checking my watch. If I’m lucky, they might open at eight o’clock, eager for tourist cash.

“If you’re looking for gear,” Gavin says, “don’t bother. I have all the stuff you two took down there the other day. Chief had me spray down the harnesses and then I took the tanks over to the fire department to have them refilled.”

“You mean—”

“They’re still in the back seat,” Gavin says. “I was about to take them back to the station this morning when the chief called with your news about Mr. King.”

He opens the car door and reveals the harnesses, ropes, masks, and tanks.

“Thanks, Gavin,” I tell him, and start unloading the gear for myself. He starts off, toward the church, and I look around. Farther up the hill, I see Dishman speaking to a large group of people, all looking frightened and aggrieved. The other officers, Mike and Jeanine, are busily checking every vehicle, and by the time I catch sight of Gavin again, he’s disappearing into the church.