Page 145 of The River We Remember

“I heard,” she said.

“I’ve got to go out to there, Angie. But listen, we’ve got lots of folks looking for Scott and Del right now. If I hear anything from them, I’ll let you know. If the boys show up here—and I’m still believing they’ll be back by dark—give the jailhouse a call. Hank’ll relay that to me.”

“What if they don’t come back? What if they just stay out there hunting Tyler Creasy?”

“Then pray that we find Creasy before they do.”

AN HOUR LATER, Brody walked into the jailhouse. Hank Evans was on the telephone, writing down something on a pad of paper. He looked up when Brody entered and said into the receiver, “He just came in. You want to talk to him?” Evans held out the phone. “Your brother.”

Brody took the call. “What have you got, Tom?”

“I’m in Carthage, at Willy’s. You know the place.”

“Sure. Are the boys there?”

“They were. The barkeep says they came in a couple of hours ago looking for Creasy. Left pretty quick.”

“Did they say where they were going?”

“Not to the barkeep, but he saw them take off on a little motorbike heading toward Jewel.”

“A couple of hours,” Brody said. “If they were coming home, they’d be here by now.”

“I’ll keep looking.”

“Thanks, Tom. I appreciate it.” He handed the receiver back to Evans. “Did you say anything to Bluestone about his wife?”

Evans said, “You told me not to.”

“Good.”

“How is she?”

“Beat up pretty bad. Doc Porter’s out at Bluestone’s place now. She won’t leave the farmhouse.” Brody looked toward the cellblock door.

“Going to tell him?” Evans asked.

Brody said, “Let me have the keys.”

A soft padding came from the stairs that led to the upper floor. A moment later, Hector trotted in. He came to Brody eagerly, and the sheriff bent and ruffed the dog’s fur. “Sorry, boy, it’s been a busy day.”

“I let him out a little while ago so he could do his business,” Evans said. “He’s pretty easy.”

“Come on, Hector.” Brody rose and headed toward the cellblock.

Bluestone was lying on his cot, staring up at the ceiling, which was lit with the last sad light of that sad day. Bluestone sat up at his approach.

Brody stood at the barred cell door. “We need to talk, Noah. Tyler Creasy’s been on a kind of rampage today. He set fire to the Quinns’ barn.”

“That son of a bitch.”

“That’s not all of it,” Brody said. “He attacked your wife.”

Bluestone was off the cot and to the cell door, his hands squeezing the bars. “Attacked? Is she all right?”

“He roughed her up pretty bad, but she’s okay. Doc Porter’s with her and Charlie and Connie Graff. But, Noah…” Brody gathered himself before going on, before delivering the worst. “He didn’t just rough her up. He raped her.”

Brody watched the man’s face change. A moment before, there’d been fear. Now there was something else. Stone.