For an instant, his dark skin seemed to blend with the gray morning shadows that crept about the interior of the shack. Then he moved slowly forward, toward the hunched-over police lieutenant. The killer wore a loose-fitting navy I-shirt and faded jeans, hastily tugged on. His feet were bare and made small slapping sounds against the polished hardwood floor. His arms were raised languidly, almost insouciantly, as if in a surrender of irony. He stepped forward into the living room and faced Tanny Brown, who straightened slowly, cautiously, keeping a static distance between himself and the killer. A false grin worked the sides of Ferguson's face, and his eyes swept around quickly. He fixed for a moment on the burst door, then on Matthew Cowart. Then he stared directly at Brown.
'You gonna pay for that door?' he asked. 'It wasn't locked. Just a bit stiff. No need to break it down. Country folk don't need to lock their doors. You know that. Now, what you want with me, Detective?'
There was no urgency or panic in the killer's voice. Simply an infuriating calm, as if he'd been waiting for their arrival.
'You know what I want with you,' Brown said. His teeth remained clenched tightly, and he trained his weapon on Ferguson's chest.
But the two men kept distant, looking across the small room toward each other, warily.
'I know what you want. You want someone to blame. Always the same thing,' Ferguson said coldly.
He eyed the pistol pointing at him carefully. Then he looked directly at the policeman, narrowing his gaze so that it seemed as harsh as his voice.
I ain't armed,' he said. He held both hands out, palms forward. 'And I ain't done nothing. You don't need that gun.' When Tanny Brown didn't move the pistol barrel, Cowart saw a single moment of nervousness and doubt flit through Ferguson's eyes. But it disappeared as rapidly as it arrived. Ferguson sounded like a man standing just beyond range. Cowart glanced over at Brown and realized, He can't touch him.
The killer turned toward Cowart, ignoring the policeman. He turned the corners of his mouth up into a smile that sent a chill right through the reporter.
'That what you're here for, too, Mr. Cowart? I been expecting the detective to show, but I figured you'd come to your senses. Or you got some other reason?'
'No. Just still looking for answers,' Cowart replied hoarsely.
'I thought our little talk the other day filled you up with answers. I can't hardly imagine you got any questions left, Mr. Cowart. I thought things were pretty clear.'
These last words were spoken in a soft, slow, harsh voice.
'Nothing is ever clear,' Cowart replied.
'Well,' Ferguson said carefully, gesturing at Brown, 'there's one answer you got already. You see what this man does. Kicks in a door. Threatens folks with a gun. Probably getting ready to beat my ass again.'
Ferguson spun toward Brown. 'What you want to kick out of me this time?'
Tanny Brown didn't reply.
Cowart shook his head. 'Not this time,' he said.
Ferguson scowled angrily. The muscles on his arms tightened into knots and the veins in his neck stood out.
'I can't tell you nothing' Ferguson replied, anger soaring through his words. He took a single step toward the reporter, but then stopped himself. Cowart saw him fight for some internal control, win, and relax. He leaned up against a sidewall. 'I don't know nothing. And say, where's your partner, Lieutenant? You gonna beat me again? I miss Detective Wilcox. You gonna need his help, huh?'
'You tell me where he is… ' Tanny Brown said. His voice was steel-edged, words like swords cut the space between the two men. 'You were the last person to see him.'
'Now really?' Ferguson seemed like a man who'd lain awake preparing his replies, as if he'd known what was going to happen that morning. His voice picked up pace. 'Might I lower my hands here, before we talk?'
'No. What happened to Wilcox?'
Ferguson smiled again. He lowered his hands anyway. 'Shit if I know. He gone someplace? I hope he's gone to hell.' The smile widened into a mocking grin.
'Newark, said Tanny Brown.
'Same thing as hell,' Ferguson replied.
Brown's eyes narrowed slightly. After a moment's pause, Ferguson started speaking. 'I never saw him there. Damn, just got back to Pachoula last night, myself. It's a long drive from there down here. You say Wilcox was in Newark?'
'He saw you. He chased you.'
'Well, don't know nothing about that. There was one crazy white man chased me the other night, but I didn't see who it was. He never got that close. Anyway, I lost him on some back street. It was raining hard. Don't know what happened to him. You know, the part of that city where I live, lots of folks get chased all the time. It ain't that unusual to have to put your feet down fast. And I sure wouldn't want to be some white guy walking alone down there after dark, if you catch my drift. Unhealthy place. People there'd cut your heart out if they thought they could sell it for another hit of crack cocaine.'
He looked over at Cowart. 'Isn't that right, Mr. Cowart? Cut your heart right out.'
Matthew Cowart felt a dizzying burst of anger sweep through his head. He stared across at the killer and felt things slipping within him. Rage and frustration overpowered reason, and he stepped forward, past Tanny Brown, punching a pencil at Ferguson. 'You lied. You lied to me before and you're lying now. You killed him, didn't you? And you killed Joanie. You killed them all. How many? How many, goddammit?'
Ferguson straightened. 'You're talking crazy, Mr. Cowart,' he replied, coldly calm. 'This man…' He gestured toward Tanny Brown,'… has filled you with some sort of crazy. I ain't killed nobody. I told you that the other day. I'm telling you that now.'
He looked over to the policeman. 'Got nothing to threaten me on, Tanny Brown. Got nothing that's gonna last a minute in court, that some lawyer won't just rip and shred. Got nothing.'
'No,' Cowart said. 'I've got it all.'
Ferguson's eyes sent a surge of anger toward Cowart. The reporter could feel a sudden heat on his face.
'You think you got some special line on the truth, Mr. Cowart? You don't.'
Ferguson's hands balled tightly into fists.
Brown stepped forward, shouldering Cowart aside.
'Screw this. Screw you, Bobby Earl. I want you to come downtown with me. Let's go…'
'You arresting me?'
'Yeah. For the murder of Joanie Shriver. Again. For obstruction of justice for hiding those clothes in the outhouse. For lying under oath at your trial. And as a material witness in Bruce Wilcox's disappearance. That'll give us plenty to sort through.'
Tanny Brown's face seemed set in iron. His free hand went into a jacket pocket and emerged with handcuffs. He held his weapon toward Ferguson's face. 'You know the drill. Face the wall and spread.'
'You arresting me?' the killer said, taking a step back, his voice rising a pitch, moving closer to anger again. 'I already walked on that crime. The rest is bullshit. You can't do that!'
Tanny Brown raised the service revolver. 'Watch me,' he said slowly. His eyes burned toward Ferguson. 'You should never have let me find you, Bobby Earl, because it's all over for you. Right now. It's all ended.'
'You haven't got nothing on me.' Ferguson laughed coldly in response. 'If you had, you'd be here with some fucking army. Not just one damn reporter with a bunch of damn fool questions that don't
