“Which flatland ball-licker are we talking about?”
“There ain’t but one.”
“What’s his name?”
“Hell, boy, I don’t remember his name. It’s been nigh on fifteen years, and he put a gun in my face, too. A lady of my refinement don’t think so clear under such circumstances.”
Michael stepped closer and put the barrel against her forehead. “I’m not the kind to ask twice.”
“Okay, okay. No need for that. I’ve got his name in here somewhere. Let me think, Let me think…”
“Tick tock, lady.”
“I don’t-”
Michael cocked the second hammer.
“Falls.”
Michael backed the gun off an inch. “Jessup Falls?”
“That’s the one. No patience for the suffering of regular folk. Black-souled and unforgiving. No value put on family.”
“Family?”
A sly look came into her face. “You think you’re the first one come up here asking after Salina Slaughter?”
“She’s your family?”
Her mouth opened wide, eyes crinkling as she laughed in his face. “You don’t know fuck-all, do you, boy? There ain’t no Salina Slaughter. Never has been and never was. Who you’re really asking after is Abigail Jax.”
“Abigail?”
“My daughter.” She spun her cigarette through the open window. “How is the heartless, thieving, no-good ingrate?”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Michael spent the next forty minutes with Arabella Jax, and it felt like an eternity. It was more than the sight of her, more than the smells or the slow, certain crumble of everything around him. There was black poetry to her unpleasantness, a rhythm of lies and pride and cunning that Michael had rarely seen, even on the street. She pushed when she could, drew back when she felt threatened and then pushed again. She wanted everything she could get, dollars and knowledge and insight, the key to Michael’s soul if she could find a way to trick it out of him. She’d say horrible things, then preen like an insane teenager and look at him sideways. Michael couldn’t tell how much was act and how much was real, but his skin crawled at the way she watched him, the way she sunk her barbs then opened her mouth and let smoke linger.
“You sleeping with my Abigail? She’d be pretty enough for a fine, young buck like you. That’s a trait we share.” Arabella smoothed limp hair behind her ear. “Is it hot where she’s living?”
“I’m the one asking questions,” Michael said.
“You have eyelashes like a girl. You like boys, maybe?”
“Let’s talk about Abigail and Salina Slaughter.”
“Bet that Jessup Falls is sleeping with her. She’d know how to work a man, all right. I think he may have been from Raleigh. You from Raleigh?”
“I’m not telling you where she is.”
“I don’t care where she is.”
That was a lie; her eye twitched every time she brought up her daughter. She wanted to know where Abigail was, what she was doing. She was hungry for it, and she was afraid. It went like that for a long time. Michael asked a question, and she tried to turn it around. She wanted to know who he was, why he was really there. She tried to find the angles, but Michael was holding the gun, and he knew all about angles. “Let’s talk about Jessup Falls.”
“What happened to your leg?” She sucked on a cigarette.
“Jessup Falls. Salina Slaughter.”
“You want I should rub it?”
She played bold like that, but Michael played in a different league. He leaned forward, took her hand in his. She tried to pull it back, but Michael squeezed hard and let her see enough of his soul to know it could get worse. “Now…” He loosened his grip, patted her hand. “I’m going to ask you again…”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I’d rather not.” He squeezed harder, pressure building.
“Oh, Jesus…”
The joints creaked.
“He sent you!” Her eyes flared wide, mouth suddenly slack. “Oh, sweet Lord. He really did.” There was a new fear in her, a specific, urgent terror. She licked her lips, eyes darting frantically as her body locked rigid. The posturing fell away, the slyness and the rough edge. “There’s no need to do like he done. I’ll talk. Watch me. What do you want to know? I’ll tell you. Watch, now. Just you watch me.”
She was so eager that Michael understood. “You’re talking about Jessup Falls.”
She nodded fiercely, shut her eyes tight, and Michael released her hand. Whatever happened between her and Jessup Falls, it wasn’t pretty. She was scared to death. “Let’s talk about Abigail,” he said.
And they did. She started weak and broken, but the spirit came back into her as minutes passed and Michael didn’t touch her again. He watched it build, the slyness and calculation, the belief that maybe he wouldn’t hurt her the way Falls had. In the end, though, Michael had what he needed. He understood some things, and none of them were very pretty. “If you’re lying to me, I’ll come back.”
Her face crinkled as color returned. “Come or don’t. I’ll be dead in six months anyway.”
She flicked a cigarette butt at his right eye.
Spit on the floor.
Michael took one last look at everything-the leg, the house and the loose, brown teeth-then left, and took the gun with him. There was a lot he didn’t understand, and a lot that he did. Abigail was raised poor. Fine. Happens all the time. The most loathsome woman ever born brought her into the world, then did her best to screw her up. That happens, too. Life’s a bitch.
But there was no one ever born named Salina Slaughter. Michael could still feel the hate in Arabella Jax when she’d laid it out for him.
“Dumb shit of a girl wanted to be rich so bad, she made it up. Didn’t like that her momma scrubbed taters and washed dishes and did every other fucking thing just to put food in her face. Know how I heard about it? People down to the store were laughing at me! Said little Abigail was telling everybody her name was Salina Slaughter and she would own the mountain one day when her mother died. Not me, mind you, but that queen bitch Serena Slaughter, who was low and cruel and treated me worse than her dog. That’s who Abigail wanted for her momma! That was the game she liked to play, and everybody in this hollow knew it! Salina Slaughter. Shit. Even after I beat that child bloody…”
That child had been ten years old at the time. Four years later, she stole every dollar her mother had, ran away in the middle of the night and hadn’t been back since. But Jessup Falls had. He’d hurt Arabella Jax so badly that even now she was terrified of him. What had pushed Falls to such an extreme? Was it love of Abigail or some other thing? Just how hard was the man, and what did any of it have to do with Julian and the dead boys from Iron House? Pieces were still missing-big ones-and Michael felt them out there like spinning blades.
The line twisted through Michael’s thoughts like a bright, sudden banner.
Was the senator connected to Slaughter Mountain? When and where did he and Abigail meet?
