Then another sign swept by:
AGAN’S POINT—3 MILES.
She steeled herself behind the wheel.
And then the awful words came back to haunt her just as effectively as she was being haunted by her past:
Yes, her own father’s words . . .
Patricia’s eyes suddenly flooded with tears. She couldn’t control herself; she couldn’t even remember what she was doing, her sensibilities jerking away from her like something being stolen. Without even realizing it, she pulled the Cadillac to the shoulder and got out, her heart hammering, sweat pasting her red bangs to her forehead. A passerby would’ve dismissed her as a crazy woman about to run amok into the woods. Tears blurred her vision. Her feet took her in a blind run away from the car. When she fell to her knees several minutes later, she looked up, choking through sobs, and then saw a smaller sign just before the turn onto a narrow country road. She had to squint through her tears to focus until she could finally read the sign, a right-turn arrow and the words:
BOWEN’S FIELD.
Patricia shrieked, vomited into the grass, and passed out.
“It just seemed weird to me, Mr. Chief,” the slim, curvy girl with tousled black hair was relating into the driver’s-side window of the Agan’s Point police patrol car.
The strange accent was more of a giveaway than the pale skin and black hair, not to mention the “Mr. Chief.”
“—and they was kinda grinnin’ and lookin’ me over,” she went on, “the way fellas’ll do, makin’ me really uncomfortable, and when I told ’em I didn’t wanna buy none, they said somethin’ like, ‘Well, that’s all right, we’ll give ya some fer free if ya come and party with us.’”
The Squatter girls weren’t much above the neck, sort of wide faces and flat noses, not the best teeth, and that ratty black hair. But below the neck?
“What’s that you were sayin’ there, hon?” Trey asked. Sutter could tell by Trey’s squint and the tone of his query that he too was experiencing a problem with distraction. Any officer’s job was to get all the facts, and that wasn’t working well here, not with this Squatter bombshell’s pair of absolutely state-of-the-art breasts practically falling out of that top in front of them.
“What was it you say these fellas were tryin’ ta sell you?” Trey blinked hard enough to get out.
Her hip cocked, which caused her bosom to sway delectably in the hand-stitched top, and she explained in that weird accent that all the Squatters seemed to have, “Ice! Can ya believe that? They asked me if I wanted to buy some
Sutter and Trey exchanged glances. At least now they had some police business, which was good, because if Sutter had to spend another minute looking at this girl’s outrageous body he might have a heart attack right there in the cruiser.
“That was right of you to flag us down, missy,” Sutter said, “because fellas like that are definitely not the type we want in Agan’s Point. You see which way they went?”
Now she stood on both feet, legs parted, and leaned back with hands on hips. More distraction: she was so
Trey’s expression revved up. “Well, ain’t that grand, yes, sir!”
“You got that right,” Sutter agreed, then back to the girl: “You’ve done a fine civic duty today, missy, and we appreciate it.”
She seemed delighted by Sutter’s response, and then her not-so-comely face lit up with a big smile—not that Sutter nor Trey, was focused on her face. “You have a fine day, Mr. Chief, and . . . and . . . and Mr. Chief’s partner.”
Sutter paused to himself.
Her eyes beamed. “Why, it’s funny you should ask, but I just turnt fifteen yesterday!”
Trey spit out a mouthful of coffee while Sutter thought in a long, low groan:
The girl waved giddily as the cruiser backed up and began to turn. “Jiminy Christmas,” Sutter muttered like a man with a bad bellyache. “That dizzy brick shit-house was almost the death of me just lookin at her.”
“Damn near busted my pants, Chief. And did‘ja see how
“Tell me about it.”
His slapped his thigh. “And she’s only
“Tell me about it,” Sutter repeated, pulling around.
Trey was shaking his head. “But just as they got bodies from hell they ain’t got but shit fer brains.” He let out a hick laugh. “She thinks those guys are selling ice cubes! How’s that for a dumb shit?”
“Aw, give her a break. She’s had a shit life, no proper schooling, and works her ass off at the crab plant.”
Trey belted out another laugh. “Shit, Chief, with that bod, she can work
Sutter shot him a reproving glare.
“Er, I mean, once she turns eighteen,” Trey added in haste.
“That’s what I thought you meant. Christ, ten minutes ago you were runnin’ your mouth all about how God helps us out if we obey His laws.” Sutter chuckled. “You sure lost your religion quick enough, lustin’ after that