He cut his engine and walked to her. She stood on the porch, the minister on the front steps, both of them very much aware of the spark that moved between them, looking for something explosive to ignite. Both knew they must be very careful.
'Will you walk around the side of the house with me, Sam?'
They walked, not touching, around to the back. The back door was shattered, pulled from its hinges. A crude picture had been drawn on the bottom half of the door. A naked woman with legs spread wide, exposing the genitalia. JANE ANN printed above the obscene drawing.
It was embarrassing for both of them.
'When did this happen?' Sam asked.
'Last night. I haven't slept since.'
'Did you call the police?'
She looked up at him, her eyes flashing dark anger. 'Sam, it was the police!'
It was the first time Sam had been in her house in more than a year. When he had sensed her feelings toward him, and his feelings toward her, he'd stopped his visits, thinking it best for both of them.
They stood in the kitchen, looking at each other.
'Let me fix you some breakfast, Sam.'
'No, that's not necessary. Coffee will be fine.'
'Have you eaten?'
'No—but, I just don't think it would be right.'
'Sam, nothing is
He had to admit, it was pleasant, watching Jane Ann prepare breakfast. He sipped his coffee, very good coffee, and watched her move around the smail kitchen. Very little wasted motion. Jane Ann was nothing like his wife.
Michelle was tall, five seven, with black hair and eyes of the darkest blue, almost black; her complexion was dark.
Jane Ann was small and blonde, with a very trim figure, unlike Michelle's truly magnificent figure. Although, Sam smiled, no one in his right mind would ever mistake Jane Ann for a boy. Her hair was cut short, framing her face.
She turned, as if sensing the minister's eyes on her, and caught him appraising her. 'It never hurts to look, Sam,' she said impishly, softening the remark with a smile.
'Only if the man is a minister, or married,' he countered.
'You're a minister, yes. But I wouldn't say your marriage was made in Heaven.'
He shrugged his reply as she placed his breakfast before him. It was everything he liked, prepared as he liked it. Sam lifted his eyes from the plate.
'Eggs scrambled, with green peppers and onions. Sausage cooked just right. Toast with real butter and strawberry preserves. How did you know this?'
'I know lots of things about you, Sam. I hope those preserves are still good. I put them up last year. I never opened them till now.'
He nodded, chewing on a piece of toast.
'Michelle hasn't fixed—' He stopped short, feeling guilty about being here, feeling guilty about speaking disparagingly of his wife.
'—fixed your breakfast in a long time,' Jane Ann finished the remark. She kept her eyes on her plate as she spoke. 'Or slept with you, either.'
Sam chewed his food slowly, looking at the top of her head. 'Ugly rumors.'
She met his eyes. 'They are
Sam said nothing. He knew what she meant. Very little got by a small town.
'Annie Brown has disappeared,' she abruptly changed the subject.
'What do you mean?'
'I've been tutoring her this summer. Yesterday she simply did not show up. I went to her home to speak with her parents—her stepparents, really. They were very rude; very evasive. They refused to allow me in the house. They said Annie had gone to Bradville to visit relatives—her relatives. The girl has no relatives, Sam—anywhere. I know that for a fact. She's been telling me for a month or more that her stepfather has been—making advances toward her. Her stepmother even told her she'd like to see them—you know, do it!'
The scene of Conway caressing his daughter filled 5am's brain. He told Jane Ann what he'd seen that morning. All of it.
'That's been happening all over town, Sam. Whitfield is turning into a cesspool. I've been propositioned two dozen times this past week and some of the remarks from men have been really nasty.'
'I've heard some pretty rough things about Brother Farben,' Sam said. 'If they are true, Jane Ann, I just can't believe he's a minister.'
'I don't think he is, Sam. He and Otto got together the other night.'
Sam's eyes widened when she said, 'I saw them, Sam. Otto is one of the men who propositioned me.'
'Too many things happening to this town to be counted off as coincidence.'
'What do you think is happening in Whitfield, Sam?'
He almost spoke of his suspicions, then held back, shaking his head.
She smiled at him. 'Everybody tells their problems to you, Sam. Who do you tell your problems to?'
'The greatest listener of all—God. Now about that back door?'
'Don't you trust me, Sam?'
He was being honest when he said, 'I don' trust myself, Janey.'
She touched his hand and the sensation was almost electric to him. Sam feverishly hoped God was not taking this moment to peer inside his head, for his thoughts—despite his efforts—were borderline erotic.
Sam pulled his hand away from her fingertips. 'About that back door?' he said stubbornly.
She laughed. 'Can't blame a girl for trying. All right, Sam. George Best and Jimmy Perkins.'
Sam nodded, returning to his breakfast before it got cold. No great shakes in the kitchen, he wasn't about to let this good meal go to waste.
He said, 'It doesn't surprise me about Best, he's a first-class horse's behind. Jimmy, though, that comes as a shock. Jane Ann, let me ask you something, other than the obvious, were they acting strangely?'
'I—don't know quite how to say this, Sam. Best. well, he acted the way he always acts—you know, what you said. But Jimmy—he wasn't himself.'
'Explain that, please.'
She pushed her breakfast plate from her, the meal only half eaten. 'Sam, I don't believe Jimmy knew what he was doing. He acted . . . drugged, or something. His movements were—jerky, I guess. But they weren't drunk— neither of them. I know how a drunk person acts, my father died an alcoholic. Perkins and Best were not drunk.'
Sam finished his breakfast and Jane Ann poured him another cup of coffee. He said, 'Perkins acted as though—well, perhaps his mind was being controlled?'
'Exactly, Sam! Yes.'
'Interesting,' he said dryly. 'How did you prevent them from coming into the house?'
She smiled grimly. 'I was raised on a working cattle ranch, Sam. My father was foreman for years—before the bottle got the best of him. Let me show you something.'
She left the kitchen, returning in a moment with a 12 gauge pump shotgun. 'Best told me how well-endowed he was, and what he'd like to do to me. I pointed this at his crotch, chambered a round, and told him if he didn't leave me alone, he wouldn't have any equipment to do it with—to anybody! He got the message.'
'I should imagine so,' the minister said with a half-smile. He had been told by Chester Stokes, a member of his church, that Jane Ann was gutsy; not the fainting female type. He believed it. 'Is that thing still loaded?'
'Yes, it is. Best said he'd—they'd be back when the fifteen was complete—whatever that means. Said he'd be back to finish the job. He went into a lot of detail as to just what he was going to do to me. I told him when he came back, badge or no badge, I was going to shoot first and ask questions later.'
