Page 9 of Long Pig
His mother’s life revolved around church and deciding who committed sins in the neighborhood. Most of the time Larry wasn’t sure what she was talking about. Two men rented a house down the road from theirs. One was a schoolteacher and the other an insurance salesman. His mother complained to the school board that they were an abomination, and the men moved out. Larry had no idea why they were an abomination, but suspected his mother made it up.
Larry decided that when he grew older and took over the shop, he would enter through the front door of his own home and sit in his nighttime chair with the stink of death still covering him. He had a plan for his life, and that plan did not include his mother.
Chapter Five
Death Can Wait
Willow
Deputy Wallard called an hour later. Again, Dale placed his cell on speaker.
“This is Deputy Wallard. Who am I speaking with?”
Dale rolled his eyes. “Dale Berger out on Juniper Springs Ranch.” Before the deputy could say anything more, Dale continued: “We’ve got human bones out by one of our property lines. They’ve been there for a while. Need someone to come take a look.”
“Are you sure they’re human?” The deputy’s voice sounded incredulous.
“Yeah, they’re human.”
“It’s a little late to be calling this in, isn’t it?” Scorn now filled Deputy Wallard’s voice.
“Called in as soon as I returned home.”
“I was about to go off duty,” was the next grumble.
“Go off duty. Bones have been there for years; I don’t see them walking away overnight unless a mountain lion or coyotes get hold of them. Dog dug ’em up, but they weren’t deep, so I think either scenario is unlikely, or it would have happened already.”
“Give me your information and I’ll come out when I check on duty in the morning if there are no other calls.”
“I can do that, but if I were you, I would call my supervisor and give him a heads up.”
“Just give me your information and let me do my job.” The irritation in his voice had turned to full-blown aggravation.
Dale gave the address, which was more map coordinates than anything else. “Call before you come out so I’m home when you arrive. I’ve got two big dogs, and they don’t like strangers snooping around.”
“They need to be restrained when I get there,” Wallard said.
“See ya tomorrow.” Dale hung up and turned to Willow.
“Already don’t like the pompous ass. Where the hell do they find these people?”
He didn’t sound like he expected an answer, but Willow gave him one anyway. “From the prison guard rejects.” She offered a smile.
“You got that right. Prison pays more. To work up here, you’re a masochist or a moron.”
Willow didn’t touch that statement.
“I got a few things to do in the barn, and then I’ll lock things up before heading in. If you don’t have anything planned for dinner, I’ll make chili.”
She smiled. Dale used two kinds of beans and no meat in the chili. He’d come up with the recipe to please her. He made it hot and spicy the way she liked her food. Prison meals lacked taste, and she went heavy on the spices whenever she cooked. Hot chili peppers were her favorite.
Willow still had occasional nightmares about her father, incarceration, and her experience with Lance Hogg. Dale suggested she see a therapist, but she’d declined. They had poked and prodded her enough while she was in prison.
Directly after Willow’s father killed her mother in front of her, he’d told her to call the police, then curled into a ball on the floor and cried. He always kept a bat by the front door within easy reach. Willow didn’t quite remember the events that happened next, but the evidence didn’t lie. She had beaten her father to death with the bat. The blood and brain matter covering her proved it.
Her father’s abuse went back as far as she could remember. She tried hard not to remember. After leaving prison, it took months before she would carry the shotgun Dale provided. As a felon, she couldn’t own a gun. Dale explained how dangerous the property was without a firearm. Lance Hogg, the son of the man responsible for her grandmother’s death, almost killed Willow. Now she carried the shotgun on the property, but she still worried about being caught. Lance had taken a plea deal, and been given twenty years in prison. As his victims, she and Dale had agreed to the deal.
“You never know what will happen in court, and I don’t trust our current county attorney as far as I could throw the man,” Dale had said. “Twenty years is a good chunk of change, and if we get lucky, someone will take care of the problem while he’s incarcerated.”