"Two different babies," Jeffrey said. One photo was in color and the other in black and white, but it was still easy to tell that the child on the right had a shock of dark black hair, while the one on the left was fair.
Hoss turned the necklace around to look at the photos. He gave a heavy sigh and closed the locket before handing it back to Jeffrey, saying, "Hold on to this."
Jeffrey did not want to, but he took the necklace and tucked it back into his pocket.
Hoss said, "I told Reggie to wait for you back at the funeral home."
"Why's that?"
"You need to go talk to Robert."
"He didn't seem too interested in talking to me this morning."
"He is now," Hoss said. "He called the station looking for you."
"Sara's waiting back at the cave with the body."
"I'll run go fetch her."
"She won't give up on this," Jeffrey repeated.
"On what?" Hoss asked. "Could be some bum walked into the cave and forgot to come out. Could be somebody fell and hit their head. Could be a lot of things, right?" When Jeffrey did not answer, he reminded him, "You've got nothing to hide."
Jeffrey remained silent. They both knew that he did. Things were going downhill faster than he could keep up with.
Hoss gave him a hard pat on the shoulder. "I ever let anything bad happen to you, son?"
Jeffrey shook his head, thinking that the words were no great comfort. Hoss had proven more than a few times that he was not above bending the law to keep Jeffrey and Robert out of trouble.
Hoss flashed one of his rare smiles. "It'll be fine." He opened the door and waved in Reggie as he asked Jeffrey, "What happened to your shoes?"
Jeffrey looked down at his bare feet. They should be digging in the sands of Florida by now. He should be rubbing suntan lotion on Sara's back and front and every other part of her body while she laughed at his jokes and looked at him like he was the second coming.
Hoss asked, "What size are you?"
"Ten."
"I'm an eleven and a half." He asked Reggie, "What size shoe do you wear?"
Reggie looked embarrassed, as if his answer would be the punch line to a joke. Still, he said, "Nine."
"You're stuck with mine, then." Hoss took a set of keys out of his pocket and handed them to Reggie. "Run go fetch my boots out of the back of my truck."
Chapter Fifteen
Hoss's boots smelled like he had worn them ankle-deep in fish guts. Considering the dried scales stuck to the soles, Jeffrey guessed that was exactly what he had been doing in them. Steel-toed with leather uppers, they were hot as hell and heavy as lead. Jeffrey did not even have to look at them to hate them. If he could have gotten away with not wearing anything, he would have gladly gone barefoot.
Growing up, Jeffrey had always been forced to wear hand-me-downs or used shoes and clothing bought cheap from the Baptist church's quarterly yard sale. He hated wearing other people's stuff, and when he was old enough, most of his shoplifting was done at the Belk's in Opelika. Sometimes when the shoe department got busy, the clerks were not able to keep up with who got what, and Jeffrey's first pair of new shoes that actually fit had been part of his most brazen shoplifting stunt ever: he had walked out of the shoe department bold as God, a pair of gleaming new fifteen-dollar black loafers hugging his feet, the soles so new he nearly slipped on the polished marble floor. His heart had been beating like a snare drum the whole time, but showing up at school the next day looking and feeling like a million bucks had made it all worthwhile.
In Hoss's shoes, Jeffrey felt like he was wearing two blocks of cement. Loose blocks, since they were a size and a half too big. There was already a blister working on his heel, and the arch of his foot felt like it had a piece of grit stuck in it, probably something from a fish.
Reggie drove the car through town just as slowly as before, managing an irritating crawl as they got stuck behind a tractor for what seemed like a hundred miles. He kept his scanner turned down low as he listened to country music on the radio, one hand on the wheel, one hand on the center console, lightly tapping along with Hank Williams.
Jeffrey chanced a look at the other man as they headed up Herd's Gap toward Jessie's mother's house. Reggie Ray was of average height, but he was a little on the scrawny side. He could not have been more than twenty-five or -six, but his dirty brown hair was already receding at the temples. A spot in the back looked a little fluffier than it should have been, and Jeffrey guessed he was combing over to hide a thinning area. Reggie would probably be bald by the time he reached his mid-thirties.
Jeffrey ran his hand through his own hair, thinking the only good thing his father had ever given him was a full head of hair. Even at close to sixty, Jimmy Tolliver still had the same thick, wavy hair he'd sported in high school. He still kept it in the same style that was popular at the time: a slicked-back variation of a pompadour. In his prison stripes, he looked like an extra from an Elvis movie.
Reggie said, "What's so funny?"
Jeffrey realized he had been smiling at the memory of his old man, but he was not about to share that with Reggie, especially considering the mark Jimmy had left on the Ray family.
He said, "Nothing."
"Those boots smell like shit," Reggie said, rolling down the window. Hot air sucked into the cab like a furnace. "What happened to your shoes?"
"I left them with Sara," he said, offering no further explanation.
"She seems like a real nice woman."
"Yeah," Jeffrey said. Then, to beat him to the punch, he added, "Don't know what the hell she's doing with me."
"Amen," Reggie agreed. He tilted his hat back as they crested a hill. In the distance, Jeffrey could see people standing out on the golf course at the Sylacauga Country Club. Jeffrey had caddied a few times for some of the players, but he had quickly grown irritated by the condescending way the rich men treated him. Besides that, he had never understood the lure of golf. If he was going to spend a few hours outside, Jeffrey would rather be running and using his muscles for something other than chasing a little white ball around in a tiny clown car.
Reggie cleared his throat, and Jeffrey could tell it took something out of him to ask, "What's going on?"
"What do you mean?"
"Why's Robert wanna talk to you?"
Jeffrey was honest but only because he knew Reggie would not believe the truth. "I don't know."
"Right," Reggie said, skeptical. "Why'd Hoss want me to drive you out instead of him?"
That was a good question, one Jeffrey had not considered when Hoss had volunteered to help Sara back at the cave. That was more the type of scut work Hoss usually gave to his deputies. Hoss would normally be more likely to drive out to see Robert with Jeffrey than trek through the forest looking for Sara. Maybe he thought he would be able to distract her somehow. Jeffrey wished him luck, but he knew Hoss was bound to fail.
"Slick?" Reggie prompted.
"I wish you wouldn't call me that," Jeffrey told him, knowing even as he said it that Reggie would now call him Slick until the day he died. "Hoss went back to find Sara."
"She lost?"
"No." Jeffrey did not debate long on whether or not to tell Reggie what was going on. The deputy would find out soon enough. "She found something. We found something. There's this cave near the quarry -"
"The one with the boards over it," Reggie said. He must have noticed Jeffrey's surprised look, because he added, "Paula told me about it."
"How'd she find out?" Jeffrey asked, knowing he had never taken Reggie's sister to the cave. It was an unwritten rule between him, Robert, and Possum that no girls were allowed. Except for that one time, he knew that they had all kept to it.