Bitter Sweets

decided that the rebel flag might have different significance for the store’s owners.

    “Yo, darlin, what can we do you for?” said the guy who was wiping down a Sig Sauer. The second one guffawed at his partner’s attempt at humor, and Savannah thought of every Jeff Foxworthy redneck joke she had ever heard. Certain scenes from Deliverance came to mind, too.

    Gee, that was a real knee-slapper , she thought, but she plastered a smile on her face and sauntered over to the counter. “Actually, I’m looking for a fellow, who-”

    “Hey, got one for you right here! His name’s J.T.” He gave the other guy a gouge in the ribs with the barrel of the pistol he was cleaning. Savannah cringed, amazed at some people’s lack of common sense when handling firearms. “Course, if you want somebody more prettier,” he said, “you’ll have to settle for me. I’m Bobbie.”

    “Thank you, Bobbie. But it’s a particular gentleman I have in mind,” she said, slathering on the Southern charm. “I met him at a gun show down at the fairgrounds last month. His first name is Earl, I believe, and his last might be something like...Bullock or ...” “Mallock?” “Yeah, that’s it.”

    The twosome exchanged knowing looks and giggled like a couple of adolescent boys over a Penthouse.

    “What you want with Earl Mallock?” J.T. asked.

    “Yeah,” Bobbie added. “What’s he got that we don’t got?”

    “A Colt Sportster. He said he might sell it to me if the offer was right. I’ve been saving my pennies, and I’m ready to take it off his hands.”

    “What does a lady like yourself need with a high-powered carbine?” J.T. wanted to know.

    She smiled and deepened her dimples. “Home protection.”

    “Where do you live, sugar, Fort Knox?”

    Rather than disappoint him, she chuckled, then leaned across the counter, ignoring the cigar that smoldered in a tray under her nose. “Seriously, do you know where I might find him?”

    “You don’t need Earl. We got Sportsters.” Bobbie-whom she had dubbed Yahoo Number One-lifted a rifle from the wall rack behind the counter and laid it in front of her.

    “I’d need extra magazines.” She picked up the Sportster and checked the breech, finding it empty.

    “Got “em,” he said.

    She slammed the block home, swung the gun to her shoulder, expertly sighted at the poster boy’s crotch, and squeezed off a dry shot. “And steel-jacketed ammo?”

    His eyes widened, and she could see that he was quickly falling deeply in lust with her. “I’ll get you some,” he said, far too eagerly. He lowered his voice and leaned into her face. “I’ll get you anything you want, sweet thing. Anything at all.”

    “Why...thank you so much, kind sir,” she said, batting her lashes. Abruptly, she dropped the rifle onto the counter, along with her demure act, and fixed him with blue lasers. “But my mind is made up. I want Earl’s gun. Do you know where I can find him, or not?”

    “Well, I...I don’t know... .” He turned to his friend. “What do you think, J.T.? Should we-?”

    “Get her phone number, Bobbie. Yeah, that’s it. Get her number and we’ll have Earl call her. How’s that?”

    Bobbie gave him a look of deep appreciation. “That s good.” He turned back to Savannah. “Leave your number, honey bunch, and we’ll tell Earl you’re looking for him.”

    Tired and disgusted, Savannah left a few minutes later. She was no closer to finding Earl Mallock or Christy. Her head ached, she was weak with hunger, and her spirits were dragging the pavement.

    But she could take satisfaction in imagining the look on J.T.’s and Bobbie’s faces when they called the number she had given them and spoke to the no-nonsense, not-so-benevolent despot, Sister Mary Theresa, who ran the local rescue mission. Best case scenario: They might even be dumb enough to ask Sister for a date... .

    The moment Savannah heard Tammy’s voice on her car phone, she knew something was wrong.

    “Savannah, could you come home, right away? Please!” Immediately, Savannah did a U-turn on Harrington and headed the car toward home. “Tammy, what is it? Are you crying?”

    “A little. It’s just that... well... someone is here and...” Savannah’s heart leapt as she imagined the worst. “Mallock?”

    “No, the colonel. He’s here in the office, and he wants to talk to you, and he says it’s all our fault that something’s happened to his daughter