Carnal Innocence

Dangerous things, promises.” He frowned down at his cigarette, then crushed it out. “But I do care about you. I guess you could say I’m about neck-deep in caring about you.”
    “I think—I’m not ready …” She rose and wished she had something to do with her hands. “I care about you, too, Tucker. And that’s where it has to stop. I came here because I care about you, and I wanted you to know that Matthew Burns is looking for a way to prove you killed Edda Lou Hatinger.”
    “He’s going to have to look pretty hard.” Still watching her, Tucker slipped his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t kill Edda Lou, Caroline.”
    “I know that. I might not understand you, but I know that. Matthew’s looking for the connection between Arnette, Francie, and Edda Lou, and you’re the front runner. He also dropped some hints about Toby, and that concerns me. I know these are the nineties, butit’s still rural Mississippi, and racial tensions …” She shrugged.
    “Most people around here have a lot of respect for Toby and Winnie. There aren’t that many around like the Hatingers or the Bonny boys.”
    “But there are some. I don’t want to see anything happen to Toby or his family.” She took a step forward. “More, I don’t want to see anything happen to you.”
    “Then I’ll have to see to it that you don’t.” He reached out to lift her chin, his eyes sharp and steady. “You’ve got a headache.” Gently he rubbed at the faint line of stress between her brows. “I don’t like to think I had a part in bringing that on.”
    “It’s not you.” As always, she felt a trace of embarrassment at the weakness she associated with pain. “It’s the situation. Not you.”
    “Then we’re not going to think about the situation. We’re going to go sit out on the porch and watch for that sunset.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “And you don’t even have to neck with me. Unless you want to.”
    That made her smile, which was what he’d intended. “What about your work?”
    “Honey.” He slipped an arm around her waist to lead her out. “There’s one sure thing about work. It doesn’t go anywhere.”
    So they sat on the porch, talking idly of the weather, of Marvella’s wedding, of young Jim’s progress on the violin. And while the sun drifted lower in the sky, bleeding red over the horizon, while the frisky puppy tried to convince the aging Buster to play, while the Statler Brothers gave way to the Oak Ridge Boys, neither of them noticed the quick wink of light glazing off the lens of a pair of dented binoculars.
    Austin held them to his eyes in taut hands. He watched, his mouth moving silently in fervent and deadly prayer, his mind twisting deeper into madness, and two Police Specials shoved in the waistband of his Sunday trousers.
    · · ·
    When Cy reached the culvert the next morning, his father was waiting. He grabbed the boy by the shirt while he peered out at the white morning light.
    “You didn’t tell anybody? I’ll know if you lie.”
    “No, Daddy.” It was the same question, the same answer each morning. “I swear I didn’t. I brought you some chicken, and a sausage biscuit.”
    Austin snatched the paper sack. “You bring the rest?”
    “Yes sir.” Cy handed over the plastic container of water, hoping his father would be content with that. Knowing he wouldn’t.
    Austin unscrewed the top and took three long swallows before swiping his hand across his mouth. “The rest.”
    Cy’s hands shook. His throat was too full of fear to allow any words through. He unbuckled the leather holder from his belt and held out the hunting knife.
    “Daddy, there’s police still out by the house, but they got rid of the roadblocks on Route One. You could get clean over to Arkansas if you wanted.”
    “Anxious to see me gone, boy?” Lips peeled back in a grin, Austin unsheathed the knife. It caught the funnel of light and shone.
    “No, sir, I was just—”
    “Oh, you’d like me to run, wouldn’t you?” He turned the blade, drawing Cy’s terrified eyes to the gleam. “You’d like me to go, leave your way clear to sin and debauchery. To buddying up with niggers and kissing Mr. Tucker Longstreet’s rosy ass.”
    “No, sir. I was just … I was just …” Cy stared at the knife. One swipe, one quick careless swipe of that knife and he’d be dead. “It’s just that they’re still out hunting for you. Not like they were before, but they’re still looking.”
    “The