Divine Evil

a small hard-sided suitcase with a broken strap.
    “Mom.” Cam sat beside her and after a moment put a hand awkwardly on her shoulder. She didn't look at him.
    “Did you come to see him?”
    “No, I came to stay with you.”
    “There's no need.” Her voice was cold and steady as stone. “I've buried a husband before.”
    He took his hand away and had to fight the need to ball it into a fist and bash it against the glossy coffee table. “I'd like to help you make the arrangements. It's hard to make decisions at a time like this. And it's expensive. I'd like to take care of whatever bills there are.”
    “Why?” Her hand was rock steady as she lifted it, sipped her tea, then lowered it again. “You hated him.”
    “I'm offering to help you.”
    “Biff wouldn't want your help.”
    “Is he running your life now, too?”
    Her head snapped around, and her eyes, reddened from hours and hours of weeping, burned into him. “Don't you speak ill of him. The man is dead, beaten to death. Beaten to death,” she repeated in a harsh whisper. “You're the law here. If you want to help, then you find out who did this to my husband. You find out who killed him.”
    Chuck cleared his throat as he walked back into the room. “Mrs. Stokey, perhaps you'd like to-”
    “I don't need any more tea.” She rose and picked up the suitcase. “I don't need anything. I brought the clothes I want him buried in. Now you take me to see my husband.”
    “Mrs. Stokey, he hasn't been prepared.”
    “I lived with him for twenty years. I'll see him as he is.”
    “Mom-”
    She whirled on her son. “I don't want you here now. Do you think I could stand and look at him with you beside me, knowing how you felt? Since you were ten years old, you made me stand between you, choose between you. Now he's dead, and I'm choosing him.”
    You always did, Cam thought, and let her go.
    Alone, he sat again. It would do no good to wait for her, he knew, but he needed a moment before he went outside again to face the stares and whispers.
    There was a Bible on the table, its leather cover worn smooth by countless hands. He wondered if his mother had found any verses inside to comfort her. Cameron.
    He looked up and saw the mayor in the parlor doorway. “Mr. Atherton.”
    “I don't want to intrude during this difficult time. My wife called. She seemed to think your mother might need some support.”
    “She's with Chuck.”
    “I see.” He started to back away, then changed his mind. “Is there anything I can do for you? I know people always say that at times like this, but …” He moved his thin shoulders and looked uncomfortable.
    “Actually, my mother might need someone to drive her home when she's finished here. She doesn't want it to be me.”
    “I'd be glad to take her. Cameron, people react to grief in different ways.”
    “So I'm told.” He rose then. “I have the autopsy report. I'll have a copy for you and the rest of my paperwork by tomorrow.”
    “Oh, yes.” Atherton gave a weak smile. “I have to admit I'm out of my element.”
    “All you have to do is file them. Mayor, are there any gangs at school? Any of the tougher elements fusing together?”
    Atherton's scholarly face creased as his brows drew together. “No. We have the usual troublemakers, of course, and the misfits, some brawls in the hallway and fights over girls or ball games.” His thoughtful eyes widened. “Surely you can't believe that Biff was killed by children?”
    “I have to start somewhere.”
    “Sheriff-Cameron-we don't even have a drug problem at Emmitsboro High. You know that. We may have boys bloodying noses once in a while and girls pulling out some hair, but nothing that would lead to murder.” He pulled out a carefully pressed handkerchief and dabbed at his upper lip. The thought of murder made him sweat. “I'm sure you're going to discover that someone out of town, a stranger, was responsible.”
    “Funny that a stranger would know to dump the body where kids have been sneaking down to wade for years.And that a stranger would push the car halfway off the road just where Bud Hewitt drives by every night.”
    “But-whoever… I mean, doesn't that make my point? They couldn't have wanted the body found so quickly.”
    “I wonder,” Cam murmured. “I appreciate your seeing my mother home, Mayor.”
    “What? Oh, yes. I'm happy to help.” With his handkerchief still pressed to his lips, Atherton stared after Cam with fear dawning in