Divine Evil

smiled, deciding he was more baffled than critical. “Sometimes.”
    “The wife likes art,” he said conversationally as he squinted at a brass and copper sculpture. Modern shit, he thought, sneering inwardly, but as an antique dealer, he knew there was no telling what people would plunk down hard cash for. “She's got this plaster donkey and cart out in the front yard. You do any stuff like that?”
    Clare bit down on the tip of her tongue. “No,” she said solemnly. “Not really.”
    “You can come on by and take a look at ours if you want some ideas.”
    “I appreciate that.”
    When he started back toward his truck without giving her a bill, Clare figured she must have paid in advance. Heopened the door, then propped a foot on the running board. “I guess you heard Jane Stokey sold the farm.”
    “What?”
    “Jane Stokey,” he repeated, hitching a thumb in a belt loop. His mood lifted considerably when he saw he was the first to pass on the news. “Sold the farm-or she's gonna. Word is she might move on down to Tennessee. Got a sister down there.”
    “Does Cam know?”
    “Can't say. If he don't, he'll know by suppertime.” He wondered if there was any way he could mosey into the sheriff's office and drop the bombshell, real casual like.
    “Who bought it?”
    “Some hotshot realtor down to D.C.'s what I heard. Must've checked the obits and seen Biff's. Made her a good offer from what I heard. Hope to shit some developer don't plant more houses.”
    “Can they do that?”
    He pursed his lips, lowered his brows. “Well, now, it's zoned agricultural, but you never know. Money greases the right palms, and that could change quick enough.” He stopped, coughed, and looked away, remembering her father. “So, you, ah, settling in?”
    She noted that his gaze had veered upward, toward the attic window. “More or less.”
    He looked back at her. “Not too spooky here for you, all alone?”
    “It's hard to be spooked in a house you grew up in.” And where all the ghosts were so familiar.
    He rubbed at a spot on his side mirror. There'd been a light on in her attic once or twice. Certain people wanted to know why. “I guess with all the stuff you're buying, you're planning on being around awhile.”
    She'd nearly forgotten how important it was in smalltowns for everyone to know everything. “I don't really have any plans.” She shrugged. “The beauty of being unfettered.”
    “I guess.” He'd been fettered too long to understand. Casually, and cleverly, he thought, he wound his way around to his purpose for being there. “Funny having you back here. Makes me think about that first time I took you out. The carnival, right?”
    Her eyes went flat, her cheeks paled. “Yes. The carnival.”
    “That sure was-” He broke off, as if he'd just remembered. “Jesus, Clare.” Sincerity shone in his eyes as he blinked. “I'm awful sorry. Don't know how I could've forgotten.”
    “It's all right.” Her cheeks hurt as she fought with a smile. “It was a long time ago.”
    “Yeah, a long time. Man, I feel like a jerk.” Awkwardly, he reached for her hand. “It must be rough on you, having people remind you.”
    She didn't need anyone to remind her, but managed a restless movement with her shoulders. “Don't worry about it, Bob. I wouldn't be here if I couldn't handle it.”
    “Well, sure, but…well,” he said again, “I guess you got plenty to keep you busy. Your statues.” He gave her a sly wink. “And the sheriff.”
    “Word travels,” she said dryly.
    “That it does. I guess the two of you are hitting it off.”
    “I guess.” With some amusement, she noted that his eyes kept cutting back into her garage, toward the sculpture she'd titled
The Inner Beast.
“Maybe Bonnie Sue'd like that to put next to her donkey.”
    Bob flushed and shifted his foot. “I don't think it's her style. Can't say I know anything about art, but-”
    “You know what you like,” she finished for him. “It's all right if you don't like it, Bob. I'm not sure I do myself.”
    No, he didn't like it because it was all too familiar. “How come you made up something like that?”
    She glanced back over her shoulder. “I'm not sure. You could say it just comes to me. In a dream,” she added softly, almost to herself, and rubbed a chill from her arms.
    His eyes narrowed, sharpened, but when she turned back, his face was bland. “I think I'll stick with donkey carts. You let me know if you have any trouble