He had already phoned the judge there for a search warrant and contacted a forensics tech to examine the Semple home for possible traces to show Mariah had been there, especially since they hadn’t come forward with that key information in timely fashion on their own.
“The men looking for the other poison sticks will look for signs of my mother in the forest, too?” she asked Drew.
“Absolutely. Both officers were on the earlier search teams. First thing tomorrow morning, you and I will head up toward Sunrise to see if you can recall any sang spots Mariah might have counted there. Meanwhile, I don’t want you talking further to the other persons of interest. Now that we’ve got Junior in custody, that’s Vern Tarver and Peter Sung.”
“Is Sung in town now?”
“Not that I know of. I’m gonna check with Vern soon. Did you hear me about not questioning people on your own?”
“Yes. All right.”
“I’ll call you and come out to be sure you’re okay when I get back from Highboro. Besides, I need some patching up, Doctor.”
“You know I’m not an M.D.”
“Look, Jess, we both need patching up deep down, and I don’t mean that as a pun. See you later.”
She hung up the phone. She had to do something, so she wouldn’t go crazy just sitting here waiting and agonizing. And Drew had not said one word about staying away from Seth Bearclaws.
It would do her good to exercise her sore muscles, Jessie told herself as she walked down the creek toward Seth Bearclaws’s place. She wore a pair of her mother’s jeans, though they were baggy on her, with a checkered blouse and denim jacket. She tried to keep herself from scratching her back, just below her waistline. Poison ivy from the tumble down the hill, she figured. She had twisted herself around to look in a mirror, then awkwardly covered the red rash with Neosporin and calamine lotion from her mother’s medicine cabinet. At least her mother had that; at Cassie’s, she would have found only healing herbs.
The old, familiar rattling of Slate Creek calmed her some. The clear water looked almost tinted orange with the combination of red Appalachian soil and golden sunlight. Its flow was perpetual, and the surrounding hills and trees seemed eternal, as if there was, indeed, nothing new under the sun. But everything had changed now. She was back in Deep Down, back with Drew. But what had happened to her mother?
She heard Seth, or at least his chain saw, from a distance. The buzzing, drilling sound seemed to echo through the trees. Yes, she saw him outside his one-story log house, bent over a tree stump, hefting the noisy saw to cut into the wood. Numerous tree trunks littered his front yard, some already cut, some intact, some upright, some on their sides. She realized she should be careful not to sneak up on him, though that hadn’t done her and Drew much good approaching Junior Semple.
Jessie stopped to watch him, but, as she did, he turned and looked her way as if she’d screamed his name. He shut the saw off and put it down. He gestured for her to come closer, even as he picked up a long knife from the ground, then buried it in the stump where it quivered, darting off reflections from a shaft of sun.
“I wanted to thank you for the gift for my mother,” she called to him as she walked closer.
He nodded and gestured she should sit on another half-carved stump, this one with a bear’s head emerging from the rough wood. She was glad he didn’t ask her inside. Despite what had happened to her and Drew in the open forest today, Seth’s place had always made her nervous. His now-deceased wife, Anna, had made the place livable, but Jessie had been bothered by the strange things on the walls there. Cassie’s place might be festooned with green or drying herbs, but Seth’s walls displayed things he claimed were sacred to his tribe, things she thought were creepy as a kid: rattlesnake and copperhead skins, all dry and twisty; a ball of spiderwebs
“The men looking for the other poison sticks will look for signs of my mother in the forest, too?” she asked Drew.
“Absolutely. Both officers were on the earlier search teams. First thing tomorrow morning, you and I will head up toward Sunrise to see if you can recall any sang spots Mariah might have counted there. Meanwhile, I don’t want you talking further to the other persons of interest. Now that we’ve got Junior in custody, that’s Vern Tarver and Peter Sung.”
“Is Sung in town now?”
“Not that I know of. I’m gonna check with Vern soon. Did you hear me about not questioning people on your own?”
“Yes. All right.”
“I’ll call you and come out to be sure you’re okay when I get back from Highboro. Besides, I need some patching up, Doctor.”
“You know I’m not an M.D.”
“Look, Jess, we both need patching up deep down, and I don’t mean that as a pun. See you later.”
She hung up the phone. She had to do something, so she wouldn’t go crazy just sitting here waiting and agonizing. And Drew had not said one word about staying away from Seth Bearclaws.
It would do her good to exercise her sore muscles, Jessie told herself as she walked down the creek toward Seth Bearclaws’s place. She wore a pair of her mother’s jeans, though they were baggy on her, with a checkered blouse and denim jacket. She tried to keep herself from scratching her back, just below her waistline. Poison ivy from the tumble down the hill, she figured. She had twisted herself around to look in a mirror, then awkwardly covered the red rash with Neosporin and calamine lotion from her mother’s medicine cabinet. At least her mother had that; at Cassie’s, she would have found only healing herbs.
The old, familiar rattling of Slate Creek calmed her some. The clear water looked almost tinted orange with the combination of red Appalachian soil and golden sunlight. Its flow was perpetual, and the surrounding hills and trees seemed eternal, as if there was, indeed, nothing new under the sun. But everything had changed now. She was back in Deep Down, back with Drew. But what had happened to her mother?
She heard Seth, or at least his chain saw, from a distance. The buzzing, drilling sound seemed to echo through the trees. Yes, she saw him outside his one-story log house, bent over a tree stump, hefting the noisy saw to cut into the wood. Numerous tree trunks littered his front yard, some already cut, some intact, some upright, some on their sides. She realized she should be careful not to sneak up on him, though that hadn’t done her and Drew much good approaching Junior Semple.
Jessie stopped to watch him, but, as she did, he turned and looked her way as if she’d screamed his name. He shut the saw off and put it down. He gestured for her to come closer, even as he picked up a long knife from the ground, then buried it in the stump where it quivered, darting off reflections from a shaft of sun.
“I wanted to thank you for the gift for my mother,” she called to him as she walked closer.
He nodded and gestured she should sit on another half-carved stump, this one with a bear’s head emerging from the rough wood. She was glad he didn’t ask her inside. Despite what had happened to her and Drew in the open forest today, Seth’s place had always made her nervous. His now-deceased wife, Anna, had made the place livable, but Jessie had been bothered by the strange things on the walls there. Cassie’s place might be festooned with green or drying herbs, but Seth’s walls displayed things he claimed were sacred to his tribe, things she thought were creepy as a kid: rattlesnake and copperhead skins, all dry and twisty; a ball of spiderwebs
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