Strangers in the Night by Linda Howard, Lisa Litwack, Kazutomo Kawai, Photonica Page A

citizens who listened in on their scanners, the dispatcher had fallen into a more personal tone. And they didn’t bother to check in on a secure line unless there was something going on they didn’t want the listeners to know about, which meant it was either something sensitive like one of the town fathers acting up, or something personal. He hoped the issue was sensitive, because he sure as hell didn’t feel like dealing with anything personal, like his mother running amuck at her regular Wednesday bingo game.
    He picked up his digital cell phone and checked whether or not he had service in this part of the county; he did, though it wasn’t the strongest signal. He flipped the cover open and dialed the dispatcher. “This is Brody. What’s up?”
    Jo Vaughn had been the dispatcher for ten years, and he couldn’t think of anyone he wouldrather have on the job. Not only did she know just about every inhabitant of the small south Alabama county, something that had been a tremendous aid to him, but she also had an eerily accurate instinct for what was urgent and what wasn’t. Sometimes the citizens involved might not agree, but Jackson always did.
    â€œI’ve got a bad feeling,” she announced. “Shirley Waters saw Thaniel Vargas hauling his flat-bottom down Old Boggy Road. There’s nothing out that way except the Jones’s place, and you know how Thaniel is.”
    Jackson took a moment to reflect. This was one of those times when growing up in west Texas instead of south Alabama was a definite handicap. He knew where Old Boggy Road was, but only because he had spent days looking at county maps and memorizing the roads. He had never personally been on Old Boggy, though. And he knew who Thaniel Vargas was; a slightly thick-headed troublemaker, the type found in every community. Thaniel was hot-tempered, a bit of a bully, and he liked his beer a little too much. He’d been in some trouble with the law, but nothing serious enough to rate more than a few fines and warnings.

    Other than that, though, Jackson drew a blank. “Refresh me.”
    â€œWell, you know how superstitious he is.”
    His eyebrows lifted. He hadn’t expected that. “No, I didn’t know,” he said dryly. “What does that have to do with him talking his boat down Old Boggy Road, and who are the Joneses?”
    â€œJones,” Jo corrected. “There’s just one now, since old man Jones died four—no, let’s see, it was right after Beatrice Marbut’s husband died in his girlfriend’s trailer, so that would make it five years ago—”
    Jackson closed his eyes and refrained from asking what difference it made how long ago old man Jones died. Hurrying a Southerner through a conversation was like trying to push a rope, though sometimes he couldn’t stop himself from trying.
    â€œâ€”and Delilah’s been out there alone ever since.”
    He took a wild stab at getting to the point of Jo’s anxiety. “And Thaniel Vargas dislikes Mrs. Jones?”
    â€œMiss. She’s never been married.”
    The wild stab hadn’t worked. “Then old man Jones was—”

    â€œHer father.”
    â€œOkay.” He tried again. “Why does Thaniel dislike Miss Jones?”
    â€œOh, I wouldn’t say he
dislikes
her. It’s more like he’s scared to death of her.”
    He took a deep breath. “Because …?”
    â€œBecause of the witch thing, of course.”
    That did it. Some things just weren’t worth fighting. Jackson surrendered and let himself go with the flow. “Witch thing,” he repeated. That was twice in one minute Jo had surprised him.
    â€œYou mean you never heard about that?” Jo sounded surprised.
    â€œNot a word.” He wished he wasn’t hearing about it now.
    â€œWell, folks think she’s a witch. Not that I think so, mind, but I can see where some would be