Final Justice (4 page)

His discharge was coming up, so there hadn't been time for much of a courtship, but Emma Jean didn't mind. He said he loved her and wanted her to be his wife and take her home with him to a little Alabama town called Hampton. They got married only two weeks after they met, and Emma Jean still shuddered to think of their wedding night when all the trouble began.

They had left Florida in Rudy's beat-up Ford pickup truck right after the early morning ceremony at the courthouse in Titusville. Less than an hour up the road Rudy said he couldn't wait any longer to really make her his wife. In the time they had known each other, they hadn't gone beyond tongue-kissing and heavy petting because he said he wanted things to be right. Emma Jean had only felt a teeny bit guilty to let him think she was a virgin, thinking of that time with Johnny Grice back in the ninth grade, a mistake she had tried to put out of her mind.

When they stopped at a seedy-looking motel, the man at the desk grinned nastily at Rudy for wanting a room in the middle of the day. He made Rudy so mad he yanked the marriage certificate from his pocket and yelled at the man that they were man and wife and, if he didn't wipe that silly smirk off his face, he'd do it for him.

Emma Jean was so embarrassed. Once they were out of the office, she said that she wished they'd waited till night. Rudy told her to shut up, that she was his wife, and he'd say when they went to bed.

The room was awful. It smelled like smoke and pee. The sagging bed with its stained spread and a cigarette-burned dresser were the only pieces of furniture. The floor was covered in cracked linoleum, and roaches had scurried to hide when the door was opened. Frayed curtains were nailed to the dingy windows. There was a toilet without a lid in an alcove next to a cheap metal shower stall. Then there was no time to look around because Rudy had already taken off his pants and started tearing at the shirtwaist dress she was wearing. She tried to fend him off by telling him it was her best dress and he was going to ruin it. He said he didn't care, ripped the front, and then yanked off her bra. Emma Jean lost her temper then and tried to push him away, which only made him mad. Then he threw her down and shoved himself into her.

By then she was crying so hard she couldn't stop. He had turned into a monster, but the worst was yet to come. All of a sudden he was hitting her, yelling how he could tell she wasn't a virgin, and calling her a whore. He accused her of lying to him, and she tried to tell him she hadn't lied. He hadn't asked her if she was a virgin. Besides, it only happened one time with one boy when she was just a kid.

He had his way with her and then hit her till she was dizzy. He told her if she thought she was going to run around on him, she was crazy because he'd kill her if he ever caught her. Afterward, he went out and bought a bottle of whiskey, then got so drunk he passed out. Emma Jean cried most of the night, wondering what kind of hell she had got herself in and how she could escape.

The next morning he told her he hated having to hurt her but said it was her fault for having fooled him. He went on to say that, while he never would have married her if he had known she was soiled, she was his wife now and as long as she learned her place he'd take care of her. He warned her again that he'd kill her if he ever caught her running around. Then he stopped at the first store they came to and bought her a new dress.

So began her miserable existence as Rudy's wife, but all the while she dreamed of finding a way to get away from him. She tried taking corresponding courses to get her high school diploma, but he found out when he happened to get the mail before she did one day. He whipped her with a belt until she admitted she stole the money from his wallet to pay for the course. He warned her that he'd better not find any more of her "book shit" as he called it.

Defeated, she went to the post office to mail a letter to the company telling them not to send anything else. There was no one there that day except the clerk, Ruth Pederson. Ruth was a nosy sort, and by the time she got through grilling Emma Jean about her black eye, the whole story just spilled out. Ruth told her not to worry, that she would keep her lessons and all mail from the school right there at the post office for Emma Jean to pick up. If she could keep her things hidden at home, Rudy wouldn't know. So far he hadn't found out, but she hadn't been concentrating on her studies much since Luke came into her life. She no longer worried about the future, just about the here and now and being with him whenever possible.

Wearily, she turned off the garish bulb hanging from the frayed cord in the ceiling and got in bed. She supposed she should take off the lavender baby doll pajama set she had bought especially for this night and put on one of her old nightgowns. Otherwise, Rudy would want to know where she got the set. Worse, he would wonder how she paid for it now that tomato season was over. He never gave her any money of her own. It was Luke who insisted on giving her a few dollars now and then, and she had saved that money till she had enough to buy the pajamas.

Suddenly she heard a soft creaking sound as the kitchen door opened. She bolted upright, joy spinning through her body, to realize Luke had made it after all. If he was running late, he hadn't taken time for the phone signal, but that was all right. He knew she'd be waiting.

Playfully, she scrambled from the bed and hurried to the living room to grab one of the dusty roses from a Coke bottle and stick it between her teeth. Then she raced back to the bed to strike a seductive pose by leaning back with her legs spread wide and bosom thrust forward.

She could hear him making his way in the darkness, and when he reached the bedroom door, she called out huskily, "Oh, Luke, baby, you don't know how I've been praying you'd make it."

The overhead bulb flashed on, flooding the room with a sickly yellow light. The rose dropped from Emma Jean's mouth. It was Rudy.

"I was right."

Her blood curdled with terror.

"You
have
been screwing that son of a bitch."

Slowly, his eyes slitted in that menacing glare she had learned to fear, Rudy started toward the bed. It was then that she saw the gleam of the butcher knife in his hand.

* * *

The coffee was hot, but Alma Ballard was hotter.

She sat at the kitchen table, dressed for work in green slacks, white blouse, and an orange jacket emblazoned with
HAMPTON MILLS
on the back and
SUPERVISOR
on the front. White cotton socks cuffed her dingy sneakers, and her straight brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail held by a rubber band.

A glance at the clock brought a fresh rush of anger. It was after six-thirty. She was due at work at seven, but no way was she leaving till she found out where Luke was, damn him. If something bad had happened, he should have called unless, and she gritted her teeth to think about it, he had fallen asleep somewhere with his girlfriend. She dug down in her pocket and brought out a crumpled pack of Camels. Lighting up, she inhaled deeply, then blew the smoke from her nose as she absently picked at a piece of tobacco caught between her teeth.

Luke thought he was so clever, but she had heard the rumors about him and Emma Jean Veazey, and she was worried about it. Sure, she had suspected from time to time that he'd been with women in the past, but they were just fly-by-night floozies. If he was seriously involved with Emma Jean, it might be something to worry about. She even thought about talking to Rudy Veazy so he could put a stop to it, then decided against it. Rudy might kill him, and Alma didn't want him dead, not that she gave a damn about Luke any more than he gave a rat's ass about her. She just didn't want Tammy to have to live with the shame of having the man she thought of as her daddy murdered for screwing another man's wife.

Alma drew on the Camel so deeply that the smoke stung her lungs. Maybe she should feel guilty about making Luke think Tammy was his, but she didn't. After all, Tammy could have been if Jimmy Tate hadn't gotten her pregnant first. In all fairness, when she started going all the way with Luke, she hadn't known she was already pregnant. She and Jimmy had broken up over Sylvie Grice, and she wanted to make him jealous, so she went out with Luke, who was trying to make Sara Daughtry jealous.

As it turned out, Jimmy didn't care because he and Sylvie made up, ran off to Mississippi, and got married. So when Alma realized she was going to have a baby, she pointed the finger at Luke, figuring he was better husband material than Jimmy, anyway. Besides, her daddy didn't even have to make him marry her because Miss Orlena, Luke's mother, saw to it that Luke would do the right thing. After all, who in all of Hampton should know better than Miss Orlena how important it was for a boy to accept his responsibility? She surely had her cross to bear, raising Luke in shame with the whole town knowing he was a bastard.

So they were married, and Alma moved in to live with Luke and his mother at Junior Kearney's motor court. Only Luke didn't stay long. He had only agreed to the marriage if his mother would sign for him to join the Army, which was what he did, dropping out of school to go marching off.

He had not been around when Tammy was born, and Alma wondered if he would have even come back at all, if not for his mother. He sure never pretended to care anything about
her.
He never wanted to have sex with her, which was fine. Alma had never enjoyed sex anyway. It was only good for making babies. Look at her own mother, for goodness sakes. Ten children. Each of her sisters had several babies before they were twenty, making them old before their time. She had sworn it wouldn't happen to her. So she had left Tammy with Miss Orlena and gone to work at the mill, eventually climbing up the ladder to become a floor supervisor and earn a nice salary.

She stubbed out the cigarette. Things weren't really so bad even if she and Luke couldn't stand each other. Thanks to his getting a VA loan, they were able to buy a house. Alma enjoyed being a respected member of the community, even though Luke wouldn't step foot inside her church—Gospel Light United. He said they were fanatics because the women couldn't wear lipstick, and dancing and watching television were considered sins.

Smoking was also forbidden, she thought guiltily as she lit another cigarette. But as long as nobody knew about it, she was going to keep it up—especially when her nerves were bad, like now. Where was Luke anyhow, damn it?

She didn't want her tidy life messed up, which meant it was time to put a stop to things between him and Emma Jean before they went too far. Emma Jean might be trying to talk him into running off with her, and he might be crazy enough to do it. After all, he had been acting funny lately, and when anybody mentioned his running for sheriff again next year, he wouldn't talk about it.

She had to find out where he was, damn it, and if he was off somewhere with Emma Jean, there was going to be hell to pay.

She reached for the phone.

* * *

Wilma Farrell was busy filing her nails. No one was around the courthouse because the sheriff and the deputies had worked most of the night. She didn't expect them until lunch time, and she was looking forward to a quiet morning.

The phone rang, and she answered, hoping it was nothing important.

"Is he there?"

Wilma recognized the voice. "I haven't seen him this morning, Alma. I figured he'd sleep late." She started clearing her manicure supplies from the top of her desk. So much for an easy morning. Luke was probably on his way in.

"Well, he isn't sleeping late
here,"
Alma fired back curtly, at the same time wishing she hadn't. She didn't want to make Wilma wonder why she was upset. Softening her tone, she added, "I just thought maybe there was more vandalism than usual last night, and he was still working."

"You mean he hasn't come home?"

"If he had, do you think I'd be calling?"
So much for not sounding upset.

"Well, I don't know of anything that would have kept him this late."

"Well, look at the log, damn it."

Wilma's brows rose sharply. Everyone knew Alma Ballard called herself a Christian, so she must be really aggravated to curse. She quickly scanned the log. "Nope. Nothing here—but wait..." She saw that something on the very last line had been erased but couldn't tell what it was. "No. Nothing."

"Then what time did he sign off?"

Wilma saw the time noted for Matt and Kirby but nothing for Luke. "I guess he forgot to call in."

"He wouldn't do that. He's the sheriff, you idiot. Where's Ned?"

Wilma knew Alma was very angry now, but there was something else, a sense of urgency in her voice that was downright scary. "He left when I got here about thirty minutes ago. Said he was going fishing. Do you want me to call the deputies and see if they know anything?"

"Don't bother. I'll take care of it myself."

Alma slammed the receiver down, fuming to think Luke could only be at Emma Jean's. She had seen the schedule and knew Rudy was working nights. Luke was probably so hot to get over there he forgot to sign off for the first time. After quickly phoning the mill to say she'd be late, she snatched up her purse and car keys.

If Luke had, indeed, fallen asleep in the little tramp's bed, she was going to yank his butt right out of it, then beat the hell out of Emma Jean. Enough was enough.

Wilma immediately called Matt. He was her nephew, and they were close. They had been talking about Luke's carrying on with Emma Jean Veazey and how it might be getting serious.