White Hot Pistol by Eric Beetner

Author:Eric Beetner
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stark Raving Group
Published: 2014-01-30T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

Martha’s insides clenched into a tight ball the way they always did when she heard the screen door creak, signaling that he was home.

Third time’s a charm, they said. You can’t marry three assholes in a row, they said. He’s a good man, he is a sheriff after all, they said.

Husband number one, Nash’s dad, spent nine unremarkable years married to Martha until he realized you could order up an Asian bride through the mail. Then he left her and drove directly to the airport to meet Lee Nguyen and start over, as if Martha and their son had never existed.

Jacy’s dad, Buck, had seemed like a good one. Dependable. Employed most of the time. Until the day Brian had him arrested and sent to prison for trafficking in narcotics and possession of child pornography. Goes to show, you never really know someone.

A lesson she didn’t learn soon enough after Buck because she fell right into bed with the big, bad sheriff who saved her from that villain.

At least Buck never hit her, never used a badge to bully his own wife.

And whatever had been going on with Jacy . . . Martha felt a deep shame that she never did a thing about it. She never knew how bad it got, kept her head in the clouds and figured Jacy was the toughest kid she’d ever known, and if things got out of hand, she’d deal with it herself.

She was a goddamn coward.

Brian didn’t come into the kitchen. He went straight for Jacy’s room, started making a hell of a racket in there.

She pushed aside her empty Oxy bottle, the label mocking her with a smeared pen marking zero under the refills. She took her lighter and her half pack of smokes with her.

“Whacha looking for?” she asked from the doorway. Brian had Jacy’s bedspread off, the mattress set askew. Top drawers in her desk and dresser were open.

“You seen Jacy’s laptop?”

“No,” Martha said, crossing her arms. “You seen Jacy?”

Brian stood straight, turned to her for the first time, and gave her a ’don’t give me any lip, woman’ stare.

“I’m hoping if I find it, it can help me find her.” He went back to dismantling the room. “She was involved in a shootout this afternoon. At a house known for drug use.”

“Bullshit.”

“She was. And guess who else was there?” He didn’t leave her time for any guesses. “That son-of-a-bitch Nash.”

“You know, when you say that, you’re calling me the bitch.”

He turned away from Jacy’s dresser, a handful of her underpants in his hand like a clump of weeds he’d pulled from the ground. “Well, if the bitch fits . . .”

“What are you really looking for?”

“I told you,” Brian turned to Jacy’s desk and pulled out the top drawer, flipped it over to check under it. “Her laptop computer.” He pulled a small baggie of weed that was duct taped to the bottom of the drawer, held it up for Martha’s inspection. Proof her daughter wasn’t a saint.

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