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went after Harvey the next day,” George continued. “Put
him in the hospital for a good spell. Likely would’a killed him, if Wyatt
hadn’t gotten there.”
    “He
deserved it,” I said numbly. “Sarah was a good woman. He treated her like
shit.”
    “Was?”
Solomon asked. “What happened to her?”
    “She
left town after that,” Buddy said. “Not more’n a week after Diggs, if I recall
correctly. Took her little girl, and nobody never heard from either of ‘em
again. ‘Course, you walk out on a man like Harvey Jennings, you don’t exactly
leave a forwarding address.” He looked at me. “I’d bet tomorrow’s lunch ol’
Diggs knows where she is, though.”
    Solomon
took another slug of whiskey and set it down, eyes on me. “I wouldn’t take that
bet,” she said.
    Our
gazes locked. Her eyes had the kind of feverish intensity Solomon only gets
when she’s drinking—which is rare. The air between us caught fire. She cleared
her throat.
    “Well,
I hope you at least showed her a good time,” she said to me.
    I
held her eye. “I’ve never gotten any complaints, darlin’ .”
    I
never tire of making Solomon blush. She looked away first, cheeks burning, and
rolled her eyes. She was notably lacking a comeback.
    Another
few seconds of charged silence ensued before Buddy spoke up. “Well, believe it
or not, the sheriff’s a changed man these days. He just might surprise you, if
you two do cross paths.”
    “Yeah,”
I said. “I’ll believe that when I see it. Nothing short of a lobotomy changes a
man like Harvey Jennings.”
    “Buddy’s
right,” George said, though his tone belied his skepticism. “He’s gotten pretty
deep into the word, goin’ on about a year now. Follows Jesup Barnel’s church.”
    “There’s
a terrifying combination if I ever heard one,” I said.
    “Nothing
worse I can think of,” George agreed.
    “Okay,
that’s the third time that name’s come up today,” Solomon interrupted. “This is
the preacher with the big billboard in town, right? What’s his story?”
    “Diggs
and Wyatt never would’ve met if it weren’t for Reverend Barnel,” George said
before I could field the question myself. Or deflect it. “You was, what…?
Twelve years old at the time?” he asked me.
    “Yeah,”
I agreed.
    “Here
we go—this is the story you and Wyatt would never tell me,” Solomon said.
“Let’s hear it.”
    “Diggs
and Wyatt met at Jesup Barnel’s church camp,” George began. He’d never been a
fan of Barnel’s. It was clear from his tone that that hadn’t changed in my
absence. “ ’Course, Wyatt never would’a been there in the first place, but
Retta—my late wife—took it into her head that the boy needed straightenin’ out.
The reverend runs this camp for boys havin’ more than your usual problems in
the world—you know what I mean?”
    “I
think I get the idea,” she said.
    “Reverend
Barnel has some… odd ideas about the ways of the Lord,” Buddy said. “He does a
big ol’ ceremony, legendary ‘round these parts, to cast out demons makin’
youngsters act out.”
    “And
that’s how you and Wyatt met?” Solomon asked me.
    I
nodded.
    “After
that, they was thick as thieves,” George said. “Diggs would come for summers,
vacations—anytime he could convince his daddy to send him down, this is where
he’d be. I got pictures of the two of them out here on the farm, back when
Diggs had his hair like that fella—” He looked at me. “Who was it, now?”
    There
was no way this could end well. “Yeah… Sorry, I don’t remember,” I said.
    “Vanilla
Ice,” Buddy said, nodding. “Thought he was God’s gift, this one.”
    “Listen,
we really should be going,” I said to Solomon. “It’s been a long day.”
    “Are
you nuts?” she asked. “I’ve never seen a single picture of you besides class
photos at Littlehope Middle School. If there are candids of you as the Ice Man,
you can bet your sweet ass I’m gonna see