wasn’t aiming for him. Honest. I was just shooting at that milk carton.”
“You missed.”
“It was an accident.”
“So you say.”
“Is he really d-dead?” Jimmy Dale’s knees began to wobble, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at the body.
“Ain’t got a pulse.”
“I … I didn’t mean to do it.”
“He’s just as dead either way. The law’ll expect you to pay for what you done.”
“Please, mister. I’ll tell the sheriff it was an accident. You saw everything. You can tell him.”
“All I seen was a man shot! I don’t know nothin’ about the why or how of it!” The stranger’s gruff voice made his little girl whimper, and he shot her an admonishing look, his index finger to his lips.
Jimmy Dale took a step backward. He remembered hearing about another boy who shot and killed a man, was tried as an adult, and went to jail. How could this be happening to him? What would his parents say? His whole life might be over before his voice even changed. Or he got his driver’s license. Or a smartphone. He glanced out across the field and wanted desperately to run. But the stranger knew his name and where to find him.
“Sir”—Jimmy Dale felt urine soak the front of his jeans—“I … I don’t know what to do. I didn’t mean any harm. I’ll swear to it on the Bible. Please … you have to believe me. This man probably has a family. We should tell someone.”
“I know him. He don’t have kin.”
The bearded stranger was about his dad’s age. Piercing eyes. He wore denim overalls and no shirt. His arms were hairy, his biceps big and lumpy like Uncle Jake’s.
“Go on home, boy.” The stranger spoke softly now. “What’s done is done. I’ll see to him.”
“What’re you gonna do?” Jimmy Dale’s heart pounded so hard he was sure his accuser could see his bare chest moving.
“Ain’t your concern. Don’t never speak of this to nobody, or I’ll be forced to tell the sheriff what I know, and they’ll throw you in jail till you’re an old man. Now go on. Git! Keep your mouth shut, and don’t never come back here.”
“I won’t. I promise.” Jimmy Dale turned on his heel, holding tightly to the murder weapon, and raced full throttle across the open field, wildflowers flattening under the thrusting blows of his Nikes, his rush of adrenaline fueled by fear and shame. If only he hadn’t tried to hit the stupid target at a hundred yards! His birthday rifle had been used for decades to put food on the table and trophies on the wall, and now he’d put a man down with it. His dad would be devastated if he ever found out his son had killed a man. He couldn’t let that happen.
Jimmy Dale fell on his knees when he reached the place where he had fired the fatal shot and retched until his lunch came up. He found his cap and put it on, then looked back at the tree line. The bearded stranger and the little girl were gone. So was the body. Nothing Jimmy Dale could say or do would bring the man back to life. All he could do now was try to forget it happened and hope the stranger did the same.
Chapter 1
Abby Cummings floated in the opaque gray fog that separated slumber from wakefulness. The buzz of her alarm clock would soon fill the silence. She would have to open her eyes and face the day she’d been dreading for weeks. Why was it still traumatic after five years? Everyone told her that time heals all wounds. Not hers. And especially not today.
She turned on her side and stole a glance at the clock before clamping her eyes shut again. Four forty-five. She still had thirty minutes. She hugged the same pillow that had faithfully muffled her anguished sobs and despairing cries, and had been pummeled with her blows of helplessness. Not that using her pillow to vent had ever made her feel better. Or stopped the torment of living without closure. But it had afforded her a private place to deal with raw emotion without feeling judged for it.
Her family seldom talked about what had happened anymore. But the past lurked in the shadows, uttering the same relentless litany of questions for which only God had answers. The anniversary always brought it back with bone-chilling clarity.
Abby sighed and sat up, rubbing her eyes and letting her legs dangle over the side of the bed.