Free The Pecan Man by Cassie Dandridge Selleck

near the woods where the boy was
killed.
    I persuaded Marcus to write his mother a note saying he ’ d
talked to Eddie and was too upset to face her right now, but that
he'd call her when he got back to Fort Bragg.
    There were only two other
people who might tell the story that connected Marcus and Skipper Kornegay, but
I doubted Skipper ’ s friends would implicate
themselves in the rape of a child.
    If Blanche had questions, I'd
come up with answers. She ’ d
been through a lot in the past few months and the last thing she needed was to
watch her son go to prison for taking a child molester off the streets. I have
consoled myself with that truth often over the years.
    Marcus took a
few more of Walter ’ s clothes and accepted the
turkey and dressing I packed for him. When he was ready, I followed him to the
garage to get the car. As he turned the ignition, he rolled down the window and
looked up at me with the one eye that wasn ’ t
swollen shut.
    “ I ’ m
scared, Miz Ora. ”
    “ Me,
too, ” I said.
    He nodded then and put
the car in to reverse.
    “ Go over
that story a thousand times while you ’ re
driving, son, and don ’ t ever, ever change a
word of it. No matter what anyone says. ”
    He nodded again and
backed down the driveway. I stood at the
garage door and watched the LTD glide slowly
down Main Street until it was out of sight. Then I turned and looked at the empty spot where Walter ’ s
car once sat. I have never felt more alone.
    Looking back, I might have made
better choices if I'd taken more time to consider. I spent my entire life doing
only what I believed to be right and true. Yet, there I was, faced with the
most crucial decision I would ever make and nothing remotely resembling the
truth felt right. But, I had too much to do to stand there feeling sorry for
myself. I closed the garage door and went back into the house.
    I knew Blanche would be
out of her mind with worry when Marcus didn ’ t come
home the night before, but I couldn ’ t risk
talking to her so soon after he left. I took the phone off the hook and got
busy cleaning up every trace of evidence that Marcus was wounded when he showed up at my back door the night before.
    Evidence. I remember
using that word in my mind as I opened a new package of rubber gloves and got
the bleach from the utility room. I was destroying evidence the police might
use to solve a crime. I was taking justice into my own hands and, though I ’ ve
wrestled with doubt since, I was downright fine with it then.
    I finished mopping the
kitchen floor, took the bucket of water and bleach and doused the back steps
clean.
    The clothes were a
problem. They were torn and bloody and no amount of bleach or washing would
render them c lean . They would have to be burned.
The nights were cool enough, but I hadn ’ t taken
to using the fireplace yet this year. I washed the bloody laundry with two cups
of bleach to cover the smell and packed them away in
a plastic bag, planning to burn them the first chance I got.
    When I finished what I ’ d
set out to do, I put on a fresh pot of coffee and headed upstairs to take a
shower. I was drying off when I heard the front door open. I had barely gotten
my robe on when I heard Blanche coming up the stairs, screaming for me at the
top of her lungs.
    “ Miz
Ora! ” She waited only a couple of seconds and hollered again, “ Miz Ora ! ”
    “ I ’ m
coming, Blanche. Good Lord, what is the matter? ” I was surprised at how quickly I slipped into my new role.
    “ Oh, Law ’ ,
Miz Ora! ” Blanche huffed and wheezed. “ I thought you was dead! ”
    “ Well,
for heaven ’ s sake, Blanche, of course I ’ m
not dead! What in the world would make you say such a thing? ”
    Blanche mopped her face
with a
handkerchief.
    “ I been
tryin ’ to get ahol ’ ta you all mornin ’ ,
Miz Ora. What ’ s the matter with your telephone? ”
    “ Nothin ’ s
wrong with my phone, Blanche. It ’ s off
the hook. I ’ ve been tryin g