Free Revenant by Carolyn Haines Page B

the page. My stomach knotted. If I’d ever doubted Brandon’s total disregard of responsibility, I didn’t any longer. Right below the headline was my byline. Mitch and Avery would both know I had nothing to do with the way the story was played, but most people didn’t understand that.
    â€œYou’re making quite a name for yourself,” Michael said.
    There was no criticism in his tone. Michael wasn’t a man prone to panic, so he didn’t see the potential damage such an article could do.
    â€œIt’s a frightening situation, but this—” I shook the paper “—isn’t going to help. My boss is an idiot.”
    Michael put his equipment back in the truck. “I’m not staying for lunch, Carson.”
    â€œMother and Dorry will be disappointed.”
    He touched my chin, a whisper of a caress. “I don’t really care what they think.”
    â€œI figured you’d want to be home for lunch with Polly and your daughter.” I held his hazel gaze.
    â€œPolly’s filed for divorce. She wants a husband who gets off at five and comes home smelling of aftershave and money instead of cow shit. I’m not the man for her.”
    I had a jolt of memory. Polly was standing in front of Elliot’s Jewelry Store on Main Street. It was a hot summer afternoon. We were eighteen, just graduated and wondering what the next fall would bring for us.
    â€œI’m going to marry a rich man,” Polly had predicted. “Mama says you can love a man with money as easily as one without.”
    June Tierce had been with us. June’s future was set. She’d gotten a full academic scholarship to Ole Miss. She claimed the school was filling a quota for black females, but I knew better. June was brilliant.
    â€œMoney doesn’t have anything to do with happiness,” June said to Polly.
    â€œOf course it does,” Polly said with a grown-up snap in her voice. “Try being without money if you think it’s not important. It’s the only thing my mom and dad fight about.”
    â€œCarson, are you okay?” Michael touched my arm, and I left the past to return to the barnyard and my former lover looking at me with open concern.
    â€œI’m fine. I was just thinking of Polly.”
    â€œShe’s still a beautiful woman. She’ll find someone who gives her what she wants.” He shook his head. “I was foolish to think she’d—” He broke off. “Anyway, tell your folks I send my regrets. The truth is, I’ve got a herd of cows to vaccinate over in Vinegar Bend. It’s going to be a long day so I’d better get after it.”
    Â 
    I headed home before lunch, telling my parents that I had work. No one questioned me, but no one believed me, either. Greene County was dry. At one time my parents kept liquor in the house, amber and clear liquids for an afternoon highball or the frequent visitors who came to play cards or have dinner. It was only recently that the cut-glass decanters had been emptied and not refilled. I was the cause of that.
    Almost home, I stopped at a small joint tucked away in the piney woods of Jackson County. The state blue laws had once dictated that liquor could not be sold until noon on a Sunday, but with the arrival of the casinos, times had changed for the Gulf Coast. I asked the bartender for a screwdriver, and she handed it over without even blinking.
    When I got home, Mitch had called, tersely asking for a meeting Monday morning. There was also a message from Brandon, hyperventilating about the next big story. The sound of his voice made me want to do something violent. The last call on my machine I returned.
    â€œJack,” I said. “Those were good stories on the Dixie Mafia.”
    â€œIt’s easy to dredge up history. Your piece on the murders was well written and restrained.”
    â€œExcept for the headline.”
    Jack barked a laugh. “You