collusion of the citizenry. Bikers wallow in the idea of being outsiders living apart from society. The Bald Knobbers, and all of the other various night-riding groups that our nation spawned between the Civil War and the First World War, were not outsiders. They were what masks allowed citizens to become.
There was no damage to the house that I could see. I had either caught the biker just as he arrived or he was waiting for someone. Nelson, I would guess. I would guess also that he hadnât been there to have a quiet chat about art. Nelson Solomon was a target of some nasty people. The questions were why and did he know more than he claimed?
I left the house under the care of a deputy named Calvin Walker.
âSo youâre gonna just stick me with babysitting a rich guyâs house?â Calvin asked me after I explained the situation to him.
Calvin was not my best friend in the department. In fact, he didnât like me very much at all. I resisted the urge to tell him how useless he was. Something I didnât always do, to tell the truth. Another benefit of therapy.
âYouâre not babysitting the house,â I told him, quite patiently, again. âThe man who lives here was assaulted by one of these bikers yesterday. I donât know where he is or why this is happening. You are here to make sure the bikers donât come back before he does so they can try again.â
âBabysitting,â he said.
âCall it what you want, Calvin. Just do it.â
âYou know what your problem is, Hurricane?â
âIâm sure youâre dying to tell me, but you need to know something first.â I looked him hard in the eyes and took a step closer. âIf you even think the wordâperiodâI swear to God itâll be the last thought you have.â
âYou know, sexual harassment works both ways. Youâre making a very uncomfortable work environment for me.â He presented me with the kind of grin Uncle Orson always referred to as shit-eating .
That was the kind of thing Iâve had to deal with every day of my working life: Boys getting petty and wanting to test you every moment. Thereâs no way to pass, but every failure is tallied up and held against you. If I donât play along, Iâm a bitch. If I do, Iâm a dyke. Go through channels and complainâwell, thatâs just something Iâll never do again.
After a few more words I left Calvin and headed back to Forsyth to check in with the notes and calls I left the day before. On 160 I had passed the water tower and was coming up on Forsyth Hardware when I saw a familiar car. The girl sitting on the hood was familiar as well. Carrie Owens.
I pulled in and parked alongside the same Chevy I had first seen her on.
When she saw me she smiled, but it was a cautious smile.
âHi, Carrie,â I said through my open window.
She glanced at the storefront trying to see through the glass before she looked back at me and said, âHello. Iâm just waitinâ on Danny.â
âThatâs fine,â I told her. âThereâs no law against waiting.â
Her smile eased up a bit and she said, âYouâre not in the cop car.â
âNo, not today. Does that mean I should show you my badge?â
âNo,â she laughed. âIâll trust you.â
âIâm glad to hear it. Trust is important.â Then in a quieter, conspiratorial tone I said, âEspecially between us girls.â
She smiled again, but something about it was broken. Like she hadnât gotten that it was a joke. Her body tensed and her lips froze, but her eyes were someplace else. I had said something wrong but I had no idea what. The faraway look in her eyes, thoughâthat I had ideas about.
âAre you all right, Carrie?â I asked her.
âSure,â she said quickly. Her eyes came back with a new hardness to them. âWhy wouldnât I