Bobby was not at all sure, but he had no choice. "I'll be calling him back," he said. "Do you want me to give him a message?"

"No," I said. "It can wait. Good night."

I hung up the phone without waiting for him to end the call. I didn't want any more questions. He'd already given me the one piece of information I needed: Marshall Weathers was not available. Taking care of my daughter would be entirely up tome.

I stared at down at my lap, my eyes slowly focusing on Jimmy's will. Sheila and I stood to inherit a large amount of money. Of course, we couldn't inherit if we were dead; Vernell would cash in then. I looked over at him; his roughened hands gripped the wheel, and he bit into his lower lip like a kindergartener. Vernell was not a murderer. He was foolish and bad to drink, but he wasn't a killer.

"Vernell?" I asked softly. "Think back a second. Jolene sure didn't seem too upset when I got that threatening phone call about Sheila. Remember that night? Jolene doesn't care about Sheila." And she doesn't care about you, and she pure-T hates me. "How sure are you that Jolene's with her mother?"

"Well, God, Maggie, where else would she be?" He looked across at me and saw the frightened look on my face. "Maggie, you don't think…"

Vernell's face crumpled for a brief moment, then hardened.

"Vernell," I said, my voice shaking, "hit the gas. I think Sheila's in a world of trouble."

Chapter Thirty-One

Vernell took the bridge over to Holden Beach doing eighty-five miles an hour. It was life-threatening and I attempted to tell him so, but Vernell was in full panic mode. When he nearly lost it on a curve near the top of the span, he got in touch with our mortality.

"Now, will you slow the hell down?" I yelled. "We've got hard thinking to do here."

Vernell scowled. "That's your problem," he said. "Ever' last one of you women's gotta think. Act!" he said. "Actions speak louder than words, remember? I'm gonna grab that young sport up by his dog collar and shake his ass loose of my daughter. Then I'm gonna haul her butt into this truck and drive my baby on home. That's when I'll think!"

"Pull over," I said, as we neared the bottom of the bridge. "Just pull over right now, Vernell." I reached for the ignition, like I was going to snatch the keys out, so he'd know I was serious.

"All right, all right!" Vernell whipped into a realty company parking lot, slammed on the brakes, and turned to face me. "I hope you know you're wasting precious time," he said.

"Vernell, has it not occurred to you that Keith and Sheila may not be alone?" Vernell frowned, but I continued. "Have you thought that Jolene might be down here, too?"

"How would she know to come here?" he said. "And why would she?"

The man was dumber than dirt sometimes. "Because, Vernell, she has just as much of a reason to stop this wedding as you and I do. She wants all that money to stay in your family. And she could've found out where they were headed the same way you and I did. So let's be on the safe side. Let's scout the situation out before we go bursting in." Vernell was working hard to listen.

I reached over and took one of his weathered hands in mine. "Vernell," I said, "I want you to listen to me. I'm gonna say something that we both know is a home truth, but it's gonna break your heart." Vernell looked at me, his eyes pooled-up brown spots of pain. He knew. "You were right a while back when you said Jolene don't love you and Sheila. She's in this for the money, just like Jimmy tried to tell you. I think Jolene killed Jimmy and I think she killed Jerry Lee. I think she could be aiming to kill Sheila and you, and maybe even me."

Vernell's head dropped to his chest and a sound escaped his lips, half-sigh, half-moan. Then he lifted his head and looked straight into my face. "Oh, God, I think you're right," he whispered. "Let's go get our little girl."

I squeezed his hand, leaned over, and rested my head on his shoulder for a brief moment. "Okay. But let's be smart about this. If she's down here, she could already be at the beach house. She's killed twice, Vernell. We don't want her to panic."

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"I'm thinking we park the Day-Glo Jesus, walk along the beach until we're level with the house, and scout it out."

Vernell nodded. "Yeah, that's good. But if she ain't there, I'm goin' in and kickin' that young skinhead's hairy behind!"

"Vernell! All right! But first, we do it my way."

It was kind of strange, walking along the Spivey beach with my ex-husband. It was still early morning and the sun was just beginning to edge its way over the horizon. Vernell and I were moving fast, his thick black work boots kicking up sand as we made our way closer and closer to the Spivey house.

Vernell and I had covered this beach every summer of our youth, hand in hand, laughing and cutting up. Then we'd lost it, and times had turned hard. We weren't talking about the future anymore, or looking at the past, we were here to save our daughter.

Vernell was the first to spot the car. He stopped in his tracks, holding me back with one muscled arm as he pointed up the beach. Jolene's white Cadillac was parked underneath the house, next to Keith's shiny red truck. As we stood staring, the sliding glass door leading to the deck slid open and a man walked out onto the deck. It wasn't Keith the skinhead.

"Who's that?" asked Vernell.

I reached up and spun Vernell toward me, away from the beach house, using his body to shield my own.

"It's Don Evans, and I don't want him to recognize us."

When I saw Don Evans, the last pieces suddenly flew into place. What was it Bertie Sexton had said? A high-dollar, married girlfriend with a white Cadillac… comes running whenever she calls.

Vernell wrapped his arms around me and I stood huddled inside them, peeking out every now and then to take stock of the situation. Don Evans smoked a cigarette, then lit another one right after it. There was another flash of color at the door as Jolene stuck her head outside and seemed to be saying something to Don. A moment later, she emerged with Keith and Sheila. The sunlight glinted off an object in Jolene's outstretched hand.

"Vernell," I said, my voice shaking, "she's got a gun and they're all heading for the car."

Vernell was transformed into action. "Come on," he yelled, "run!" He was off, moving down the beach, away from the beach house and back to the parking lot where he'd hidden the Dancing Jesus. I lit out after him, my heart pounding in my throat. Now what were we going to do?

Vernell sprinted the distance back to the truck and had the motor started by the time I caught up.

We were less than a quarter of a mile from the beach house in one direction and almost a mile from the bridge in the other.

"They're gonna have to go through me to get off this island!" Vernell yelled over the sound of "Amazing Grace" that suddenly blared out over the loudspeaker.

"Turn the music off!" I yelled back.

Vernell flipped the switch, but nothing happened. Instead I could hear the grinding of the satellite dish as it started moving faster. Vernell's truck seemed to be developing a mind of its own. Vernell flicked switches and dials, but still the music screamed out into the early morning air.

"Vernell, do something!" I screamed. "There they go!" Jolene's white Caddy shot by, speeding down Beach Road.

Vernell put the truck into gear and laid rubber out onto the street. "Don't worry!" he yelled over the "Hallelujah Chorus,"

"we'll catch up to them! I had this baby custom-built. She'll flat fly!"

Vernell stomped on the gas pedal and the truck lurched into a screaming acceleration, just what we needed to catch up to Jolene and my baby. We didn't have a plan, we didn't even have a weapon, but we were going to, by God, save our little girl. And we might have done it, too, if Vernell had just been watching the road up ahead.