Martinez said, “Sal’s cover was convincing. Even I thought at first he was linked to the mob and Albrizio’s murder.’’

“When you found out otherwise, y’all became cigar-puffing pals,’’ I said.

“You got that right.’’ Sal clapped Martinez on the back, man-to-man. “And now, we’d better worry about getting these two booked.’’

The two young officers who’d arrived after Martinez seemed uncertain about what to do next. Emma Jean was sobbing softly on the ground. Bob Dixon looked like he’d kill any one of us if given the chance.

“Emma Jean will go in with them,’’ Martinez nodded toward the two cops. “I’ll be taking the good reverend in myself, along with the murder weapon, his .38.’’

Pastor Bob had clammed up as soon as Martinez arrived. Mama and I filled in the blanks, telling him what the minister had revealed to us.

I stole a glance at Emma Jean. Donnie Bailey’s words ran through my head: there’s hardly a woman in jail who doesn’t claim some man put her there. Poor, desperate Emma Jean. She’d wanted Dixon’s love so badly, she went along with his murderous plans to get it. I hoped my cousin Henry could refer her to a really sharp defense lawyer.

Sal handed over a cuffed Emma Jean to the two cops. Martinez hauled Pastor Bob to his feet. As our little group walked toward the entrance, two more squad cars came screaming into the park. A caravan of other vehicles trailed them, bump-bump-bumping over the bridge.

Donnie Bailey was in his brother’s white pickup, with Police Chief Johnson riding shotgun. The chief had apparently dressed quickly. Dabs of shaving cream dotted his face. Maddie drove her Volvo. Marty leaned forward in the front seat, clutching the dashboard so hard her knuckles were white. Mama’s neighbors, Ronnie and Alice, craned their necks from the back of a custom-colored purple Chevy. The driver was Betty Taylor, Mama’s beauty shop boss and fellow Abundant Hope worshipper. Betty’s towering bouffant scraped the plum-colored upholstery of the roof. Behind Betty, nearly all the other cars from the church breakfast were rolling in.

The Himmarshee hotline had been busy. The 911 call I made from the park office about Mama’s kidnapping had sent the country town telegraph into overdrive.

I glanced at my waterproof watch, still running after the dip in Ollie’s pond. It was 9:15, forty-five minutes before opening. I hoped my boss, Rhonda, wouldn’t be mad that Mama’s supporters had gotten in without paying the two-dollar park fee.

Martinez stared at the convoy, shaking his head. “And I thought the crowd was bad that first night at the police station.’’

“Yeah, life with Mama is a circus, and I’m the reluctant ringleader.’’ I leaned down to kiss her on the top of her patchy, platinum hairdo. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.’’

___

Two weeks later, Mama dragged my sisters and me to her church to hear Delilah give her first sermon. She stepped up after her husband’s downfall. She was pretty good, believe it or not.

“I have an announcement,’’ she told the congregation at the start of the service. “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to change the name of our little church.’’

There was a low murmur from the metal chairs. I leaned around Mama to raise my eyebrows at Marty and Maddie.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since Bob’s arrest. About all the things that transpired, including my own behavior. I haven’t always been kind. And some of you may know I strayed in my marriage. I lost respect for my vows, which are supposed to be sacred.’’

Several men shifted in their seats. A few women picked that moment to search their purses for one thing or another.

Delilah continued. “A cornerstone of our faith is forgiveness. I need it. Some of you may need it, too. I propose we call our church Abundant Forgiveness, because that’s what I want to offer here. I intend to live my life that way. And I hope you will, too.’’

I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. “What do you say, Mace?’’ A whisper came from behind my right ear. “Do you think there’s enough forgiveness to go around?’’

I turned my head to see Jeb Ennis in the seat behind me, hat in his lap, hair soaked with sweat at his forehead and temples.

“I see that AC’s still broken in your truck,’’ I said softly.

“It is.’’ He flashed a nervous smile, looking like the shy choirboy he’d never been. “Can I talk to you outside for a few minutes?’’

As I slid out of our row, Maddie whipped her head around to see what was going on. Her harrumph followed Jeb and me all the way to the door.

Outside, Jeb put on his hat and hooked his thumbs into the front pockets of a clean pair of blue jeans. They were tight as ever. They still looked pretty darned good.

“I just wanted to make sure we’re okay, Mace.’’ His eyes searched my face. “I’m leaving for a while. I didn’t want to take off with hard feelings between us.’’

The knot in my throat surprised me. I really hoped I wouldn’t cry.

“We’re fine, Jeb. I already told you I’ve forgiven you for lying to me. And I hope you’ve forgiven me for suspecting you in Jim Albert’s murder.’’

He let me stand there and squirm for a moment before he answered. “You know, Mace, you could’ve just called me and asked about the windows in my truck that day at the park. Maybe you can understand how I wouldn’t have thought right off about rolling them down as I was pulling out, even though it was hot.’’

I fiddled with a loose thread on my sleeve. Truth is, I wouldn’t have believed any excuse from Jeb Ennis. I’d already tried and convicted the poor man in my head. When Jeb got no response, he continued.

“Maybe I was a little upset that afternoon, seein’ as how the girl I used to love—was startin’ to love again—had just pointed me out as a suspect to that smart-ass detective from Miamuh.’’

I stared at the ground. “Yeah, I regret that, Jeb. I’m sorry.’’

“Anyway. I’m packing up; taking a little camper on the road. I’m going back to rodeo for a while. Cindy and I are together again. She’s agreed to come along. Old as I am, she can help bandage me up and fetch my crutches after I ride.’’

“But what about your ranch?’’

“I’m leavin’ my foreman in charge. He’s a good man. He’s stuck with me through everything. In six months, we’re gonna sit down and evaluate. I might come back; I might decide to sell to him. I just need to make things simple again.’’

“And the gambling?’’

Now it was Jeb’s turn to study the ground. He toed a crack in the sidewalk with his boot. “I’m getting some help on that,’’ he finally said. “They’ve got a group just like Alcoholics Anonymous, but for people with my problem. I’ve got a sponsor and everything. And I found out there’s a few guys I can talk to on the rodeo circuit, too.’’