My hand drifted to my throat and a finger lightly touched the tiny bag that hung beneath my shirt. Cyriah’s gift. Perhaps it had worked some protective magic after all. I let my hand fall to the arm of the chair.

“He’s one of your bad boys, it seems,” I remarked.

Zimmer leaned back in his chair and ran a hand over his closely cropped hair. “He comes from a bad clan, Mr. Tanner. The only law the Wren family recognizes is what they make themselves. There’s hardly a low-down, crooked, or thieving undertaking they’re not involved in. My predecessor made it his mission in life to see ’em all behind bars or flushed out of Effingham County, but it was a task he was never able to fulfill.”

“I take it you feel the same way, Sheriff,” I replied.

Zimmer nodded. “I do. That Panther Creek bunch has had their way around here for too long now. Cockfighting, whiskey running, robbery, stealing cars, marijuana, now methamphetamines, and whatever else they can find to get into. I figure a substantial part of the criminal activity in this area centers on that crowd out there. But it’s damn near impossible to get anyone to talk. What few witnesses there are always seem to come down with a case of lockjaw—a few of them, fatally. So maybe you can tell me what brought you up here and led you to cross paths with Leon Wren.”

I contemplated what to say and realized that in this case nothing was better than the truth—just how much of it to dispense was the only question I retained. So I quickly and succinctly told him of my initial meeting with Joree Causey and my visit to her home this morning. But I left Danny Ray’s name out of the tale, and for some reason or other, I said nothing about the fit of anger thrown by Junior Causey when he stormed out of the house.

While I spoke, Sheriff Zimmer sat quietly in his chair, rocking slightly, and tapping his lower lip with steepled fingertips. When I finished my story he stopped rocking, but remained posed in quiet contemplation for several seconds more.

“So, what do you think happened to the Causey girl, Mr. Tanner?”

“Call me Kennesaw, please,” I replied.

Sheriff Zimmer pursed his lips and a smile came into his eyes. “Is that Kennesaw, like in the mountain up by Marietta?”

“Spelled and pronounced exactly the same,” I responded.

“Okay,” he said. “But again—what do you think happened to Tonya Causey?” he asked.

“Sheriff, the only thing I know for sure is that she’s dead and that her mother thinks it was no accident.”

Zimmer was silent for a few seconds again, as though he was giving careful consideration to his next words.