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Back The Shameless
Chapters (43)
  1. BY ACE ATKINS
  2. Dedication
  3. CONTENTS
  4. Epigraph
  5. Episode 1: Brandon
  6. ONE
  7. TWO
  8. THREE
  9. Episode 2: The Big Woods
  10. FOUR
  11. FIVE
  12. SIX
  13. Episode 3: The Search Party
  14. SEVEN
  15. EIGHT
  16. NINE
  17. TEN
  18. Episode 4: The Teacher
  19. ELEVEN
  20. TWELVE
  21. THIRTEEN
  22. FOURTEEN
  23. Episode 5: The Sheriff
  24. FIFTEEN
  25. SIXTEEN
  26. SEVENTEEN
  27. EIGHTEEN
  28. Episode 6: Quinn Colson
  29. NINETEEN
  30. TWENTY
  31. TWENTY-ONE
  32. TWENTY-TWO
  33. Episode 7: Maggie
  34. TWENTY-THREE
  35. TWENTY-FOUR
  36. TWENTY-FIVE
  37. Episode 8: The Witness
  38. TWENTY-SIX
  39. TWENTY-SEVEN
  40. TWENTY-EIGHT
  41. TWENTY-NINE
  42. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  43. What’s next onyour reading list?

Maggie walked from the long row of seats and headed down the bleachers. Jean Colson sat still beside Caddy, her mother in her gold T-shirt reading MY GRANDSONS ARE NUMBER 12 AND 33. JUNIOR WILDCAT PRIDE. Her mother stole a quick glance and then shook her head a bit, a typical look of Jean Colson disapproval. “Was that really necessary?”

“Yes,” Caddy said. “Damn straight.”

“That woman has been through a lot.”

Caddy nodded. “Haven’t we all?”

*   *   *

Fannie Hathcock had asked for Quinn personal.

“Can’t you send Dave?” Quinn said, on his cell to Cleotha at dispatch. “Dave’s real fond of Fannie. Said she reminded him of a young Maureen O’Hara. Thinks she’s charming as hell. Besides, what kind of trouble can they be having on a Saturday morning? While they’re closed?”

“She said this was personal shit,” Cleotha said. “I told her I’d tell you what she said. But I didn’t make no promises, neither.”

“Did she say what kind of personal shit?”

“No, Sheriff,” Cleotha said. “Figure why it was personal. You want me to call her back?”

“Nope,” Quinn said. “I’ll stop by.”

Quinn U-turned on Main Street, just north of the Square, and headed back toward Jericho Road and Highway 45. As he stopped on the Square, he texted Maggie he’d be running late. He was supposed to be at the stadium a half hour ago but had to work a wreck out on 281. An overturned 18-wheeler heavy-weighted with concrete culverts had flipped on its side. Maggie might be mad, but she’d understand, always knowing being the county sheriff wasn’t like being an insurance salesman. Just like he knew working at a hospital wasn’t like selling Mary Kay.

He pulled into Vienna’s Place five minutes later and parked his truck in the nearly empty lot. The morning light was harsh against the tin walls painted a bright pink. The sign outside said WE FIRED THE UGLY ONE, COME ON IN. The front door was closed and sealed off with an iron grate. The parking lot bare except for Fannie’s white Lexus, a beat-up white Kia, and a red Ford Ranger parked between the strip club and the truck stop. Quinn thought he saw a man inside, but the light reflecting hard off the truck’s windshield obscured his view.