The Liar

“I know. And Grandpa’s going to be there for a while, too. Your Gamma’s going to take you over on her way to work. I’ve got some paperwork of my own to get to this morning. Then I’ll come get you when I’m finished work today.”

With Callie babbling about everything she had to take to Granny’s, everything she had to do at Granny’s, they walked into the kitchen.

Shelby’s parents broke off their conversation immediately, and the quick look they exchanged set off Shelby’s radar.

“Is something wrong?”

“What could be wrong?” Ada Mae said brightly. “Callie Rose, it’s such a pretty morning, I decided we’re going to have our breakfast on the back porch, like a picnic.”

“I like picnics. I’m taking Griff on a picnic date.”

“I heard about that. This can be like practice. I’ve got these pretty strawberries all cut up, and some cheesy eggs already scrambled. Let’s take this on outside.”

“Mama wants a picnic, too.”

“She’ll be right along.”

Shelby stood where she was while Ada Mae scooted Callie out onto the porch.

“Something’s wrong. Oh God, Daddy, did someone else get shot?”

“No. It’s nothing like that. And I want to tell you right off, he’s all right.”

“He— Griff? It’s Griffin.” As her heart took a hard bump, she grabbed her father’s hands. He’d stay steady, she knew, no matter what. “If it was Clay or Forrest, Mama’d be a mess. What happened to Griff?”

“He got a little banged up, is all. It’s nothing serious, Shelby, you know I’d tell you if it were. Somebody ran his truck off the road, and into the big oak on Black Bear Road last night.”

“Banged up how? Who did it? Why?”

“Sit down, take a breath.” Turning, Clayton opened the refrigerator, took out a Coke. “He’s got some abrasions from the seat belt, the air bag. And got a pretty good knock on the head. Emma Kate took him into the clinic last night, gave him a going-over, and I’m going to do the same myself later this morning. But if Emma Kate said he didn’t need a doctor or the hospital, we can trust that.”

“All right, I will, but I want to see for myself, too.”

“You can do that,” he continued in his calm way, “after you take that breath.”

“It must’ve happened when he was driving home from here. He wouldn’t have been on the road if he hadn’t insisted on following me back here, making sure I got home all right. I want to go over and see for myself, if you could keep Callie.”

“Don’t worry about Callie. He’s not out at the house. He stayed the night at Emma Kate’s as she wouldn’t have him stay on his own.”

“Good.” She did manage that breath now. “That’s good.”

“But I expect he’s on his way to the police station by now. Forrest and Nobby—you remember my second cousin Nobby—they went down the holler last night, and brought Arlo Kattery in.”

“Arlo? He ran Griff off the road?” She pressed her fingers to her eyes. “Drunk, I expect, and driving crazy.”

“I don’t know as that’s the way it was. You go on down. It’s best you hear it straight-out, than the bits and pieces I have. And you tell Griffin he’s got an exam at ten o’clock or he’s not clear to drive or so much as touch a power tool.”

“I will. Callie—”

“She’s just fine. Go on.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

When she ran out, leaving the Coke unopened on the counter, Clayton knew his little girl was at least halfway in love. With a sigh, he picked up the can, opened it for himself. It was smarter than a shot of whiskey at seven-thirty in the morning.

•   •   •

GRIFF STRODE INTO the station house, eyes—including the left one, where angry bruising had come to the surface overnight—hot. He arrowed straight to Forrest.

“I want to talk to the son of a bitch.”

Forrest stopped tapping at his keyboard, pulled the phone from between his shoulder and ear. “I’ll get back to you,” he said, and clicked off.

“You’d best simmer down some first.”

“I’m not in a simmer-down mood. I don’t even know Arlo Kattery, never spoke a word to him in my life. I want to know why he deliberately ran me off the road.”

“Forrest?” The sheriff spoke up from his office doorway. “Why don’t you go ahead, let Griff go back and have his say,” he said when Forrest hesitated. “In his place, I’d want mine.”

“All right, thanks. Nobby, you think you could call back that fella at the lab, finish that conversation?”

“I sure can. That eye doesn’t look too bad there, Griff.” Nobby, a twenty-year vet, gave Griff’s face a considering look. “Seen a lot worse. You get some raw red meat on it, won’t be so bad.”

“I’ll do that.”

As Griff turned toward the back, Shelby came flying in.

“Oh, Griff!”

“Now, Shelby honey, I was just telling him it wasn’t that bad.”

“It’s not.” Griff picked up Nobby’s theme and ran with it. “I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt.” Ached like a son of a bitch, but didn’t hurt.

“Daddy said it was Arlo Kattery. I don’t know why the man has a license if he’s still driving drunk like he did when we were teenagers.”

“We don’t know as he was drunk when he ran Griff off the road.”

“He must’ve been. Why else would he do something like this?”

Forrest exchanged a look with the sheriff, nodded slightly.