The Broken Places by Ace Atkins Read Free Book Online Page A

lot.”
    “You used to hunt out here,” she said. “With that black boy.”
    “Boom Kimbrough,” Quinn said. “Yes, ma’am.”
    She nodded and chopped the ground with her hoe.
    “Well, that fella took the whole patch,” she said. “We were gonna pick them on Saturday. I had a whole lot of people who asked for greens at church. Now I’m going to have to tell them that they’re gone. I’ve been living here for fifty years and never had any trouble. We don’t even lock our doors.”
    “Probably should.”
    “You know what your uncle used to say?”
    Quinn smiled. “I recall a lot that he used to say.”
    “He used to tip his hat at me on the Square and say if folks started locking their doors, then he wasn’t doing his job.”
    “My uncle and I have a different viewpoint on that.” Quinn nodded. “I prefer to plan for the worst.”
    “If a man plans for the worst, then won’t he get the worst?” Mrs. King said.
    Kenny turned to Quinn and waited for his answer, hands folded over his large stomach.
    “That’s not exactly my point of view,” Quinn said. “I just never have been big on surprises.”
    •   •   •
    They dumped the sweet Chevelle and the dead man in Aberdeen before heading back northwest toward Tibbehah County in the old Caprice Classic. They took the Natchez Trace part of the way, finding a public bathroom set back from some Indian mounds to use the toilet and clean up. Bones wanted to head over to Tupelo to buy some weed, but Esau convinced him to stay focused, and Bones said he was so goddamned focused that some weed would mellow him out. He settled for another pint of Turkey, and by one a.m., they’d hit the Tibbehah County line, dumped the Caprice Classic at a highway truck stop, and stole a Toyota Tundra. They decided to cruise a bit west, checking out spots around a hamlet called Dogtown for a solid place to hole up. Esau had smoked two packs of cigarettes already and was onto the third, Bones passing the whiskey over to him as they roamed the dirt roads up and over the hills, seeing signs for a national forest but staying on county roads, and riding through a cemetery until they found a nice stretch of woods with no houses and thick with trees. They drove with the windows partway down, the rain making the windshield fog.
    For a good mile, Esau kept seeing signs for the Vardaman Hunt Club and how there was NO TRESPASSING . Esau, getting curious about the club, slowed when he got to a locked cattle gate that shut off the private road on into the place. The gate was more of a message to people who wanted to drive up and have a look-see, but whoever had built the gates should have known there was plenty of space on each side of the posts for a 4×4 to get across. Esau hit the gas on the Toyota and dipped down into a little gully and then popped quickly out, spinning dirt and gravel as they raced past the gates and onto the hunting club land. Bones was so excited as he slumped in the passenger seat that Esau figured he might just fall asleep.
    Esau followed the dark road for maybe a mile through some old land with tall, old-growth pines. There were more and more NO TRESPASSING signs, Esau taking this to be a good omen because something was so damn good on top of the hill that someone wanted to make damn sure that the shitbirds weren’t invited. And sure enough as they crested the hill, a small gravel road broke to the right and they followed it straight up high and fast onto a thick, shadowed shape of a log house overlooking the forest and valley below. Esau got as close as he could and killed the engine. Bones stirred awake and stumbled from the car to the tree line, where he took a leak. The rain fell weak but steady, thunder sounding off far into the forest. The air smelled electric and piney.
    Esau grabbed the keys, his cigarettes, and a bottle of Wild Turkey with a fresh seal. He mounted the steps and made his way to the side door of the cabin, really more than just a