After Judge Kendall’s arrest, and Imogen Kendall’s not-so-tragic end, Bootleg Springs showed up.
They gave us a full day, which was more than I’d expected. We’d gone home that night, after the authorities had arrived on the scene—checked us for injuries and taken our statements. Callie was a bit banged up, but for the most part we were fine. All Callie had wanted was to climb back in bed with me and shut out the world. I’d been more than happy to oblige.
We’d both needed time to recover. To process what had happened. And the next day had dawned bright and beautiful. Or maybe that had just been my girl, smiling at me.
Food showed up on our doorstep, but family and friends had left us alone—mostly. They had assurances that we were fine and seemed to understand that we needed this. Scarlett hadn’t been able to help herself. She’d stopped by once, only for a few minutes, saying she just needed to see us for herself.
In the peace and quiet of my acres of sweet solitude—now shared by the love of my life and our one-eyed dog—we’d rested.
Today, we’d reemerged. And Bootleg was ready.
Because what did good West Virginia folk do when one of their own had been through a crisis? They fed them. And in this case, it wasn’t just me and Callie who’d been through the shit. Granted, we’d probably seen the worst of it. But all us Bodines had been through the ringer this last year or so. The whole town had.
So Bootleg Springs showed up.
Gin Rickey Park was once again buzzing with people. But this time, it looked more like a hoe-down or a town-wide picnic. Lines of tables held enough food to feed at least twice the population of Bootleg. Someone had made FOUND posters with Callie’s old photo on them. Papered them all over the park, along with multicolored balloons.
Kids darted around the grown-ups’ legs and a few old-timers engaged in a friendly—if a little wheezy—debate about the best way to trap a possum. Granny Louisa and Estelle had Devlin cornered by the food tables, fussing over him like… well, like grandmas. A group of women, including Leah Mae and Shelby, clustered together beneath a tree. Callie said they were talking about some new book they’d all been reading.
We sat on a red and white checkered blanket my sister had spread out on the grass. Callie and I shared a big plate of baked macaroni and cheese while Cash sat next to Callie’s feet, gnawing on a bone.
Sheriff Tucker walked by and tipped his hat to me. I nodded. A good man, the sheriff. He and I’d had our run-ins when I was young, but even then, he’d been fair and helped my family out as much as he could. Now, I owed that man a lot. I was glad he was in charge of protecting our town.
He’d let Darren the lab tech return to his home in New York. Now that the FBI had taken over, Darren’s fate was in their hands. It’d be up to them to determine the price he’d pay for taking that bribe. With the way he’d cooperated, I had a feeling they’d go easy on him. Seemed fair enough to me.
The lab he worked for had determined the real identity of the remains. A young woman who’d gone missing about a hundred miles from where her body was found, a year and a half before Callie. It wasn’t the news that her family had been hoping for, but at least they had closure.
Scarlett and Cassidy were across from us, picking at the food on their plates, chatting about Scarlett and Devlin’s house. Jenny walked by with Jimmy Bob. Caught my eye and gave me a warm smile, which I returned.
Bowie sat down next to Cassidy, leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. She proceeded to grab a brownie off his plate.
“Hey.” He picked up a second one. “That’s why I grabbed two.”
“Where’s Jameson? And Jonah?” Scarlett asked.
Bowie looked around. “Jonah’s over there with his happy-hour class members. They’re trying to get him to take his shirt off and do push-ups. And Jameson’s up there.” He pointed.
My brother was lounging on a thick tree branch, just above Leah Mae and Shelby’s circle. He has his hat pulled down over his eyes and one leg dangled.
My family was all here. And none of us were alone anymore. The Bodines—and the Tucker girls, for that matter—were