Stealing Taffy (Bigler, North Carolina #3) - Susan Donovan Page 0,49

then on, whenever Fern saw his big old car drive into the compound, she made sure to disappear.

In her nightmares, the Fat Man always had that same knife, and he was poking its sharp tip against her throat and pressing his hand over her mouth so nobody could hear her scream. And every time she had the dream she knew she was going to die. Lately, like when she was sitting in prealgebra class that morning, a thought would enter her head and scare the crap out of her …

What happened to him? What if he was still out there somewhere and came looking for her? The idea was enough to make her shiver, but there was nothing she could do, of course. She didn’t know who he was. He could be dead like all the rest of them. God, she hoped so.

Fern took another sniff of Bobo, and shut her eyes against the bad thoughts, the horrible memories. Right at that moment, she was safe and clean and back in school, which she loved, though she’d never admit it to anyone. Fern giggled to herself. She even had herself a damn mentor. Ha! That Tanyalee lady was even wackier than her great-granny, but harmless enough, she supposed. Honestly, all the stories Gladys had told about the Newberrys made Fern feel a little more kindly toward her own kin. She supposed money didn’t make much of a difference with families—if things were gonna be fucked up, things were gonna be fucked up, and the only difference was whether it was gonna happen in a skanky trailer or a swanky mansion.

“Fern! Supper!”

She kissed Bobo’s stitched-up eye, propped him against her pillow, and jumped from the twin bed. She threw open the bedroom door and began to race down the hallway.

“Stop right there!” Gladys called out from the kitchen. “Did you wash up?”

“No.”

“No, ma’am.”

“No, ma’am.” Fern rolled her eyes and trudged back to the bathroom, where she let the water splash over her hands.

“Use soap, now!”

“Okay!” Shee-it. It was nice having hot food and all the hot water she wanted, but she sure as hell didn’t like all this bossing-around crap. As Fern dried her hands on a fluffy towel, she caught sight of her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

It surprised her a little. Her hair was all pale yellow and shinylike now that it was clean, and her cheeks were pink because Gladys made her scrub her face with a wash rag—a clean one every time she took a bath! Fern’s eyes seemed brighter, too, and her lips softer. She knew that when she was living with her daddy and his meth buddies, the most important part of every day was keeping her ass out of sight. There hadn’t been a whole lot of time for girl stuff like taking a bath or combing her hair.

Come to think of it, that was one thing the crazy Tanyalee Newberry might be good for. She was the girliest girl Fern had ever seen in real life. She looked like somebody who could be on TV or in a movie. One day Fern would ask her a few things about being a girl.

Someday. Maybe. If she ever decided that was something she might need to know about.

“Fer-ern!”

“Coming!”

“What you mean to say is, ‘I’m coming, ma’am!’”

“Coming, ma’am!” Shee-it.

Chapter 10

Tanyalee wasn’t sure where to focus her attention. Should she continue shooting evil stares at Aunt Viv in an effort to stop her from asking embarrassing questions of their visitor? Should she glare at Granddaddy Garland every time he started laughing? Or should she allow herself the guilty pleasure of simply watching Dante Cabrera eat?

She propped her chin in her hand and sighed. Good Lord, the man could pack it away. The room service overload back in that Washington hotel room hadn’t been a fluke. He was on his third serving of sweet potatoes. He’d eaten four biscuits with gravy, two helpings of ham, and a dinner plate full of string beans. Dante Cabrera was Aunt Viv’s wet dream of a dinner guest.

“More ham, Agent?” Viv asked.

“Oh, no, thank you, ma’am. I think I’ve hit the wall.”

“I’d say you done plowed through the wall, son,” Granddaddy said. “Maybe the floor, too.”

Dante smiled self-consciously.

“Garland!” Viv wagged a finger over the gravy boat. “Leave the young man be! I know your memory’s going but there was a time when you could eat just as much if not more.”

“I am not losing my memory, Vivienne,” he replied, sighing. “On the