Between the Lies Read online

  “I’m gonna go get him and bring him back to that jail,” Enos said, moving toward the doorway. “They won’t touch him there. I want my boy safe from all that’s been going on around here.”

  Hick nodded. “My sister lives on Third Street, on the outskirts of town. If you go to the police station my Deputy, Adam, can you take you there. They got a houseful of boys. Adam’ll understand. You can trust him.” He paused. “You sure about this?”

  “I’m sure,” Enos said, his voice full of bitter resignation.

  “Okay,” Hick said. “I’ve still got a day to figure this out before the Judge gets here. I’ll do my best.”

  Enos was already heading out the door, but he paused and turned. “I know. But sometimes our best just ain’t good enough.”

  17

  Tuesday, July 20, 1954

  “Why the hell did you tell him?” Carol demanded as they marched back through the cotton.

  Hick turned and watched her struggle through the sandy soil, her arms swinging wildly. “I’ve got no right to keep Enos from his son.”

  “So that’s it? Thad’s back in jail and you’re okay with this?”

  Hick’s pulse quickened and his eyes flashed. “No! I am not okay with it,” he snapped. “But it’s probably the safest bet for Thad until we get this sorted out. What if he’s at my sister’s and Brewster finds out and brings a mob? What if they yank Thad out of there in front of my wife and kids? I’ve seen what anger and hate do to people.”

  He shook his head and his mouth set in a grim line. “The truth of the matter is, we may not be able to help Thad because people can be blind to the truth when they don’t like what they see. You don’t like it and I don’t like it, but we have to face facts.”

  He stalked forward and after a moment he heard Carol’s sliding footsteps follow.

  The car waited in the parking lot, the bright sunshine gleamed off the windshield and he opened both of the doors and cranked down the windows.

  “Those seats will be hot as fire,” he explained. “We’ll let it air out a minute.”

  “Okay,” Carol answered, pouring sandy dirt from a high heeled pump before putting her shoe back on. “My nylons are ruined,” she said, with a shake of her head.

  Hick leaned against the car and lit two cigarettes, handing one to Carol.

  “Well, Hillbilly, you sure know how to keep a lady entertained,” she said, taking the cigarette. “What time is it?”

  Hick glanced at his watch. “A little past eleven.”

  She shrugged. “So what’s next? Do I even bother calling anyone? There aren’t that many flights into Memphis. Our window of opportunity is closing.”

  “I don’t …” Hick began.

  The door of the church opened and a clearly relieved Father Grant walked to them. “I noticed your car was here about a half hour ago but I couldn’t, for the life of me, think of where you might have gone. I’m glad to see you’re okay.”

  “We’re fine,” Hick said. “Just had a talk with Enos. He’s headed to Cherokee Crossing to fetch Thad and hand him back over to Brewster. He’s scared.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Father Grant said with a frown. “After last night, I had a feeling that might happen.”

  “What exactly went on here last night?” Hick asked.

  “Let me show you,” Grant said, walking toward the church. Hick followed and Grant said, “See this? A bullet hole. There are about six of these in my church, but at least it’s still standing. The Baptist Church down the road wasn’t so lucky. And the churches aren’t the only things on the colored side of town to be riddled with bullet holes. It’s a miracle no one was killed.”

  “Cowards,” Carol spat.

  The two men turned and Hick said, “I’m sorry. This is Carol Quinn, the lawyer from New York. And this is Father Grant. Thad’s sister works for him.”

  “How do you do?” Father Grant said.

  Carol shook his hand. “A little shaken, but uninjured.”

  “That would be a fitting description for Broken Creek, Arkansas,” he replied. “I’ve been at this parish for over seven years and this town has always been a peaceful place. The whites and the coloreds may not worship together or socialize, but they live together, work together, shop together, they’ve always been on friendly terms. I keep telling myself that it was only a few—just a bunch of stupid kids out having what they thought was a ‘good time’ because they’re feeling bold right now. But where was our sheriff? Where is the outcry from Broken Creek over what happened here? It’s like the whole town collectively shut their doors and turned out the lights.”

  Hick took the flyer from his pocket and handed it to Grant, asking, “You see any of these around?”

  Grant nodded. “This rally is the talk of the town. Senator John Richardson is the keynote speaker. He’s trying to nab the Democratic nomination for governor and segregation will be the cornerstone of his campaign.” His mouth curled in a bitter smirk. “There was a time Richardson was supportive of desegregation, but he’s got some skeletons in his closet. The specter of communism has been raised and he’s got to distance himself from any kind of progressive thought. His best chance for election is to exploit and exaggerate. And he’s not stupid. He knows if he gives people something to feel passionate about, he’ll have a better chance of the right ones showing up at the polls.”

  “And those people will do their damndest to see the wrong ones don’t,” Carol added.

  “I’m afraid you’re right,” Grant agreed. “The south is not going to give up segregation without a fight. It’s a way of life.” A bewildered look crossed his face and he looked off into the distance. “The funny thing is, if you question most southerners you’ll find they don’t hate colored people. In fact, they like their neighbors. The average person doesn’t take the time to sit down and think about what segregation really means … that somehow someone is less of a man because of the color of his skin, that they’re entitled to less, that they aren’t fully human. They don’t understand it because they’ve never experienced it and it’s just the way it’s always been.” He shook his head. “With this kind of lazy intellect, people will never understand the evil they are promulgating. They’ll make one excuse and then another … there’s always an excuse.”

  “But, I don’t get it,” Hick said. “I thought the Supreme Court settled desegregation. How do you refuse to uphold the law?”

  “Senator Richardson’s calling down the great god of nullification,” Grant said. “He’s been all over the state in an effort to get citizens riled against the idea.”

  “And the ruling was schools must be desegregated with ‘all deliberate speed,’” Carol added. “For segregationists that is nothing more than a loophole that means never.”

  “‘Never’ won’t be an option for long,” Grant said. “Once the wheels of progress begin turning there’s no stopping them. Richardson can get people riled up, but he knows there’s no stopping desegregation. He’s using ignorance to gain power and my guess is his presence here will keep pressure on our school board so they don’t weaken in their new-found resolve to keep the schools separate.”

  “What do you make of this new-found resolve?” Hick asked.

  “I don’t know what to think,” Grant said, with a shake of his head. “Ike Davis had convinced the board to agree with him, saying desegregating the school was not only economically advantageous, it was morally right. He was the one who drove the idea forward and then he was the one who convinced them to wait. I wonder if he got a whiff of all this coming down and thought it might endanger the students or be too disruptive to their education.”

  “He’s the one I ran into here the other night,” Hick said.

  “Yeah. President of the School Board. It was at his urging that desegregating the Broken Creek schools came up in the first place.”

  “Is this Davis easily manipulated or intimidated?” Hick asked.

  “Ike was in the trenches in World War One. He’s se
en everything and is not easily moved. That’s why his change of heart took me by surprise. He was a staunch ally and he seemed to change almost overnight.”

  Hick thought for a moment. “This Davis, when he came to see you … did he have any bruises on his face, any injuries you could see?”

  “No,” Grant answered. “There was nothing wrong with him. Why?”

  Hick glanced across the cotton field toward the old cotton gin and sighed. “Well all of this—the racial unrest, the political nonsense. It seems to coincide with Thad’s trouble. Even if it’s not related, it could not have come at a worse time for him. We’re running out of time, and I don’t know what to do.”

  Grant unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and loosened his white collar. “Brewster has to be stopped. Thad isn’t the first kid he’s dragged into court without just cause, and he won’t be the last.”

  “We all know what could happen if this goes to trial,” Hick said with a frown.

  “Yes,” Grant said. “But I also know that the truth has a way of making itself known. Don’t forget. Someone out there killed that man and he knows what he did. A guilty conscience is a powerful thing.”

  “It can also be a quick casualty when it’s inconvenient,” Hick replied.

  Father Grant shook his head. “Don’t be so sure. It’s one thing to run and hide when you accidentally run over someone in the night. That’s nothing more than a natural fear of being caught. But there’s more to the heart of man than primal, survival instincts. We each have in us a spark of the divine and it’s not easy to snuff out. It can lie dormant, like any spark, but sometimes, it only takes a slight breeze to fan it into flame. It’s one thing to make a mistake. It’s another thing altogether to sit by and watch an innocent child take the rap.”

  “I know all about mistakes,” Hick said looking down at his shoes. “But I also believe that there are plenty of people who will gladly keep their mouth shut to save their own skin.”

  “Perhaps,” Grant conceded. “But, we weren’t created to live that way. There’s something in the heart of man that craves justice and order. I believe the person who killed that man is suffering. There’s only so much we can take before guilt begins to tear us apart. Every day that still, small voice will grow louder and louder.”

  “Unfortunately, we are out of days. We only have twenty-four hours, and I don’t see anyone stepping up to confess before the judge returns tomorrow.” He turned to Carol. “What do you want to do? This could be dangerous.”

  Carol tossed the cigarette to the ground and stepped on it. “The quicker I make this call the quicker we’ll get help.” She looked into his face. “We need to stop this fat bastard.”

  “Then, I guess we’re going.” They climbed into the car and Hick told Grant, “Miss Quinn’s got a phone call to make so we’re headed to the motel. We want to get in and out real quick and then back to Cherokee Crossing. If things get out of hand and you need help call Adkins. If you can’t get him, call Adam in Cherokee. We plan on being back there in a couple of hours.”

  Grant put his hands on the car door and leaned in. “Folks get word what you’re trying to do and who you’re trying to help and there could be trouble for you. Be careful.”

  “Thanks,” Hick said. He started the car and put it into gear. “We will.”

  18

  Tuesday, July 20, 1954

  “Everything’s fine,” Hick told Adam on the phone. “We’re at the hotel now and as soon as Miss Quinn makes her phone call, we’re leaving. She’s going through her papers now. Everything okay there?”

  “Brewster never showed,” Adam’s said, his voice tinny over the receiver. “I went by the house and they didn’t see him either.”

  “Maggie and the boys okay?”

  “Maggie was lying down and the boys were eating cheese sandwiches.”

  Hick smiled. “I’m glad she’s resting.” Carol waved the papers in front of Hick impatiently and he said, “Will you tell her I called? Tell her I’m okay? Carol needs the phone so I have to hang up now.”

  “I’ll let her know,” Adam said. “It’ll take some worry off her mind.”

  “Thanks, Adam,” Hick said. “For everything.”

  “Hurry back.”

  “I will,” Hick said into the phone before hanging up.

  “It’s already 12:30 in Washington,” Carol said taking the receiver from Hick and biting her lip. “Uncle Arthur may be at lunch.” She was facing the door and had begun to dial when her eyes fixated on something behind Hick. The color drained from her cheeks.

  “Well, look who finally came home,” a voice Hick recognized as Earl Brewster’s said.

  Spinning around, Hick saw Sheriff Brewster and a jittery Royal Adkins enter the room.

  Brewster’s face was red with anger. “I have been all over this green earth looking for you. I want to know where the hell Thad Burton is. He’s supposed to be at home and no place else, and I’m done playing games! You sons of bitches have messed with my plans long enough.” Brewster crossed the room and grabbed Carol by the wrist, twisting the phone from her grasp. “Who the hell are you calling, little lady?”

  “I have to check in with my office in New York. It’s Tuesday. If I don’t call they’ll know something’s wrong. They’ll send people here to look for me.”

  Brewster seemed to be considering what she said. After a moment, he said, “Make the call.” Hick moved toward Brewster who pulled his pistol from the holster. Pointing it at Hick’s head, Brewster said, “Only watch what you say or this one will suffer an occupational hazard.”

  Carol’s eyes met Hick’s, then she turned back to Brewster and nodded. He handed her the phone.

  Hick watched as Carol dialed. After a moment she said, “Yes, ma’am, I’d like to place a long distance call. Yes to New York. Carol paused and then said, “Yes, ma’am, Foundation 241.”

  Hick’s heart sank at the words ‘New York’. Carol would not be able to get the Department of Justice, not with Brewster in the room. No help would be coming.

  After giving the number, she waited, seemingly praying as she listened to the ringing.

  Finally, Carol said, “Yes, hello.” She paused, listening to someone on the other end. “This is Caroline Evelyn Quinn—yes—I’m still in Broken Creek, Arkansas working with that colored boy. This case is much more complex than I anticipated. No, no I don’t think I can come back—”

  Brewster cleared his throat and cocked the pistol. Carol’s eyes widened. “I mean to say, I can do this but I will be delayed. There’s an election and that will …” Another pause. “Yes, yes that will work … Okay, thank you.” She hung up the phone and looked at Brewster. “Okay?”

  Brewster uncocked the pistol. He crossed the room and yanked the phone cord from the wall. “You done real good little lady. Real good.” Shaking his head, he said, “Now what am I gonna do with you two?”

  “You could send us on our way,” Hick said. We’ve got some things we need to be attending to.”

  Brewster barked out a nasty laugh. “I’m sure you do. Like warning my prisoner I’m after him. Thad Burton was supposed to stay at home with his daddy, not traipse around the countryside. Now Thad’s disappeared right out from under Enos’ nose. Looks bad, real bad. Thad’s done gone and violated the terms of his release so it’s back to jail for him and I’m sure I’ve got room enough for his negligent daddy, too.”

  Hick looked at Brewster with disdain. “Enos Burton has done nothing wrong.”

  Brewster laughed in Hick’s face. “As if that matters.” He seemed to be considering. “You’re gonna have to have an extended stay in Broken Creek. I’m thinking I’ll need to stow you away for a day or two.” He turned to Royal. “Take the rest of the day off, Dumbass. I won’t be needing you.”

  “But—” Royal began.

  “Go on, boy!” Brewster hollered. “You’re startin’ to really bother me.”

  Royal’s eyes met Hick’s, but he left as ordered

 
; Hick watched Royal leave and as soon as the door closed, Brewster moved forward and shoved Hick so hard his neck snapped back and his head banged into the wall.

  Brewster’s face was red, and he panted from the exertion. “You have been stuck in my craw for years, Blackburn.” He stepped closer and growled into Hick’s face. “I told you before, you got to learn how to play the game if you’re gonna survive.”

  Hick held his gaze. “The game’s changing, Brewster.”

  “Not my game. Nothing’s changing. It’s the way of the world. You just never understood your role. Your job is to keep the peace, and it don’t matter how you do it. Keep the town folk happy and quiet, that’s all you gotta do.” He sighed heavily as if trying to help a child understand a difficult concept. “Your predecessor, Sheriff Michaels, understood that. What makes you so different?”

  “Maybe because I’ve seen what hate does to people. When you start using them as scapegoats, when you forget they’re human beings, you lose your decency.”

  Brewster laughed again. “Never had any decency to lose.” He narrowed his eyes. “Listen, and listen close, ’cause I’m getting tired of telling you the same story over and over again. I’ve got a job, and this here is my town. You got no business in Broken Creek and neither does she.” He nodded toward Carol. “I can’t let you run around and screw up my plans. The Judge will be here tomorrow and all I need is a little hearing. Just a few minutes with Thad saying, ‘guilty’ when the judge asks him how he pleads. That’s all I need … a couple of minutes. Enos Burton knows how the game is played, and he knows what he needs to do. How the hell he lost that kid, I’ll never know, but I’ve got all night to find Thad. And I will.”

  “And you think we’ll just shut up once the judge gets here?” Carol asked.