So far, Miranda Jessup Buckley, is looking into the disappearance of Waylon's dad, Dougie. Seems like everywhere she looks she's finding empty beer bottles of the rare kind Dougie always drank. Is it a clue or is she grasping at straws. Meanwhile, Rita thinks her husband is cheating on her. Miranda decides to tail him.

*********************************

I'm not sure why I haven't tossed the letters from Missy. It's not like I'm going to read them. I just throw them into this white banker's box and keep on keeping on.

She's been sending one letter per day since she got shipped half way across the state to the women's correctional facility near Asheville. Momma says that she sends the letters as a way of staying in my life. In her twisted mind, Missy probably thinks I'm waiting by the mailbox every afternoon. Anticipating a letter from my best friend.

All through the trial, Missy would turn around in her chair and wave at me. I kept waiting and hoping it would finally sink in she was going to jail. But, she never even stopped smiling idiotically when they read the verdict of guilty of involuntary manslaughter in Justin Toblerone and manslaughter in the death of Ed Preston.

"Why do you keep those letters?" Waylon asks when I come out of the bathroom.

"I don't really know. They could have a confession in them."

He frowns before continuing. "But you don't open them and read them."

"I might ... one day."

"Do you think she killed my dad?" His voice quivers ever so slightly.

I walk over and pull him into my arms. Right now, Waylon needs family, and I'm the closest thing he's got. "I really don't know. I pray that your daddy is just being stupid and sunning himself on a beach in Tahiti. Not a care in the world and oblivious to everything that's gone on here in Patterson."

Waylon pulls back. "You don't believe that though, do you?"

I try to smile, to be reassuring, but he sees right through it. "I sure as hell want to."

"Me, too." His words come out as mere whispers.

I shake off the funk that starts to settle on us. I step away and put my hands on my hips. "Time to get started on dinner. What are you in the mood for?"

"Hamburgers would be good," Waylon says with a shrug. "Or pizza. I don't care."

"I'll run and grab us two burgers from Patterson Deli. You want fries?"

He nods. "I'm gonna walk over and check on Aaron's place."

"You miss him, don't you?"

"He was cool. I can't believe he's trying to be a preacher."

I can't believe several things about Aaron. One, that he is, indeed, in seminary school and two, he gave up weed, and three, he finally stood up to his father. God certainly works in mysterious ways. "Ok. I'll be back soon," I say as he heads out the door with the key to Aaron's trailer dangling from his hand.

As I'm reaching for my purse, the phone rings. Only three people ever call me. It's either my momma, Matt or Rita, or it's Mitch.

"Hello."

"Hey, Miranda, it's me, Rita. I just wanted to give you a heads up."

"Matt on the warpath again?"

"No. He, uh, he hired a new employee."

"For what? Weekends?"

Rita pauses. It's never a good thing when Rita calls, in the first place. But, when she's hesitating, shit, it's usually bad news.

"Rita, is Matt gonna fire me?"

"Oh no. Oh my gosh, no. But he's been talking about how he doesn't like you being by yourself every night. So ..."

"So? Spit it out, Rita. Who did he hire?"

"He seemed really nice. He's going to be doing the grunt work, those are Matt's words. Taking out the trash. Moving the crates of drinks, that kind of stuff."

"Crap, when does he start?"

"Matt is training him tonight. But you'll meet him tomorrow when he comes in after school."

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "How come Matt didn't bother to run this by me?"

Rita laughs. She has this adorable little giggle that usually makes me smile. Not today. "Everybody knows he's petrified of you."

I get some satisfaction out of hearing that but it still doesn't excuse him. "You said school, please tell me it's college."

"No. He goes to high school. Really, Miranda, he seems like a nice kid. Don't, um, just don't..."

"What, Rita? Use your words. Don't what?"

"Don't be your usual sarcastic self. He's just a boy."

"I just might have to go visit the Little Eagle tonight. Top off my tank."

"Dang it. I knew I shouldn't have told you. Please don't tell Matt I told you. He's gonna be so mad."

I don't have time to listen to her berate herself. "See you tomorrow, Rita." I hang up the phone.

**********************************

I pull into the parking lot and ease up next to the pump. My tank is just a few gallons shy of full, but my curiosity is eating me up.

Knowing that Matt is afraid of me, gives me new found power. And knowing that he purposely went behind my back and hired a high school body guard for me, well, it's both annoying and endearing.

I end up putting three gallons in my tank. I could do the mature thing, drive away and go pick up dinner, or I can waltz in and scare the crap out of Matt.

Come on, you all know what I'm going to choose.

Matt is busy showing his new recruit something on the counter when I push through the door. He looks up and dons his best "Welcome to the Little Eagle" smile. It takes just a second or two for it to register. His worst nightmare has just entered the premises.

"What's new, Matt?" I say, letting my gaze shift from him to the clean cut boy beside him.

"Oh, shit. I'm gonna kill Rita."