Come Along for an Experiment
If you’ve been here for a while, you already know The Last Bloom. You may have even read it.
But lately, I’ve been wondering what would happen if I took that story — the characters, history, and its emotional core — and approached it from an entirely different direction.
So I started writing.
The result is A Stranger in Town, a psychological thriller reimagining of The Last Bloom.
This is an EXPERIMENT. I’m not replacing the original book or pretending it never existed. I’m curious about how much a story can change when you shift the lens through which it’s told. This version is grittier, more suspenseful (with a bit more romance), and much more rooted in memory, trauma, and the question of whether we can always trust what we think we know about our own past.
Below, I’m sharing the first two chapters of A Stranger in Town. If you know The Last Bloom, you’ll recognize pieces of this world, but you may quickly realize you’re not quite standing on familiar ground anymore.
I want to know how it feels to experience this story again when you already know another version of it.
Most of all, when you reach the end of Chapter Two, I want you to answer one question: Will you keep reading?
CHAPTER ONE
Trauma has a way of reducing a person—their whole existence—to one event. A treacherous hole from which it can become impossible to escape. In that moment, her breath left her body. Her mind wandered, searching for a thought to ground her. A sense or memory that would pull her back from the abyss.
Trauma has forced people into depths of reduction. A signifier that you have been lessened or cheapened. But that simplistic view has stopped us from expanding our view—our brain’s ability to absorb—that sometimes trauma can heighten a human. Bring them to a level of knowledge, understanding, and even—dare one say—advancement that cannot be achieved by the typical Norman Rockwell experience.
What if those previously deemed “damaged” have a lens into life that, should they be able to rise above the clouds of darkness, can propel them further? Beyond the confines of not only what was expected but what could never be anticipated.
“This will be I. I will be it. I will not be that.”
I knew I was in a dream, slowly being pulled into the realm of a nightmare. And in that sphere of the in-between, one constant kept pulling me into the deeper depths of the darkness. An aching to remember something once long forgotten. Or erased. A black pit of knowledge that could wholly consume me or save me. I could not tell.
I clawed for those memories, but they betrayed me at every corner of my brain. And, without fail, a softness would pull me back into the light.
- -
Tucked into the nook of her mother’s neck, she never felt more comforted. It was her safe spot. The one comfort she could always rely on. And her Momma knew it.
“Are you ready to tell me what’s going on?” she asked. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”
Donna was always Sassy’s backup. They were mother and daughter but had lived their lives as partners. They were unbreakable. And that bond carried Sassy through life. Donna wore it as a badge of single-mother honor.
“It’s stupid. Jimmy got under my skin, and I hate that he can make me lose control,” Sassy finished her sentence with a crack of emotion, and instinctually, Donna pulled her closer as they were propped up against the kitchen table... The pressure of the hug released a slight sob from Sassy, a show of emotion she tried to avoid.
“You know he does these things because he’s gonna marry you someday, right?”
She shot up like a bug bit her ass on a hot summer’s day. “Momma, I am not even fifteen. I am not marrying anyone,” she said with defiance. And she meant it. But for some reason, she couldn’t look her Momma in the eye and say it. Sassy just wanted a hug to make her forget the day. She tucked back into her mother’s arms and whispered under her breath, “Maybe ever.”
Sassy and Donna are not generational members of their small southern South Dakota town. But since Sassy was five years old, this is the only place they’ve ever called home.
Donna, a massive personality and presence, did not force her way into the community, a move that was counter to her nature. She knew she wanted this town to be home. So, she courted it along with its residents. Slowly proving her worth as a member.
Sassy was indoctrinated into the community from her first steps onto Main Street when she walked into town at five years old. Her flowing curls and infectious laugh won the hearts of everyone—even the salty priest who had serious questions about her mother’s history and why Sassy had no father. In the 1970s, such a thing was not only taboo in Middle America, but it was also looked upon as a virus.
Despite all the hurdles, Sassy and Donna became beloved members of the town.
Donna slowly pulled Sassy from her now-tired arms and looked her daughter straight in the eye to give the best advice she could think of: “If you don’t like a boy and he bothers you, then you take him to his knees with one hearty kick. But if you like him, maybe next time he bothers you, just try smiling and see where that gets you.”
Sassy knew what her mother was doing. It was now impossible to argue she didn’t like Jimmy because the next time he bothered her, if she didn’t take out his babymaker, her Momma would know. It was checkmate.
“I’m going to go take a bath,” Sassy snarled while looking at her mom, who was clearly smirking.
“I LOOOOOVVVVVEEE you,” Donna teased as she often did. Sassy rarely replied to the sarcastic words and instead stomped her way to the bathroom.
Sitting in that kitchen now, Sassy still remembers the squeaking of the stairs as she paraded upstairs in defiance. Pushing her feet into each riser, releasing every creak and crack—like a symphony of defiance.
In that moment, at fourteen, she hated that exchange. Now, at twenty-three, she longs to remember every sense of it. The feel of her mom’s skin, the smell of the potatoes roasting in the oven for dinner, and even the sense of emotion welling up in her eyes. She wants all of that back. For at least one moment.
Instead, Sassy adjusts the sidearm fastened to her hip and rises from the chair she once slouched in, waiting for morning oatmeal. Life has changed. And she grapples with that daily.
“Momma, you need help? It’s been fifteen minutes in there,” Sassy gently calls out.
“Why are you asking me if I need help? I’ve been taking care of this house since before you went potty on the toilet,” Donna snaps back.
Sassy slowly taps on the bedroom door with one finger. Gently to the rhythm of She’ll Be Comin’ Around the Mountain. Drawing a slight chuckle from her Momma. The door slowly creaks open with Donna standing there dressed but her hair disheveled.
“I’m having trouble with these new bobby pins. I can’t put my hair up right, and I want to look good for you today,” Donna says in a tone that’s both sad and authoritative. It is a voice that cuts Sassy deep in her soul. But she can never show her that. She needs to be strong for her.
“Well, it’s a good thing someone taught me how to do this when I was eight after they had too many beers at bingo,” Sassy says with what Momma called her telltale sassy tone. That’s how she got the nickname.
“You shut your mouth! I did nothing of the sort. It was tequila, and I am pretty sure I won that night.”
But it wasn’t tequila, and she hadn’t won that night. These tiny moments of not remembering were building up. And Sassy was noticing.
Before a sense of sadness could overwhelm them both, Jimmy comes barreling through the porch door.
“Are my gals ready to get out of this house and parade through town?”
His voice is magic and has been since it changed when he was fourteen. A low tone with a salty rasp, it makes most girls melt. For Sassy, it brings her back to a time she longs for—when her biggest problem was a boy with a cracking voice. A time when her mom was infallible.
“You best not be tracking dirt into my Momma’s house,” Sassy snarks from the second floor. Jimmy jumps back to the rug outside the porch and stomps his feet like he is trying to pound a snake to death.
“All set. Just for you,” Jimmy says with a wink.
“Grab yourself a beer from the fridge and I’ll be down in a few. Grab me one too.”
Since Donna’s home is old, everything creaks—including the fridge. So, the noise of the icebox opening is expected, but what comes next is not.
“Holy hell!” Jimmy yelps from the kitchen. “Umm, Sassy. Can you come down here and help me right quick?”
Sassy knows from his tone that something is off. She places the last pin in her Momma’s hair and tells her to grab a fan before taking off for town. As Momma moves to her bedroom to search her dresser, Sassy tears downstairs.
“What? What’s the probl—” But before Sassy can get the sentence out, she is knocked back by the foul stench of rot.
“I think your Momma forgot to clean some stuff from her fridge.” Jimmy gestures while slowly opening the door back up. Decaying vegetables and some unidentifiable meat sit on the top shelf, emanating a noxious odor so foul it could be used to decimate enemies at war.
As Sassy surveys the fridge, a sinking feeling in her stomach overwhelms her. She rushes out of the house, throwing up in the closest bush—pretending the odor of the food is too much. She tries to play it off. But Jimmy knows the truth. She is sick to her stomach that her Momma is fading.
Sassy moved out when she went to the academy for training. And with work, she needed to be closer to town, so she found a tiny apartment above Bud’s Hardware, and her Momma could not have been prouder.
At moments like this, she sees all of that as a mistake. She should have stayed with her. She could have stopped this from happening. Maybe.
“Oh hell, I must have forgotten to clear out some of the food she asked me to. Sorry about that. I owe you a beer,” Sassy stutters as she cleans off her mouth.
“Sara, what can I do?”
“Don’t call me that,” Sassy snarls, whipping her head around and grabbing Jimmy’s gaze dead-on. “I’m fine. I don’t need you to get emotional over some fucking rotten food. Now, are we going into town or not?”
Jimmy knows when to back off and when to fully recoil. This is a time to recoil. He’s never seen so much rage in Sassy’s eyes before. He knows she only wants to be called Sassy, a product of her precocious attitude as a kid, but he can’t help but remember she is not tough like Sassy all the time. Sometimes, whether she likes it or not, she is Sara.
“Your chariot awaits,” he says while going into a Southern bow and gesturing toward his old Ford pickup.
“I’ll get Momma.”
“I’m here. Don’t fuss,” Donna says while negotiating the endlessly sticky screen door.
“Damn Dakota summers. Heat, bugs, and a porch that's gonna collapse under me one of these days,” Donna says with a chuckle. She is oblivious to most of what is happening to her. But she knows her daughter well enough to know something is happening that upsets her.
“Momma D, would you allow me to escort you?” Jimmy is always the gentleman, but especially with Donna. He loves Sassy, and Sassy loves her. That is all it takes for him to know she needs to be taken care of.
What Jimmy doesn’t realize is that acknowledging Donna needs help only enrages Sassy. This is the strongest woman. No, the strongest person Sassy has ever known. Conceding a weakness feels like a betrayal.
As they load into Jimmy’s old truck, the smell of pipe tobacco and wheat consumes Sassy’s nostrils. It would be a vile concoction to most, but to her, it is like a warm blanket. For a moment, she closes her eyes and melts into the smell.
The chatter from his police radio springs her back into reality. It is Sheriff Aimes. And he is not happy.
“Where are y’all at? This ceremony is not going to wait for you. And if you miss it, there will be hell to pay,” Sheriff Aimes hollers.
Before Jimmy can grab his radio, Donna takes care of it for him.
“Sheriff Aimes, please be a dear and don’t upset the man responsible for driving me today. I’d hate for him to lose focus on the road,” she gently whispers into the mic. It is a tone soaked in honey but dashed with condescension. And Sassy knows it. Jimmy knows it. But Sheriff Aimes is a sucker for Donna. And he laps it up.
“Well, Ms. Donna. I had no idea you were rejoining us today. I’ll make sure to save you a good seat,” he says with delight. “Jimmy, drive safe, but get here now.” The tonal shift is seismic, and Jimmy hits the gas, kicking up rocks and dust along Momma’s remote driveway.
Their home is old. To call it rustic would be a lie. Donna was a single mom with virtually no money, and all she could afford was this beaten-up farmhouse just outside of town. But to Sassy, it is perfect. A haven for the two of them to live any way they want.
If you drove by the home, with its unkempt trees, dirt driveway, and peeling paint, you would think it abandoned. Not to Sassy and Donna. It is their utopia. It was their utopia…
“We should be there in a few minutes if you want to touch up your makeup,” Jimmy teases.
“Makeup! Now that’s an idea, Jimmy. If we put makeup on you, maybe we can finally find you a date,” Sassy quips with an eager smile. She loves for him to acknowledge when she zings him.
“You stop that right now, Sassy. Jimmy is one of the most handsome boys I have ever met.” Donna always knows how to keep both Sassy and Jimmy in check when they get into their little sparring sessions.
“Momma D, I do love you. But I doubt I’m the MOST handsome boy you ever met. Where did you grow up again?” Jimmy asks, partly teasing but also wondering. He realizes he doesn’t know the answer.
Sassy also realizes she doesn’t know the answer either. She knows she was born in Ohio. Or was it Oklahoma? Momma doesn’t like to look to the past. She says it is a distraction from the future. And so, Sassy knows never to poke around.
But maybe it is time to poke around. Sassy has no family history. Maybe what’s happening to Momma happened to her mom. Or dad. And maybe knowing would help them remedy the issue?
Her mind is racing. And Sassy quickly grows angry with herself. Why did she not focus on this sooner? Before she can whip herself up into a complete fit, they roll onto Main Street.
The town is small and old, but in many ways idyllic. Surrounded by farmland, it is an oasis for residents. A place for them to not only congregate but support each other.
When community events are on the calendar, people show up in droves. And today’s swearing-in for the new deputies is no different.
People take seats on the Green but also pull up their pickup trucks and stack them along the side of the road like makeshift bleachers.
Sassy adjusts her uniform as she hops out and helps Momma before Jimmy sprints over and takes over for her.
When Sassy walks through town in her uniform, with her badge freshly polished and her head high, she feels tremendous pride. She doesn’t know if that is vanity or a bit of a power trip, but she knows she is meant to be in law enforcement. She lives for it.
“Momma, let’s head toward the front of the department. Jimmy and I need to be up front. And I am SURE Sheriff did save you a seat,” Sassy teases.
Donna flashes a look at Sassy that reminds her she is the Momma. And not to get outta line.
At the dais, the new deputies, all three of them, are lined up with their families. Beaming with pride, they are about to enter the ranks of the small department.
With the newbies, the department is now clocking in at thirteen deputies, three support staff, and one sheriff.
A quiet county that covers a lot of land—and sometimes solo patrols—means the deputies must be prepared for anything. But Jimmy never likes Sassy going out on patrol if he isn’t on duty.
When Sassy joined the academy, he was right there with her. When she got sworn in, he got sworn in. If she has a shift, he works damn hard to be on the same shift.
The department doesn’t have partners, but if it did, Sassy and Jimmy would be a team. She says to herself, he’s like a brother. And in her mind, she tries to believe that. But every now and then, Jimmy does something that changes things. And that feeling that jumps in her gut is becoming more like muscle memory lately.
“Hang on here. Let me make some room,” Jimmy gestures toward the empty dais chairs while slowly cupping Sassy’s lower back. Immediately, the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. And everything in her core forces her to lean toward anger instead of attraction.
“Do you think I can handle sitting now? Or should you help me slowly bend down into the seat?”
“Can you two cut the shit and sit down?” Sheriff growls at them under his breath.
The heat of the day attacks them like a tethered snake. They all know the bite is coming, but it still shocks them all the same.
Ten minutes into the ceremony, it already feels eons long. Sheriff Aimes picks up the pace so everyone can get to the county fair—and out of the heat. The thought of cold lemonade under a tent is heaven on earth to Sassy.
She can’t focus on the words or speeches. Rather, her eyes scan the crowd like a midnight owl searching for that one field mouse. She is always searching, looking, scanning—ever since she was a kid. It is that gnawing feeling in her gut that memories lurk somewhere in the distance. And if she can only find that one focal point, they’ll finally be unlocked.
Just as Sassy sinks further into her mind’s eye, Jimmy nudges her.
“Time to clap,” he whispers with some snark.
The town claps and horns wail as the newbies take their rank. Though Sassy suspects most of the fanfare is due to the ceremony concluding and the party beginning.
“I know you two are off tonight, but please help keep an eye out at the fair,” Sheriff Aimes says in a tone like he is telling his own kids to stay out of trouble.
“Yes, sir,” Jimmy pipes in. “But no promises that I ain’t going to walk those grounds with a beer or two in my hand…” he teases back.
Sheriff Aimes takes off his hat and pulls out an apricot-colored handkerchief from an internal compartment nestled within the Stetson. He glides it across his head, mopping up the sweat, before tucking it back inside his hat.
“You two are going to be the death of me, I swear,” he mutters to himself as he walks toward the crowd to greet some waiting residents.
Sassy shoots Jimmy a glare.
“What?! It’s my night off. I wanna have some fun!”
“Okay, Jimmy, let’s go have some fun then. Momma, you ready to go?” But when Sassy turns, Donna is nowhere to be seen. Sassy casts an eye over the crowd. Still nothing.
Donna just disappeared.
CHAPTER TWO
Sassy quickly moves to the side of the building and picks up the pace when her mom is still not in sight. Panic begins to set in when a booming voice catches her attention.
“Hey, Sassy, tell your mom I need that key back when she can,” Bud yells back from the crowd of trucks parked along Thompson Street.
Bud is really Bud the third—and Sassy’s landlord. One of the biggest, burliest men you’ll ever meet. Armed with a heart of gold, he is the kind of man you want in your life. Someone to help you when you need it. And someone to have your back in a fight when you need it.
He comes from one of the oldest families in town. Sassy assumes his kin may have even helped settle these parts. That’s how far back they go.
Bud runs the hardware store with pride—often offering up his own two hands along with any purchase. He knows most of the buildings in town inside and out. If something goes wrong, Bud is usually one of the first people to show up and help make it right.
“What do you mean, Bud? What key?” Sassy hollers back as she changes course to meet him at the curb, out of breath and now sweating up a storm.
“She needed the key to your place, she said, so I gave her my master key. Hey, you okay? You need water or something?” Bud says with concern.
Sassy—never one to be disheveled—is now looking like she’s been in a foot chase…and lost.
“Yes, I’m fine. Just trying to get everyone over to the fair and out of this heat so we don’t have bodies lining the street. Can you help move people along?”
“You heard the deputy! Y’all get in your trucks and get moving out of the square!” Bud bellows with a commanding voice. And people listen—scattering like ants—with their trucks kicking up little puffs of dust and dirt that put a haze on the town. Almost bringing the heat to life.
Sassy picks up her pace and bounds up the stairs to her apartment to find the door ajar and her Momma sitting in the chair by the window.
“Momma, what’s going on? Why did you need the key from Bud to get in here?” Sassy says with the slight tone of a detective.
“I’m not sure. I can’t really remember why. I just got scared, and I didn’t know why. I just got…” Her voice fades into a fragile tone that will shatter if pressed any further.
A gentle knock on the doorjamb doesn’t need to be acknowledged by Sassy. She knows it’s Jimmy. She just sits there, cupping her Momma’s hand as they look out the window. Both Sassy and Donna search for the strength not to bust out in tears.
“Jimmy, would you mind driving us home now? I think Momma would love to lie down and rest. Ain’t that right, Momma? Nothing better than a nap with a cool fan breeze on a hot summer’s day. Right?”
Donna’s eyes slowly move to capture her daughter’s—and with that one moment, she concedes she is no longer the strong-willed, wild Momma she once was in this life. She needs help.
“I think that sounds about right,” Donna says, trying to muster some authority in her voice. “Jimmy, help us two ladies to your truck.”
As they leave the apartment, Sassy spots Bud’s key still in the door and locks it as they walk out. As they maneuver down the stairs, Sassy notices the light behind the basement door is on.
“Jimmy, can you bring Momma over and then swing by and pick me up? I forgot something.”
“Yes, ma’am—I am your taxi service today,” he says while tipping his hat to force a cheeky smile from her. But Sassy doesn’t give that smile. She barely hears Jimmy. She is too absorbed in the emotion and questions bombarding her brain.
As soon as Jimmy is out of eyeshot, Sassy uses Bud’s key to open the basement door. She has only been down there a handful of times, so she doesn’t really know what she is looking for—is something out of place? Stolen? She doesn’t really know enough to tell.
But a feeling in her gut pushes her down the stairs.
The room is filled with metal and wood. The smell of varnish fills her nostrils and a coolness from the dank walls brings her some relief.
She turns her flashlight to seek answers in the dark spots, but nothing is there. Then, out of the corner of her eye—on the workbench—is something odd. Someone has drawn a figure eight with an X through the middle into the thick layer of sawdust coating the 19th-century wood workbench.
Sassy moves closer until she has a bird’s-eye view. It is a fresh track because it goes clean to the table’s surface. Someone has just been downstairs. Just as she turns to look at the floor for tracks or clues, she hears it.
“Hello, ma’am,” a male voice says from the stairs.
Sassy, so startled, begins to pull her gun when she turns.
“Hey, hey, hey, sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you. My hands are up!” the man pleads from the stairs.
Sassy at first feels embarrassed before sticking to her guns—literally.
“Do you make a habit of trespassing? Who are you, and why are you in this basement?” Sassy demands while keeping her distance.
“My name is Earl, and I’m visiting town for the fair. I run a booth. I just need some supplies to repair one of the beams. The front was locked, but I saw you back here, so I…” His voice cracks, his eyes fixed on her hand hovering near the gun.
Sassy’s whole body goes from tense to deflated as she realizes her nerves have gotten the better of her. Her hand slides off her gun, and she moves to the stairs.
“Bud is at the fair, but come in and find what you need. I’ll leave him a note with what we took, and we can work out the money.”
Sassy turns off the light, and as she turns to lock the basement door, she hears the man scurrying from the building.
“Hey, wait! I can help if you just come back here,” Sassy yells.
“No, that’s okay. I’ll wait for Bud to reopen tomorrow,” he says, panicked, as he beelines it for the alley back to the square.
Once the heat and light of the day catch her face, Sassy realizes she didn’t get a good look at Earl. And she wants to get a picture of that symbol she saw in the basement. But just as she turns to walk back inside, Jimmy pulls up.
“C’mon, time to get rolling. We need to get Ms. Donna home, and the sheriff wants us at the fair,” Jimmy snarks. “And I have some beer to drink and BBQ to eat!” He quickly gives two taps on his horn.
“James Talbot, you behave or I will whack you like you’re my own,” Donna commands. “Sassy, time to go.”
She pulls her tiny frame into the truck. Sassy is small but mighty. She doesn’t look like much stacked up against the rest of the force, but she is crafty, the best shot in town, and if she gets into a fight, she knows to get ’em down on the ground as quickly as possible. There was no girls’ wrestling team in high school, but Sassy made Coach Lewellyn teach her. She never wanted to be caught off guard.
Sassy has always focused on protective instincts—even as a young child. She doesn’t know why. But she knows, deep in her core, there is a reason.
“Did y’all see that man coming out the back just now?”
“No, what man?” Jimmy asks with some concern.
“Someone from the fair looking for supplies,” Sassy says as simply as possible so as not to tweak Jimmy. “I think I scared him. I guess putting your hand on your gun will do that.”
—
Once Donna is settled in at home, Sassy and Jimmy take off for the fair. Dusk is starting to set in, and the first signs of lightning bugs are flickering in the fields.
“Do you want to tell me what happened back there?” Jimmy asks.
“Which part?”
It has been a weird afternoon, and she isn’t sure if she wants to get into any of it.
“Well, fill me in on—”
But before Jimmy can finish, Sassy cuts him off, moving her body quickly to face him.
“Have you ever seen something like this before?” she asks while drawing a figure eight with an X into the dust layer on his dash.
“I don’t think so. Is that a weird treasure thing? Like a pirate, with an X marking the spot?” he says while chuckling, proud of his funny remark.
“I don’t know what it is. But I saw it in Bud’s basement, but I couldn’t get a picture. I got interrupted by that guy.”
“Who was this guy, seriously? And why did he rattle you?” Jimmy pleads for any sign of why Sassy is acting off.
“I don’t know if he rattled me. I think I’m just…I don’t know—just off because of everything. Listen, don’t let me shoot anyone tonight.” Sassy quips, trying to break the tension that is building in the truck.
Jimmy knows when to back off, and he does. But—to her surprise—he puts his hand on hers and keeps his eyes forward as he drives. And there they sit in silence, bumping on the dusty road, amongst the fireflies, hand in hand. Both wanting answers to different puzzles.
As they pull into the lot of the fair, the mini city of tents and rides is already packed to the brim. Cheers and screams echo through the dimly lit walkways of BBQ pits and pie stands.
Somehow, Jimmy manages to nab a beer within seconds of entering. And Sassy can only smirk as he starts greeting people like he is the mayor running for office.
Jimmy comes from a simple farming family on the outskirts of the county. They are well-respected, churchgoing Christians who give back as much as they can.
Jimmy’s mother died when he was young, and his father and three older brothers decided Jimmy’s fate for him. He was not going to be a farmer. He was going to go to school. He was going to get an education—something no one in his family had accomplished.
At his swearing-in ceremony (the same as Sassy’s), you had never heard a louder celebration. Farmers came out in droves, honking their horns and parading American flags atop their pickups.
Jimmy loves being a deputy, but the pride he brings his family is his core. It helps define who he is as a man. A brand he wears with insurmountable pride, though he never mentions it.
“Sassy! Come here and get something to eat,” the sweet voice of Ms. Kitcher yells, a former grammar schoolteacher who looks at herself as a surrogate aunt to every kid in town. “I have everything back here. What do you want?”
Sassy leans over the counter—surveying the options. She knows the stakes are high for what’s about to come next.
“What about a slice of that cobbler you have hidden underneath,” Sassy whispers. “I know you have one back there.”
Every year, Ms. Kitcher’s mother—who has to be close to 100 years old, though she will never reveal her age—makes a mixed berry cobbler that would win any blue ribbon in any bake-off in any state.
She always makes one tray, and Ms. Kitcher decides who gets some and who doesn’t. Once Jimmy spots what is happening, he rushes up next to Sassy and pleads for a piece as well.
“I am wasting away! I think my blood sugar is low!” Jimmy begs. “That cobbler may very well save my life, Ms. Kitcher!”
She offers them one piece to share, which immediately leads to an argument over who is eating more and who is eating faster.
Sassy snatches the bowl with the remaining bites, and Jimmy drops his beer, hoisting her into the air, eliciting laughter and cheers from the onlooking crowd.
Sassy is laughing, shoving the final bites into her mouth, when she sees it. Her eyes fix on the image atop a faraway tent. It is dark out, and the image is faint. But it shakes her to her core.
“Put me down,” she says faintly while tapping on Jimmy’s shoulder. But as he continues to spin, Sassy’s tone grows more aggressive. “Put me down, goddammit!”
As Jimmy drops her from his arms, he searches for clues on her face, but before he can register what is happening, Sassy has him by the shirt, dragging him in the direction of the tent.
“What in the hell is going on?” he asks. As they move further into the crowd, Sassy throws the remaining cobbler into the trash, eliciting a yelp from Jimmy.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
But Sassy presses on, pushing through the crowd toward the tent before being stopped in her tracks by Sheriff Aimes.
“Are you two up to no good? I can’t handle the two of you bickering tonight. I will not play parent to one of your arguments.”
Sheriff Aimes has witnessed more back-and-forths between Jimmy and Sassy than he can remember. When they first joined the force, the bickering was nonstop. He now, affectionately, calls those the Dark Ages.
“No, Sheriff, just checking on something I saw,” Sassy says while not paying attention to the sheriff, instead fixing her gaze on her target.
“Do we have a list of the tents or booths here tonight?” she asks with enough authority to make Jimmy and Sheriff Aimes focus.
“I’m not sure. I’d have to ask the mayor’s assistant. I know someone has the approvals list. Want to tell me why you’re asking?” Sheriff Aimes prods.
“Not yet. Just something weird I saw in town and now here. It may be nothing.”
“Can you find out if it’s something before we make it something?” Sheriff Aimes commands, and both Jimmy and Sassy focus up.
“Yes, sir. Jimmy, follow me.” Sassy resumes pushing through the crowd. Passing friends and acquaintances all trying to say hello.
“Want to tell me what’s going on now?” Jimmy pleads.
“Remember that symbol I drew in the car? And that guy I said I ran into back at Bud’s? I saw the symbol again. This time on top of a tent when you picked me up. And that guy. Shit, what was his name?” Sassy stops mid-crowd to think for a minute.
She begins pushing back into her mind, trying to put herself back in Bud’s basement to replay that moment like a tape.
“Shit. What was it?” She is pleading with her brain not to betray her. Then she finds it—Earl. “He told me his name was Earl. And that he needed supplies for his tent that was broken. He had a tent here tonight.”
But why would the symbol from Bud’s basement—where this guy randomly shows up—be on this tent here? Unless he was in that basement. That LOCKED basement before Sassy went down there.
Her mind is racing. She is circling the worst conspiracy theories she can conjure before remembering something that plunges her further into desperate thoughts.
“Before, back at my apartment, my mom said she was scared. That’s why she went there. She was scared. What if she wasn’t scared because she couldn’t remember what was going on or where she was—but because someone was scaring her?”
Sassy’s blood is now boiling. And Jimmy is on her heels. Not convinced something nefarious is going on but convinced Sassy is in a state.
Sassy jumps up on the corner of a booth, pulling her body above the tent’s skyline. The sun has fully fallen, and the sky is wrapped in darkness. Some of the light from the fair helps her see the tent tops, but now they are mostly shrouded in black. She knows the tent is in this direction, but which one?
“I don’t know which one it is,” she says with a panicked voice to Jimmy.
“Okay, let’s take a beat here. How about we go booth by booth and focus on the ones where we don’t know the person?”
Jimmy starts surveying the grounds while they move slowly along the row. Each time they don’t know a booth owner, he pops Sassy up high enough to see the tent top.
Just as they turn a corner, with Sassy propped up on Jimmy’s shoulder, she screams to be put down as she wiggles from Jimmy’s arms.
“What? What is it? Did you see it?” Jimmy pleads while following Sassy as she parts the crowd in front of her like herding cattle.
She races past booth after booth before coming to a halt. Panting and out of breath, Jimmy sees it as he catches up.
“Holy shit,” Jimmy says.
As rage fills Sassy’s eyes, she looks at the empty booth spot in front of her. A tent recently taken down. Packed up in a hurry. Debris strewn on the ground.
“Son of a bitch,” Sassy mutters as she stands in front of the plot with a churning in her gut. “What the hell is going on?”
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