Page 8 of Every Sweet Thing Is Bitter

After half an hour of searching, one of the Nelson boys calls out for us. “Hold up, guys! I found a bone!” We converge upon the bare patch of earth he squats over. My heartbeat is deafening.

Mitesh Jadhav pinches the object between his thumb and forefinger. He holds it up to the setting sun for examination before throwing it back at the Nelson boy.

“It’s a chicken foot, you idiot.”

The search produces nothing of value. We return to the rallying point sweaty, exhausted, overheated, and a little less hopeful than we were a couple hours ago. I drink half a bottle of water in one swallow before dumping the rest over my head to cool off.

“It’s Providence, isn’t it?”

Up close, Daniel looks straight out of central casting for a handsome but jaded police chief, late thirties, his jaw square and his eyes cold. A bald patch, skin cloudy from scar tissue, cuts along his five o’clock shadow. He has eyelashes long enough to make women jealous. I make sure to shake his hand firmly.

I don’t care if you’re a girl, my father’s voice booms in my head.You shake hands like a man.

“It’s nice to put a name to the face,” he says, though his biting tone makes it clear the last word he would use to describe our introduction isnice. He winces at the large moth tattoo on my thigh. “I’ve heard about you for years. Sara told me they called you Teeth in prison.”

“They sure did.”

“Why?”

I repay his brusqueness with a lie. “I used to have ugly teeth. I looked like a goblin. We were too poor for the orthodontist.”

He pours his own bottle of water over his head. If I’m hot in shorts and a long-sleeved shirt, he’s flirting with heatstroke in his starchy, all-black uniform. “She wanted me to give you an update myself. I can’t speak for Sheriff Eastman and Tillman County, but as for the reservation, I can tell you we’re going to send divers into the lake tomorrow, see if they find anything.”

“You’re looking for a body.”

“I don’t want to be grim.”

I lower myself onto a cool patch of grass. Ants tickle my hands. “Grim is fine, as long as it’s honest.”

“Again, I can’t speak for Tillman County, but … yeah, our focus is on recovering her remains. We have a couple patrols on the roads just in case, but I think it’s better to be realistic.”

“Do you think her body is on the reservation?”

“Where better to dump a body?” he asks. “Too much land and not enough cops. We’re six times the size of Tillman County.”

I appease him with a nod. “Did you talk to my sisters?”

“I don’t know them. I’m talking to you as a favor to Sara.”

Behind him, people head for their cars. An older woman I don’t recognize balls up my mother’s poster and drops it on the ground. “She didn’t tell me how charming you were,” I quip.

“I don’t like you staying with her,” he says. “I’d rather she leaves prison behind completely.”

“You don’t have to like it. She’s my friend.”

“And she’s my sister.”

I raise my hands in surrender. This is a tussle I can save for another day. “I’m here to find out what happened to my mother. Sara was kind enough to make sure I didn’t have to sleep in my car while I look for her. She’s a good friend.”

“Maybe a little too good.” He offers me his hand as I stand up, but I pretend not to see it. How magnanimous of him, being chivalrous to a felon. He shakes his head at my petty rejectionand smirks. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t feel the same way if the shoe was on the other foot. I’m looking out for my family. You’d do the same.”

“If that’s what you think, you don’t know the first thing about me. Family is just a word.”

CHAPTER

4

August 10th

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