Page 116 of Reckoning

She went to work the next day, explained what had been asked of Tate, and asked for one day off to help him. David’s response was an immediate yes.

She told Tate, and while he went to the airport to pin down a pilot with a chopper, she sent a text to her dad, telling him they would be on the ground in Star Ridge by nine o’clock tomorrow morning, and that the people need to gather in the park at the gazebo for the reckoning. For the ones who’ve lost someone, they are to bring an object that belonged to who’s lost, or a photo of them, and he’ll do what he does, and then we’re gone.

Roger was startled by the fact that they wouldn’t even stay the night and knew it was because of the woman under his roof. But he gave out the information with one last word of warning. Deny Tate Bandy his reckoning, and he would leave them standing.

Tate ordered supplies to be delivered to the airport and loaded on the helicopter. The pilot was willing to wait on-site to fly them out. The plan was rushed, but if it all came together, they’d be home before dark the same night.

* * *

When Roger told Mariah she was also required to put her hand on the Bible and apologize to his face, she lost her shit. She screamed, and stomped, and swore she wouldn’t, then sat down and bawled.

But Roger had her beat. “If you pull that stunt tomorrow, then every single citizen of this town will hate you more and blame you for the reason their child is still lost and they still can’t find their husband, and I will take your house key and my credit card and send your ass back to your parents with a one-way ticket. That’s what’s going to happen. So, either pack your shit and get out now, or shut your mouth and do as you’re asked.”

Mariah crumbled. Going back to Savannah was a hell she did not want to revisit. “That’s a terrible way to speak to your wife,” she muttered.

“I don’t have a wife. I have a live-in bitch who’s more trouble than she’s worth,” he said, and walked out of the room.

* * *

Briar slept in Tate’s arms and woke up the same way. They dressed without much conversation, each preparing for the stress of the day ahead. They were in the air and leaving New Orleans by daybreak.

Briar slept on Tate’s shoulder all the way and didn’t wake up until she felt the shift of motion. Her heart skipped. They were over Star Ridge, about to set down in the park. The crowd was waiting to issue an apology. She felt Tate tense, and then he reached for her hand.

“Stay by me today. It’s going to be really, really hard. Not everybody down there wants answers, but there are many who do. Don’t let me forget to eat or drink. I’ll fade faster if I skip.”

“I will always have your back. Let’s do this.”

Moments later, the chopper was on the ground. The rotor wash was fierce as it began to wind down, and when it stopped, they got out and started walking toward the gazebo.

Chief Pliney Watts came running. “What do you need?” he asked.

“There are supplies to unload in the chopper. The pilot will show you.”

“Supplies?”

Tate nodded. “Since supplies can’t come through, baby diapers, formula, bottled water, baby food.”

Surprised by the thoughtful gesture, he sent deputies to get the stuff and take it to Sparks Grocery, to be distributed as needed, while Tate and Briar kept walking across the park hand in hand.

One huge imposing man with an elegant stride and one beautiful, strong-willed woman at his side. They looked neither right nor left as they moved through the crowd and up into the gazebo, out of the sun.

The preacher from the First Baptist Church was waiting with a Bible. Briar moved aside as Tate stepped in front of the preacher and faced the crowd.

“You asked. I came. The price I asked is a reckoning for every lie you said about me. For every tear my mother shed. You need to say it. I need to hear it. You cannot ask for a blessing with hate in your heart. Pay your debt to me, and I will help the ones really in need. Understand this. I do this only for whom you’ve lost. They’re why I came. They need to be found.”

Then he moved to stand beside the preacher as they began filing past. He saw their faces. He heard their words and felt their shame and anger as they moved past. And somewhere in the lineup Roger Lowe was coming toward him.

When Roger stepped up and said the words, he was openly weeping as he moved away.

Briar saw her mother then, watching the furtive glances she was giving the people as she put her hand on the Bible then looked away.

“To my face,” Tate said.

She turned pale and lifted her chin. “I apologize for the lies. Forgive me.”

“Apologize for what you did to my mother,” he said.

Mariah was scared. Tate Bandy had become a formidable man. “I’m sorry. So sorry for how I treated your mother. I was wrong.”