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“They’re my mom’s silkies.”
“Lula, what did I say about another cookie and being good? Go watch your cartoons.” Ruby snagged a bag of candy and a silver compact from Lula’s arms. When Lula was in the living room watching TV, Ruby rubbed her temple. “Those are my undergarments, and that compact was Atta’s. I gave it to her for her birthday last year. The candy—she kept a bag in her car. Total Skittles addict. Someone has been leaving these gifts for Lula down by the crick. She’s never seen him. Only his back. She calls him Him. It’s nothing to worry about, just weird.”
Violet would beg to differ. “Someone came into your home and stole these. Then he fashioned a dress from them and made a doll to give your preschool-aged daughter. And you won’t let her go play outside. Nothing to worry about? Really?”
Ruby collapsed in the kitchen chair. “I have a friend in the sheriff’s office, and he’s been looking into it. Says it’s nothing to worry about. He put new locks on my doors. And anyway, no one is going to hurt me.” She stared at the floor either in shame or because she couldn’t look Violet in the eye while lying to herself.
“Why?”
“Because...”
Because she felt she had a measure of protection because she had a child with Whiskey, a relationship, unlike the other women. That wasn’t enough.
“Just because Whiskey is Lula’s father and whatever that makes him to you, doesn’t mean you’re untouchable, Ruby. Women he ‘protects’ are dying. I think the killer stole underwear from Bella Dawn. I found it as a scarf on Mason’s doll. Now she’s missing. Did any of the other girls mention they’d had undergarments stolen?” None had children, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t stealing their underwear. He’d stolen Violet’s. It had to be the same man.
“I don’t recall it. No. But then I never said anything about mine so...” Ruby rubbed her lips together. “And as far as Whiskey and Lula, who told you that?”
“I’m good at the dot-to-dot game. Are you a couple?”
Ruby’s laugh was icy. “No. But he looks out for us.” She eyed the bag again.
“What’s in that bag? You don’t want me to know, but you’re giving it away because you keep drawing attention to it.”
Ruby stood and walked to the counter, let her fingers graze the canvas material. “You have no idea how great you have it. You get to go wherever you want. Make your own choices. Nothing to fear. Hide from. You save people’s lives. You do good.” She turned then. “I wish I had your life.”
Irony. Violet had been wishing for Ruby’s life. But now that she had a closer look, was maternal love enough? “If you have people looking out for you, then what are you afraid of? Who are you hiding from?” Violet carried her cup to the sink and set it beside a few other dishes. “You wouldn’t want my life, Ruby. I’m here because of dead people. I show up when death isn’t prevented.” She laid her hand on the bag, noticed their nails had the same shape. “I could help you though. Whiskey only looks out for Whiskey. You know that, right?”
Ruby’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m leaving,” she whispered. “I’m leaving Night Holler. I’m taking Lula, and we’re getting our own life. A better life.”
Why was she telling her this? Because there was no one else to tell. Because she needed support and help. “Do you need me to help you get out from under him?”
She shook her head. “He’s going to help me. But you’re right. He’s only helping me because I’m going to help him. But we’ll be set. We’ll have money, and I can go somewhere nice. Where Lula can grow up and be someone better than who she’d be here. Better than me. Anything besides me.”
“You could come to Memphis. I can help you.” The words tumbled out, and she instantly regretted them. How could she help Ruby and her daughter? She wasn’t that kind of person. She didn’t get personally involved.
But she was her sister.
And Ruby wasn’t a serial killer. Wicked. Vile. She was under the thumb of a man who imprisoned her with fear and bargained with her life. “What’s in this bag?”
“I can’t tell you. And I know by law you can’t look. It’s not tied to your case. But it’s going to buy me freedom.”
Violet doubted that, but she was impressed with her cleverness. “If what I think is in that bag and you get caught...you’ll lose your freedom and your daughter. Does your mom or Mother know about your plans?”
“No.” She grabbed Violet’s hands, pleading in her eyes. “And you have to promise not to tell them.”
It would endanger them, and she was trying to protect them. That was why she was talking to Violet. She was an outsider who wouldn’t tattletale. “Okay. But if you change your mind and you decide you don’t want to take this risk,” she handed her a business card, “you can call me. I—” What was going on with her? “I’ll help you. I can help you get set up in Memphis.”
Ruby half smiled. “I believe you. Maybe, maybe I will.”
“In the meantime, you can’t trust anyone, Ruby. Not even Regis Owsley. I know you’re friends. No one. Keep your doors locked. This guy has a religious background and is serious about it. He’s killing women who clean houses.” She pointed to the duffel bag. “What do you do for a living, Ruby? Are you a Whiskey Girl?” Her heart sped up, and her blood turned to ice.
Ruby looked away. “Not exactly.”
“Are you a holler girl? Do you really clean houses?”
She ran her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’m between jobs,” she murmured. “Now. But I, for real, cleaned houses.”
Violet noticed Ruby hadn’t actually denied prostituting or drug running though. Maybe she had done both. She wanted out. She might have also legit cleaned some house to save up money to leave. Violet recognized shame reddening Ruby’s cheeks. But she had helped Violet piece together the difference between both girls. If someone wanted a Whiskey Girl, they wanted drugs. If they were after sex, they asked for a holler girl.
