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and vinegar.
    â€œI’ve been wanting to talk to you anyway, Olive Oyl. Who the hell were you on my phone with, yesterday?”
    â€œA computer,” he lied. “It said we’d won a cruise to Jamaica.”
    Gudger frowned. “I’m on the Do Not Call list, Olive Oyl.”
    â€œWell it called, just the same.”
    â€œThen why’d you say it was your call?” asked Gudger.
    â€œI thought it might be Mom,” he replied.
    â€œShe doesn’t call on that line. She always calls my cell.”
    â€œWell, she could have forgotten.” Riding a sudden swell of defiance, he said, “She could have just wanted to talk to me!”
    â€œYou’re lying, Olive Oyl,” Gudger said. “Just like you lied about going fishing yesterday. I’m gonna straighten you out, boy. I can stand a lot of things, but not a liar. Since you’re so bright and bushy-tailed today, how about you go and grub out that poison ivy along the back fence?”
    He couldn’t believe what he heard. Was Gudger actually sending him to the very spot he needed to go? “Over by Mrs. Carver’s?” He pointed over his right shoulder.
    â€œNaw, I don’t want you near that old witch. I want you over there.” Gudger pointed to the opposite corner of the yard—a football field away from where he needed to go.
    â€œI-I’m not sure what poison ivy looks like,” Chase said.
    Gudger spread three fingers. “Three green leaves on one long stem. It’s a vine, coils up around things. Go get a hoe from the shed.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œGet up there, boy.” Gudger snapped his paper back open. “I’m tired of your lying nonsense.”
    Chase turned, fighting back tears. Whatever you did, however hard you tried to get past him, Gudger was always there—grinning, leering, grinding him down into something that felt mostly like a fool.

    Miles away, Mary Crow was walking into the office of Richard Drake, district attorney for Campbell County. He was a tall, thin-faced man who buttoned his suit coat as he rose from his chair.
    â€œMs. Crow.” He nodded, extending his hand. “How nice to meet you.”
    She shook his hand, wondering what you should say to someone you were supposed to light a fire under. Sorry I have to be here? I know you’re a good lawyer, but the governor thinks you have the balls of a chipmunk and is less than pleased with your performance? She couldn’t decide, so finally she just settled on, “Nice to meet you, too.”
    â€œPlease have a seat.” He offered her a chair, then got right to the point. “I understand that the Honorable Ann Chandler is unhappy with our lack of an indictment for Bryan Taylor’s murder.”
    Mary smiled, grateful that the man was brave enough not to shillyshally around. Still, she tried to be diplomatic. “The governor is always troubled when murder indictments are overly long in coming. But I think she’s even more dismayed by the anti-gay sentiment in this county. She thinks it sullies the state’s reputation and she’s particularly concerned that this Reverend Trull is feeding the flames with all his sermons against homosexuals.”
    â€œI don’t like Trull any more than Ann Chandler does,” said Drake. “He’s a fanatic who’s embarrassed the county with that ridiculous video. But Trull notwithstanding, the majority of people in this county are conservative Christians. They believe homosexuality is a choice and a sin.”
    â€œAnd does this belief extend to violence toward gay people?”
    â€œOf course not. Most folks here take ‘love the sinner, hate the sin’ to heart.”
    â€œWell, clearly, someone beat Bryan Taylor into a very early grave.”
    â€œBut we don’t know whether his killer had any connections with Reverend Trull.”
    â€œBut you don’t think Trull has upped the ante