Page 10 of All Good People Here

Krissy almost scoffed. “An enemy? No. This is Wakarusa. Everyone here’s very…close.”

“So, no one you can think of who’d write those words on your wall?”

Those words,Krissy thought with a jolt. Somehow, throughout their conversation, she’d forgotten about them. The only logical assumption you could make about them was that they had indeed been written by some sort of “enemy.” Krissy took a bolstering breath—this was her opportunity to get the detective on the right track. Everything else was a distraction from those words.

“No one specific comes to mind,” she said. “But it was obviously some psycho who wrote it, right? Some sociopath? I mean, those words are not the type you hear every day in this town.” She racked her brain for every possible explanation. “What if it’s a jealousy thing? Billy’s family, well—you’re not from around here—but they’ve always sort of been like royalty. In high school, we used to call Billy the king of Wakarusa. What if someone’s jealous of that and wants to—I don’t know, make us pay? The Jacobs family has always been so…looked-up-to in town. Billy’s grandfather donated a ton of money to the town. The school gym’s named after him. And he bought up most of the surrounding land, passed it on to Billy’s dad when he died.”

“I see,” Townsend said. “And does Billy’s father still own it now?”

“Oh. No. Billy’s parents died in a car accident when he was seven. He lived with his grandmother until she died a few years back and he inherited everything.”

He nodded, jotted something down.

“And if that’s the case,” Krissy continued, starting to get on a roll, “they probably want some sort of ransom.”

The detective studied her face, then said, “We’ll certainly lookinto it. We have people by the phones, though no one’s attempted to make contact. And so far, we haven’t found anything to indicate that someone’s making demands. But like I said, we’ll keep an eye out. Do you have any other theories?”

Krissy looked down at her lap and noticed her hands were knotted tightly together. “I…Well, what about the dancing thing? I mean, we take January to competitions. I know she’s only six, but they’re the real deal. There’re judges, contestants from all over the state. There can be seventy-five, a hundred people in the audience. And January’s good. You saw it—all those medals.”

The detective leaned forward. “So you’re saying you think it could be a competition thing? Someone was jealous of your daughter’s success?”

“Well, or…what if there was someone in the audience who had no business being there? Some of those men…” But she couldn’t finish the rest of the sentence. Between this and that photo of January in her nautical-themed costume, Krissy felt like the worst mom in the world.This is what you get.

“Ah,” Townsend said. “I see. You think the performances could have attracted some unwanted attention?”

Krissy hitched a shoulder, unable to look him in the eye, fat tears dropping onto her pajama pants. “I don’t know, but what else could explain those words? They’re…You just don’t hear that sort of talk here in Wakarusa.”

“So you’ve said.” Magician that he was, Townsend suddenly produced another tissue out of thin air. “Thank you for your thoroughness on this, Mrs. Jacobs. I can assure you we’ll look into every possible lead.” He slapped his hands on his knees. “Now, Detective Lacks should be wrapping up with your husband and I think it’s about time we get you two out of here. Would you like to change clothes? Then she and I will drive you both to the station where we’ll do fingerprints and some other logistical stuff.Officer Jones will meet us there with your son. Hopefully a change of scenery will help shake something loose.”

—

At the state police station in nearby South Bend, a new officer they hadn’t met before walked Krissy and Billy through the fingerprinting process, then fixed them each cups of coffee and told them to sit in the uncomfortable metal chairs in the hallway until someone escorted them to wherever they were meant to go next. As they sat, Officer Jones, with the big ears and breasts, appeared through the front door, Jace’s small hand swallowed up in hers. At the sight of her son, Krissy felt breathless with nerves. She wanted to tuck him away, to wrap him up and hide him. But she was only allowed a quick hug before he was swept off again for “coloring and maybe even another cookie.”

Shortly after, Krissy found herself yet again in a room alone with Detective Townsend, sitting across from him at a rickety metal table. In the center sat an already whirring recorder.

“I’d like to take a few minutes,” he said, “to ask about you and Billy.”

“Me and Billy?” she repeated. “What does that have to do with the investigation?”

“Well, as you mentioned, whoever wrote those words on the wall could have been motivated by some sort of personal grudge.”

“Oh. Right. Of course.”

He gave her one of those flat smiles of his that she was beginning to hate. “So how did you two meet?”

She hitched a shoulder. “The same way everyone here meets. We’ve known each other our whole lives.”

“I see…And how did you start dating?”

At that, Krissy closed her eyes, and then she was back to the summer of 1987.

—

That summer began with a party. It was the week after high school graduation, and Krissy’s friend Dave had had the idea to throw one on the school’s football field. Or not a party exactly, just some beers with friends and whatever “surprise” Dave had promised them.

Billy’s arrival that night made Krissy both delighted and shocked. Although she’d invited him earlier that day when he was buying feed from the grain elevator where she worked, she didn’t think in the four years they’d been in high school together that she’d ever seen him out before.

“Well, well,” Krissy called across the darkened football field when his figure came into view. “If it isn’t Billy Jacobs.”

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