A Killing at the Creek: An Ozarks Mystery

INSIDE THE HOT cinder-­block room, Tanner Monroe sat on the top bunk of the metal bunk bed, swinging his bare feet over the side, jabbing at his middle finger with a ballpoint pen.

He looked up. “Don’t move,” he said.

In the corner facing the wall, Barry Bacon crouched with his arms wrapped around his knees. “My legs are cramping up, man,” he said.

“That’s too fucking bad,” Tanner said, adjusting his position on the narrow mattress. “I gave you two chances.”

Barry breathed heavily. His skinny fingers snaked around his calf, and he rubbed the offending muscle.

“Stop it.”

Barry wailed in reply. “This is killing me, man. This is bullshit.”

“I warned you, asshat. Yesterday and this morning.”

Barry didn’t reply. He rolled over on his back, stretching out his legs. He turned his face, twisted into a grimace of pain.

Tanner laughed. “Look at you. Pussy.”

A rap at the door interrupted Barry’s response. Tanner whispered, “Sit up,” as a key rattled in the lock.

Lisa Peters’s head popped through the open door. “You guys ready for lunch?”

When she looked at Barry huddled on the floor, a puzzled expression replaced the smile she had worn. “Barry? What are you doing?” With a laugh, she added, “That floor’s pretty dirty.”

He began to gasp in distress. Lisa hurried to him and knelt at his side. “Barry! Are you sick?”

“I picked my nose!”

“Shut up,” Tanner said.

“What?” asked Lisa, looking from one boy to the other.

“He said I had to crouch down here like a dog. Because I picked my fucking nose. Jesus,” the boy wailed, as he began to cry.

“What’s going on here? Tanner?” She turned on the bunk bed and glared at Tanner, her body tensed like a boxer’s.

“Oh man, Lisa,” Tanner said, hopping down from the top bunk. “It’s a sick habit, it’ll lose him friends. I was trying to help. Like behavior mod.”

“He ain’t helping me,” Barry cried.

“Oh, dude.” Tanner grasped Barry’s arm and pulled him to a stand. “I learned it in psych class. Last year. It’s like, when you want to quit something, you got to reinforce it. Helps you remember not to do it.”

“Tanner, it’s not your place,” Lisa said, as Barry twisted his arm away from Tanner’s hold.

“He made me crawl on the floor like a dog,” Barry cried.

Tanner slipped both hands into the pocket of his jeans. “Shit, girls will never come near you if you can’t lose your nasty habits. You’ll be jerking off your whole life.”

“Quit it,” Barry said.

“Stop,” Lisa ordered. Pointing at the folding chair under the window, she said, “Tanner, give us some space.”

Tanner sauntered over to the chair and sat. Crossing an ankle over one knee, he watched them with an innocent face. Lisa gave Barry’s shoulder a squeeze. “Do you need anything? An Advil? It’s lunchtime. Do you want some private time before you go down to the cafeteria?”

Barry shook his head. His nose was running, and he swiped at it with the back of his hand.

“Dude. Barry,” Tanner said in an encouraging voice. “Let’s get some damned food. You and me need to hit it before those fucks get their germs all over everything.”

Barry nodded, mute.

Tanner rose from the folding chair, approaching Barry with a grin, slapping him on the back. “Let’s move. Don’t want anybody to sit in our spot.” To Lisa, Tanner said, “Me and Barry sit on the end. Near the food line. We always sit there, across from each other.”

When Barry didn’t respond, Tanner put an arm around his shoulders and gave him a little shake. “Ain’t that right, man?”

Barry bobbed his head, slowly. “Yeah. We got a special spot.”

“Come on,” Tanner said, walking through the door, but Lisa restrained him with a hand on his arm.

“We’re going to have to talk about this. This isn’t over. You know I won’t tolerate bullying. I won’t put up with it.”

Tanner Monroe flashed a smile at her, displaying a set of white teeth that were perfectly straight, except for one eyetooth that protruded through the gum like a fang. “Talk with you, Lisa? Hell yeah. Anytime.”