Atop Lear Mountain, lightning struck with a boom. Thunder cascaded over the land, rebounded, and echoed among the trees. Indignant crows flew at the night, sigh of the murder low. No drop had fallen, yet the storm built by the hour. Relentless heat was a scourge upon the body that left it dazed. Mangled flames shuddered in the stillness, and shadows lingered beyond their light. Each flash drove the darkness deep, though only for a moment. Tang of the fog was salty, like lips covered in blood.

Cerulean lightning split the heavens to cast its harsh light upon them. Hard faces glared at the high gate. Deep lines of their faces held an obstinate doom. Rough hands, use to relentless toil, gripped tools for different work. Such men knew the value of blood, and the price tendered. Endless drudgery would break them, once their bodies failed. All their lives paid for the ones they loved. A chance the next generation would have an easier life was worth any price.

So, when blood was stolen, disquiet fell. None expected an easy life. All desired equal expiation. Thievery was never to go unpunished. They wanted their trespassers to give, as much as that taken. Sheriff Rutger stood at the crowd's lip. Men of his blood had gathered with him. Clint Gregory, too eat up with cancer to come, had sent many to repay Seth's death. The heads of the families had sworn to get satisfaction. Back when their people had come to Hemlock Hurst, it was to free the Van Lear's slaves. They had stayed after that night of hellish bloodshed. Cassidy Bullock had disappeared, which was a portents of the ill that befell. The General would never give up anything, and they tell of that horror, even today. Tales made the past ever present. One day, they knew the Confederates would pay for their sins.

Justice is about balance. To one side it may be tipped with the mercurial heart. Those who carried the sword must keep them sheathed, unless malevolence needed to be stilled. Always it shifted, for the world was filled with those ready to do ill. Rutger took in equal measure to see the scales leveled.

Jesse and Seth had been taken from them. The County Judge had set bail, and Rutger noticed he had a fancy car parked beside his house. He looked at the starlight caught on the symbol of his office, but put it in his pocket. Everyone knew Jacob would never see the inside of the jail. Money had a way of setting the rich free, when their sins come to be counted. Old justice needed no verdict, but only to be carried out by the righteous.

He rested a hand on the revolver, and prayed his heart be virtuous. Another bolt lit the night as midday. Beyond the heavy gate, Barnett smiled under his trilby hat. Rutger's hand dipped, but he already pointed a large caliber pistol at the Sheriff. Both watched the other.

The Van Lear Family had other men, hard cases, but Barnett was the worse. They stood on the other side of the gate, and others stood on the wall. Rutger held a hand up, as his men cursed. Thunder rolled. Lightning struck the earth to dazzle the world, but all kept their eyes on the Sheriff.

"Sheriff," Marie called, "this isn't the way."

His eyes cut to her, but his hand hovered over the revolver, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm trying to figure out what is happening in Hemlock Hurst," she stood between Barnett and the Sheriff.

"So am I," his eyes cut back the Van Lear hard cases.

"No," lush green eyes, flecked with gold, found his hard gaze, "you want to fight. I know you're angry, but they have the drop on you."

"They have all the money in the world," he relaxed and the edge in the Sheriff's men softened, "but we have all the time in the world."

"Is it really justice to just murder a man?"

Rutger's countenance became baleful, "I'll have justice for my blood."

"And, I'll help you," she lowered her hands, "I just need more time."

"I never asked for your help."

"I never asked for you permission," she hooked her thumbs in the blue jeans' belt loops.

He nodded, and the corner of his lips twitched. Marie sounded so much like Bethany, it unnerved him. "My…boy was the last straw," he rubbed his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"You've been gone for a long time," he looked at the men, some had missing family. "There have been some disappearances."

"I heard that women disappeared."

"Women," Rutger looked into her eyes, "They just vanish like they stopped existing. It has been going on for a while." He cursed Bethany's illness, for she had seen only red lace.

"Are you talking about a serial killer?" she blinked. "I don't know what this has to do with Jacob," she frowned, "and the murders."

"Jacob is always around," he scowled, "every time there is a disappearance. Tim's friend, people had seen him near the apartment on the day she just left."

"So, you don't have any evidence that directly connects him."

"I know Carol saw Jacob," his face darkened, "but I don't know why she is protecting him. She used her little pistol on someone. She is a great shot," his gaze wondered from Marie, "and would never miss at that distance."

Marie recalled the chaos of Jacob's room, like an animal that had been trapped. She had never let guilt or innocence interfere with an investigation. "She missed," she said slowly, "because she wanted to miss. Who did she try to scare?"

"I think it was Jacob," Rutger nodded, now relaxed, "But Carol didn't actually see him do it. There is too much evidence placing him near the disappearances."

"The other girls," she said, shadows moved, and whispers murmured, "is there a lot of them?"

"I'm unsure of how many total," the lines deepened in his face with another flash. "A lot of people have disappeared, as the town has died. By the time one of the female addicts die, she is used up, and their own Blood has already let them go."