Disclaimer: Justified ain't mine. Sadly. Comments welcome.

Author Note: The ever lovely and wonderful AndItsOuttaHere gave me a prompt some time ago of: Boyd/Ava - road trip. This is the result. I also owe a huge debt of thanks for checking the dialogue for me (I don't speak American, let alone Southern!), holding my hand and generally being fabulous. Thank you very much - and I hope you enjoy this as much the second time around!

Please Note: The rating for this will increase in later chapters.

Crossfire

Prologue

The day after the fire, Arlene Lefferts stood on the porch of her house and surveyed the damage. The barn had been almost razed to the ground, a few blackened beams still standing but it was mainly a pile of ash and burnt wood.

Her mouth was held tight, teeth clamped hard together.

She didn't turn when the screen-door creaked but she heard Ronnie's heavy tread and then a long soft sigh.

'Well, they made a good job of it.' She glanced at him then and he scratched his head with his forefinger. A big man with patient eyes but there was a tiredness in them now that ran deeper than she had ever seen.

'Didn't know those Jenkins boys had it in them.'

'We don't know it was them,' Ronnie said gently.

'Of course it was!' She swallowed the anger, the strain showing in her face; when she spoke again her voice was hard and flat. 'Everybody knows it was them and there ain't a damn thing we can do about it.' A breath caught, held deep before she blew it back out again, eyes back on the blackened mess. 'I don't know what we're going to do, Ronnie.'

The porch floorboards squeaked under his work-boots and a hand landed on her shoulder; he squeezed it, fingers curling clumsily, and the corners of her mouth twitched in response. After Ronnie went back inside, Arlene stayed on the porch, leaned against the railings. It was a hot day, the air dry and unforgiving. Her hair clung to her neck in damp tendrils, the thin cotton dress feeling heavy and uncomfortable. Everything was uncomfortable, even her own skin. It felt worn-down. Stretched. And the air still tasted of smoke. She closed her eyes against the sight of the scarred earth and the blistered stumps of wood, opened them again when she heard a car pull up.

Arlene started moving before she had quite registered the markings on the side of the vehicle. She knew who it would be and she didn't want that man any further on her property than she could help. He stopped by the old trough that she had punched holes in and turned into a planter. The trailing flowers and leaves had gone un-watered that day and they were already limp, their colours faded. He put one foot up on the edge, rested his elbows on his bended knee and waited for her.

Anyone would think he owned the damn place and she thought that if she'd had a gun in her hands she might just well have used it on him. She walked fast, her body prickling with sweat and anger; the burn of the sun caught the back of her neck.

'Arlene.' He nodded to her as she approached and took off his sunglasses; they dangled carelessly between his fingers. His other hand rested on the gun at his hip.

'Lowell.' He wasn't a big man, not particularly tall and his frame was compact, wiry. A lined face and dark hair that always looked curiously lifeless. 'What are you here for?'

'Well now, seeing as how your barn got all burned up last night I got to take a statement. But that'll keep. Right now I'm just here to say I'm mighty sorry for your trouble; seems to me like it's about the last thing you were needing, coming on top of everything else.'

Her nails bit into the palms of her hands. 'Pity no-one was as fast getting over here before my place got burned up.'

He leant forward slightly. 'Now, Arlene, the truck was already out, them boys was up over Amos' old place. Weather being so dry and all everyplace is going up like tinder.'

She laughed, a sharp bark. 'A wildfire and it only hits my barn?'

He shrugged and pulled his lips back. Something had gone wrong on the assembly line, she thought, someone had put the teeth and the mind of a shark into a man's head. 'These things happen.'

'And you should know.'

The shark's smile hadn't reached his eyes: they were black and cold and hard. 'You're upset and I'm going to bear that in mind and pretend that you didn't just go making accusations about a police official.' His foot slipped off the rim of the trough and he was standing a little too close to her. She could smell the cheap aftershave and her stomach roiled. 'Even with all your trouble you still look mighty good today, Arlene.'

She could feel the twitch in her face, disgust twisting at her mouth.

'You might want to think about packing up - ain't no life out here for a woman on her own.'

'I ain't on my own,' she said, tight.

Another smile and he turned away, called over his shoulder: 'I'll be back. '

He walked back towards the car, a slow rolling gait and Arlene kept her eyes on the vehicle until it had threaded through the holler in a haze of dust. The sound of the engine died away and the silence around her strengthened again. And she released a shaking breath though her teeth.

It wasn't just her skin that was worn thin, it was all the threads of her life. She raked her hands through her hair, fingers twisting into the roots and she stayed like that for a while, her eyes shut tight against the pressure behind them. Then she took another breath and let it go and smoothed down her hair and went back into the house.