Echoes of the Fall

by Hank Early

  No, I thought. It wasn’t her fault. It was no one’s fault but my own.

  I dropped the candlestick holder onto the floor and turned around.

  “I heard the commotion from my place …” She stepped into the room. “You know, I messed up before. And it’s caused you pain.”

  “Nah,” I said, and surprised myself by smiling at my own joke. “What would make you think that?”

  She smiled too, but it was a sad smile, and somehow, against all reason, I felt for her. Stupid, I know, but there it was. She had made a mistake, but how could she have known what it would unleash? That was the way life worked, it seemed. Every decision, no matter how inconsequential—or consequential—was filled with a dread potential, and you couldn’t know for sure how your life would be able to coexist with that potential once it was free and able to squirm around the world.

  “I know it sounds crazy, but … well, you seem like you’re going through some shit, shit I caused, and I’m going through some shit maybe some other people caused too. Maybe we could be there for each other?”

  For a moment, what she was saying didn’t register with me. I was still in a state of shock from the tantrum I’d just pitched. How in the hell had I managed to drag the refrigerator into the den?

  “Hey,” she said. “Over here.”

  I looked at her. The words she’d said previously registered somewhat dimly inside my head. I thought of whiskey and I thought of her, and they seemed pretty close to the same thing at that moment. Salves, both of them, but not salvation.

  * * *

  Like the whiskey I craved so much, the sex with Daphne was good—no, great—until it wasn’t. The moment of change was almost indiscernible, hidden inside the ecstasy of our orgasms. She peeled herself off of me, and as soon as her body lost contact with mine, I felt more alone than I ever had in my entire life.

  She shivered. “Got a chill. You running the air?”

  I shook my head, looking at her nakedness, trying to make myself care about her again to stop the pain.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “For what?”

  “This is a bad idea.”

  She grabbed her panties, balled them in her fist, and wiped her crotch with them. Then she shimmied into her blue jeans. “Nah. It’s a great idea. You’re just a man. Women don’t matter to you after it’s over. Give your body time to build up some of that love juice and I’ll be the best idea you ever thought of.”

  “No,” I said, horrified at everything that statement revealed about her and most of all about me. Because she was right. And it hurt me to know how right she was, how wrong my behavior was.

  “Don’t look so pitiful, okay? I owed you one for screwing up things with your girl. Besides, you didn’t take advantage of me. I liked what we just did. Hell, I could go again, but something tells me, at your age, I better check with you tomorrow.”

  I rubbed my face. We were both adults. We both had our eyes wide open. At least now we did. I’d been a little late to the party, too blinded by my need for a little soothing to see she wanted the same thing. Yet I still felt bad. Sick, even. Maybe because it put what I’d had with Mary in such sharp relief. All of it was ecstasy with Mary. The dance before and after the act. Our lives commingled with the kind of rhythm that made every moment special. And now I was searching for even one moment of special. No, not special, just a moment of nothingness that sex could provide.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said.

  “Don’t,” I said.

  She put a finger to her lips. “Shh.”

  * * *

  I got the call a few minutes after she left. I picked up my phone, praying it would be Rufus. Instead the screen said Incoming Call Coulee County Sheriff.

  “Hello?”

  “Well, if it ain’t Mr. White Guilt. To what do I owe the pleasure?” It was Argent. Of course, it was Argent. Who else would it be?

  “I explained it to the dispatch already,” I said.

  “Well, explain it again. My eyes are bad. Reading those notes makes my head hurt.”

  I thought about just hanging up. I might have, too, but then I realized if I was ever going to bring Argent down, I’d need ammunition. Reporting a missing person he wouldn’t even bother to look for could be that ammunition one day.

  “My friend Rufus Gribble is missing.”

  “Let’s see …” he said, speaking in a slow, exaggerated drawl. “Spell that.”

  I spelled it through clenched teeth.

  “Gribble. Now, that’s an unusual name.”

  “Aren’t you going to ask me where he was last seen?”

  “Huh?”

  “Last known whereabouts. Ask me something.”

  “I’m sorry, are you the sheriff?”

  “Fuck you.”

  He laughed. “Last time I checked, I’m the one with the badge. I’m the one who the good people of Coulee County have entrusted to do this job the right way.”

  “This is a waste of time.”

  “You might be right about that. I tell you what I’m going to do, Mr. White Guilt. I’m going to make a report on this call. I go by the book, you know? In that report, I’ll note that Mr. Gribble is a blind man and has been known to wander these hills alone. The report will show, in my personal opinion, that Mr. Gribble has become lost. I’ll explain, of course, that we sent some deputies and dogs out to his favorite haunts and turned up nothing. Then I’ll file this in the missing persons file. End of story.”

  “I want to be there when the dogs go out.”

  “Sure.”

  “When will it be?”

  “Now, take it easy, Snowflake. I’ve got to dot all my i’s and cross all my t’s. This job is about methodology, following procedure. Whew, it is a good thing you didn’t win. I can’t help but think you’d be cutting corners all over the place.”

  “Just tell me.”

  “Sure.”

  I waited.

  “Well?”

  “Oh, I can’t tell you until I know.”

  “When will that be?”

  “Maybe the end of the week. Or early next week. Well, the fourth is next week, so maybe I better not promise what I can’t deliver. That’s policing 101, you know?”

  “Go fuck yourself,” I said.

  “Now, that’s no way to talk to a law enforcement officer.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s a good thing I’m not talking to one then. I’ll find him myself.”

  “Now, let me advise you not to do something rash, something that could get you hurt. I mean—”

  I ended the call. I couldn’t take it anymore. There was no way I was going to get anything out of him, which meant I was on my own again. Seemed like that was a recurring theme in my life—being alone. I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe there was a reason for it.

  32

  Rufus staggered out of the vehicle into cool weather. Cool weather meant nighttime. In July the mountains stayed hot until dark; then the heat liked to slip away in a quick burst as the temperature caused the mercury in the thermometer to freefall. Night in the mountains in July made the hot days almost seem worth it.

  Silent men grabbed each of his arms. How could two men say so little? he wondered for what seemed like the hundredth time. He felt a kind of begrudging respect for them now. These weren’t your ordinary hillbillies. Their discipline had already caused him to rule out Sheriff Argent. Maybe he had a deputy that could pull this kind of disciplined work off, but Argent himself was too much of an asshole to do it.

  So who then?

  He thought of the Hill Brothers. They’d certainly be able to handle themselves well enough to pull this off, but he wondered what possible motivation they could have. Rufus didn’t know them personally, but from what he’d ascertained, they didn’t seem the type to be motivated by money.

  He shook his head, frustrated.

  The answer was as dark as everything else.

  A door opened in front of him. The smell of dust and mild
ew hit him hard enough to make him hold his breath. He heard a light switch flip. One of the men let go of him. He was almost positive they were both men. He could usually smell the difference between men and women pretty easily. He felt like they were men. Neither stunk exactly, but as the day wore on, he smelled them both, a sweaty, earthy smell barely masked by strong deodorant and aftershave. Old Spice or something similar.

  He heard the man who’d let go rummaging for something on the other side of the room.

  Meanwhile, the other man stood with Rufus, his hand around the crook of his elbow.

  There was a click. Rufus thought it was the sound of a flashlight being turned on. That meant the light they’d turned on earlier didn’t work. Burned out, or maybe the place didn’t even have power. He was pushed forward again. A hand pressed into his back. Then both men turned him and guided him down into a chair by his shoulders.

  Outside, another vehicle pulled up. The engine idled softly for a moment before going silent. Footsteps on gravel. The door swung open again.

  “What’s wrong with the lights?” a female voice said. Her voice was familiar. Instantly, Rufus felt his body go rigid. He knew that voice but didn’t want to accept it.

  Silence.

  “You can talk,” she said. “He’s never going to leave here.”

  “Needs a new bulb,” the man to his right said. His voice wasn’t familiar.

  “You didn’t bring any?”

  “No.”

  “Stupid.”

  Neither man spoke, but Rufus felt them on either side of him, their presences somehow diminished in the proximity of the woman.

  “Who are you?” Rufus said. “And why do you want me?” But he knew the answer already; he just couldn’t bring himself to admit it.

  “I’m disappointed in you, Rufus. I would have thought I’d have made a greater impression.”

  “Savanna,” he said.

  “That’s more like it.”

  “Why?”

  “Why not? You’ve been lucky I’ve left you alone this long.”

  He felt her coming closer. Smelled her now, that cloying sweetness he remembered from many years ago. Despite all his best intentions, he felt himself stirring, his dick hardening. It was what she wanted. Savanna used sex as a weapon. She could disable you with it just as easily as she could use it to threaten, coerce, or murder you.

  He felt her straddling him in the chair. She was wearing a skirt, and he couldn’t tell through his overalls what else. But when she ground down on him, pushing her soft places against his hard ones, he remembered the bliss he’d experienced with her so many years ago.

  “You want me,” she said. “After all these years, you still want me. Well, how about that? Can’t even see me anymore and still wants to fuck me.”

  “Get off me,” he managed.

  “What if I told you I was fat now. If I had a potbelly and a big ass. Would you still want me?”

  Rufus turned his face from her. He didn’t want to breathe any of her, not her words or her scent.

  “Well, don’t worry. I still look good. Damn good. I’m fifty-two this month, and I can still get any man in the county, but right now, I’ve got Rufus Gribble.”

  “Please,” he said. “I just want to be left alone.”

  She slid off, giggling wickedly. “You don’t mean that, Rufus. You want me to fuck you. Deep down, that’s all you’ve ever wanted, Rufus. Men are all the same. So, I’ll make you suffer.”

  “What do you want with me?”

  “I need to know where Harriet is.”

  “Harriet is dead. I watched her jump.”

  “That’s what I thought too, but there’s been rumors. And after the last kid died out at the Falls, I’ve got to make sure.”

  “Harriet’s dead,” Rufus said again. “Let me go.”

  He heard footsteps. She was coming toward him again. He put his hand up just in time to block the blow. Not only that, he managed to get a pretty decent grip on her wrist. She tried to pull away, but he was too strong.

  “She’s dead,” he repeated, this time through clenched teeth.

  He let go of her wrist, but not before he felt the blow from his right side. Knuckles to the jaw. He groaned at the pain, opening and closing his mouth, testing to see if his jaw still worked. Not broken. Busted up, but not broken.

  “We’ve had reports,” she said. “People have seen her. I think maybe you have too.”

  “I watched her jump,” Rufus said.

  “You and her were … you were trying to fuck her too, weren’t you, Rufus?”

  “No.”

  “There’s nobody here to impress, Rufus. You can tell the truth. You don’t have to hide the fact that you got off on thinking about doing two sisters.”

  “She wasn’t into men.”

  “Oh, right. She had to be different. Had to be a lesbian. Well, I’ve eaten pussy before too, but you don’t see me trying to make a statement about it. Jesus. What a drama queen.” She stepped forward again. He braced, wincing against the blow he knew was coming.

  But nothing came. Instead, she seated herself on top of his lap again. This time he felt her hands at his zipper. She found his penis, still achingly hard, and pulled it out.

  “Stop,” he groaned, but somehow, against all odds, he didn’t mean it.

  He felt himself slide into her, and instantly he was taken back to the night in the barn when she’d first approached him, when he’d still believed in love.

  She began to ride him, slowly at first, but soon she was picking up the pace, bucking and moaning, her hands on his chest, her lips whispering around his neck.

  “You need to tell me the truth,” she said.

  “I have. She’s dead. Please stop.”

  “I can’t stop until I get what I came for.” She picked up her intensity, gripping him more tightly than before. “Friends don’t let friends jump off bluffs.”

  “I tried to stop her.”

  “That’s not the way I heard it.”

  He felt his body go stiff. “You don’t know anything.”

  “I know a lot, actually. I know the entire school turned on her, that everyone, you included, participated in a hazing ritual, a ritual designed to embarrass and abuse her.”

  “Not true. You wanted me to do that, but I tried to help her.”

  “You tried to help her? Well, that didn’t go very well, did it? Maybe your heart wasn’t really in it. Maybe you weren’t as different as Harden and Deloach after all. Poor Deloach. Now, that’s a man who’s really dead. But Harriet? The jury is still out on Harriet.”

  He couldn’t hold out much longer. He was going to explode. He didn’t want to. It felt as if his physical body had separated from his spiritual self and was acting on its own …

  It was going to happen. Jesus Christ, it was …

  She stopped, sliding off him.

  “Ugh,” he moaned. “Don’t …”

  “Tell me the truth. Tell me where she is and I’ll let you come.”

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “For what?”

  “For stopping. I never want to touch you again.”

  He felt a sharp pain in his groin as she slapped his erect penis. Now she gripped it again, bending it to one side.

  “Tell me, you piece of shit.”

  Rufus said nothing. He would endure the pain. He’d endured worse. What he couldn’t endure was the pleasure, and the guilt he felt because of it.

  She let go. “I don’t want to hurt him too badly. I’ll need him again when I want to get off.”

  “Fuck you.”

  She giggled. “Funny, that’s exactly what I had in mind.”

  “You’re evil.”

  “But evil never felt so good, am I right? I suppose I’ll just have to get it from your friend. He’s got issues too. You know I can’t resist a man with issues.”

  “Don’t you fucking dare go after Earl.”

  “Too late for that. I’ve already got him exactly where I
want him.”

  “Bitch.”

  “Keep going, Rufus. You’re turning me on. You know, as soon as I heard you were blind, I knew what happened.”

  “You don’t know,” he said.

  “Sure I do. You could never keep any secrets from me.”

  “You don’t know,” he said again, trying to convince himself, not even sure why it mattered to him so much.

  33

  The next evening, I arrived at Jessamine’s an hour before the Bluegrass Mountain Cult was scheduled to begin. Ronnie was at the bar, drinking a beer with a woman I didn’t recognize, so I sat down at one of the tables and ordered a Coke.

  Jessamine’s was the place to come for night life in Coulee County. By day, it was a meat and three style diner, but at night they cleared out most of the tables, opened the bar, and turned down the lights, converting it into one of the loudest—and most dangerous—honky-tonks I’d ever had the pleasure of visiting. It was still relatively early, so the place was mostly empty except for the band and a few other folks.

  The waitress brought my Coke, and I looked at it, disappointed. Would a beer hurt? Probably not, but I didn’t want to risk it. Not with Rufus being gone. I needed to be alert. I needed to think. Unfortunately, at this moment, I wasn’t feeling up to either one. All I wanted to do was have half a dozen beers and enjoy a night of what I hoped would be good music.

  I nursed the Coke as the band began to set up and people gradually filed in. I recognized a lot of them, from Jessamine herself—she sat over by the window with her husband—to Mindy, the secretary from the Harden School who sat at the bar alone. I was on my way to join her when the mood shifted almost imperceptibly in the bar. The place, nearly full now, went quiet. I looked to the door and saw Jeb Walsh coming in along with Sheriff Argent and Mayor Keith. They settled into a table in the corner, removing the large sign from the tabletop that said Reserved.

  Argent was dressed in stiff, dark blue jeans and a short-sleeved button-down. He wore his badge attached to his belt and a holstered .22 on the other side of his waist. He looked around the room with a self-satisfied grin.

  Walsh sat down across from Mayor Keith. They were dressed almost identically: tan slacks, golfing shirts, and brown loafers. Walsh nodded to Argent and pointed at the bar. Argent took their orders like he was a waiter instead of the sheriff.