by Bryce Gibson
After Davey was killed, people often asked how it was possible that someone could go from making paper groundhogs to committing murder. They, like me, wanted to know why he would have done it. Even though there seemed to be no motive, there was proof. There was video footage taken from the nearby bank’s ATM camera of him running across the road with the axe in his hands. They found a loaded pistol next to his body under the pool.
I felt tears pooling in my eyes. It was a punch to the gut to realize that Morris had been sentimental enough to add the paper groundhog to the box of Mom’s most cherished memories. I placed the cutout back on top of everything else and took a look at the pile. Despite all the lies and secrets that had shaped most of my life, everything inside that box represented a simple truth.
And at that moment in time, the truth was exactly what I needed.
The wadded progress chart was next to me on the floor. I picked it up and tried to flatten it out, but it was a crumpled mess. Regardless, I peeled the last sticker off its backing and stuck it to the final step—termination.
chapter twenty one
I TOLD MRS. REYNOLDS everything I knew about the community where I had come from.
“Those kinds of situations can lead to all sorts of psychological problems,” she said. “With that kind of upbringing, all kinds of things can happen. People are more likely to develop obsessive disorders or become risk takers. Low self esteem, anxiety, dependency, and delinquency are all common.”
Afterwards, while I waited on Dad to pick me up, I went across the road to the library that stood on the opposite corner.
The interior of the old building was quiet. From what I could tell, there were only two other patrons there. An old man was sitting in one of the big, comfy chairs by the door reading the newspaper, and a woman was looking through the rows of audio books.
I went to the center of the floor near the circulation desk where there were several public computers with the library’s catalogue. I found the call number range for books that dealt with mental issues and, with a ball point pen that someone had left behind, I wrote the numbers on the palm of my hand.
I walked up and down the rows and followed the call numbers until I eventually found the area that I was looking for. I scanned over the book spines and let the titles speak for themselves. Eventually, I found two books that I slid off the shelf, and then I walked to the end of the row.
Under the current circumstances, I didn’t want the books on my checkout record, nor did I want the keyword searches on my own computer. So I was left with only one option. When I was sure that no one was looking, I lifted my shirt and slipped both of the books into the waistband of my jeans.
Before stepping through the door, I reminded myself that I wasn’t stealing the books—I was borrowing them, and I planned to bring them back. I didn’t slow down as I exited the building. One time Davey told me, “If you ever shoplift, never ever pause at the door. It only shows that you are nervous about something.”
I STAYED UP LATE THAT night reading the books and thought about what Tristan said about Lisa—“She latches onto you and won’t let go.” Well, maybe he was right. Maybe she had become obsessed with me. That, I could kind of agree with, but was it possible that she could be a killer?
The fact of the matter was that I could relate parts of what I was reading to all of us—me, Lisa, Cade, and Davey. Maybe all of us had been effected by the same thing—the place we came from. And there were a few more answers I needed about that part of my life.
When I thought that Dad was probably asleep, I stepped into the hallway and was careful to not make too much noise. I was in my socks and holding my boots in my left hand. I glanced toward Dad’s room. The door was shut, and I could hear him snoring. It didn’t take long for me to realize that Wolf had followed me. The sound of her claws on the hardwood gave away any amount of secrecy that she could have hoped for. She stopped and looked at me with a pair of confused, sleepy eyes. A second later, Zee also stepped out of the darkness of my bedroom. The puppy yawned and took his spot behind the older dog.
I tiptoed closer to them and held my finger upright in front of my lips. “Shhhh,” I whispered. Wolf must have understood what I was saying because she titled her head to the side and perked her ears. She turned around, nudged Zee with her nose, and both of them went back to their beds on the floor.
Once I was downstairs, I reached into the back pocket of my jeans and pulled out a small square of paper. On it was a note that I had written for Dad. I stuck the paper to the mirror of the hall tree.
IF YOU WAKE UP BEFORE I’M HOME, PLEASE DON’T CALL THE POLICE. I’M OK. LOVE YOU!
Then I reached to the little peg board that hung on the wall next to the door. There was only one set of keys—Dad’s. I had contemplated taking my own truck, but by that point in time it had been underneath the tarp and not driven for months. What if the battery was dead? The sound of the engine trying to turn over would have been too much. I gently wrapped my hand around Dad’s set of keys and clutched them so tight that I could feel the pointed ends and jagged teeth pressing into the skin of my palm. I eased the keychain off the hook.
Once the keys were free, I breathed a sigh of relief and steadied myself for the next step. I was almost there. I turned the door’s latch as quietly as I could, and once the door was open, I slipped outside, closed the door, and locked it.
Standing on the porch steps, I put my boots on and then ran across the yard. After I was inside the cab of Dad’s truck, I pulled the door close to the side of the truck body, but I didn’t shut it all the way out of fear that it would make too much noise.
I fumbled through the keys on the ring until I found the right one. I put the key into the ignition and turned. The diesel truck roared to life. It was too loud. I looked toward Dad’s bedroom window and was relieved to see that the light hadn’t come on.
Holding the door with my left hand, I backed out of the driveway, and once I came to a stop at the intersection, I pushed the door far enough so that I could give it a good pull. Once the door was shut, I put on my seatbelt.
Then, I drove.
THERE IS A PLACE JUST outside of Trenton where the road twists around a sharp curve that sits high above everything else. To the left is a steep drop-off to a woodsy stretch of land that has a train track running through the bottom. The road is so high that the top of an old, abandoned building is almost level to the guard rail.
Davey and I used to sit on that roof for hours at a time, reading and smoking cigarettes. One time, Miss Steep smelled the smoke on us and confronted me about it. “Davey doesn’t. It’s only me,” I told her, lying and taking the blow for my friend. “I knew Davey wouldn’t,” she said. “And I don’t want you to either. It’s a nasty habit.”
I drove around the curve and down the steep hill that led to a small neighborhood of recently constructed townhomes. I pulled up to the front of the house that I was looking for. Miss Steep’s convertible was parked out front. The car, in addition to the light that was shining through the house’s left side window, was a sure indication that she was home.
I knocked on the door and looked at my watch. It was close to ten o’clock. I hoped that it wasn’t too late to be there. I knocked a second time and still got no answer. Finally, just as I was about to give up, I heard the click of the deadbolt from the other side, and the door eased open.
From inside the house, Miss Steep peeked through the narrow crack that was between the door and its frame. When I glanced down, I saw that her hand was still on the doorknob. She was ready to push the door closed if she needed to. She looked over my shoulder toward Dad’s truck. “You drove?”
I nodded my head. “Can we talk for a minute?” I asked her.
I could see the contemplation and hesitation in her eyes. “Is it okay if we meet somewhere? My house is a total mess. If I would have known that I’d be having company...”
“Sure,” I told her.
“What about Scramblers out on
Highway 25?” She suggested. “They’re always super busy.”
SCRAMBLERS WAS LOCATED in the annex of an old gas station. To say that the restaurant was busy was a vast understatement. The place was hopping.
As soon as I opened the door to the twenty-four hour diner, I was blasted with the sounds of old country music, clinking dishes, laughter, and chatter coming from every direction. I hadn’t been hungry before I left home, but the smell of frying bacon and eggs caused my stomach to rumble.
I looked around the cramped interior and saw that Miss Steep had already arrived. Thankfully, she was able to get a corner booth where we would be out of earshot from most everybody else that was there.
I made my way through the crowded restaurant and took my seat in the booth across from her. After we ordered our drinks, I began talking. “In these arranged marriages that you were telling me about, what if something happens and the two kids, when they turn eighteen, are not able to marry?”
I looked around, reached into my pocket, and pulled out a piece of paper that I immediately unfolded and laid on the table between us. It was the printout that Tristan had given me. Her son’s name and that of the girl that he was intended to marry stared back at her. Davey and Lisa.
“Where did you get this?”
“Let’s just say somebody gave it to me, and we’ll leave it at that.” I didn’t want to get into anymore detail about Cade and Tristan than I had to. “What do you know about Lisa?”
“I never really knew her, Blake. They adopted her when she was a baby.”
“Adopted?” That single word added a new twist to everything that I was learning.
Miss Steep nodded her head. “I always thought that the man, Lisa’s adoptive father, was kind of whack-a-doo, if you want to know the truth.”
“Whack-a-doo how?”
“Years ago, after your momma ran away, things within the community started to crumble. It didn’t take long for the whole thing to come crashing down. After your dad moved away, that seemed like the end of it. I stuck around for a few more years. It was just me, the Willistons, and a few others, but eventually it collapsed. Mr. Williston was The Caretaker, and he still blames your parents for the beginning of the end. Without the community under his control, he had no interest to stay part of it. Without a Caretaker, it seemed done for. Then that girl’s family showed up. He was determined to get the whole thing back on its feet. He said that he was going to be the new Caretaker. By then Mr. Williston was on to bigger things, he wanted to be mayor, and he passed the reigns of Caretaker over to Mr. Tanner. Davey and Lisa were both toddlers at the time, but they were quickly assigned to one another.”
Even after I’d started to accept all of this, the way she said that they were assigned to one another still gave me the heebie-jeebies. “So they got somebody new to be The Sower?”
Miss Steep looked confused. “I was The Sower all along.”
I had always thought that the woman in the picture of me feeding the carrot to the baby goat had been Mom, but it wasn’t. It was her, Miss Steep.
I was letting this knowledge sink in while Miss Steep continued. “But, like your momma, I took Davey and ran.”
“So, what is the possibility that Lisa would have been assigned to someone else after Davey was gone?”
Miss Steep shook her head. “None. The moment of assignation is as good as marriage. The community looks down on divorce. Even if a spouse dies, we were forbidden to start a new relationship. Why are you asking me about all of this? Do you think it has something to do with Davey and Cade Williston dying?”
“I... to be honest with you, I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“Lisa hurt you didn’t she?” The change in conversation was abrupt. “I can see it in your eyes when you talk about her. You love her, and she hurt you.” Miss Steep reached out her hands and placed one on each side of my face. Her hands were cold. “Look me in the eyes, Blake Thomas, and you tell me the truth.”
The truth. It was what everything seemed to be coming down to. My thoughts were interrupted by the flashing blue lights of a police car that was pulling into the parking lot. My heart began to thud.
“I couldn’t save Davey,” Miss Steep continued, and I could tell that she was rushing her words so that she could get them in. “I’m afraid the same thing that happened to Cade might happen to you.” She dropped her hands from my face.
By then, Deputy Roper was standing next to our booth. He was looking at me. “Your father called and said that he woke up and you weren’t at home. The truck was missing.”
Dad walked up and was standing behind the deputy.
“I left a note,” I started to explain, looking past Mr. Roper at Dad, and I realized how ridiculous the statement really was.
“Blake, now is not the time,” Dad cut in. “Let’s go home.”
I stood from the booth and walked out of the restaurant with Dad and Deputy Roper, leaving Miss Steep behind.
Once I got to the parking lot, I realized that Dad had ridden there in the police car, and now he was going to drive both of us home in his truck. As he steered the truck onto the road, I glanced through the restaurant’s window at Miss Steep one more time. Even from the distance, I could tell that she was shaken by everything that was happening.
chapter twenty two
SOMETHING WOKE ME UP. It was a soft thud against the window pane. I was getting out of bed to investigate, and I heard it again. I looked at the clock. It was just after midnight. Once I was on my feet, I walked across the room and stood in front of the window. What I saw through the glass sent chills down my spine.
Lisa stood at the edge of the hop yard. At first glance, I thought she was wearing a white dress, but it was actually a t-shirt that was several sizes too big. The moon made the fabric seem to glow. She had on a pair of denim shorts that were barely visible.
With her right hand, she threw something toward me. Whatever it was thudded and bounced off the glass. It took me a second to realize that she had a handful of scuppernongs. She was throwing them one by one trying to get my attention. She must have finally noticed that I was up because she dropped the grapes to the ground, reached into her back pocket, and pulled out her phone. A second later, my phone, which was across the room on top of the dresser, dinged with an incoming message. I went to look.
WILL YOU COME OUT HERE SO WE CAN TALK?
I went back to the spot in front of the window. Lisa was staring up at me. It was obvious that she was waiting on a reply. I still hadn’t made up my mind on the way I felt about her or what she was capable of, and just when I was about to type “Leave me alone”, I saw movement in the rows behind her.
Someone stepped out of the field. It was the man with the black rain jacket, but now there was something different about his appearance.
Lisa must have heard the movement because she turned to look. When she saw what was standing behind her, she turned to her left and bolted into that side of the field. The predator ran after her. My mind had been going down the wrong path. Lisa had nothing to do with Cade’s murder, and now she was in danger.
I was acting on impulse when I spun on my feet and ran across the room. I realized that I could call the cops, but I knew that by the time that they got there Lisa could be dead. I had to go help. In my determination to get out of the house, I must have made a lot of racket and scared Wolf because the dog jumped up from the bed, barking her head off. Zee followed suit. I tripped over the door jamb and slammed into the hallway wall. Dad’s bedroom door jerked open. “What’s going on?”
I didn’t slow down. “Call the police.” I yelled back at him. “Now.” I rushed down the steps and through the front door.
I RAN THROUGH THE HOP yard as fast as I could. Twigs and rocks jabbed at my bare feet. Because of her white shirt, it was easy to spot Lisa running away from me in the distance. I watched her go into the old tractor shed that stood outside of Mr. Callaway’s vineyard. A blur of black plastic went in after her. I was gaining
ground on both of them, and, in no time, I was in the building too.
The floor had never been poured with concrete, and the dirt below my feet was so dry that it felt like I was running through powder. Old tires and rusty farm tools were everywhere. The inside of the building stunk like something had died. An antique tractor was dead-center of the space, probably in the same spot where it had been parked and left decades earlier. The front-end of the tractor was facing me, and the enormous back tire stuck out so far to the side that I had to turn sideways to maneuver past. I made it, and from where I was, I saw Lisa and her pursuer exit the far end of the building.
I had to duck underneath the upright harvesting equipment that was on the back of the tractor. Once I was on the other side of the machinery, I stood up straight and took a few more strides before I ran face first into a furry, cold, stiff something. The nastiness of whatever it was caused me to instinctively jerk away. I stepped back to get a good look.
It was a possum. No, three possums. The dead animals had been hung from the rafters so that their pink noses were facing toward the floor. Even in the darkness of the shed, I could see that they had been cut open. The source of the reeking odor was now evident.
Cade must have killed the possums out there and never made it back to dispose of the carcasses. That had been three days earlier, and the heat of the Southern September had caused the dead animals to have a stench that was agonizingly brutal. Being so close almost made me gag. I held my breath and pressed on.
The man in the rain jacket appeared in the doorway. It was obvious that he had come back for me, and I wondered—had I been lured into a trap? Planning my escape, I knew that there was no way that I would be able to make it back to the other side of the farm equipment fast enough.
