by John Hart
“Your mother thought you were over this way.”
“Ah,” she said, and there was dark history in that single sound.
I turned my seat to face her. “How do you know me, Sarah?”
But she was stoned, her eyes burnished bright and empty. She was seeing something that I could not, and her words drifted. “There are things in this world of which I do not speak,” she said. “Promises, promises.”
“I don’t understand.”
She crushed the joint out and dropped it on the unswept boards. Her eyelids drooped, but life moved behind the pale green irises, something knowing and wild enough to make me wonder what she saw. She gestured with a bent finger and I leaned closer. She took my face in her hands and kissed me on the mouth. Her lips were soft, slightly parted, and tasted of the joint she’d smoked. It was not a chaste kiss, nor was it overly sexual. Her fingers fell away and she smiled with such mournfulness that I felt an overwhelming sense of loss. “You were such a lovely boy,” she said.
CHAPTER 17
She left me without another word, rolled the chair inside, and closed the door. I got in the car, passed through the trees and thought of Sarah’s mother, whose message I had failed to deliver. They were family gone to ash, the bond between them as bloodless as time can make a thing. Maybe that’s why I felt a kinship, why I thought of once precious bonds charred to light gray nothing.
I slowed as Ken Miller stepped out of the shade and waved me down. He leaned into the window. “Everything okay?” he asked. “She need anything?”
His face was open, but I knew how meaningless that could be. People show you what you want to see. “Do you know Grace Shepherd?” I asked.
“I know who she is.” He nodded through the trees. “Sarah talks about her.”
I watched him closely. “She was assaulted, almost killed. You know anything about that?”
His reaction was unscripted. “I’m truly sorry to hear that,” he said. “She sounds like a fine girl.” He seemed innocent and concerned.
“The police may want to talk to Sarah.” A quick jolt of worry flashed across his face. I watched his eyes roll left, to the long purple bus. That’s where his stash would be. “I thought you might like to know.”
“Thanks.”
I turned on my cell phone as I drove back into Salisbury. It rang almost immediately. It was Robin. “I’m not sure that I’m speaking to you right now,” I said.
“Don’t be stupid, Adam. You lied to us. The questions had to be asked. It’s better that I was there than not.”
“You said that going to Salisbury P.D. instead of the sheriff’s office was for my sake. Did you mean that?”
“Of course. Why else would I do it?” I recognized the truth in her voice and some small part of me loosened. “I’m walking a thin line, Adam. I recognize that. I’m trying to do what’s right.”
“What do you want?” I asked.
“Where are you?”
“In the car.”
“I need to see you. It’ll only take a minute.” I hesitated. “Please,” she said.
We met in the parking lot of a Baptist church. The steeple rose against the blue sky, a needle of white that dwarfed us. She got right to the point. “I understand that you’re angry. The interview could have gone better.”
“A lot better.”
Conviction crystallized her voice. “You chose to mislead us, Adam, so let’s not pretend that you’re on some moral high ground here. I’m still a cop. I still have responsibilities.”
“You should have never been a part of that.”
“Let me explain something to you. You left me. Get it? You . . . left . . . me. All I had left was the job. For five years, that’s all I’ve had. And I’ve worked my ass off. Do you know how many female officers have made detective in the past ten years? Three. Just three, and I’m the youngest in the history of the entire department. You’ve been back for a couple of days. You understand? I’m who I am because you left. It’s my life. I can’t turn it off and you should not expect me to. Not when you made me like this.”
She was angry and defensive. I thought about what she’d said. “You’re right,” I said, and meant it. “This is just bad all around.”
“It may get a little easier.”
“How so?”
“Grantham wants me off the case,” she said. “He’s angry.”
A large crow settled atop the steeple. It spread its wings once then dropped into black-eyed stillness. “Because you told me the truth about Grace?”
“He says I’m biased toward you and your family.”
“Life gets complicated.”
“Well, I’m about to make it more so. I asked around. Grace had a boyfriend.”
“Who?”
“Unknown. The girl I talked to knew almost nothing. He was a secret for some reason; but there were issues there. Something that made Grace unhappy.”
“Who told you this?”
“Charlotte Preston. She was in Grace’s class. She works at the drugstore now.”
“Did you ask Grace about it?”
“She denies it.”
“What about Danny’s ring? Or the note? Those don’t add up to a frustrated boyfriend.”
“I’m sure that Grantham is working on that.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked.
“Because I’m angry, too. Because it’s you and because I’m confused.”
“Is there anything else you want to tell me?”
“The body is Danny Faith. Dental records confirm it.”
“I knew it.”
“Did you know that he called your house?” She put a keen edge on her words, and her attention was complete. “It’s on his cell phone records. We just pulled them. Did you talk to him?”
She wanted me to say no. It was too damning, and there could be no easy explanation from where she stood. The timing was pretty bad. I hesitated, and Robin drilled in on it. I saw cop rise in her like a tide. “I spoke with him three weeks ago,” I said.
“Forensics thinks he died three weeks ago.”
“Yeah. Strange, I know.”
“What did you talk about, Adam? What the hell is going on?”
“He wanted a favor.”
“What favor?”
“He wanted me to come home. He wanted to talk about it in person. I told him I wouldn’t come. He got pissed.”
“Why did you come, then?”
“That’s personal,” I said, and meant it. I wanted my life back, and that included Robin. But she was not making it easy. She was a cop first, and while I understood that, it still cut.
“You need to talk to me, Adam.”
“Robin, I appreciate what you’ve said, but I’m not sure where we stand. Until I know for certain, I’ll proceed as I see fit.”
“Adam—”
“Grace was assaulted, Danny killed, and every cop in the county is looking at me and my family. How much of that comes from what happened five years ago, I don’t know; but I do know this. I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect the people I love. I still know this town, still know these people. If the cops aren’t going to look deeper than Red Water Farm, then I’ll have to do it myself.”
“That would be a mistake.”
“I’ve been railroaded once. I’m not going to let it happen again. Not to me or anyone else in my family.”
My cell phone rang, so I held up a finger. It was Jamie, and he was stressed-out.
“It’s the cops,” he said.
“What about them?”
“They’re searching Dolf’s house!” I looked at Robin as Jamie yelled in my ear. “It’s a freakin’ raid, man!”
I closed the phone slowly, watching Robin’s face. “Grantham is searching Dolf’s house.” Distaste filled my voice. I could see five steps down the road. “Did you know about that?”
“I knew,” she said calmly.
“Is that the reason that you called me? So that Grantham could do this without
me around?”
“I thought it would be best if you were not there when he conducted the search. So, yes.”
“Why?”
“Nothing could be gained if you and Grantham have another difficult encounter.”
“So you lied to me to protect me from myself? Not to help Grantham?”
She shrugged, unapologetic. “Sometimes you can kill two birds with one stone.”
I stepped closer, so that she seemed very small. “Sometimes, maybe. But you can’t have it both ways forever. One of these days, you are going to need to make a choice about what’s more important to you. Me or the job.”
“You may be right, Adam, but it’s like I said. You left me. This has been my life for five long years. I know it. I trust it. A choice may be out there somewhere, but I’m not ready to make that choice today.”
Her face refused to soften. I blew out a breath. “Damn it, Robin.” I took a step and turned. I wanted to punch something. “What are they looking for?”
“Danny was killed with a .38. The only pistol registered to anyone at Red Water Farm is owned by Dolf Shepherd, a .38. Grantham is looking for that.”
“Then I have a problem.”
“What’s that?”
I hesitated. “My fingerprints are all over that pistol.”
Robin studied me for a long time. To her credit, she did not ask me why. “Your fingerprints are on record. It won’t take very long.”
I opened the door to my car.
“Where are you going?”
“Dolf’s.”
Robin moved for her car. “I’ll follow you.”
“What about Grantham?”
“I don’t work for Grantham,” she said.
Four police cars blocked the driveway, so I pulled off into a field and walked. Robin fell in behind me and as we crossed over the steel bars of the cattle guard, dry mud crunched beneath my shoes. I did not see Grantham, and guessed that he was in the house. A uniformed deputy guarded the porch and another slouched by the cars. The front door stood open, wedged with a rocking chair turned flat against the house. Dolf, Jamie, and my father stood together next to Dolf’s truck. The old men looked furious; Jamie chewed on a fingernail and nodded at me. I looked for Parks Templeton and found him in his long, expensive car. He had a cell phone to his ear, one leg hanging out of the open car door. He did a double take when he saw us, and hung up the phone. We reached my father at the same time.
Parks aimed a finger at Robin. “Tell me that you have not been speaking to her.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“No, you do not.”
“Let’s talk in a minute,” I said to Robin. She turned away and mounted the steps to the porch. I turned back to Parks. “Can you do anything about this?” I gestured at the house.
“We’ve been through that,” my father said. “The warrant is legal.”
“How long have they been here?”
“Twenty minutes.”
I spoke to Parks. “Tell me about the warrant.”
“There’s no need—”
“Tell him,” my father said.
Parks drew himself up. “It’s limited in scope. That’s good. It gives the police the authority to seize any handguns and handgun ammunition on the premises.”
“That’s it?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“That should have taken two minutes. They’re looking for a .38. It’s right there in the gun cabinet.”
The lawyer put a finger across his lips, tapped once. “How do you know they’re looking for a .38?”
“Because that’s what killed Danny. I learned that from her.” I gestured at the house, held the lawyer’s eyes until he was forced to nod. It was good information. “They should have had it by now,” I said. “They should be gone.”
For a moment no one spoke. I wish that it had stayed like that.
“I hid it,” Dolf finally said.
“What?” Jamie slipped off the hood of the truck. Sudden anger boiled off him. “You hid it? No reason to hide a gun unless you’ve got something to hide.”
The disquiet slid off Dolf’s face, replaced by a look of weary resignation. Jamie stepped closer. “I’m always answering to you,” Jamie said. “Got you looking over my shoulder. Now, why don’t you answer to me? Only one reason to hide a gun, Dolf. That’s plain enough. Why don’t you just tell us?”
“What are you saying?” my father asked.
Dolf peered out at Jamie from beneath heavy lids, and there was such regret in his eyes. “Danny was decent enough, and I know you loved him, boy—”
“No, you don’t,” Jamie said. “Don’t you ‘boy’ me. Just explain it. Only one reason to hide a gun, and that’s because you knew they’d come looking for it.”
“You’re drunk,” Dolf said. “And that’s ignorant talk.”
Parks interrupted, and his voice was strong enough to give Jamie pause. “Illuminate us,” he said to Dolf.
Dolf looked to my father. He nodded, and Dolf spit on the ground, hitched his thumbs into his belt. He stared at Parks, then at Jamie. “That’s not the only reason to hide a gun, Jamie, you big, dumb lummox. A man might hide a gun to keep somebody else from using it. To keep a smart man from doing a stupid thing.”
Dolf’s eyes cut to me, and I knew that he was thinking about how I took the gun from his cabinet and how I almost killed Zebulon Faith. He’d hidden it for my sake.
“He’s right,” I said, relieved. “That’s a good reason.”
“How about you explain that,” Parks said to me.
My father spoke before I could. “He doesn’t have to explain anything. We did that five years ago. He won’t have to do it again. Not here. Not ever.”
I felt my father’s eyes on me, the force of what he said. What it meant. It was the first time he’d stood up for me since Janice said that she saw me dripping with blood. Parks went rigid as the color rose in his face. “You are limiting my value to you, Jacob.”
“At three hundred dollars an hour, I make the rules. Adam will tell you what he thinks you need to know. I will not have him questioned again.”
Parks tried to return my father’s stare, but lost his nerve after a few seconds. He threw up a hand and stalked off. “Fine,” he said. I watched him all the way back to his car. Suddenly my father was embarrassed, as if by the act of protecting me. He patted Dolf on the shoulder, fastened an eye on Jamie.
“You drunk?” he asked.
Jamie was still mad; you could see it. “No,” he said. “I’m hungover.”
“Well, keep it together, boy.”
Jamie climbed into his truck, slumped in the seat, and lit a cigarette. That left the older men and me. My father led us a few steps away. He looked apologetic. “He’s not usually like this,” he said, then looked at Dolf. “You okay?”
“It’ll take more than that boy’s got to ruin my day,” Dolf said.
“Where’d you hide the gun?” I asked.
“In a coffee can in the kitchen.”
“They’ll find it,” I said.
“Yep.”
I studied Dolf’s face. “Is there any chance that it can be linked to Danny’s death?”
“I can’t imagine how.”
“Do you have any handguns?” I asked my father.
He shook his head and his gaze went to some distant place. My mother had killed herself with one of his handguns. It was a stupid question, insensitive, but when he spoke, his face was a rock. “What a mess,” he said.
He was right, and I wondered how it all fit. Danny’s death, now clearly considered a homicide; the attack on Grace; Zebulon Faith; the power plant; the rest of it. I looked at Dolf’s house, full of strangers. Change was coming, and no way would it be the good kind.
“I have to go,” I said.
My father looked old.
I nodded at the house. “Parks is right about one thing. They’re looking to pin Danny’s death on somebody, and for whatever reason, Grantham seems to be
looking at us. That means that he’ll be looking at me in particular.” No one contradicted me. “I need to talk to somebody.”
“Talk to who?”
“Something just occurred to me. It may be nothing, but I need to check it out.”
“Can you tell us what it is?” Dolf asked.
I thought about it. Until Danny’s body was found in that hole, everybody thought he was in Florida. His father. Jamie. There had to be a reason for that, and I thought I might find it at the Faithful Motel. It was a place to start, at any rate. “Later,” I said. “If it pans out.” I took two steps and stopped, turned back to my father. His face was heavy and filled with sadness. I spoke from the heart. “I appreciate what you said to Parks.”
He nodded. “You are my son.”
I looked at Dolf. “Tell him why you hid the gun, would you? There’s no reason for that to be a secret between us.”
“All right.”
I got in the car, wondering how my father would feel when Dolf told him just how close I’d come to killing Zebulon Faith. Given the way that we all felt about Grace, I thought he’d probably understand. It was the least of our problems.
I turned off the farm and onto smooth, black pavement. The road was cooked; it shimmered under the sun. I went back to the Faithful Motel and found Manny behind the counter. “It’s Manny, right?”
“Emmanuel.”
“Is your boss here?” I asked.
“No.”
I nodded. “When I was here before you told me about Danny. You said that he’d gotten into a fight with his girlfriend and then gone to Florida when she took out a warrant.”
“Sí.”
“Can you tell me the girl’s name?”
“No. But she has a cut here now.” He drew a finger across his right cheek.
“What does she look like?”
“White. Kind of fat. Trashy.” He shrugged. “Danny would sleep with anybody.”
“What were they fighting about?”
“He was breaking up with her.”
I had a sudden flash of intuition. “It was you that called the police,” I said. “That first day I came.”
A smile cracked the seamed, brown face. “Sí.”
“You may have saved my life.”
