“Okay,” cried Wallace Reynolds, “help him down. Attach that other rope.”
Floyd clambered over the edge of the well and collapsed against the side, hiding his face in his hands. The other men hurried to unwind his rope and attach the second rope to the winch. In a few seconds it was done, and Estes started the motor to begin to raise the body. Royce freed himself from Pink’s urgent grasp and walked over to where the deputy was huddled, gasping for breath, against the side of the well.
“Sheriff, I’m sorry.” Floyd sobbed.
‘That’s tough duty,” said Royce, leaning down and putting a comforting hand on the deputy’s shoulder.
“That’s right,” cried Wallace. “Here he comes. A little more.”
Slowly the bloodied, lifeless body rose out of the depths of the dark stone pit. The DuPre woman screamed at the sight of it and pressed her face to her husband’s chest. The groans of dismay in the group were followed by a shocked silence, as one by one they recognized the corpse.
“Oh, my God,” breathed Wallace Reynolds. Then the sheriff turned to look where they were looking, at the broken body, the lolling head, the bloodied face.
Pink, who had hung back, did not understand for a moment. He could see that blood had run in dark rivers across the dead man’s face. The guy was gone, all right, he thought. They could send that ambulance home. He noticed that the crowd was hushed, as if stricken. The sight of the corpse seemed to have shut everybody up. Well, it was a grisly sight, all right, Pink thought. But he could not understand why they were all staring at the sheriff. As if they were a little fearful of what he was going to do. That seemed strange to Pink. The sheriff had seen plenty of dead men before. More than any of them, Pink figured.
No, he did not understand until he saw them release the repulsive, twisted body from the rope and lower it gently to the ground. And then suddenly, sickeningly, he knew, as he saw Royce fall to the ground beside the body and tenderly gather it up into his arms.
Chapter 28
LILLIE WENT THROUGH THE HOUSE, turning on all the lights, as if light would somehow banish the chill she felt in the quiet rooms. You’re home, she told herself. Everything is the same. But nothing felt the same. The last time she had been in these rooms she had been innocent, she had been in the dark. Pink and Grayson had shared their secret knowledge of Michele’s death and had let her stumble blindly in her grief.
Stop it, she thought. You must not think that way. You must do the normal things. Start getting supper. A reunion supper. The start of a new era.
She knew that thought should make her feel better, but it did not. Everyone around her seemed to feel that the time for grieving was over and that better days had arrived. But inside Lillie felt the loss of Michele more keenly than ever. I wonder if it will ever go away, she thought. I wonder if I will ever have a normal day again.
She moved around the silent kitchen, pulling out plates and pots and bowls, automatically going about the familiar process of fixing a meal. She took out some chicken, already cooked, from the refrigerator, made a salad, put some water on for rice. All the while she felt the weight on her heart that would not lift. She thought of putting on the radio, but the idea of music made her nerves feel jumpy. She preferred the silence.
After she had finished making her salad, she went to the hall and called out for Grayson. In a few minutes he appeared in the doorway.
“What?” he asked.
“How about setting the table?” she asked.
“Sure,” he said pleasantly. Then he looked around. “Where are the placemats?”
“Boy, you really don’t know your way around here,” Lillie said, meaning to tease him. “Michele always claimed that you helped her.”
The smile seemed to flatten out of Grayson’s face, and the remark hung in the air between them. It was as if he did not want any reminder of his sister.
“Left-hand drawer,” said Lillie. Grayson went to the drawer.
Ordinarily Lillie would have let the subject drop, but she was resolved that she was going to be more honest and end the uneasy silences in the house. She had to start somewhere. “Grayson,” she said. “It bothers me. I mean…it seems like you…and your dad…don’t even want me to mention Michele around here. Is that true? Does it make you uncomfortable to even hear her name?”
Grayson set the placemats on the table and smoothed them down. Then he thought a moment. “No,” he said at last. “I don’t mind you mentioning her. Now that you know what happened. I guess that was just a habit from before. Not wanting to talk about it.”
Lillie sighed with relief. She felt as if they had just made a little progress. “That’s good,” she said. “I don’t want to feel that everybody flinches when her name is mentioned. I mean, we’re always going to be reminded of her, in a million ways around this house.” Her voice caught on the last word, but she cleared her throat.
Grayson examined the tabletop. “Do we need spoons?” he asked, looking up at her with an implacable gaze.
“Do you understand me, Grayson?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said a little indignantly. “You want to talk about Michele sometimes. That’s fine with me.”
“Or you or your father might want to talk about her,” Lillie said emphatically.
“Right,” said Grayson. “What about the spoons?”
Lillie’s heart sank. I shouldn’t be surprised, she thought. He’s just like his father. Avoid the subject. Keep your feelings inside. He was just following his father’s example. Grayson, don’t be that way, she wanted to cry out. Share the pain with me. But she knew that wouldn’t work. It would only scare him farther away. “Yes, we need spoons,” she said. “We have banana pudding.”
“Oh, good,” he said. “I like that.”
Lillie poured herself a glass of wine as Grayson finished up with the table. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. Maybe, she thought, I’m asking for too much, wanting him to dwell on such a terrible time. He had spent the last several months absorbing it and trying to get it as far behind him as possible, and now this whole business with Tyler had brought it all rushing back. Watching the graceful movements of her handsome son, she could not shake the image that Jordan had planted in her mind of Tyler, mooning over Grayson, carrying that picture with him, even after all that had happened. She wondered how Tyler could still think he loved Grayson after he had murdered his sister. She knew that what she wanted to say was like picking at a scab, but she could not prevent herself.
“I heard something strange about Tyler today,” she said.
Grayson stopped short but did not look at her. “I know,” he said. “He ran away. You already said so.”
“Not that,” Lillie said, taking a sip of wine and putting the glass down on the countertop. “Did you ever hear from anybody that Tyler might be…interested in boys rather than girls?”
Grayson looked at her calmly. “Sure. He was queer as a three-dollar bill. Everybody suspected it. I’ve heard that he was paying a guy at school to have sex with him. Paid pretty well too. He was stealing the money from his father.”
Lillie looked at him incredulously. “You knew about this?”
“It was just a rumor,” he said. “What’s the big deal?”
“Well, you never mentioned it. Michele didn’t know it.”
“No,” he said soberly. “She was a little naive about Tyler.”
“And I’m sure Royce didn’t know any such thing. Come to think of it, he said Tyler was stealing from him. And he didn’t know what he was doing with the money.”
“Mom,” Grayson said abruptly. “Do we have to wait for Dad? I’m really hungry now.”
“Well, I thought we would all eat together. Kind of a reunion dinner,” she said.
“Look, you know what he’s like when he gets started. He could be gone for hours. I don’t really feel like waiting.”
Lillie’s stomach tightened. So much for reunions. “All right,” she said. “If you’re that hungry.”
“Can I take it to my room?” he asked.
“No, Grayson,” she said sharply, hurt that he seemed to want to get away from her. “You can eat right here at the table. Don’t be dragging food all over the house.”
Grayson shrugged, picked up a plate, and filled it by the stove. Lillie sat down at the table with her glass of wine. “I’ll wait for your father,” she said.
The boy sat down opposite her and began to eat.
Lillie rolled the wine around in her glass, staring into it. After a minute she said a little spitefully, “If you knew Tyler was like that, how come you went down to the Arches that night?”
Grayson raised his eyes to the ceiling and then gave his mother a patient, long-suffering look. “He had some moonshine. You know all this,” he said. “We went down there to try it.”
“But who asked Michele to come along? You or him?”
Grayson resumed eating. “Neither,” he said through a mouthful of chicken. “She just tagged along.”
“But Reverend Davis saw her walking down there alone.”
“Reverend Davis,” he scoffed. “Look, we were meeting there. I don’t remember who showed up when.”
“Grayson, don’t be smart about this. I mean, this may all be old business to you, but try to remember that I just found out about this a day ago. I still have a lot of questions in my mind,” Lillie insisted.
A strange expression came over Grayson’s face as he stared down into his plate. For a minute she thought she had touched a nerve, that he was going to lash out at her. Then, suddenly, he looked up and said, “Mom, there are cucumbers in this salad. You know I don’t like cucumbers.”
Lillie stared at him. “Grayson, why are you talking about cucumbers?”
Grayson lifted up a limp cucumber slice with a look of distaste on his face. “I’ve told you again and again I don’t like them,” he said.
Lillie got up from the table and stood with her back to him, staring out the window, as Grayson removed the offending cucumber slices from his salad and pushed them off his plate. When he was satisfied that his salad was free of the unwanted cucumbers, he looked up at her. “Everything else is good,” he said encouragingly.
Lillie turned and studied him soberly. She had read enough articles and seen enough TV programs and experienced enough of life to know that people often denied their feelings and tried to bury them under a normal facade, and that sometimes only the help of a psychiatrist could give them relief. She could not help but wonder if maybe that was the answer for her son. Outwardly he seemed perfectly fine, but she was his mother, and she could not take any chances with his welfare. There were people right here in Cress County who might help. She could get a referral from Mary Dean over at the hospital.
“Mom, stop staring at me,” he complained. “I’m trying to eat.”
“Grayson,” she said, “I was just thinking that maybe what we ought to do is find someone for you to talk to— you know, in confidence. A professional…to help you deal with this whole thing.”
Grayson’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean? A shrink?”
“Honey, you have been through a terrible experience…”
Grayson clenched his fork in his fist. “I’m fine,” he said evenly. “I don’t need to talk to anyone. You’re making a problem where there isn’t one.”
Lillie sat back down at the table. “Grayson, what you went through…to see your own sister cut down. And then to have to live with that knowledge…in secret. It was a terrible thing.” Her eyes filled as she spoke. “That Founders Day was the worst day of your life. Of all our lives…”
Grayson smiled and patted her arm. “Hey, it wasn’t all bad. I won the ball game, didn’t I?”
Lillie jerked her arm away from his hand as if he had burned it.
“Hey, Mom, I’m just kidding,” he said, noting the stunned expression on her face. “Don’t get all bent out of shape.”
At that moment the phone rang. Lillie turned and started down the hall, dimly aware of a desire to silence it, to stop the ringing in her head. She felt numb and slightly ill all over, as if she had pulled open a drawer and seen a rat staring up at her. It might turn and dart off in an instant, and she might shut the drawer and tell herself that it would never come back, but she could not pretend that she had not seen it.
“Come on, Mom,” he said. “I didn’t mean it.”
“Then why did you say it?” Lillie cried, her voice shaking. She did not give him a chance to answer. She picked up the phone, grateful for the distraction.
Pink was nearly hysterical on the other end. She could tell it was him, but she could not understand his words.
“What is it, Pink?” she said. “I can’t hear you.”
“Tyler,” Pink blurted out. “He’s dead. They just found him.”
“Tyler Ansley?” Lillie’s legs buckled beneath her and she sank down on the seat of the chair beside the phone table. “It can’t be. What are you talking about? What happened?”
Her body was abuzz with shock. She was vaguely aware that Grayson had come into the living room and was standing in the doorway, his whole body poised in a tense attitude of interest.
Lillie glanced up at him, her indignation dissolved by this news, automatically grateful that he was safe and there with her. That it was not her son who was dead.
“At the Millraney farm,” Pink cried. “I was showing the place. He’s been murdered, Lillie. Somebody pounded his head for him with a hammer.”
“Oh, my God!” Lillie exclaimed. “Oh, my God. Does Royce know? At Millraney’s? What was he doing there? Jordan said that he ran away.”
“Royce was here. He’s the one who found him. Lillie, I can’t talk. I just wanted you and Grayson to know. He’s there with you, isn’t he?”
Lillie gazed at her son who was standing in the doorway. His eyes were worried and questioning. He looked young and vulnerable to her as he waited for her to explain. “Yes, he’s here,” she said faintly. “Oh, God. This is so terrible. Who do they think…?”
“Killed him?” Pink finished. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“What do you mean?” Lillie asked.
“Jordan Hill. Who else? He goes after Tyler, and suddenly Tyler disappears and then turns up dead. He was out to get him, Lillie.”
“Stop it, Pink, that’s ridiculous,” Lillie cried. “Jordan would never—”
“Look, Lillie, I can’t stay on this line.”
“No, Pink, that’s impossible. You have to tell Royce.”
Pink chuckled. “Hey, I’m not telling Royce anything. He’s gone, anyway. He left here a little while ago with blood in his eyes.”
“He didn’t—” Lillie heard the phone click. “Not Jordan.”
Lillie sat with the receiver in her hand, and then she let it drop into her lap. Her heart was hammering in her chest. Tyler dead. Murdered. It couldn’t be. Her hands were icy cold. She fumbled with the receiver to replace it on the hook.
“What is it?” Grayson asked. “What’s going on?”
Lillie looked up at him feeling dazed and frightened. “Tyler Ansley. He’s dead. He’s been murdered.” Her voice was incredulous.
“I gathered that.”
Lillie stared at her son. “I’m afraid that Royce has the idea that Jordan did it.”
“Well, what if he did?” Grayson said with a shrug. “Good riddance, I say. He deserved it.”
“Grayson!” Lillie exclaimed.
“Hey, look. He killed Michele, remember. Why should anybody be surprised if Tyler got himself killed? He was always in trouble. He was always drunk, hanging out with sleazy guys. It could have been anyone that did him in. Maybe he was into drugs or something.”
Lillie nodded, reassured. “That’s right,” she said. “It’s crazy to point the finger at Jordan. Royce is just upset. He’s lost his child.” She went over to the front window and looked outside the house. There was no one out there. Only the night sounds of the rustling trees, a faraway train
whistle, and the occasional rumble of a passing car. “Poor Royce.”
“This could be messy though,” Grayson went on. “I mean, if he starts putting the pressure on Jordan, Jordan may decide not to keep quiet after all. Tit for tat.”
“He promised me,” Lillie said vaguely.
“Yeah, but if he wants to make trouble for us, he can do it.”
“If he said he won’t, then he won’t. Can’t you think of anyone but yourself?” Lillie said irritably, still staring out into the night. “Tyler is dead. I still can’t quite believe it. Well, Jordan didn’t do it, so there’s no way they can arrest him. Royce just probably needs someone to blame right now.” She spoke calmly, but in her heart she knew how desperate Royce must be feeling. She just prayed that he did not catch up to Jordan in that state of mind. “It must have been such a shock,” Lillie said, “finding his child like that.”
“Where’d they find him?” Grayson asked offhandedly. “I heard you say something about the Millraney place?”
“Yes,” said Lillie. “Your father was out there showing the place to some clients and they discovered him.”
“Leave it to Dad,” said Grayson.
“Well, it’s hardly your father’s doing.”
“I know. But he couldn’t just show them the house and leave well enough alone. He has to show them the well too. Like that’s going to make them want to buy the place.”
Lillie turned and stared at her son.
Grayson looked at her questioningly, his eyebrows raised.
All the color had drained from Lillie’s face. She was squinting at Grayson as if her vision were blurred. Her mouth hung open like a gash.
“What?” Grayson cried. “You want me to pretend I’m sorry about it? I’m not. He was a creep. He deserved it.”
“What do you mean about the well?” she said.
Their eyes locked, and his widened, and then he looked away, silently scanning the room. “The phone,” he said triumphantly. “You mentioned it when you were talking to Dad. You probably don’t remember.”
“No, I didn’t,” she said slowly. “He didn’t say anything about a well. I didn’t know there was a well.”
No Way Home Page 27
