by Lou Cadle
He wished the dog could talk. For now, where he’d been the last fifteen minutes would have to remain a mystery.
Bodhi pulled away from him to check out the body on the floor. He looked at Pilar, as if asking him what happened, and Pilar said, “I don’t know exactly, boy.”
Quinn’s voice came from behind him. “I know. Exactly.”
“I called the sheriff,” Pilar said.
Quinn grunted.
“I assume he was breaking in for food?”
“He did break in for food. The house too. There’s a burlap sack filled with food, some shit broken in there. Devlin is cleaning it up.”
“Maybe you should leave it as is for the sheriff to see. So he knows—you know.”
“Knows what?”
“That you caught the guy breaking in. That you had a reason to shoot him.”
“Of course I had a reason!”
“Just saying, you want the sheriff to see it the same way you do. I’d stop Dev from cleaning up if I were you.”
Quinn pointed a finger at him and opened his mouth, ready to tell him off in some way or other, then seemed to think better of it, and turned to march back to the house.
He’d grasp the danger he was in from the sheriff soon enough. Pilar wouldn’t be surprised if they hauled Quinn in for questioning. He didn’t really know the law. Could you shoot a person just for breaking in and robbing you? Or did you have to try some lesser form of violence first?
If the guy had a gun, then it would be called self-defense, no doubt.
But did he? Pilar was curious, but not curious enough to go pawing around the body any more than he had already and incur the wrath of the sheriff or crime scene team.
At least he could testify that they were all together at the Morrow house when it started. It was not as if Quinn was lying in wait and wanted to shoot the guy. That might save him from jail time.
Dev and Quinn came back. “What should we do then?” Dev asked. “If we can’t clean up.”
“Wait for the law, I suppose,” Quinn said.
Pilar said, “Maybe Dev should run back and tell Kelly and Sierra that we’re all okay.”
“Right. Good idea.”
“Tell them to stay there, in case there’s anyone else around. And try and get Bodhi to go with you. I don’t want him getting into a fracas with the sheriff or deputy.” He patted Bodhi on the rump. “Go with Dev, boy. Go on. Find Sierra.”
The last command did it. The dog knew what “find” meant. Bodhi turned tail and ran off, back toward the Morrow house and the rest of his family.
Quinn said, “Yeah, go on, tell you mother we’re okay. Try to get her not to come back over, but you need to come back, probably, to talk with the sheriff. We’ll call or text when you’re needed back here.”
“Okay,” Dev said, and he handed his father the handgun.
“Go back into the house and take a rifle with you. Take two, in fact, yours and your mother’s both. Keep an eye out. Be careful. There may be a gang of them, not just this one.”
The adrenaline was leaving Pilar, making him feel tired. He regretted that someone had died today. But had that someone known whose house he was breaking into, he wouldn’t have even thought about doing it. He realized that was a good thing to say to Quinn, so he said it.
“Damn straight,” Quinn said. “I told you we needed to fortify the gate.”
“Would that have stopped this guy? I guess he was pretty hungry to risk breaking in a strange house.” He had a thought. “Is he a stranger? Or do you know him?”
“Never seen him before. I wish we knew what was happening in town. But I don’t really want to go down there to see if this is part of it. What if this is the first of people giving up on finding food on the grocery store shelves and breaking in here to find some? This could be the beginning of the end.”
“We don’t know that’s what’s happening. It might just be one random guy. He isn’t dressed very well. Maybe he’s homeless.”
“You’re like a kid, you know that? Thinking everything is going to just be dandy.”
“I’m not a kid. I’d simply rather solve problems another way than shooting someone.”
“Like how?”
“Like offering the guy a sandwich, maybe. If he was hungry, if he was wanting to feed a family, maybe give him a bag of groceries. I have plenty of peas and beans coming in.”
Quinn laughed, a sour sound without amusement in it. “Right, and have every asshole between here and Cottonwood coming to get another bag? How long could you survive doing that?”
Pilar knew Quinn was right but hated to admit it. “You could have told him to be on his way.”
“And have him come back with six buddies, all armed, next time?” Quinn snorted in derision. “Good plan, princess.”
“You really must get over associating masculinity with violence. Talk about childish.”
Quinn laughed bitterly. “Fuck a bunch of masculinity. Kelly would have done the same thing I did. She’d have known to protect her family, and all the work we’ve put into preparing for this day.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“I am. You don’t know her. I do.”
Pilar made himself bite back the next angry response that came to mind. Instead he said, “I’m just worried the sheriff won’t see it exactly as you see it. Did the guy have a gun? A knife? Threaten you?”
“He threatened my supplies. And he didn’t respond to a warning shot. That’s enough.”
“I don’t think the law will see it quite like that.”
“I don’t care how the law sees it!”
“And if they haul you off to jail and leave your family to protect themselves?”
“I—fuck,” Quinn said, and he turned his back on Pilar and stormed outside.
Pilar let him stay there. He waited with the body, and he wondered about the man. Had he been hungry? Did he have little kids at home, crying because they were hungry? Where did he live? Was there a car he’d left out on the road?
“Hey, Quinn,” he said. “I’m going to go out to the main road, see if there’s a car there or something. Maybe he left kids in a car.”
“This kind of asshole doesn’t prepare for food—I doubt he was careful with his gas. I bet he walked here.”
“Just in case. I’d hate if there were a baby strapped in a car seat. It’s a warm day, and the sheriff seems to be taking his sweet time getting here.”
“Go on, look then. But be careful. There might also be another man waiting for him on the road, one with a gun.”
“Then you be careful too,” Pilar said. “He could sneak up on you, if he exists.”
“I’d like to see him try,” Quinn said.
Did the man have to talk in action-movie clichés? Geez.
Pilar walked down the drive, feeling a frisson of fear the whole time, half-expecting to catch a bullet in the back. But he heard nothing, not so much as a rustle in the woods. The birds were just beginning to sing again, and only then did he realize they’d been silent, probably upon hearing the gunshots and angry voices. That they sang again reassured him. Probably no one was out here.
He sidled around the gate, feeling a stab of guilt. Maybe they should have reinforced it. But not even a heavier and taller gate would keep a committed person out. Anyone could slip around this gate, duck under it, or climb over it. A child could, much less a hungry and determined man. They couldn’t stretch a twelve-foot wall along the whole length of their property. And even if they could, they’d be vulnerable from the woods to the north and south.
It might have been more than hunger driving the man. He might have been looking to steal anything he could. Maybe some of the groceries the Quinns had were so rare now in town, they had a black market value, but they also owned a computer, a radio, and other pawnable items. It could have been an old-fashioned robbery of that sort.
But no, Quinn said there was a bag of food, not a bag of electronics.
Pilar cau
tiously stepped out onto the highway. No cars were on it—not moving, not parked. He walked downhill for a quarter mile, glancing across the road from time to time, looking for any other sign of people. When he walked uphill, he did the same until he caught sight of something. Across the road there was a flash of blue.
He looked both ways, though there weren’t cars, and there was no sound of cars or trucks coming up the road. Usually, this time of year, there was plenty of traffic: tourists, commercial vehicles, what have you. But right now, it was dead quiet. In fact, as he looked at the road more carefully, he saw there was a buildup of dust on it, as if no one had been traveling at all for days. Huh.
They really needed to find out what was happening in town. Payson wasn’t so large that it had a daily news feed. There had been a newspaper when he and Theda had first moved here, but that was long gone. The high school ran the only radio station in town and that went silent in the summer. He had been relying on news from Phoenix and the occasional text from Sierra’s friends to guess at what Payson was like, but maybe he shouldn’t have been so lax about it. He needed to find out exactly what it was like in town, even if it meant driving down there.
Cautiously, he made his way toward the patch of blue. Probably a trash bag someone had shoved out their window. But as he neared it, he saw it was not. It was a tent, not opened and ready for use, but broken down and stored in a scuffed bag. Next to it was a forest-green backpack, harder to see.
He shoved it with his boot and saw that under that was a pink backpack, a child’s pack.
Oh no.
“Hey,” he said, “little girl. Are you out here?”
No answer.
“My name is Pilar. I’m not going to hurt you. I bet you’re waiting for your daddy, right? Is your mommy here too?” Does your mommy have a gun? Is she a great shot?
He made himself sound friendly and, he hoped, not as frightened as he was. “I’m a nice guy. I have a dog and chickens. Have you ever seen a chicken up close?” He moved carefully through the brush, looking around. He wished he had the courage to drop his rifle. If a child could see him, the rifle would not be comforting. But if the man had another adult with him, someone in addition to the kid, Pilar needed the rifle.
Was he becoming another Quinn? Damn it, he didn’t want to be that. There was a little girl here, and her father had just been shot dead, and mean big brother or gun-toting mother or not, he needed to make sure she was okay.
Feeling sick about doing it, and trying not to think how Sierra would survive if he died out here today, he laid the rifle on the ground. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. I’m just worried about you.”
Nothing.
“Are you hungry? I know where you can eat.”
A sound, off to his right. He squatted down, trying to make himself look even less threatening. “There’s a nice lady there who cooks really good food. And a nice man who’s like the best kind of grandpa. And my dog. He’s friendly too.”
A girl, maybe six or seven years old, peeked out from behind a tree.
“Hi, hon,” he said, quiet now. “I’m Pilar. What’s your name?”
“Is that your dog? The furry one that was here?”
“Yeah, that’s Bodhi. Did he come over and play with you?”
She edged out another few inches and nodded. “Daddy says not to talk to strangers.”
“I’m not really a stranger now that you’ve met my puppy.”
“He’s not a puppy. He’s grown up.”
“You have me there. He’s ten years old—older than you, I bet. Are you hungry?”
She nodded.
“Would you like something to eat?”
“I’m not supposed to take food from strangers.”
“That’s a smart rule.”
“Daddy said so.”
Every time she mentioned her father, he felt a stab of guilt. “Do you have a mommy too?”
She shook her head.
Great. Quinn had just orphaned this child.
“Brothers, sisters?”
“No,” she said.
“Would you please come with me to get some food?” he said. “Please.”
“I can’t,” she said, and started to cry.
Ahhhh, shit. He was awful with this. A thought struck him. He pulled out his phone. A signal, good. He texted Sierra. “Come quick. I’m 200 yds uphill, across rd in the woods. Bring dog on leash.” The girl would react better to a female presence, and if not, the dog should win her over.
He said to the girl, “Okay. You don’t have to come with me. We can just sit here and talk, get to know each other.”
“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers either.”
“Okay, but I’m going to sit and rest, if that’s okay with you.” He sat close to his rifle.
Still no sirens.
The little girl stayed quiet.
Sierra came quicker than he had any right to hope for. “Pilar?” she called.
“That’s my little girl,” he said to the frightened child, who was holding on the tree, still peeking out to give him a worried look every so often. “Her name is Sierra.” Louder he said, “I’m here.”
“Bodhi, find Pilar,” Sierra said, and soon the two of them were crashing through the brush. “Oh. Hi, kid.”
“Drop the leash,” Pilar said.
Bodhi ran up to the little girl and wagged his tail. She reached out and petted him.
Pilar said softly to Sierra, “She’s afraid of me and knows not to talk to strange men. See if you can convince her to go up the road to the Morrows’, would you? She’s hungry, I think.”
“Is her father the one…?” Sierra said. So Dev had told them all what had happened.
“Seems so. The sheriff should be coming soon. But we can get her fed, at least, before they take her away.”
“Okay. Wait out by the gate for me, and I’ll do what I can,” his daughter said.
He proceeded them, stopping again by the blue tent. One adult backpack, one kid’s, so there was probably only two of them.
One, now.
It took another ten minutes—still no sign of the sheriff—before Sierra walked out of the woods. The little girl was holding Bodhi’s leash. Sierra made them stop and look both ways, though not a car had come by this whole time, and they crossed over. Pilar held his rifle pointed down at the ground, tight into his side, shielding the view of it from the girl.
Sierra kept up a friendly chatter with the girl and Pilar stayed quiet as he walked along twenty yards behind them. At the driveway to their own house, Pilar stopped. “I’m going back to wait with Quinn,” he said. “See you in a bit.”
“Be careful,” Sierra said.
“You too.”
He backtracked to Quinn, who was leaning against his shop, arms folded. “I wish I could clean this mess up. Where the hell is the sheriff?”
“I don’t know,” Pilar said. “There’s a child. He had a little girl, maybe six years old.”
“Damn,” Quinn said, under his breath.
“Just the two of them, it looks like. She’s an orphan now.”
Quinn turned away and faced the north, looking toward his hens and rabbits.
Pilar wondered what he was thinking. Was he regretting what he’d done? Too late to make a different decision now. And had the curse been for the man or himself?
Quinn was quiet for a good five minutes before he spoke again. “Where’s the goddamn sheriff?”
“Maybe there’s a lot of this kind of stuff going on. Maybe it’s a gas issue. Maybe things are worse in Payson than we’ve known and there’s trouble all over.”
“At least the sheriff should have gas, even if no one else does.”
“I don’t know. There’s really no way to get news. Though if the sheriff has gas problems too, they’d certainly not share it with the public, don’t you think? ‘Hey, everyone, the sheriff is nearly out of gas.’ Not an announcement to make if you want to keep the peace.”
“You kn
ow what I think?” Quinn said.
“What?”
“That this is all your fault.”
Pilar looked at him in shock. “My fault? How is it my fault?”
“If you would have built that gate with me—”
“You wouldn’t have shot a thief? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not ridiculous. You’re ridiculous! You’re naive and too trusting and—” He seemed to run out of insults.
Pilar stopped himself from snapping back another angry comment. Give Quinn the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was upset and guilty about killing a man. And this was simply how he expressed that. So pretend he’d spoken like an adult who knew his own heart and had said that: I’m upset. Pilar sympathized with that feeling. He hadn’t shot the man himself but felt bad enough. “Look, I agree with you this far. I didn’t think things would get bad so quickly.”
“I knew.”
“Of course, it’s possible they haven’t. Maybe this was one isolated incident.”
“There you go again.”
“I won’t argue the point until we know more, but I would like to arrange things so that no one else gets shot.” He made eye contact with Quinn and gave him the most serious look he had, the one he used on Sierra when he was talking with her about drugs or pregnancy. “Not us, and not them. I don’t want any of us turning any more children into orphans. And I don’t want to put my child in a position where she has to shoot someone. Not if we can prevent it.”
He saw Quinn’s jaw muscles tighten. Such a stubborn look. Why he was the sort of man who always turned any emotion into anger? He’d seen it between Quinn and his son, Quinn yelling when he could have been kind. He believed Quinn must love the boy, but all he knew to do was yell and order him around and find all his efforts lacking.
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, when all this has been dealt with,” he said.
Right now Quinn looked mean and talked tough, but killing a person…that had to do something to you. He hoped, for Quinn’s sake, that the man could be honest with Kelly in bed tonight. Or this kind of thing would eat away at his soul.
Chapter 11
The sheriff took forever to come, with no explanation of why beyond, “We’re busy.” Everyone who had been at the gathering at the Morrows’ was questioned, and Quinn himself was grilled longest of all. He had been rehearsing what he was going to say many times in his mind, whenever Crocker had shut up for more than five minutes, and he kept repeating it over and over, varying the wording hardly at all. The stranger hadn’t responded to a warning shot and an instruction to get out. He had come at Quinn. No, Quinn hadn’t been 100% certain there was a weapon, as the shop was dark. It wasn’t his intent to kill, just to keep from being killed. When the guy lunged, he had pulled the trigger in reflex.
