“You sure about what you’re saying?”
“Sure enough.”
“On your word I’m taking him into custody. That’s a big responsibility for a kid.”
“I know his lisp. He says ‘very’ funny, like ‘burry,’ and ‘bidness,’ too. Let Judge Rains talk to him and he’ll recognize his voice like I did.”
“You know that’s what I’ll do, but the judge didn’t say anything about a lisp.”
“It’s ’cause of the way he talked, like he was careful. The judge’ll remember that.”
The rain had stopped, but the world was heavy with water. It dripped off the house, from the trees, and from the thicket of sand plums beside the hay barn. The long grass in the pasture lay droopy and green. A thin stream ran from the hill where the barn sat, down the ruts made by Grandpa’s truck, under the pipe gate, and then down the gravel drive to join a thicker stream flowing in the ditch. The water streamed over the drive toward the slough below the house that eventually ran off into Sanders Creek, a mile away.
A cow lowed in the distance, and a hoot owl tuned up. I guess he was impatient because it’d been cloudy for so long and he was all mixed up. Behind the house, a whippoorwill called. It all sounded so normal, but at the same time wrong, because the storms weren’t past, Pepper was gone, and Grandpa and Uncle James weren’t there.
I couldn’t meet Uncle Cody’s eyes. “What are you going to do with Freddy?”
“Anna’s on the way to pick him up, and then we’ll take him in for questioning.”
“Will you tell him how you know?”
“I don’t know.” He paused. “We’ll see how it goes.”
“Do you think he did it?”
“Can’t say. He might have. He might know who did it, or he may be telling stories.”
That was our nice way of saying he might be lying.
“Am I gonna get in trouble?”
“For what?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
He gave my neck a squeeze. I realized how skinny I was when his hand slipped down to cover most of my shoulder. “You don’t ever get in trouble trying to do the right thing.”
“I didn’t know for sure where Pepper was going.”
“Oh, that’s what we’re talking about.” It was quiet for a moment. “Did she tell you she was leaving?”
“No. She’s been talking about California for a good long while, especially after…after we were took.” A painful lump rose in my throat and my eyes burned. I didn’t know where it came from. One minute it wasn’t there, and the next minute I wanted to bawl like a baby. I kept those feelings packed down most of the time, but every now and then they’d well up like spring water. “She don’t talk about it.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I had to swallow twice before answering. I was afraid someone was listening through the screen door, but the kitchen was dark. “Everybody worries about what happened to Pepper all the time. It’s always poor Pepper this, and poor Pepper that. She don’t want it, but she never says anything.”
“So what do you want?”
“I wanted someone to ask me how I felt after the Skinner took us…how I feel. No one ever does, though.”
It was quiet on the porch while Uncle Cody digested our words.
“Do you need to talk about that night?”
“I want to talk about a lot of things.”
“Like what?”
“That, and Hootie getting chewed up.” The Brit perked up his ears at his name, then sighed and went back to watching the road. “Like us almost letting that killer Kendal get away, or Grandpa nearly dying down in Mexico.” I tried to swallow the lump, but my chest was full of pain and my voice broke. “Or about Mr. Tom Bell. I loved him and now he’s gone, and here I am, sitting here all alone. Everything I love and need keeps getting hurt in some way, or killed.”
“I know, but you’re not alone. Let’s talk.”
That stubborn Parker streak rose up then and I shook my head and wiped the tears off my cheeks. “No. Pepper’s gone, too. It’s about her right now…again.” A good mad replaced my tears, because it was always about her. That was something about me I never understood. When I got mad, I’d get to crying. I wiped my cheeks dry. “I should have told someone what she was thinking.”
“It’s not your fault. She does what she does.”
“She has a hurt deep down inside. It ain’t all about that scar on her shoulder. You know, the Skinner did things to her, too.”
“Do you think she needs to talk to a doctor?”
“They said the scar wouldn’t be a problem.”
“I’m talking about a head doctor.”
“She ain’t crazy!”
“Never said she was. People can get hurt inside their heads and talking it out helps.”
“Do they have those for kids?”
“Yep.”
“Boys and girls?”
I could feel him studying me. “Both, if they need it.” He gave my neck another squeeze and it told me he understood the weight of everything that was resting on my shoulders, from my parents dying, something I never talked about, to that terrible night in the bottoms when the Skinner did those things to me and Pepper.
We set there quiet for a while before the tightness in my chest eased. I finally broke the silence. “There’s something else.”
“A’ite.”
“That dream I keep having. A horse is talking to me, leaning his head against my chest and whispering.”
“You have a horse talking to you now?”
I smiled, feeling the dried tears pull at the skin of my cheeks. “Stupid, ain’t it? I’ve gone from dreaming about drowning in the Rock Hole to Mr. Ed.”
We both laughed about the talking horse on television.
“Your horse is like Mr. Ed?”
“No. I’m not dreaming about that stupid show. Horses don’t talk, but the one in my dreams does, and he knows Grandpa.”
“I’ve been having dreams, too.”
“What about?”
He was silent for a moment. “Dead babies.”
I shuddered.
“Only you’d understand. Dead babies that keep pointing west, past Neal’s store.”
“What does it all mean?”
He sighed. “It means the Gift is trying to tell us something.”
Chapter Fifty
After Anna promised to pass Top’s information to Cody, she made a call to a friend in Houston. The crusty old deputy’s gruff demeanor changed when he recognized her voice on the phone.
“How you doing, gal?”
“Fine, Burt.” They exchanged pleasantries for a moment before she went to the reason for her call. “Listen, I’m working on a couple of cases up here in Lamar County, but this department is more than a little behind the times. I need anything you can find out about a guy named Leland Hale, and his wife, Melva.” She spelled it to make sure he didn’t write down Melba.
“What else?”
“There’s something about him and that woman that bothers me. He’s dead now. Hit and run. She’s the strangest woman I’ve ever met, and acts even stranger when she talks about Leland. I’m wondering if he had any kind of criminal record that she’s hiding for him.”
“I’ll do what I can. When do you need it?”
“Yesterday.”
Burt laughed. “You haven’t changed a bit. I figured country living would slow you down some, but it sounds like you’re still the same old Sparky.”
“I’m Anna here. Don’t you be giving these guys that nickname. Thanks, Burt.”
Half an hour later, she followed the winding country road through the river bottom on her way to John T.’s house. She crossed the swollen Sulphur River and came to the little wooden post office.
A
stout woman wearing a tight bun on top of her head smiled wide when Anna stepped up to the scarred counter.
“Howdy, Deputy. What can I do for you?”
Anna returned the smile. She unfolded a sheet from a notepad and slid it across so the woman could read it. “I’m looking for this address.”
“Well, hon, that’s off the main road a piece, but it ain’t far.”
“Can you tell me how to find it?”
“Sure ’nough.” The postmistress closed her eyes to visualize the route. She pointed into the air with an arthritic hand. “You go right down the highway to the next road and turn right. Then you follow it for a piece and turn left at Carson Taylor’s barn. Go on past two gravel roads to the third one and turn left. There’s a big pecan tree there and you won’t miss it. Cross a plank bridge and turn right again, I believe, and you’ll pass Nellie Renshaw’s house. I swear, that woman makes the best sweet tea I’ve ever drank. Past there you see a big pool, but you don’t turn anywheres near it, but it’s deep, it’s an old gravel pit they used to build this here highway—so you’ll know you’re on the right road. Go on a piece past a growed-up pasture, then a little field that ain’t no bigger’n a minute, and I swear, I don’t know why Daniel Spears wastes the gas to plow it ever year, and this year I believe it was peas that didn’t make good—but anyway, go on a little fu-ther to the Crawford cemetery, you’ll know it’s the right one ’cause of the fresh grave right there beside the road. That was Miss Millie Bills, she was a sweet old soul and we’re all gonna miss her, bless her heart, but then you’ll see a little house off to the left with some big oak trees on the south side for shade. That’s where you’re going.”
She opened her eyes, pleased with the directions.
Anna blinked. “I got most of that, could you write it down for me?”
“Why sure ’nough, hon. Better yet, let me draw you a little map.” She cheerfully drew several intersecting lines, making small notes to identify the landmarks. She slid it across the counter. “There you go.”
Anna folded the map and put it into her shirt pocket. “Thank you so much. Do you know John T. West?”
The little woman’s face changed in an instant. She held one gnarled hand in front of her mouth, as if the actual name shouldn’t be spoken. “John T. I know him. That’s where you’re going, ain’t it, to pick him up?”
“What makes you think that?”
“’Cause you wouldn’t be going there for nothing else. He’s been in the pen. What’s he done this time?”
“I can’t talk about that. I need to find him.”
The postmistress patted Anna’s hand that was resting on the counter. “Hon, you be careful out there with him. That boy is mean as a snake. I ain’t never heard of him working a lick and, you know, he drinks.”
Anna captured the hand between her own and gave it a soft rub. “I’ll be all right. Thanks.”
“If I’d-a thought about that house being John T.’s, I might not have told you how to get there all by yourself. I don’t want to have that on my conscience if you was to get hurt.”
“There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Yes there is, when it comes to John T.”
Chapter Fifty-one
Ned held an ice bag against his bruised shoulder and listened to both the Flagstaff sheriff and police chief apologize. “It don’t matter none.”
The chief, a young man with close-cropped hair shook his head. “It does to my department, Constable Parker. It was a bad mistake all around, on our part, and yours.”
Completely wrung out, James slumped in a chair beside a worn wooden desk that had seen better days during the Garfield administration. “Cale Westlake got away. That boy was beaten, and I’m scared to death for my daughter.”
The sheriff laced his fingers on the desk. “We have men on the way to the address you gave us. They’ll pick her up if she’s there. We’ll find Cale, too.”
“I doubt she’s there.” Ned winced and rolled his shoulder. “Something’s happened. That’s why he was here, and now he’s gone again.”
“You should have asked him what was wrong.”
Ned’s blue eyes iced the distance between him and the youngest police officer who’d spoken, the one who’d used the billy club. He wished he could return the favor. The sheriff had called Chisum at Ned’s urging, and talked to Judge O.C. Rains. He was still smarting from the dressing down he’d gotten from the old judge.
The officer finally dropped his eyes. Ned grunted. “Have you ever gone after a runaway child that was blood?”
“No.”
“That’d be no sir to you, and the truth is that you don’t know what the hell you’d do in any such situation, so if I’s you, I’d sit right there with my damned mouth closed and let my betters do the talking.”
“Easy, Constable Parker.” The chief agreed. “Lester, why don’t you go outside?”
Ned remembered the police car parked next to theirs. “No. We’re leaving.” His harsh outburst stunned them all. “Are you finished with us?”
The sheriff shrugged.
The chief tapped a yellow pencil against the desk. “We are too.” The phone rang. He answered and listened. “All right.” He hung up. “Mr. Parker, they went to the address you gave, but the house is empty. It appears they’ve moved.”
James deflated even more. “All right. Let’s go.”
Ned wrote on a piece of paper.
The sheriff shifted, his leather holster creaking. “What’s that?”
“My number in Center Springs, Texas. Give my wife a call if you find anything out. She’ll tell me the next time I call home.”
“Where are you going?”
Ned rested his blue eyes on the sheriff. “After my granddaughter.”
When they were out of the office, the chief thumped a forefinger on the desk. “We need to find Cale Westlake before they do.”
The sheriff shrugged. “They have as much chance as us, though.”
***
Their car was gone when they stepped outside. Ned tilted the Stetson back on his head. “Well, son of a bitch.”
“Crow stole my car.” James’ head felt like it would explode as anger flashed once again. “I told you he was a crook. Now what are we going to do?”
“I don’t know.” Ned needed somewhere to sit, but the city fathers apparently didn’t want anyone loafing in front of their courthouse.
“I’m going back in and file a report on my stolen car.”
“Wait.”
“Wait, hell. Dad, he stole our car and now we don’t have any way to find Pepper.”
Another sharp pain shot through Ned’s stomach, and he bent over to brace himself on both knees. “Let me think.” He took a deep breath once the pain settled back to a more tolerable level. “All right.” He pointed to a diner down the road. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. I want to go in there and sit down and order a Bromo-Seltzer. Then we’ll figure out our next step.”
“Crow could be a hundred miles away if we wait for you to drink a powder.”
“I don’t believe he stole it and run away. Let’s think a minute while we walk.”
James finally gave in. “All right.” He rubbed his throat, sore from being choked down. “I could use something to drink anyway. You think they have sweet tea out here?”
“Of course they do.”
They were halfway to the diner when Crow steered the Bel Air around the corner. He shot over to the curb, reached across the seat, and gave the door lever a yank. It opened with a squall. “Get in. Quick.”
Ned jerked the back door open. “See, I told you he wouldn’t run off.”
Without a word, James dropped heavily into the passenger seat. Ned stopped at the sight of Cale Westlake in the floorboard. He had a second lump on his forehead, and his hands were cuffed.
&nbs
p; Ned got in, slammed the door, and Crow quickly pulled away from the curb. He smoothly accelerated away from the courthouse. Ned nudged Cale with the toe of his shoe.
“You stay right there and get to talking.”
Chapter Fifty-two
It was full dark when Anna rolled into Ned’s drive. Cody was still sitting on the porch with Top. They weren’t alone, of course. Miss Becky, Ida Belle, and Norma Faye had taken turns coming out to check on them. It was obvious they wanted to know what Cody and Top were talking about, and Cody gave them enough information to satisfy the curious women, but not what Top said in confidence.
Anna killed the lights and Cody trailed around the front of the car to talk through her open car window. He saw someone in the backseat, lit by the dash lights.
“Howdy, Freddy.”
The dejected man barely raised his head. “Cody.”
“You know why I had Deputy Sloan pick you up?”
“I don’t have any idea.”
“Sure you do.” Cody waited.
“Why’d you thend a girl to get me? Thath embarrathing.”
“I didn’t. I sent a deputy.”
“I’d as thoon be taken in by that nigger John Wathington.”
Anna caught his eye in her rearview mirror. “Don’t make me have to drag you out of that backseat.”
“What’d I do?”
“Don’t use that word around me.”
“What?”
“That word you used referring to Deputy Washington.”
Freddy grunted at Cody. “What’th thith all about? Ith thith woman crathy?”
“Nope. She’s a long way from crazy. I sent her to come get you. What do you know about some bodies we found today?”
The expression on Freddy’s face was a full confession, but expressions can’t be used in a court of law. Cody’s prompt caused Freddy to shrug.
Cody opened the back door. “Get out.”
The porch light snapped on as Freddy slid out of the seat.
Dark Places Page 19
