Shoofly Pie & Chop Shop (80 page)

“Take a left here,” Riley said. “It’s just a little farther.”

A quarter of a mile ahead, the road ended in front of a two-story
white frame house. At first, it appeared to be on level ground, standing out like a beacon against the midnight sky. But as they drew closer, the blackness behind the house began to sparkle in the headlights. Nick leaned over the steering wheel and peered up, and far above he could see where the blackness ended and the true night sky began. It was the bony pile, and it was the size of a small mountain.

“No offense,” Nick said, “but why have you kept this place?”

“What are we supposed to do with it? The town is condemned.”

“Condemned? All of it?”

Riley nodded. “No one could afford the subsidence insurance, and no one wanted to live with the health risks. First the families left, then the store owners, then everybody just pulled out. There was a little money from the government, but not enough to go around. We’re not the only coal-mine fire in Pennsylvania, you know.”

To the left of the house was a large slatted shed. Nick pointed to it. “Is that empty?”

“Everything’s empty. We can hide both cars in there. If we keep the drapes closed when we light the lamps, we’ll be practically invisible.”

“You’ve got drapes?”

“All the comforts of home.”

They walked to the house together and stepped up onto the wooden porch. The boards under Nick’s feet sagged ominously. He rocked from heel to toe and the boards produced a squeal like rusty hinges.

“A real fixer-upper,” Riley said. “Priced to move.”

She took a key ring from her purse.

“You keep it locked?” Nick said. “Is security really a problem around here?”

“It’s still our home. We don’t want it turning into a crack house.”

They stepped through the doorway and into the darkness of a large open space; the hollow echo of their footsteps told them the room was empty. A pinpoint of white light appeared on Riley’s key ring; she pointed the tiny flashlight quickly around the room and brought it to rest on a doorway on the opposite wall.
Through the doorway, on the right, was a closet door; it opened with a complaining groan and the pungent odor of mothballs. Riley handed Nick a Coleman lantern, matches, and a box of white candles. She took out two sleeping bags wrapped in plastic and a pair of ragged towels.

“You’re well stocked,” Nick said. “Come here often?”

“This is my water tower. I come out here from time to time to think things over.”

“I’ve got a better view.”

Riley headed for the wooden stairway. “You don’t really climb up on that water tower to look at the river, do you? And I don’t come here to stare at the bony pile. We both get away for the same reason, Nick—to look
back.
”

They started up the narrow stairway—Riley first, then Nick. At the top of the stairs, the hallway led to three small bedrooms.

“Take your pick,” Riley said. “They’re all the same.”

They entered the first room, facing the front of the house. On the right was a bare wooden dresser; on the left, a simple headboard and footboard with nothing but a metal bedframe in between. Riley stepped to the window, turned off her flashlight, and pulled open the dusty drapes. Moonlight colored the room with an even wash of greenish gray. She turned and looked at Nick, standing in the center of the room.

“You’re a hard man to love,” she said.

“So I’ve heard. Apparently I’m not a project for beginners.”

“You almost died tonight.”

He shrugged.

“I hope not.” He walked across the room to her, brushed back the hair from her face, pulled her close, and kissed her. A moment later, she pulled away.

“You know,” he said, “you’re not easy to love either.”

“Nick, I want to be fair with you.”

“I don’t want you to be fair; I want you to love me.”

“The two go together.”

“No they don’t. When a woman say she wants to be fair, that’s when everything starts to fall apart.”

“Nick—we need to talk about the future.”

“The future is an odd concept,” he said. “It’s a word we use for an imaginary collection of predictions, probabilities, and wild guesses.
The strange thing is, we let our fears about that imaginary world take all the enjoyment out of this one. Now does that seem
fair
?”

“Nick—there’s something you don’t know about me.”

“What? After all the time I’ve known you?”

“Stop joking! I need to tell you something.” She struggled for a way to begin.

The lenses in Nick’s glasses flashed with a glaring light, then darkened again. He stepped past her to the window and looked out. He saw a car slowly turning off toward the open doors of the shed.

“It’s Sarah,” he said. “Let’s grab something to eat; then we could all use a few hours sleep.” He headed for the door.

“Nick,” Riley said. “We need to have a talk.”

“We’ll have time for that,” Nick called back.

“I hope so,” she whispered.

Good morning,” Sarah said, stretching as she entered the kitchen. Nick looked up from his coffee. “Good afternoon is more like it—it’s after eleven.”

She pointed to his cup. “Is there any more of that?”

“It tastes like rust,” Nick said.

“You have to let the pump run for a while. It’s a deep well, but iron from the mine gets into everything.”

She stepped to the counter and reached into an open bag of bread. She took a spoon from a jar of strawberry preserves and absent-mindedly wiped it across the bread, then tested the side of the metal pot on the small camping stove. Nick watched her. She was a little taller than Riley, and her hair was an identical shade of blond. Her eyes were blue—both of them—and she had the same high cheekbones and fair complexion. She was quite beautiful—like her older sister—but minus a few of the lines and wrinkles
awarded with a medical degree and residency. She was barefoot, and she wore a loose-fitting T-shirt over powder blue surgical scrubs. She pulled out a chair across from Nick and sat down.

“So you’re the boyfriend,” she said.

“Did Riley tell you that?”

“She didn’t have to. How long have you two been an item?”

“That depends on who’s doing the counting. I think I’m still trying to convince her.”

“I think she’s convinced.” She stopped for a moment to sip her coffee. “What is it you do for a living, Nick?”

“I’m a forensic entomologist.”

She looked at him blankly.

“I’m a bug man. I study the insects that inhabit human bodies when they die: blowflies, flesh flies, carrion beetles …”

Sarah shivered. “The things people do.”

“Riley tells me you’re a nurse. In what area?”

“OR, ER, ICU—I’ve done it all at one time or another. I’m in pediatrics right now. It’s a lot more humane.”

Nick looked around the room. It was long and narrow, with the cabinets and counters at one end and their table at the other. Behind them, a large window looked out on an ebony hillside. “So this is where the two of you grew up.”

“Right here, in beautiful downtown Mencken.”

He pointed over his shoulder. “And that’s the volcano you used to climb on.”

“Not me—you couldn’t get me up on that thing. That was Riley’s playground.”

“With or without your dad’s permission?”

Sarah smiled. “My sister has what you might call a stubborn streak—but I suppose you’ve noticed that by now.”

“I’ve had a taste.”

“Riley’s like a weather vane. She has a way of always turning into the wind—she seems to follow the path of greatest resistance.” She pointed out the window. “It’s two hundred feet to the top of that thing, and the ground around here is fairly flat. When Riley climbed up there, she could see for miles. She could see out of Mencken; I think that’s what she really wanted.”

“And you?”

“Me? I didn’t care. Our dad died when we were still teenagers.
Riley raised us both—she was both parent and sister. She made me go to college, and she made sure I got a good job. Then she went on to medical school and then a residency and now the coroner’s office.” She peered out the window again. “You know, I think she’s still climbing.”

“You love your sister, don’t you?”

“Do you?”

Nick shifted in his chair. “That’s … not an easy question.”

“Sure it is. You just don’t want to tell me yet. That’s OK; I’m just a little overprotective.”

“She seems to feel the same way about you.”

“It’s just the two of us, Nick. That’s the way it’s been for a long time. We look out for one another.”

“I guess that makes me the third wheel.”

“Wagons have four—one more and we’ve got a set. Have you got a brother?”

“Sorry.”

Sarah snapped her fingers. “Just my luck.”

“A woman like you can’t be short of men.”

“Ordinary men, sure—but the McKays settle for nothing but the best. Riley makes sure of it. You know, that says a lot about you.”

“Do you ever get tired of your sister’s influence?”

“Riley’s more than my sister—she’s my hero. Can you say that about anybody?”

“Not anymore.”

“Well, it’s a nice thing. A little overbearing at times, but nice.”

Nick leaned closer across the table. “Can I ask you something about your sister?”

“Sure. I’m an expert.”

“How is she? I mean, how is her health?”

Sarah paused. “How much do you know?”

“I know about her kidney disease. I’ve seen the edema in her ankles, and I know that she tires out easily—sudden exertion almost paralyzes her. What I want to know is, how serious is it?”

“What has Riley told you?”

Nick sat back in his chair. “You do look out for one another, don’t you?”

She looked intently into his eyes. “Nick, I would do anything for Riley. Would you?”

“Would he what?” said a voice behind her. Riley tousled her sister’s hair and headed straight for the coffee. “It’s not decaf, is it?”

“It’s the good stuff,” Nick said. “Plus iron.”

“Good. I’m fighting off anemia.”

She poured herself a cup, turned, and leaned against the counter. “Were you two talking about me behind my back?”

“That’s the best way,” Sarah said.

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him about the guy who took you to the prom. I told him he got a little too forward, and you broke his hand.”

She looked at Nick. “Did she really tell you that?”

“She did now.”

“So you’d better be a gentleman,” Sarah said.

Nick held up both hands. “There’s not a mark on me.” He pushed back from the table and began to collect his things. He walked over to the counter and gave Riley a peck on the forehead.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m late for work.”

“What work? I thought we were hiding out here.”

“I need to take the sample to Sanjay at Pitt. He’ll run a DNA sequence on it, and in a day or two we’ll know if we have a match.”

At the table, Sarah set her bitter coffee down and slid the cup away from her. In the center of the table was a half-filled Aquafina water bottle.

“Well, be careful,” Riley said. “Don’t do anything unexpected.”

“There is one ‘unexpected’ thing I plan to take care of,” Nick said. “I just thought of it last night.”

“What’s that?”

Sarah twisted off the cap and lifted the bottle to her lips—

“Stop!” Nick shouted.

Sarah froze.

Nick gently took the bottle from her hand and replaced the cap. “That was close. You almost let the genie out of the bottle.”

Julian Zohar held up the Money section of
USA Today
and searched the multicolored columns. Featured prominently on the second page was a story about the breathtaking progress in PharmaGen’s research and development program and enthusiastic speculation about the much-anticipated date of their initial public offering. Zohar nodded and smiled.

He felt the table in front of him jostle slightly; he lowered the paper and looked across the table at an unexpected visitor.

“Do you know who I am?” Nick said, touching his glasses.

Zohar shook his head in astonishment. “You never cease to amaze me, Dr. Polchak. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” He extended his hand across the table. Nick ignored it.