Widow Town (4 page)

The cruiser door thunked shut and David Baron gave them a wave before walking toward the two-story farmhouse, its paint ignited a dazzling white in the late afternoon sun.

Gray and Ruthers watched him until he climbed the steps onto the front porch and disappeared inside before pulling away in the turnaround that led back to the barren count
ry road. The sun cut across the field clover to their right, a few head of cattle grazing behind an electrified fence. Dust kicked up behind the cruiser in a cloud, an occasional stone snapping against its undercarriage.

“That was a nice
thing you did back there, sir.”

“Why thank you, Joseph.”

“I think Redy wanted to skin him alive.”

“That’s Clark Redy’s solution to most problems
.”

“Yeah.” Ruthers glanced out the window down a narrow road that shot off to their right, there and gone as they flew by. “You th
ink he’s alive somewhere, sir?”

“Who? Miles Baron? I’m not
sure. There’s always a chance.”

“But you don’t think so.”

“I knew Miles from middle school on. He was one of the most kind, caring, responsible men I’ve ever known. He would not shirk his family or his farm for any kind of offer and if there was a way to get back to the two people in that house, he would. So no, Joseph, I don’t think he is.”

“It’s just so strange for someone to vanish without notice. No vehicle, no body,
no contact if he did run off.”

“Mysteries, Deputy Ruthers, we’re
in the business of mysteries.”

They finished the drive back to Shillings in silence. Farms passing by, then
more trees, a dried river cracked bottom wishing for rain. The dirt beneath the cruiser’s wheels became pavement, humming like a trapped hornet. Gray guided the vehicle down a side street, behind a row of homes set so close to one another a man would have to walk sideways between them. They parked in the long shadow of a two story, brick building. An American flag wilted on a shining pole. Breeze falling into nothing with the coming evening.

“Can you handle the necessaries for m
e, Joseph?”

“Sure can, sir.”

“If you don’t get it all done by quitting time, leave the simple things to Thueson. You remember where I live, I assume?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good, I’ve got a couple things I want to check. I’ll see you later.”

Ruthers exited the car and strode toward the sheriff’s office. Gray idled the cruiser out of the building’s shadow and drove a slow path down
Main Street. He watched the people he could see, how they moved, how they talked, where they were going. He looked at the way they held their hands and if they noticed him, if there was a reaction there, fear. Gray accelerated past the final business in town and took a left onto a patched asphalt road that led into the sun’s full glare. He put his sunglasses back on, letting his mind coast with the scenery outside the car.

He made turns without knowing where he was goin
g, and knowing the whole while.

The cruiser
’s tires crunched across the Jacobses’ drive and Gray stopped short of the flapping tape strung several yards in front of the charred porch. He shut the cruiser off, rolling his window down to listen. Birds sang in the surrounding woods, the melody speaking of rain. He hadn’t heard a bird in over a month, not since the last downpour. A squirrel chittered and jumped across a branch, its tail long, catching the sun in gaps of foliage. Gray inhaled, smelling the air. It would rain tonight.

He climbed from the vehicle, bending under the tape before stopping at the foot of the burnt stairs. He knelt, running his hand across the
treads, feeling the fire’s dust coat his fingers. The air still smelled like smoke this close to the house. Gray stood and walked around the side of the building, looking at the ground, the siding, the woods. The Jacobses’ dog was gone now, an empty length of chain trailing to its house

Gray opened the backdoor and stepped inside, closing it behi
nd him. He waited again, reliving the morning. He walked through the kitchen, stopping at the sink with the previous night’s dishes within. Moving to the table, he sat in one of the kitchen chairs, staring down the hall toward the foyer, the front door beyond. The house quiet save for an antique ticking clock near the stairway.

Gray stood, moved down the hall and paused before the front door. He only spared a glance at Devi’s room befor
e turning back to the stairway.

The second floor had only two
areas, a guest room and the master bedroom. The floor of the master still had blotchy patches of dried blood coating its surface but everywhere else was devoid of dust having been vacuumed by the forensic team. The bed sheets were gone along with the drapes. He studied the floor’s blackening patterns until they became sickening depictions of torture.

He
crossed the room to the bare window, the fading light barely dappling the sill. A massive oak grew close enough to climb down outside, a child’s dream of escape come true. Through the branches the forest solidified in a seamless aura of green although most of the higher leaves were beginning to wilt.

Gray stood framed in the window, watching the
afternoon creep toward evening when a new sensation pressed against him like a physical hand.

He was being watched.

He pretended not to notice, standing in fuller view while his eyes began to comb the trees, searching for an outline amongst the foliage. His hand crept the Colt’s grip. Nothing in the trees. The pushing touch of eyes relented, faded, disappeared.

Gray dropped his
gaze to the windowsill, its surface cleaner than it had been since being installed he was sure. He shifted, his feet scraping across a heating grate in the floor, the hollow sound strumming like an unturned harp. A glint of something caught his eyes between the grate’s slats. A shine of silver then gone as he moved.

Gray drew out his pocketknife and touched a button to release the spring loaded, six-inch blade. Kneeling, he placed the tip of the knife in the screw slit and turned it out. After doing the s
ame to the other side, he set the knife on the floor and pulled the grate from its recess.

The duct below held a handful of dirt and clumped hair. A tarnished earing, its back missing
rested amidst the grime, but that wasn’t what he’d seen through the grate.

A shining, silver screw sat apart from the rest of the detritus, its threads pointed up
.

Gray grasped
it in his fingertips and drew it out into the light. The screw had a star pattern slot for tightening and was only a half-inch long. It looked brand new.

“What are you doing down there?” Gray said to the empty r
oom that smelled of old copper.

Gray took off his hat and set it in the seat as he rounded one of the last bends before his home.

The sunlight was almost gone, shadows stretching to unnatural lengths on the ground. Gravel kicked up beneath the cruiser’s tires, a plume of dust marking its passage. Ancient trees lined the private drive, a county road in itself yet devo
id of any habitable dwellings save one. Miles of woods stretched to either side of the car with only the occasional splash of field and the abandoned, overgrown driveway to break the feeling of complete wilderness.

The road narrowed, turned once more and then opened into a massive clearing.
Gray sighed without meaning to.

His house stood in the center of the space, a high two-story with narrow windows set in its upper half. Long gables hung from the roof on all sides and
a two-door garage sat beside it, squat when compared to the tall structure. A deck wrapped around from the north side to the rear of the house and two wind chimes hung from its rails, still now without the nudging hand of breeze.

Gray touched the console screen and tapped a button. The left garage door slid up and out of sight as he pulled beneath it, touching the button once more before he climbed out
of the car and left the garage.

Gray glanced across the back yard as he walked to the house, the little stone bridge arching over a stream that was nearly dry.
Carah’s stream
.

He grimaced, slapped his hat agains
t his thigh once and continued toward the door.

A gr
inding roar began to build from the direction of the road and he paused, wondering why Joseph was so early. When the nose of the SUV came into view he licked his lips, smoothed his hair once, and donned his hat again. The blue Chevy stopped within feet of the garage and he waited as the woman behind the steering wheel fidgeted with something before climbing out.
Still acts like she lives here,
he thought, taking in the smooth line of her jeans, hugging legs beneath, a well-worn tank top clinging in the heat to her flat stomach. Dark hair he’d run his fingers through tossed to one side, held by an elastic band.

“Glad I caught you,” Lynn said coming closer. Her eyes were still hidden behind reflectiv
e shades that gave him nothing.

“You caught me. How are you?”

“Great, and you?”

“Fair to middling
.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Long day.”

“The days are long, especially now.” She
glanced at the sky. “I just need my last box, Mac.”

“Thought you
got everything last time.”

“I was looking for mom’s watch today and realized it wasn’t there. I think I left a jewelry box in the
foyer under the table.”

“I put it in the garage.”

Lynn shifted, her black boots scratching the dirt. “Is it open?”

“Yeah, should
be on the bench near the door.”

He watched he
r turn and move to the garage, disappear inside. She came out carrying the luridly colored jewelry box beneath her arm, guarding it. He reached out to put a hand on the doorknob and realized he wasn’t anywhere near the house anymore. Lynn walked toward the SUV, not looking back.

“Lynn.”

She stopped, hair dancing over her shoulder as she looked at him. So pretty in the evening light.

“Did you need anything else?”

“No.”

“You drove all th
e way out here to get jewelry?”

“Yes.”

“That’s not logical.”

She pivoted back toward him,
anger beginning to speak in her stance. “What would you know about logic, Mac?”

Gray rubbed h
is forehead and took a tentative step toward her, the day still too hot. “I didn’t mean anything, Lynn, I’m just trying to talk.”

“You have funny timing, Mac Gray.” No vehemence in her voice, nothing left.

“Didn’t I always?”

“I can’t do this now, Gray, I’ve got to be somewhere.” She turned toward the SUV, pulled open the back door to set the box inside. Gray stared at the ground, right where she’d dug her boot
s in. He could see the design from the bottom of her soles.

“Date?” He didn’t have to look up.

“Let me rephrase, I’m not going to do this now, don’t have the time or patience.” Her driver’s door clicked open and he almost took more steps, but didn’t. “Let me know if you find anything else.”

He nodded at the di
rt. “I will.”

He waited
to look up until she’d turned around and headed out, caught the glint of her red taillights before the SUV glided behind the trees. Then he made his way to the house, the yard quiet once again.

The interior always made him look up when he ent
ered. It was open construction, Timber Frame style. The square beams set in the heated and cooled concrete floor rose high before arching to meet one another in the center of the house. Gray glanced at the loft, half expecting Lynn to be standing there, leaning over it with her easy grace, a smile on her lips to see him home on time.

Gray set his hat on the kitchen bar that opened to the living room before going to the fridge. He pulled out a protein drink tasting of vanilla chalk and pounded half of it down, the cor
ners of his mouth pulling back.

“Out of fucking chocolate, whoever heard of such a thing?” He asked the house
before taking one last swallow.

Unbuttoning his shirt, he moved past the deep living room
toward a doorway leading to his office. A conglomeration of steel grips were mounted into the solid wood above the door, each facing a different angle. Setting his shirt down, Gray leapt into the air and grasped the two closest handles and began to chin-up. He stopped at sixty, having to struggle for the last three reps, then dropped to the floor, immediately going into a pushup position. He counted to one hundred and then leapt for the bars overhead again.

Gray repeated his workout four times and then stalked upstairs, snagging his shirt as he went. His breathing was back to normal
when he reached the bedroom and by the time he stripped the rest of his clothes off and stepped into the shower, his heart beat at the slow, solid rhythm that he heard every night before drifting off to sleep.

After showering, he dressed in a pair of loose shorts and a
threadbare T-shirt and returned to the kitchen, taking a pound of hamburger from the fridge. He salted and peppered the meat after making patties, the whole time staring out of the window above the sink, his eyes glazed.

Just as he was lighting the gas grill
on the deck he heard the unmistakable grinding of tires coming down the road and a minute later, Ruthers’s late-model pickup glided to a stop before the garage. Gray went back through the house and washed his hands in the sink before walking to the door. When he opened it, Ruthers had his hand raised as if about to knock.

“Joseph, welcome. Come in.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“There’ll be none of that ‘sir’
bullshit in my house. You call me Gray or Mac in this place, okay?”

“Yes s
—Gray.”

“That’
s better. Want a beer, Joseph?”

“That’d be great.”

Gray made his way into the kitchen and pulled two frosted bottles out of the fridge, snapping them both open before returning to the living room where the deputy waited. Ruthers’s eyes were tracing the lines of the room, the high ceilings, the long regal windows.

“Your house is unbelievable,
S—Gray.”

“Thank you, forgot you’v
e never stepped inside before,” he said, handing the younger man a beer.

“Who did the construction?”

“I did.”

A surprised look cross
ed the deputy’s face. “Really?”

“What, you don’t think I’m capable of do
ing things other than talking?”

“No, not at all.”

“I’m joking, Joseph, drink that beer and loosen up.” Gray motioned to follow and Ruthers walked behind him through the kitchen and out onto the deck. “My father was a carpenter, modeled himself after Jesus right down to his profession and his shoes.”

“Your father was a prophet
?”

Gray barked laughter. “Nice one, Joseph. No, he was a God-fearing man and wore sandals most days. He
built these types of homes as his specialty. For a long time people would have him come hundreds of miles to construct something like this, something that wasn’t like the newer models.”

“You mean low and effic
ient.”

“That’s exactly what I mean, Joseph.
I picked up the trade from him, but not the religion.”

“You’re not a God-fearing man?
”

“There’s more things on earth to fear than God.”

They walked to the edge of the deck and took in the panoramic view of the back yard. The stream trickled and the notes of birds drifted to them from far back in the woods.

“So that’s your garden?” Ruthers said, pointing at a
twenty-by-twenty-foot square of tilled dirt several yards from the bank of the stream.

“It is, and you
don’t sound impressed.”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just that mos
t people’s are so much bigger.”

“I d
on’t have garden envy, Joseph.”

“No, I didn’t mean
—”

“Joking, drink that beer.”

A gust of wind began to caress the trees, bending their tops gently before releasing them. The wind chimes jangled in a tune that always reminded Gray of fall.

“My garden’s smaller because all those
plants down there are organic.”

Ruthers’ eyebrows drew down.
“Organic? Like really organic?”

“Yep, not like the G-Mods that grow everywhere else. That’s why my garden looks like it’s taking a beating compared to all the other crops; it doesn’t have the genetics to deal with a long-term drought.
No matter how much I water it, it’s drying out under the sun every day.”

“Wow. I’ve never eaten anythin
g organic that I can think of.”

“Well, you will tonight,”
Gray said, moving to the grill.

“Is that a propane grill?”

“It is. Found it in an antique store a few years ago. Had to have a friend cobble a regulator together, but I got it working.” Gray drained the rest of his beer and slapped the burgers onto the grill. The meat hissed and began to smoke, the smell making Gray’s stomach ache.

“Another beer, Joseph?”

Ruthers tipped his brew, seeing that it was only half gone. “Uh, sure.”

Gray nodded and
disappeared into the house, appearing again with two fresh bottles. He drained half of his in the first drink and leaned on the railing again before reaching into his pocket.

“I went back to the
Jacobses’ farm tonight and found this,” Gray said, placing the screw, now encased in a small plastic bag, on the railing beside the deputy’s elbow. Ruthers picked it up, turning it over several times before putting it down.

“You t
hink it’s something important?”

“I do. I found it in the heating vent, forensics missed it somehow, but that’s technology for you, Joseph, it’s like peop
le, you can’t always trust it.”

“You going to check it for
DNA?”

“I am. I’m also going to have a friend who’s versed in metals look at it. He might be able to figure out i
f it has unique properties.”

“The same one that cobbled
together your regulator?”

Gray smiled. “The same.”

“Sheriff, shit, I mean, Gray, what was that all about at the medical examiner’s lab today?”

“You mean with the way you couldn’t keep your eyes off Siri? I was about to ask you the same thing,” Gray said over his shoulder as he went to flip the burgers.

“Ah, well, you know, I think she’s really nice.”

“Siri’s very nice and from what I understand her husband was a deadbeat that left as soon as he got her pregnant.
Have you made an effort to speak to her outside of a professional capacity?”

“
Sir? I mean—”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Joseph, call me whatever you want, I guess.”

Ruthers couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out. “Okay sir. No, I haven’t, not really, but I should.”

“Damn right you should. Next time you see that girl, ask
her on a date, she’ll say yes.”

“You think so?”

“Joseph, she looked at you the same way you looked at her.”

Ruthers’s face b
ecame a bit pinker and he glanced away as he drank more beer. Gray brought out a plate and piled on the burgers before setting the patio table with condiments, a bowl of assorted vegetables, and two more beers.