“I think that’s just fine,” Lance said, smiling across the table. A glimmer of light shone in John’s morose eyes for a moment and then was gone like a comet burning to nothing in the atmosphere. “Now that we’re on the same side of the fence, tell me what’s been going on in the house. The curiosity’s been driving me bat-shit crazy.” Lance sat back and laughed as a smile broke John’s wrinkled face.
After taking a drink to wet his voice, Lance recounted the occurrences of the past two nights to John, who sat quietly listening. Lance paused only when John went to the kitchen to retrieve two fresh beers. Lance left out what he had seen through the keyhole of the locked door on his initial viewing of the house along with the nightmare that had visited him earlier that day. His trust of the older man was building and he didn’t want to taint it with unsubstantiated feelings, irrational dreams, and something that could have been his eyes playing tricks on him. Instead, he fell silent after finishing the account, letting the whisper of the wind in the pines and the occasional chittering of a red squirrel pervade the tranquility of the absence of words. John turned his beer in slow circles on the table beside him for a time, deep in thought. He remained impassive for so long that Lance began to consider assuring him that he hadn’t imagined the nighttime encounters, when the other man spoke.
“Did you see what they looked like?”
“No, nothing distinguishing. Last night I did see his eyes. I couldn’t tell what color they were in the dark, though. I did buy a gun today. I got it from Stub on the far end of town.”
John smiled. “I’m gonna wager he lectured you more than once on safety, along with having a light on your gun.”
“Yeah, he did,” Lance said, laughing. “I’m all set up if someone comes back, though.” John seemed pleased with this and drained the last of his beer, as Lance finally asked him one of the questions he had been wondering since leaving the house earlier that evening. “Do you have any idea who would want to break into the place and not steal anything?”
John sat staring at the planking of the deck. His eyes glazed in thought, but Lance waited, unwilling to break John’s concentration with impatience.
“I can’t think of anyone that would want to scare you off, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said at last. “The place had its share of visitors over the years. The local kids would sneak onto the grounds to smoke pot or mess around with each other when there wasn’t a resident owner there. I’ve had to replace a fair share of broken windows over the years too, most likely by the guys who didn’t have girls to bring there.” John made a huffing noise of disdain and looked out over the yard. “No, other than the occasional vandal, there hasn’t been much trouble there.” John turned his attention back to Lance as he continued. “I’m sure you’ve already explored the notion of someone you know breaking in there for some reason or another?”
Lance nodded. The list of people who had anything against him was short, and the reasons they begrudged him didn’t justify entering his home at night, either.
“I’m pretty sure I haven’t made anyone mad enough to do that,” Lance said.
“If a man has no enemies, he has no character. I think Sinatra said that.”