He hated feeling like that because a part of him, a part he had shared with few people besides Kellie, liked it too much.
He got a glass of water from the sink. He peered out the window into the night. Red DeCrain no longer waited for him in the land of dreams alone.
Titus finished his water and rinsed the glass and set it in the dish strainer. He splashed some water on his face.
He was tired. More tired than he could ever remember being before. Tired in his bones in a way that one night of sleep wouldn’t cure. He needed to go into a coma for a month. Become a somnambulist so he could keep working.
His radio crackled.
He would have sighed, but he was too exhausted.
“Go for Titus.”
“Hey, Titus, just got a 911 call from Calvin Macdonald. Lavon didn’t come home from school today. They thought he went to the festival, then when they heard about the … thing with Denver, they came down to the station looking for him. Titus, it’s nine P.M. Ain’t nobody seen that little boy since his mama sent him to school this morning,” Kathy said.
The weight crashed back down onto his shoulders hard enough to crush his spine. A hole opened in the pit of his stomach.
I saw your brother walking all alone today.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Titus’s eyes were as dry as sandpaper.
He’d been up nearly twenty hours. Popping little concentrated energy drinks and guzzling coffee to fuel his body when his body was so far past the point of exhaustion, he was damn near hallucinating.
He’d pulled the whole department in to find Lavon. He’d notified the state police. He’d sent out announcements on every social media platform. He’d sent out an Amber Alert. He had personally driven up and down every back road in Charon County, even gone out to Piney Island.
Nothing.
He’d gone to see Calvin and Dorothy last night. They’d looked like phantom versions of their former selves. Their faces were ghostly, drawn tight across their skulls. Titus noticed they didn’t sit together on the couch. Calvin sat in the recliner; Dorothy sat at the far end of the sofa. As if they couldn’t stand being too close to each other. Tragedy can bring some folks together. It can also tear asunder old wounds and make them weep anew.
“Find him, Titus. Please, find our boy,” Calvin had said, his voice heavy with grief. Titus’s old friend was a study in fragility. He could see Calvin was close to breaking, on the verge of a dissolution that might be unrepairable. Dorothy seemed to be in another world. A world where her oldest son wasn’t dead and her youngest wasn’t missing.
Titus had left them without making any promises. He’d made a promise to another child’s mother, and so far that promise had borne no fruit. He wouldn’t add hope to the heartbreak Calvin and Dorothy were experiencing. If they found Lavon unharmed that would be wonderful, nearly miraculous. But if they didn’t find him, or if they did find what was left of him, that promise of hope would become a cruelty that Calvin and Dorothy didn’t deserve.
“Calling Titus,” Carla’s voice came over the radio.
“Go ahead for Titus,” he said.
“The state boys are here with the divers. You want us to wait for you or go ahead and get started?” she asked.
Titus closed his eyes. He thought he could feel his lids click. “No, don’t wait for me. Go ahead and get started.”
“Gotcha,” Carla said.
He’d brought in the state police to drag the river and search the gravel pit pond. But he didn’t really think they’d find anything. It was called due diligence, but in this case he was sure it was a waste of time. Lavon wasn’t in a pond or a river or a ditch. If he was still alive, he was with the Last Wolf. The Angel of Death. And it was Titus’s fault.
The killer, the Last Wolf, the Weeping Willow Man had outwitted him at every turn. Whether through good fortune or good planning, he was continuously one step ahead of them. He’d seen him, had him in his sights like that deer on the wall. He was just a man. A crazy, evil man, but right now Titus felt like he was becoming a myth. A rural legend that would join the long list of folktales and tragedies that haunted his hometown.
He’d brought them their season of pain, but now it felt like that season would never, ever end.
Titus’s cell phone began to vibrate in his pocket. “Hello.”
“Sheriff, it’s Dr. Kim.”
“Hello, Doctor.”
“I wanted to let you know we have completed the autopsy on Denver Carlyle. Also, we are getting the toxicology back on the seven bodies today.”
Titus didn’t speak.
“Sheriff?” Dr. Kim said.
“Yeah, I’m here. Um, I appreciate you calling. Just so you know, I’ve brought in the state police. They are going to investigate the Carlyle shoot. And…”
Titus paused.
“And I’m going to let them take over the Spearman case. We will continue to provide backup and assistance, but I’m going to get them to take the lead on this. I think your contact will probably be Trooper Geary,” Titus said.
The word failure seemed to glow like a neon sign in front of his eyes, but he knew that was just his pride talking. A good leader knew when he was in over his head or when he’d exhausted himself and his team. And Titus had exhausted them, pushed them to their limits. They were good people, every last one of them, but this case was just beyond their capabilities, and his. That was a hard pill to swallow, but he would bite down on it, crush it, and swallow it down. He didn’t want to give up on the case, but what he wanted wasn’t important. Finding Lavon, finding the killer, those were the important things.
His grandfather used to say doing the right thing was rarely easy, but it was always worth it. This wasn’t easy, but he had to believe it would be worth it.
Dr. Kim didn’t speak for nearly a minute.
“Although I have my concerns, I understand your decision, Sheriff,” Dr. Kim said.
“Wait, what are your concerns?” Titus asked.
Dr. Kim was silent for a beat. “Titus, they are seven Black boys and girls.”
She didn’t elaborate, and Titus didn’t require it.
“I’m not abandoning them. I’m not going anywhere. But the state police have more resources than we do here. My deputies have been pushed to the limit,” Titus said. and immediately hated himself for doing so.
“I’m not accusing you of abandoning them, Sheriff. I know you would never do that. I just … I don’t know if the BCI will be as dedicated to solving this as you are,” Dr. Kim said.
Titus heard her not just with his ears but with his heart. He listened to her not only as a sheriff but as a fellow person of color in a position that typically conveyed power and respect but was constantly under attack from those who sought to undermine and delegitimize them.
“I’m not going to let them give up on these kids,” Titus said.
Dr. Kim sighed. “I believe you. Maybe they can help us finally identify this metal T thing. We’ve been able to quantify and catalog all the other items we found in or on the bodies.”
“The T thing,” Titus repeated.
“Yes, you remember, it’s like a T with a cylindrical leg and thin crossbar,” Dr. Kim said.
Titus felt like his skin was on fire. His stomach felt as hollow as an open grave. He sat straight up in his chair.
“Dr. Kim, can you text me a picture of the T thing?” Titus asked.
“I thought you were passing this case off,” Dr. Kim said.
“Not yet. Send me that picture.”
This was the piece. This was the string he had to pull to unravel it all. He was sure he was right, but he wanted to see the picture to confirm.
“Sent.”
A few seconds later, Titus’s phone vibrated.
He stared at the picture. Saw past its rusted, corroded appearance. Saw it for what it was, but also what it would be for him, for the county.
A key to finally let in the light and chase away the darkness that had enveloped them like a mourning shroud ever since he’d first seen those poor broken bodies among the roots of the weeping willow tree.
* * *
Titus parked in front of the public entrance to the CFF, or the Cunningham Flag Factory, and hopped out of the SUV. He checked his watch. It was 9:00 A.M. The first shift was just about due for their first break. That was fine. He didn’t need anyone from the floor. He needed the plant manager. And everyone in Charon knew Caleb Cunningham didn’t come out onto the floor unless it was to walk to his Hummer at the end of the day.
Titus walked in the front office and stood in front of the counter. There was a stout older white woman sitting at a desk, and beyond her was a glass-enclosed office, and beyond that Titus could see the shadowy labyrinthine inner workings of CFF. Black iron and steel sewing and embroidering machines that stretched on for what seemed like miles. Industrial irons and conveyer belts that hissed and growled like beasts hungry for fingers and hands. American flags, flags for the state of Virginia, and flags for the various branches of the military were sewn, embroidered, pressed, and then folded for delivery all across the country.
And up and down the East Coast.