“No, thank you.” Evening followed as far as the kitchen doorway, waiting patiently while Caden grabbed a can from the refrigerator and popped the top. “I don’t make a habit of revealing myself to most people, or discussing my intentions when I visit a town,” he said after a moment, “but in your case, Sergeant, I believe it would benefit us to pool our information.”
“Agreed.” Caden shouldered back into the dining room and waved him to a seat at the table. “Who starts?”
Evening eyed the red welts peeking from beneath the cuff of Caden’s shirt. “The Mothman made those.” It was not a question. “Perhaps you should start there.”
“Fair enough.” For the next few minutes, Caden dumped every bit of information he had. He started by sharing how he’d helped the Mothman when he was eighteen, then explained how the creature had saved his life when the Silver Bridge fell, and again when Roger Layton would have killed him and Eve. He talked about Hank Jeffries and Parker Kline, Jerome and the coded message Parker had given him, even the mysterious Deputy Brown and the UFO sightings plaguing Point Pleasant from one side to the other. When he was through, he took a long swig of beer to wet his throat. Evening had let him ramble without question or comment, the man’s expression unreadable through Caden’s longwinded speech.
A cool cucumber, but one who could be rattled when pushed. He’d already seen that.
Caden set his beer down. “Your turn.”
“So it would seem.” Evening tapped a slender hand against the table. “What would you like to know?”
The squat tips of Evening’s fingers recalled the suction-cup like grip that clutched Caden’s jaw in the igloo. What had Cold said? Parker is my mistake to fix.
“How is your father connected to Parker Kline?”
“I can’t answer that.”
A prickle of anger crept up Caden’s spine. He tightened his hand on the beer can, one step from crushing the pliable aluminum. “I thought the idea was to share information.”
“Information I have. If my father is connected to Mr. Kline, I am unaware of a personal relationship.”
“What about Deputy Brown and the Men in Black?”
“Those you term Men in Black are Watchmen like myself.” Evening appeared at ease, his voice as casually modulated as if he discussed the weather. If he lied about anything, then he did a remarkable job of masking the falsehoods. “You’ve mentioned the abundance of UFO sightings. Dimension activity is at a high right now. You’ve no doubt heard the rumors that your town and much of this county are intersected by ley lines, creating thin spots between worlds. Throughout your centuries, there have been numerous occasions when the veils that separate those realms are more easily breached than others. That produces an excess of UFO activity. It happened in Point Pleasant in nineteen sixty-six and sixty-seven.”
A flap.
The guy sounded exactly like Jerome.
“So you’re saying the Men in Black are aliens too?” Thank God Nurse Brenner wasn’t around to eavesdrop on their discussion or she’d want to lock them in West Central.
“Their intent is not to harm anyone, Sergeant. Call it a cover-up if you will. It’s best your world doesn’t become fixated on dimensional travel, at least not at your present rate of advancement. Perhaps in time.”
“So when there’s a flap, the Men in Black show up to warn everyone silent?” He could buy that. From what he’d heard, warnings were the extent of what they’d done.
With the exception of one.
“Brown did more than that. He had the wherewithal to duplicate a Mason County patrol car and uniform. He posed as an officer and accosted a citizen.” The anger slithered back, hotter this time. Point Pleasant was his town, Jerome one of the people he was sworn to protect. Evening and Cold might look down their alien noses, considering Earth an inferior planet, but the residents of his town were not specimens to be placed under a microscope or manipulated. “Brown messed with Jerome Kelly’s mind, then dumped him outside the hospital when he’d gotten all he could from him.”
“I’m aware of that. A regrettable circumstance.” Evening bowed his head, appearing momentarily contrite.
Maybe the guy really did have a conscience underneath that cool exterior.
Evening waited a moment, then drew a slow breath. “Water if you please, Sergeant.”
Caden pulled back. “Huh?”
“You offered me a beverage when I arrived. I’d like water.”
A stalling tactic? Frowning, Caden stood. “Sure, okay.” After retreating to the kitchen, he poured a glass of water and grabbed a second beer for himself. By the time he returned to the dining room, Evening was sitting comfortably at the table, Eve’s withered plant stationed in the center.
Caden passed the water to him before sitting. “What’s that for?” he nodded to the plant.
“It’s withering.”
Newsflash there. “Dying is more like it.”
“Exactly.” Evening didn’t touch the water. Crossing his legs, he laced his hands on his lap. “All things die eventually, but not all linger in a declining stage of death.”
Double talk. Evening was reverting to his head-shrink mode, and Caden had no intention of playing along. “We were talking about Deputy Brown and what he did to Jerome.”
“Deputy Brown is human.”
Caden tensed. “What?”
“Your government is every bit as interested in silencing rumors of UFOs as are my people. From what you’ve told me, Brown must have been assigned to monitor Parker Kline. The organization that employs him is no doubt clandestine, and would have been aware of Mr. Kline’s gift for interpreting radio static.”
“So they wanted the coded message?”
“Unquestionably. Even if Mr. Kelly wasn’t physically carrying the written text when apprehended, Brown would have been able to retrieve the sequence through hypnosis. A single glance is all it takes for information to root in the subconscious.”
Caden tripped over the logic, his mind doing cartwheels as he digested the facts. “If Brown already had the code, and learned through hypnosis that Jerome passed it to Katie, why stake out her house?”