“So she knows he’s missing?”
“No. I worded it carefully.” Blanche puts the car into gear, pulls away from Roy’s childhood house. “But she said she’s been meaning to stop by to see you both.”
I sigh. “Great.”
Buck sighs too. “Ah, some air. Thank Jesus we’re moving again. It’s hot as Hades back here.”
“Hey,” Blanche says, and taps the underside of my chin. “We’ll find him. This is Roy we’re talking ’bout. Not Al Capone.”
“I’m pretty sure Al Capone does his fair share of gambling,” Buck chimes in.
I ignore him. I ignore the swirling, opposing feelings of fear and annoyance that Roy’s disappearance has caused.
“Maybe it’s time we go to the police,” Blanche says.
Buck leans forward. “Nope. Not smart.”
I rub my forehead. It’s not smart. They’ll ask questions, and they’ll want to know where Roy was gambling. “Let me go back to Doc’s. Maybe he’ll see me and he’ll come in.”
“Roy?” Blanche asks.
“No, Jenkins. I don’t know how much he’s after, but I got money in the bank.”
“Does Roy have access to that money?” Buck asks.
“Of course,” I say, irritation slipping into my voice.
Buck whistles. I look over my shoulder, and his head is shaking slowly side to side. “Ain’t good, Bonn. Think ’bout it. Why didn’t he pay off Jenkins from your account to begin with? That lad dug himself too big a hole. Again, not smart.”
“Shut your trap,” Blanche says to Buck. Then to me: “Using yourself as bait to get to Jenkins is what’s stupid. We’ll keep looking, okay? I know you’re probably sick of me by now, but I ain’t leaving your side. Roy left to protect you, and you’re doing a poor job of protecting yourself.”
“That’s why you lassies got me. I’m the muscle.”
“Buck,” Blanche barks, “you ain’t helping, with all your backseat yapping.”
He leans back, crosses his arms.
“Where haven’t we looked?” she asks me.
I bite my lip, thinking. But the only image my brain produces is of Roy’s face, his lip bloody, his hair stuck together in clumps. Besides, we’ve already checked the plant, the river, his parents’ house, school, and Doc’s. It’s not like Roy goes much place else or has many friends to turn to. He’s always been attached to my family and me and, reluctantly, to Blanche. His lack of connections hasn’t stopped us from endlessly driving ’round Dallas, though. And Roy’s on foot. He doesn’t have a car. He didn’t take his bike. My heart tells me he’s still close by. He’s got to be. But, right now, I also don’t trust my heart. One second it’s bursting with anger that he’s run away, that he’s left me. The next second, I’m pulsating with fear that the man I married is hurt, or worse.
I count to five to calm my racing heartbeat. “There’s nowhere else to look,” I say. “Can you take me home?”
“We’ve got another hour or so of daylight. Are ya sure?” Buck asks.
I keep my voice even. “Yes.” I just want to be alone, to struggle with my thoughts in private.
Blanche steers Big Bertha into a U-turn. I allow my mind to go blank and stare at the nothingness outside the car’s window.
“Slow ’er down.”
Buck’s urgent voice dissolves my daze, and I sit up straighter.
“What?” Blanche asks.
“Stop the car.”
Blanche slams on Big Bertha’s brakes. I lurch forward, both hands slapping against the dashboard.
“Up ahead,” he says.
My eyes jump from spot to spot, the tenseness in Buck’s voice making it hard for me to focus. I grip Blanche’s arm, now seeing what Bucks sees. Seeing that the door to my house is ajar.
“The wind,” Blanche says. “The wind must’ve pushed it open.”
I don’t need to be a mind reader to know that no one in the car believes that statement, Blanche included.
“There a phone ’round here?” Buck asks.
“The library,” I stutter.
“Both of yous, stay here. I mean it, Blanche.”
She must’ve started to rebut, but I don’t hear it. I’m unable to break my gaze from the darkness between the door of my house and its frame. Could Jenkins lurk in that darkness? Could Roy, forgetting to shut the door in a drunken stupor?
Minutes pass and shadows fall ’round us. The sun drops, drops, drops ’til it’s gone, taking some of the heat with it. The entirety of my house is dark now. The only movement comes from Buck, pacing outside Big Bertha, dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief every few steps.
Two pinpricks of light appear down Cemetery Road. The car stops beside ours. Out gets a man. Side by side, Buck and the other fella hold themselves in similar ways: feet wide apart, shoulders back, heads up.
“Clyde,” I whisper.
“Yeah,” Blanche says. “I had a feeling that’s who Buck was callin’. Hmm, I wonder where he got that car.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Shh. I’m trying to hear them.”
“Shouldn’t be hard,” I say. “Ever notice that Buck talks as loud as a megaphone?”
Blanche laughs. “Nothin’ has been more true. But that boy has his reasons. Now, shh.”
Two lights flick on.
Buck comes back to the car, flashlight in hand. “Blanche, no fightin’ me on this. Either you don’t get out of this car or yous go wait at Bonnelyn’s ma’s house.”
“No,” I say, beating Blanche to a response. “I’ve been avoiding my ma. Don’t think she’d be too keen ’bout my black eye or the fact that my husband up and left me.”
“Option one it is,” he says, and twists his head in through the window to kiss Blanche. “Baby, you stay here.”
Buck pulls back, taps on the door once, then strides away with Clyde. Beams of light dance ahead of them as they make their way to my house.
Blanche huffs. “The fact he told me not to go anywhere only makes me want to go somewhere. You’d think he’d know that by now.”
“You two bicker like an old married couple.”
I wait for her to say something disparaging ’bout marriage, but she only grins and says, “We do.”
With her smile, a pang of sadness overcomes me. Roy and I should be fighting like an old married couple. We’re the ones married. But no, he’s God knows where, doing God knows what. While Clyde … I didn’t expect Clyde to slip into my head at that moment.
But Clyde, he’s here—in my head and in real life—helping me.
I clasp my hands together, my wedding band digging into my skin.
Blanche seems just as tense as me, but for different reasons. Her fingers grip the steering wheel, as if she’s ready to scoop up Buck and get the hell out of here at the drop of a hat.
Every now and then, Clyde’s and Buck’s flashlights cast a glow through a window of the house, and Blanche and I hold our breath.
The wait is torture. Finally, two shadows appear on the front porch.
Blanche exhales.
Buck comes back to Blanche’s window, leaning in. “No sign of anyone. Someone tore up the house, probably looking for some clams. Sorry, Bonn.”
“I want to go see if anything is missing.” Not that I have too much of value. Even my family earrings are more sentimental than anything.