He came around to the back of the truck and climbed over into the bed. He had planned to lie down but instead he sat with his back against the tailgate. A faint breeze blew and he watched the fireflies blink across the woods. Watched the fire across the way. Watched the bodies sitting close to it. They looked gray.
He had only known one person named Maben. And he hadn’t really known her. He had known who she was. He had watched her at the sentencing, crying and shaking as if she had understood something about the boy who died that no one else could understand. He thought about the Maben who was sleeping in his truck and he started to do the math but it wasn’t necessary. She looked older than she probably was and that was about right. He laughed a little but not much. He had seen enough in his life to not be surprised by a damn thing.
31
IN HER DREAMS SHE STOOD ON A HILLSIDE AND LOOKED DOWN ACROSS the meadow. The child stood in the midst of the waisthigh wildflowers that swayed with the wind and seemed to move in circles, her hair being lifted and let go and lifted again by the cool air. She stood with her arms folded as she watched the child who held her arms out and her hands were open and she traced her palms over the tips of the flowers and smiled as they tickled the tender center of her hands. Pinks and blues streaked across the horizon and the clouds moved across the sky like a slow train.
She saw it coming off in the distance, crawling or maybe slithering, only its tail visible. Rising high and waving in an S, thick and reptilian like something ancient. As it crept closer the wind gained strength and began to howl, blowing sharply into her face and she began to call out to the child. Come this way. Right now come this way but the child didn’t hear her. The tail moved closer and she began to scream and when the child still didn’t hear her she screamed louder and louder and she tried to move but her feet were buried in the ground and that thing was within striking distance now and the child never saw it coming and as it raised the top of its head from the wildflowers Maben woke with a shriek and she fell off the seat and onto the floorboard. The child woke up and began to cry when she saw that there was only the dark and another strange place and her mother held on to her and said I am here. I am here.
32
BOYD HAD PUT IT OFF. WAITING TO BE TOLD YOU HAVE TO GO OVER there and talk to him about it. A dead deputy on a desolate road. The only vehicle to come upon the scene driven by a man who had been out of prison for about five minutes. A loaded shotgun in the vehicle. An expired driver’s license. When asked what he was doing out there he had said he was riding. It didn’t matter if he knew the man or not it was too much to ignore and they had nothing else and were looking for a road to follow. He couldn’t dance around Russell any longer.
So Boyd checked in at the office and drank his coffee. He made a couple of calls that weren’t answered and he realized it was Sunday morning. He then drank a second cup and he figured he might as well get it over with and he told the dispatcher he’d be back around lunch. It was an eight-mile drive from the department office in Magnolia to McComb and he didn’t take the interstate but instead went along the highway with its log trucks and flashing yellows at crossroads. Anything to slow him down.
The first thing he noticed when he came to the house was the blue tarp over the windows. Hard not to. The truck was gone. He got out and walked around to the backyard. High grass and weeds. Paint buckets and empty beer bottles filled with cigarette butts on the back porch. A dog barking from the neighbor’s yard behind the headhigh wooden fence. He walked around the side of the house and looked into the bedroom window which had no curtain. Clothes scattered on the floor. A sheet wadded on the bed. Boxes stacked in the corner. He moved around to the front and knocked on the door so he could say he’d done it and then he climbed back into the cruiser. He drove downtown to the café and he sat at the counter and ate biscuits and gravy and then he drove out toward the father’s place. That was the only other place he figured to look for him.
He walked to the back door and saw Mr. Gaines sitting at the kitchen table with Consuela. She was eating pancakes and he leaned back in his chair with the Sunday paper held open. Boyd knocked and they looked up together and Mitchell got up reluctantly and walked over and opened the door.
“How you doing, Mr. Gaines?” Boyd said.
It took Mitchell a moment but then he recognized Boyd and he held out his hand to him.
“Come on in here,” Mitchell said and Boyd followed him into the kitchen. Mitchell asked him if he wanted coffee and ignored him when he said no. He poured a cup for himself and for Boyd and he told him to sit down. Mitchell moved the newspaper aside as he sat across from Boyd.
“Ain’t seen you in quite a while,” Mitchell said. “Looks like somebody’s been feeding you.”
“Got that right,” Boyd said. “Married a woman who don’t cook very good but she cooks a lot of whatever it is.”
“There’s worse.”