“Are you ready to talk now?” he replies.
“No. It’s not that.” I keep my voice low, even though I know Mom’s gone to the world right now. “It’s Jess.” I swallow hard. “You were right. She’s not here. I think she might’ve run off with the Wiggins kid.”
There’s a long pause. I hear Greg Tilford running his mouth in the background.
“Tell you what?” Sheriff comes back on the line. “Why don’t I come on over and get the details.”
I crane my neck to peek in the living room. “It’s really not a good time.”
“This is Jess we’re talking about.”
“You’re right.” I grit my teeth. “Just make it quick.”
*
I DO some dishes. Straighten up the best I can. I try to get Mom to move upstairs, but she refuses to leave the couch.
I sit down next to her and take her hand, but it’s completely limp. I wonder if she even knows I’m here. “Jess ran off, but we’re going to find her, bring her back.”
She doesn’t even blink. She just peers over my shoulder, her eyes fixed on the wall … on the flies.
“Jesus.” I exhale as I follow her gaze. The wall’s more black than white now. There must be a hundred of them. I know they’re just flies, but it gives me the creeps. I don’t have time to deal with this right now.
“Just don’t talk about the flies … or God. Just keep it together for a couple more days … that’s all I’m asking.”
She blinks once and I take it as a yes.
Turning off the lights, I leave her to the dark.
*
WHEN I hear a car coming down the drive, I start going over everything I need to say, but when I hear more than one set of boots on the drive, all of that goes out the window. I swing open the front door, watching Sheriff and Tilford walk up the steps.
“Evening, Clay.” Ely tips his hat. “You know Greg Tilford.”
“Deputy Tilford,” Greg adds.
Sheriff shoots him a withering look.
“We just need to ask you a few questions.”
My heart picks up speed. Why would they both come out here for this? “Is something wrong? Is Jess in some kind of trouble?”
“No. Nothing like that.” Sheriff shakes his head and then stares out over the crops. “Looks like you’ve got a ways to go on the wheat. You’re cutting it a little close, wouldn’t you say? First frost’s gotta be right around the corner.”
“Yeah.” I rub the back of my neck. “I’ve been a little distracted lately.”
“Why don’t you tell us about that?” Tilford pulls out a notebook.
And that’s when I realize, they’re not here about Jess … they’re here about me. They still think I had something to do with all this.
“It sure is cold out here.” Ely blows into his hands and rubs them together. “Would it be all right if we talk inside?”
Tilford stares me down, as if saying no isn’t an option here.
“Just for a few minutes,” I say as I open the door. “But we have to keep it down. Noodle’s asleep and Mom’s not feeling well.”
As I lead them inside, I’m looking around at everything in a whole new light. The dried mud on the wainscoting could be blood. The worn pine planks in the entry, like someone’s paced them raw with worry. The seams of the wallpaper curling in on itself revealing the black mold underneath, like the whole place is rotting from within. The home of a killer … “Mooder in Midland” … and then I think about the flies. Mom sitting there staring at them like it’s the second coming. That’s all I need.
I can tell they want to look around, but I steer them straight into the kitchen. Tilford walks right into Hammy’s bowl; the sharp sound of metal clanking against the cabinets makes me flinch. I motion toward the table. Tilford goes to sit in my dad’s chair at the head of the table and Sheriff shakes him off.
Tilford stands back, leaning against the hutch.
“So, about Jess,” Sheriff starts off. “When was the last time you saw her?”
“I’ve been taking food up to her the past couple of nights.”
“She hasn’t been feeling good?” Greg asks. “Like your mom? I didn’t realize there was a flu going around.” His flat eyes probe into me. He knows damn well it’s no flu.
“Is this because of what happened at the Preservation Society with Jimmy Doogan?” Sheriff asks.
I feel the hair on my arms bristle. “This has nothing to do with Jimmy,” I say a little too forcefully. “She’s just been having a hard time, hanging around with the wrong crowd.”
“You’re talking about the Wiggins kid?” Tilford smirks. “That’s the understatement of the year.”
“I don’t know what you heard, but Jess is a good girl.”
“I know that … I know Jess,” Sheriff says soothingly. “Deputy Tilford needs to learn when to shut his mouth.” Ely glares at him. “So the last time you really laid eyes on her was the night of the Harvest Festival?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” I focus my attention back on Sheriff. “Miss Granger took her home.” I lean forward. “But I saw Lee today,” I say quietly. “Out by the trailer park … and he had a box full of condoms.”