The sheriff spit over the porch rail and cleared his throat. “Listen, there were three possible cases reported that fell in the timeline of when that boy arrived. One of ’em was that boy Amos. The other two cases had photographs supplied by the parents. They had their likenesses to that boy in there. But they ain’t him. Shucks. Never found those green eyes of his in any of ’em. That’s not sayin’ much.
“I mean maybe the family he disappeared from just never filed a police report. Or maybe they did, but who knows what state they did it in. Maybe the kidnapper ain’t just in Ohio. Maybe he’s done this all over. I’d like to talk to the boy. First, I gotta tend to some issues over at one of the farms. A shitload of cows have just died.
“These animals ain’t built for such heat. We ain’t either.” He used his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his cheeks. “You know, I could use some help puttin’ flyers on cars. Remindin’ everyone not to leave pets and children in vehicles. Already had an infant had to be rushed to the doctor with heatstroke or heat rash or some sort of heat sickness after bein’ left in his momma’s truck.”
“I’ll help you hand the flyers out.” Dad said so without much care. He was still thinking of all those missing black boys.
“Listen, this evenin’ is clear for me. Would you bring that boy by later, Autopsy? Not to the station. We’ll question him at my house. Make him feel comfortable, at ease. He’ll talk, I’m sure of it.”
I slipped back into the living room. Fedelia was reading aloud the articles in the newspaper about the fields drying up, livestock collapsing, and the recent infestation of flies. As she got to the article about home remedies for heat rash, Sal sat at her feet and stared up at her hair.
“Can I ask you something, ma’am?”
She folded the paper and smacked it down hard on the table. “Devil gonna ask me a question? Shit, this oughta be good.” She sneered, showing how the bright lipstick had smudged across her yellowed teeth. “Shoot, green eyes.”
“Do you count your days well spent?”
She batted her eyes, the false lashes about to fling off. “Are you offerin’ to buy my soul? Goddamn.” The sweat on her face was little beige droplets, colored by her heavy mask of makeup. “Do I count my days what now?”
“Well spent.”
“Well spent? Fuckin’ philosopher here. Why don’t you tell me?”
“You do not count your days well spent. How could you? Not with all the anger you have. Why have you built infinity for your husband’s mistresses upon your head?”
The circles of blush bounced as her lips twitched like boiling water. “You little shit. How dare you.”
“What else would you call it but a place for them and their damage to live forever upon you?”
“It is none of your damn business anyways, boy.” Her roar shook her dangling earrings.
“Have you ever heard of the paradise shelduck?”
“Fuck you,” she whispered through clenched teeth, her hand beating at her chest as if she couldn’t quite catch her breath.
“The rule is female ducks are less colorful than their male counterparts. The paradise shelduck is the exception. While the male has a boring black head and an even more boring gray body, the female has a head of bright white with a body of chestnut and gold. The female paradise is a rarity in the duck world. She beats the beauty of the male.
“You, Fedelia Spicer, are meant to be paradise. Look at the white hair there at your roots. As white as the head of the female shelduck. But these colors of the other women. They feather you away from paradise. You must let go of them.” He reached up to a ribbon, but she grabbed his arm.
“I can’t.” Her voice tore at the edges. “Don’t you understand?”
She sat there in the chair looking so fragile, I thought if I touched her with my little finger, she would instantaneously break like a plate being struck by a sledgehammer. Mom tried to comfort her, doing her best to keep Fedelia’s false lashes from falling with the tears.
Dad had long returned from the porch and had listened quietly to the exchange between Fedelia and Sal. Now he placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Fielding, why don’t you and Sal go be a couple of little boys for a while.”
I waved for Sal to follow me outside. Dad stopped him with just a finger gently pressed into his chest. “You are unusual, aren’t you, son?” He looked down into Sal’s eyes, waiting for a big answer. All he got was a small shrug.
“Well,” Dad sighed, “don’t be gone too long.”
We went out the back door, and once we were through the yard and into the woods, I told Sal the sheriff wanted to see him.
“What about?”
“They think you’ve been kidnapped.”
“By you guys?”
“Naw, by kidnappers. Were you?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“I’m kidding. Don’t be so serious, Fielding.”
With a smile he took off, his head start giving him a lead we traded to the tree house. Granny followed, staying to sniff the trees below as we climbed up the slats into the house.
“This ain’t good racin’ weather.” I swept back the strands of hair stuck to my forehead.
“What are these?” He was over by the pair of handprints on the wall.