Lucas blinked away from his box of research and stepped around his desk to the window. Parting the slats of the blinds, he spotted an old VW Microbus parked behind Mark’s Honda. Which reminded him: he had to get up to Seattle soon, return Mark’s car, and pick up the Maxima.
Jeanie’s steps thumped down the stairs. The moment that had passed between them the following night had been strange. Jeanie had left him standing in the dark, the girl in the orchard forgotten, his gaze fixed on the empty doorway. He wondered if it would have brought them closer had he told his daughter the truth, and so he’d tried to talk to her. He had knocked on her door for what felt like an hour before giving up. Having gone to bed shortly after, he hadn’t seen her since. Give her space, Caroline had once suggested. You don’t have to fix every fight before it’s done being fought. This fight promised to be a long one. He only hoped they could resolve it in the end.
Lucas stepped out of his study to catch sight of Jeanie at the door. Had he seen the woman his daughter was greeting standing outside his house in New York, he would have taken her for a vagrant. She had long brown hair that reached for her waist, her clothes a patchwork of hippie fabrics topped off with cowboy boots and a mismatched scarf. She was grinning at Jeanie. When Lucas stepped to the front door and cleared his throat, she turned her attention to him and gave him a Peace, man kind of smile.
“Hi there,” Lucas said, lifting his hand in greeting. “Can I help you?”
“I live down the road a ways,” the woman announced. “I saw the moving van rolling around a few days ago, and I keep seeing cars coming and going. Figured I’d come and introduce myself like a good neighbor.” She extended her right hand, her fingers heavy with costume jewelry. “I’m Echo.”
“Lucas.” He took her hand and shook it. “Good to meet you.”
“And you are?” Echo fixed her eyes on Jeanie in a way that made him uncomfortable. Echo seemed a little too interested in Jeanie’s answer, a little too curious.
“Vee,” Jeanie said.
“Virginia,” Lucas corrected, nudging his kid away from the door.
Jeanie frowned at her dad edging her out of the conversation. “God, Dad. Whatever,” she mumbled with a roll of the eyes. A moment later, she left her father to handle their visitor alone.
“Nice to meet you. Vee,” Echo singsonged as Jeanie stalked up the stairs to her room.
“Virginia,” Lucas corrected a second time. Echo didn’t seem to notice. She was too busy looking over his shoulder at the house, shaking her head at an idle thought.
“Man, this place . . . you know where you’re living, right?”
He cast a quick look up the stairs, remembering Jeanie’s words. I know what this place is. Regardless, he didn’t want her anywhere near anything that had to do with Halcomb talk. He already felt like shit for having dragged Jeanie here in the first place, but he’d fix it. They’d pack up their stuff and go.
“Okay,” he said, giving Echo a questioning glance. “Is that what you came over to talk about? Are you selling something? With the Pier Pointe voters pool? What?”
“Oh, no. Sorry.” She held up her hands. “I’m not here to make trouble. I just wanted to say ‘hi’ and ‘welcome to the neighborhood,’ all those neighborly things my mother would have insisted I say if she was still around.”
“Yeah.” Lucas was skeptical. “Well, thanks for that . . . but we’re not staying.”
Echo looked surprised. “No?”
“No.”
“Well, that’s a shame,” she said. “Aren’t you a writer?”
He raised an eyebrow. Who was this chick?
“Small town.” She gave him a smile. “People talk.”
“No kidding. Thanks for stopping by.” He began to close the door, but Echo stopped it with an outstretched hand.
“I guess you moved here for the inspiration?” Holding the door open, she cast a glance along the interior walls once more. “Not everyone can handle living in a place with such history.”
I can handle it. The retort simmered on the tip of his tongue, but he fought the temptation to spit it at her.
“It’s a shame, though,” she said. “There’s a lot of material here.”
Oh really? He nearly snorted at that. Maybe if the mute bastard that promised me the world hadn’t screwed me over, sure. Maybe then there’d be a lot of material. Echo seemed to notice his aggravation. He was too tired to disguise it. He wasn’t quite sure he cared to disguise it at all.
“Did I say something wrong?” she asked, looking concerned.
“Just having a bad day,” he muttered, casting a pointed glance at her hand, still pressed against the wood of the door.
“Any particular reason?”
He shook his head at her. How about minding your own fucking business? Did she really think he was going to confide in her? “It’s not a big deal,” he said. “Anyway, I really need to get to packing up.” Get lost.
Echo’s expression fell with the mention of moving. “Yeah, of course,” she said. “I’m taking up your time. Sorry.” She pulled her hand away and took a backward step, canting her head as she gave him a final once-over. “But if you want my advice, I’d give this place a fair shake. Places like these have a way about them. This one hums. Listen for long enough and you’ll hear it, I promise.”
Echo gave him a knowing smile and wiggled her fingers in farewell. He watched her sway down the gravel driveway and climb into the old bus, the rattle of its engine cutting through the quiet.
“You promise, huh?” he murmured to himself. He wouldn’t have been half-surprised if that crackpot had forced her way inside and demanded a goddamn tour. And give the place a fair shake? Right. Because all the house needed was a chance. If he just sat around long enough, the damn walls would start talking up a storm.
Maybe if you gave me some of that weed you’re smoking. He smirked and closed the door.
Outside, it started to rain again.
INCIDENT/INVESTIGATION REPORT
CONFIDENTIAL: 04/21/84
AGENCY: Veldt Police Department
CASE NO: 84-022
REPORTING OFFICER: Harper, Harold L.
SUPERVISING OFFICER: Parrish, Andrew R.
INCIDENT INFORMATION