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Authors: Randy Chandler
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closer.
“...not sure who he is,” Luther was
saying, “but I know what he drives. Be easy to find out. I’m pretty sure he was
the same one was with him at the dump.”
Fate sucked on his pipe, then said,
“I ’spect he’ll tell us anything we want to know.”
Cowboy came charging out onto the
porch. “Big brother! You nail the sumbitch?”
“I know where to find him,” said
Luther.
The old lady called again from
inside.
Fate stood up. “Let’s go tell Maw,
so she’ll stop that damn yelling.”
They went inside. Luke moved,
working his way around to the rear of the house where Gramaw’s second-story
bedroom window was opened to the night air. He stopped, crouched by the corner
of the smokehouse and aimed the mike up at the old lady’s window. All he could
hear was the drone of muffled voices. Finally, one voice rose shrilly above the
others, and Luke heard it clearly. The old lady said, “I had a vision, by God.
And the hand of darkness was upon him and the darkness took him down.”
Then a man’s voice, probably
Fate’s, responded incoherently.
Then the old woman once more,
shouting: “‘Vengeance is mine,’ saith the Lord.”
***
Luke packed his gear in his gym bag
and hiked back to his truck. He drove home, wondering how Skeeter Partain might
be connected to the apparent disappearance of Odell Porch. The boy had seemed
awfully jumpy when Luke spoke with him in the produce department earlier in the
day. Was that a coincidence, or was Skeeter on pins and needles because of some
run-in with Odell? Or because he was hiding something? Some guilty knowledge?
But knowledge of what ? Luke couldn’t fathom it; he needed more
information before he could piece together a reasonable scenario. And to get
it, he would have to prime Skeeter’s pump and get him talking.
It was 9:55 PM now. A little late
for a social call on a young man he hardly knew, but given the fact that Skeeter
Partain was under the dangerous scrutiny of Fate and his boys, Luke knew he had
to see Skeeter tonight, if he could find him. He wasn’t sure, but he thought
Skeeter still lived with his parents on Maple Circle.
At 10:26, Luke rang the doorbell of
James Partain’s brick home. James came to the door in Bermuda shorts and an
Izod shirt, but somehow the man still managed to look like an undertaker.
“Evening, James,” Luke said. “Is
Skeeter home?”
“Skeeter? What do you want with
Skeeter?” Partain looked puzzled.
“I just need to talk to him a
minute.”
“Has he...I...I know this isn’t a
police matter, since you’re no longer a policeman. What’s this about, Luke?”
“It’s nothing you need to worry
about. I just want to talk to him. Privately.”
“I think he’s out back. He’s
bunking in the little house in the back yard. Come on, I’ll show you the way.”
Luke followed Partain through the
house and out the back door.
“The light’s on and his truck’s
here, so he should be inside,” Partain said. “He’s not in any kind of trouble,
is he, Luke?”
“No. It’s nothing like that,” Luke
answered, though he knew he was twisting the truth. Skeeter most likely was in trouble of some kind, but until Luke could learn more, there was no point in
alarming James with what, at this point, was only conjecture.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” James
said. “But I don’t mind telling you, this mysterious visit has me curious.”
Luke said, “Don’t worry, James.
It’s just something Skeeter might be able to help me with. It’s no big deal.
Really.”
James Partain walked back to his
house, and Luke knocked on the door of Skeeter’s cinder-block abode. The
muffled voices inside fell silent. Skeeter opened the door. A look of surprise
came into his face when he saw Luke.
“Hey, Skeeter. Mind if I come in?”
“Uh, no, no. Come on in.” Skeeter
glanced nervously over his shoulder at the Campbell boy, Joe Rob, who was
sitting at a card table, a can of soda at his
“...not sure who he is,” Luther was
saying, “but I know what he drives. Be easy to find out. I’m pretty sure he was
the same one was with him at the dump.”
Fate sucked on his pipe, then said,
“I ’spect he’ll tell us anything we want to know.”
Cowboy came charging out onto the
porch. “Big brother! You nail the sumbitch?”
“I know where to find him,” said
Luther.
The old lady called again from
inside.
Fate stood up. “Let’s go tell Maw,
so she’ll stop that damn yelling.”
They went inside. Luke moved,
working his way around to the rear of the house where Gramaw’s second-story
bedroom window was opened to the night air. He stopped, crouched by the corner
of the smokehouse and aimed the mike up at the old lady’s window. All he could
hear was the drone of muffled voices. Finally, one voice rose shrilly above the
others, and Luke heard it clearly. The old lady said, “I had a vision, by God.
And the hand of darkness was upon him and the darkness took him down.”
Then a man’s voice, probably
Fate’s, responded incoherently.
Then the old woman once more,
shouting: “‘Vengeance is mine,’ saith the Lord.”
***
Luke packed his gear in his gym bag
and hiked back to his truck. He drove home, wondering how Skeeter Partain might
be connected to the apparent disappearance of Odell Porch. The boy had seemed
awfully jumpy when Luke spoke with him in the produce department earlier in the
day. Was that a coincidence, or was Skeeter on pins and needles because of some
run-in with Odell? Or because he was hiding something? Some guilty knowledge?
But knowledge of what ? Luke couldn’t fathom it; he needed more
information before he could piece together a reasonable scenario. And to get
it, he would have to prime Skeeter’s pump and get him talking.
It was 9:55 PM now. A little late
for a social call on a young man he hardly knew, but given the fact that Skeeter
Partain was under the dangerous scrutiny of Fate and his boys, Luke knew he had
to see Skeeter tonight, if he could find him. He wasn’t sure, but he thought
Skeeter still lived with his parents on Maple Circle.
At 10:26, Luke rang the doorbell of
James Partain’s brick home. James came to the door in Bermuda shorts and an
Izod shirt, but somehow the man still managed to look like an undertaker.
“Evening, James,” Luke said. “Is
Skeeter home?”
“Skeeter? What do you want with
Skeeter?” Partain looked puzzled.
“I just need to talk to him a
minute.”
“Has he...I...I know this isn’t a
police matter, since you’re no longer a policeman. What’s this about, Luke?”
“It’s nothing you need to worry
about. I just want to talk to him. Privately.”
“I think he’s out back. He’s
bunking in the little house in the back yard. Come on, I’ll show you the way.”
Luke followed Partain through the
house and out the back door.
“The light’s on and his truck’s
here, so he should be inside,” Partain said. “He’s not in any kind of trouble,
is he, Luke?”
“No. It’s nothing like that,” Luke
answered, though he knew he was twisting the truth. Skeeter most likely was in trouble of some kind, but until Luke could learn more, there was no point in
alarming James with what, at this point, was only conjecture.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” James
said. “But I don’t mind telling you, this mysterious visit has me curious.”
Luke said, “Don’t worry, James.
It’s just something Skeeter might be able to help me with. It’s no big deal.
Really.”
James Partain walked back to his
house, and Luke knocked on the door of Skeeter’s cinder-block abode. The
muffled voices inside fell silent. Skeeter opened the door. A look of surprise
came into his face when he saw Luke.
“Hey, Skeeter. Mind if I come in?”
“Uh, no, no. Come on in.” Skeeter
glanced nervously over his shoulder at the Campbell boy, Joe Rob, who was
sitting at a card table, a can of soda at his
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