Read Online Savior by Anthony Caplan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Anthony Caplan
Tags: Psychological, Literature & Fiction, Coming of Age, Thrillers, Action & Adventure, Mystery, Genre Fiction, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, International Mystery & Crime
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Where would Evelio be?
Dad, there is no way we're finding him.
It was raining harder, a flurry of fine misty rain. They sheltered on the porch, under the eaves of the hut. Ricky sat on his haunches while Al paced back and forth on the wet, broken concrete slab. They waited there for the rain to stop. Grey clouds massed on the horizon and swept overhead. Occasionally, a truck or an old SUV came up from the distant valley in a noisy rumble.
What are you thinking, Dad?
I really don't know. I'd say we look for horse tracks, but the rain will have washed them away.
Well, as soon as it stops a little we'll look. Do you want some water?
I'm fine. Don't worry about me, Ricky. I'm fine.
I'm guessing he's down there. That's where all the cars are coming from.
I'm guessing he's up there somewhere.
Why would anyone be up that mountain? It looks really ugly up there.
That's why. He’s hiding.
Hiding from who? Everyone here knows where he is. He's just a crazy old guy. You and Mom probably enjoyed talking to him, but. . . By the way, why did that guy's sister's husband bite her?
No, I think he meant beat her.
They were sitting under the eaves when an old woman came by. She just appeared around the corner of the hut from the road that came up past the cross and the flowers. On her back she carried a load of freshly cut sticks, and her feet were bare except for the flip-flops that made little smacking noises in the water running down between the rocks. She stopped and stared at Ricky and Al, her brows beetling and her furrowed, skinny face contracting even further as she sucked on her gums. She made a noise, some sort of reprimand, Al guessed.
Buscamos a Evelio , he said, trying to see if there was any information they could get from her.
Ah, Evelio . She made a jiggy move with her hips, shifting the weight of the load of sticks and continued on her way, turning onto the uphill road. They watched her as she disappeared into the clouds.
Well, that was good, said Ricky.
Well, it was. He's around somewhere, it means.
Dad, why don't we head back to town? It's only a few miles. If we start now we could make it back before dark. We might even get a ride.
Don't lose faith, Ricky. Give it a little while longer.
That's why Mom used to get upset with you sometimes.
She never used to get upset with me.
What do you mean? You've forgotten how you used to fight. Especially whenever she mentioned Layla.
Don't mention her. I’m sorry. . . That wasn't the way it was with us, okay?
Okay.
I made a mistake once. I paid for it, Ricky. Mary had long forgiven me for that.
I've forgiven you, Dad. I mean I never even knew her.
Broke your mother's heart. She was never really the same after that.
What happened?
I never told you, did I?
I heard it from Aunt Ginny.
Al ran his hand through his thinning hair.
Six —North Hero
The tabby cat belonged to the house. There was always a mouse or a chipmunk head left by the front door with red, raw flesh around the neck, the tuft of tail always not too far from the porch. In the morning, beyond the road, whitecaps skimmed on the water of Lake Champlain. Mary picked the cat up and stroked its head with one hand while holding it against her chest with the other.
You're seven months pregnant Mary. You shouldn't even be getting near that killer cat, said Ginny.
She had cut her curly hair in a severe sort of bob that spring. She and Tony had no children and didn't seem pressed to join the ranks. She opened the front door of the house even further and took the entrance rug and beat it against the rails of the porch to get rid of the cat hairs. Clouds of dust rose into the air and swept away in the wind. Behind her, inside the house, Tony and Al were sitting at the dining room table arguing over who got to read which section of the Burlington Free Press. The front-page story that morning was about a dispute between the unions that ran the shop at the IBM factory and IBM’s head office over
Dad, there is no way we're finding him.
It was raining harder, a flurry of fine misty rain. They sheltered on the porch, under the eaves of the hut. Ricky sat on his haunches while Al paced back and forth on the wet, broken concrete slab. They waited there for the rain to stop. Grey clouds massed on the horizon and swept overhead. Occasionally, a truck or an old SUV came up from the distant valley in a noisy rumble.
What are you thinking, Dad?
I really don't know. I'd say we look for horse tracks, but the rain will have washed them away.
Well, as soon as it stops a little we'll look. Do you want some water?
I'm fine. Don't worry about me, Ricky. I'm fine.
I'm guessing he's down there. That's where all the cars are coming from.
I'm guessing he's up there somewhere.
Why would anyone be up that mountain? It looks really ugly up there.
That's why. He’s hiding.
Hiding from who? Everyone here knows where he is. He's just a crazy old guy. You and Mom probably enjoyed talking to him, but. . . By the way, why did that guy's sister's husband bite her?
No, I think he meant beat her.
They were sitting under the eaves when an old woman came by. She just appeared around the corner of the hut from the road that came up past the cross and the flowers. On her back she carried a load of freshly cut sticks, and her feet were bare except for the flip-flops that made little smacking noises in the water running down between the rocks. She stopped and stared at Ricky and Al, her brows beetling and her furrowed, skinny face contracting even further as she sucked on her gums. She made a noise, some sort of reprimand, Al guessed.
Buscamos a Evelio , he said, trying to see if there was any information they could get from her.
Ah, Evelio . She made a jiggy move with her hips, shifting the weight of the load of sticks and continued on her way, turning onto the uphill road. They watched her as she disappeared into the clouds.
Well, that was good, said Ricky.
Well, it was. He's around somewhere, it means.
Dad, why don't we head back to town? It's only a few miles. If we start now we could make it back before dark. We might even get a ride.
Don't lose faith, Ricky. Give it a little while longer.
That's why Mom used to get upset with you sometimes.
She never used to get upset with me.
What do you mean? You've forgotten how you used to fight. Especially whenever she mentioned Layla.
Don't mention her. I’m sorry. . . That wasn't the way it was with us, okay?
Okay.
I made a mistake once. I paid for it, Ricky. Mary had long forgiven me for that.
I've forgiven you, Dad. I mean I never even knew her.
Broke your mother's heart. She was never really the same after that.
What happened?
I never told you, did I?
I heard it from Aunt Ginny.
Al ran his hand through his thinning hair.
Six —North Hero
The tabby cat belonged to the house. There was always a mouse or a chipmunk head left by the front door with red, raw flesh around the neck, the tuft of tail always not too far from the porch. In the morning, beyond the road, whitecaps skimmed on the water of Lake Champlain. Mary picked the cat up and stroked its head with one hand while holding it against her chest with the other.
You're seven months pregnant Mary. You shouldn't even be getting near that killer cat, said Ginny.
She had cut her curly hair in a severe sort of bob that spring. She and Tony had no children and didn't seem pressed to join the ranks. She opened the front door of the house even further and took the entrance rug and beat it against the rails of the porch to get rid of the cat hairs. Clouds of dust rose into the air and swept away in the wind. Behind her, inside the house, Tony and Al were sitting at the dining room table arguing over who got to read which section of the Burlington Free Press. The front-page story that morning was about a dispute between the unions that ran the shop at the IBM factory and IBM’s head office over
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