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Authors: Billy Coffey
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the backseat (something by Brad Paisley, I think, but maybe not), sweetly oblivious to the storm about to gather.
“Don’t call,” Kate said. That and nothing more. But it was the way she slapped the phone closed rather than those two words that turned my head again.
“Who was that?” I asked.
Her mouth moved and sputtered as though searching for what to say—a name, any name, would do. None came but the truth: “Justus.”
My hand gripped the wheel. My shoulders tightened. Kate opened the phone again. She checked the number Justus had used and said she didn’t recognize it. One of those prepaid cell phones, I guessed.
“How did he get hold of your cell number, Jake? He’s always just called the office.”
“He’s got a lot of friends left in town, Kate. You know that.” I considered leaving it at that, but didn’t. I’m still not sure if that decision arose from the small bowl of wisdom inside me or the large reservoir of exhaustion. “He called the office this morning. Zach answered.”
It was subtle (I thought perhaps a little too subtle), but I hoped Kate would hear the admonishment underneath— If you’d been at the office watching our boy rather than out putting another name in your book, Zach wouldn’t have had to do that.
“What’d he want?” she asked.
“What’s he ever want?”
Kate shook her head and ran a hand through her hair. The wind tousled it again. “How can you arrest him when you don’t even know where he is? That man hasn’t set foot in town for seven years.”
“He’s up in Crawford’s Gap,” I said. That was a truth my weariness made me forget to keep silent. That was another symptom since the nightmares began, one that Doc March had forgotten to mention alongside the loss of weight and the depression: all those things I’d kept unsaid trickled out through the cracks worn into me. “Don’t know where exactly, but he knows I can find him if I want. That’s why he calls.”
The disappointment on Kate’s face was plain even through the long shadows of the trees across her face. “How long’ve you known where he is?”
I shrugged. “While now.”
“So you won’t find him.”
It wasn’t a question, what Kate said. It was a statement. And though it pained me, I knew she was right.
“I won’t,” I said.
Zach squealed from the backseat. I looked through the mirror and saw him rubbing his arm, the victim of a wayward bug.
“I’m sorry he called,” Kate said. “Really sorry, Jake. That’s just one more thing you don’t need right now.”
“I’d really rather not talk about it, Kate.”
But I knew we would, and I knew the reason why. Justus was a problem to fix, maybe one even bigger than what I’d been dreaming about, and Kate fancied herself a fixer of problems—out to right wobbly lives one name at a time in the hopes that it might right her own. I eased down on the gas. The sooner we got to Peter and Abigail’s, the sooner Justus could be set aside.
From the back Zach said, “Hey, Daddy, lookit what flew in here.”
Kate said, “Not talking about Justus won’t make him go away. I know what a bad place he put you in, Jake. I begrudge him for that just as much as you do. But he did what he thought was right. You might not think so, I might not think so, but you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone in town who’d blame him. Other than Mayor Wallis, maybe.”
“What kind of town do we live in if everybody takes up for a man who shot three innocents just out to do their job?” I asked. “He could’ve killed them, Kate.”
“But he didn’t.”
“And that matters?”
Kate shook her head.
“See, Daddy?” Zach asked.
A truck approached around the next corner. It swerved a bit, first toward the center line and then to the white of the shoulder. Gray smoke billowed from the busted tailpipe. As our vehicles neared, I could see two men.
Zach tried once more to get my attention—“Daddy, see ?”
“What, Zach?”
I looked
“Don’t call,” Kate said. That and nothing more. But it was the way she slapped the phone closed rather than those two words that turned my head again.
“Who was that?” I asked.
Her mouth moved and sputtered as though searching for what to say—a name, any name, would do. None came but the truth: “Justus.”
My hand gripped the wheel. My shoulders tightened. Kate opened the phone again. She checked the number Justus had used and said she didn’t recognize it. One of those prepaid cell phones, I guessed.
“How did he get hold of your cell number, Jake? He’s always just called the office.”
“He’s got a lot of friends left in town, Kate. You know that.” I considered leaving it at that, but didn’t. I’m still not sure if that decision arose from the small bowl of wisdom inside me or the large reservoir of exhaustion. “He called the office this morning. Zach answered.”
It was subtle (I thought perhaps a little too subtle), but I hoped Kate would hear the admonishment underneath— If you’d been at the office watching our boy rather than out putting another name in your book, Zach wouldn’t have had to do that.
“What’d he want?” she asked.
“What’s he ever want?”
Kate shook her head and ran a hand through her hair. The wind tousled it again. “How can you arrest him when you don’t even know where he is? That man hasn’t set foot in town for seven years.”
“He’s up in Crawford’s Gap,” I said. That was a truth my weariness made me forget to keep silent. That was another symptom since the nightmares began, one that Doc March had forgotten to mention alongside the loss of weight and the depression: all those things I’d kept unsaid trickled out through the cracks worn into me. “Don’t know where exactly, but he knows I can find him if I want. That’s why he calls.”
The disappointment on Kate’s face was plain even through the long shadows of the trees across her face. “How long’ve you known where he is?”
I shrugged. “While now.”
“So you won’t find him.”
It wasn’t a question, what Kate said. It was a statement. And though it pained me, I knew she was right.
“I won’t,” I said.
Zach squealed from the backseat. I looked through the mirror and saw him rubbing his arm, the victim of a wayward bug.
“I’m sorry he called,” Kate said. “Really sorry, Jake. That’s just one more thing you don’t need right now.”
“I’d really rather not talk about it, Kate.”
But I knew we would, and I knew the reason why. Justus was a problem to fix, maybe one even bigger than what I’d been dreaming about, and Kate fancied herself a fixer of problems—out to right wobbly lives one name at a time in the hopes that it might right her own. I eased down on the gas. The sooner we got to Peter and Abigail’s, the sooner Justus could be set aside.
From the back Zach said, “Hey, Daddy, lookit what flew in here.”
Kate said, “Not talking about Justus won’t make him go away. I know what a bad place he put you in, Jake. I begrudge him for that just as much as you do. But he did what he thought was right. You might not think so, I might not think so, but you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone in town who’d blame him. Other than Mayor Wallis, maybe.”
“What kind of town do we live in if everybody takes up for a man who shot three innocents just out to do their job?” I asked. “He could’ve killed them, Kate.”
“But he didn’t.”
“And that matters?”
Kate shook her head.
“See, Daddy?” Zach asked.
A truck approached around the next corner. It swerved a bit, first toward the center line and then to the white of the shoulder. Gray smoke billowed from the busted tailpipe. As our vehicles neared, I could see two men.
Zach tried once more to get my attention—“Daddy, see ?”
“What, Zach?”
I looked
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