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Authors: Cameron Harvey
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to say back.
“Um, good afternoon, Mary Earl. We’ve got a body here, down by Baboon Jack’s. They’re skeletal remains. I’m going to need whoever Rush has available.”
“Lord mercy,” she breathed. “Rush and Boone went out on a call a while back. Gators in someone’s yard up by Bayou Triste, and some hillbilly shooting at ’em and carrying on.” Her voice faded and then returned. “Hello? Doc Mason?”
“Yes, yes. Sorry, Mary Earl. You know how the cell service is out here. Just please have them get here as soon as possible.” He ended the call.
“You all right, Doc?” Zeke was staring at him.
“Hot day,” James managed.
“Yep,” Zeke continued. “And ain’t none of us getting any goddamn younger, that’s for sure. Well, I best get going, Doc.”
“Zeke, you’ve got to stick around, tell the police what you told me about finding the body.”
Zeke shook his head. “Ya’ll know how to find me. I gotta go. I’m helping Jefferson Gibbs take care of the Broussard place, least until they sell it. I need that cash, you know?”
The Broussard house had stood empty for years, perched on the bayou’s eastern shore, one of the town’s historic landmarks. James drove past it every evening on the way to his own house.
“Hunter’s selling the place?”
Zeke frowned. “Hunter went to be with the Lord, couple weeks ago. They said it was some cancer, but I said it’s that Northern living that’ll kill ya. You didn’t hear about that?”
James hadn’t heard. A memory kicked its way to the surface of his consciousness unbidden, and there she was in his mind’s eye: Raylene Atchison, Hunter’s daughter. The last time he’d ever seen her alive was in his autopsy suite, asking questions about being a nurse. She’d lingered in his doorway then, and even James, adrift in all his cluelessness about the opposite sex, had known she wanted to say more. He remembered the patient who’d been on his table that day, an escaped convict from Craw Lake who’d drowned hiding out in the bayou. You treat ’em the same, no matter what they done? she’d asked, pointing to the fragmented cuff that still hung around the patient’s graying wrist. When James nodded, she’d smiled. I could do that. Wade’s always saying I see the good in people, sometimes when it ain’t even there. Even all these years later, the memory of that statement sent a ripple of sadness through him.
“So what’s going to happen to the house?”
“Dunno,” Zeke said. “She just got here, but Jefferson said didn’t feel like it was right to ask her on her first day in town. Even though my daughter-in-law Renee, she won’t shut up about it. She’s a Realtor, you know. Got one of them glossy billboards on Route Seven and everything.”
“Who just got here?”
“Hunter’s granddaughter. Aurora. You remember, they took her away all those years ago? I met her yesterday. Good-looking girl, did well for herself up North, she’s a nurse. I’m guessing she won’t be hanging around here long.”
Aurora. So many times James had thought about her since that night, wondered where she was, hoped that she had gone out into the world as fearless as her mother. He felt a little tick of pride at hearing that she was now a nurse.
“Well, keep your phone on you. I’m sure someone will be wanting to ask you some questions.”
“Much obliged, Doc.” Zeke gave him a salute and headed back in the direction of the parking lot.
James sat down by the edge of the bayou. He wanted to stop by the Broussard house, to pay his respects to Aurora, but what if she didn’t want to see him? He was a part of the worst night of her life; he wouldn’t blame her if she just wanted to forget.
James thought about his own father. After his death, James had sought out every one of his father’s shrimping buddies, yearned for stories, anything to breathe life into that memory again. Grief was a funny thing, though; everyone walked along its path
“Um, good afternoon, Mary Earl. We’ve got a body here, down by Baboon Jack’s. They’re skeletal remains. I’m going to need whoever Rush has available.”
“Lord mercy,” she breathed. “Rush and Boone went out on a call a while back. Gators in someone’s yard up by Bayou Triste, and some hillbilly shooting at ’em and carrying on.” Her voice faded and then returned. “Hello? Doc Mason?”
“Yes, yes. Sorry, Mary Earl. You know how the cell service is out here. Just please have them get here as soon as possible.” He ended the call.
“You all right, Doc?” Zeke was staring at him.
“Hot day,” James managed.
“Yep,” Zeke continued. “And ain’t none of us getting any goddamn younger, that’s for sure. Well, I best get going, Doc.”
“Zeke, you’ve got to stick around, tell the police what you told me about finding the body.”
Zeke shook his head. “Ya’ll know how to find me. I gotta go. I’m helping Jefferson Gibbs take care of the Broussard place, least until they sell it. I need that cash, you know?”
The Broussard house had stood empty for years, perched on the bayou’s eastern shore, one of the town’s historic landmarks. James drove past it every evening on the way to his own house.
“Hunter’s selling the place?”
Zeke frowned. “Hunter went to be with the Lord, couple weeks ago. They said it was some cancer, but I said it’s that Northern living that’ll kill ya. You didn’t hear about that?”
James hadn’t heard. A memory kicked its way to the surface of his consciousness unbidden, and there she was in his mind’s eye: Raylene Atchison, Hunter’s daughter. The last time he’d ever seen her alive was in his autopsy suite, asking questions about being a nurse. She’d lingered in his doorway then, and even James, adrift in all his cluelessness about the opposite sex, had known she wanted to say more. He remembered the patient who’d been on his table that day, an escaped convict from Craw Lake who’d drowned hiding out in the bayou. You treat ’em the same, no matter what they done? she’d asked, pointing to the fragmented cuff that still hung around the patient’s graying wrist. When James nodded, she’d smiled. I could do that. Wade’s always saying I see the good in people, sometimes when it ain’t even there. Even all these years later, the memory of that statement sent a ripple of sadness through him.
“So what’s going to happen to the house?”
“Dunno,” Zeke said. “She just got here, but Jefferson said didn’t feel like it was right to ask her on her first day in town. Even though my daughter-in-law Renee, she won’t shut up about it. She’s a Realtor, you know. Got one of them glossy billboards on Route Seven and everything.”
“Who just got here?”
“Hunter’s granddaughter. Aurora. You remember, they took her away all those years ago? I met her yesterday. Good-looking girl, did well for herself up North, she’s a nurse. I’m guessing she won’t be hanging around here long.”
Aurora. So many times James had thought about her since that night, wondered where she was, hoped that she had gone out into the world as fearless as her mother. He felt a little tick of pride at hearing that she was now a nurse.
“Well, keep your phone on you. I’m sure someone will be wanting to ask you some questions.”
“Much obliged, Doc.” Zeke gave him a salute and headed back in the direction of the parking lot.
James sat down by the edge of the bayou. He wanted to stop by the Broussard house, to pay his respects to Aurora, but what if she didn’t want to see him? He was a part of the worst night of her life; he wouldn’t blame her if she just wanted to forget.
James thought about his own father. After his death, James had sought out every one of his father’s shrimping buddies, yearned for stories, anything to breathe life into that memory again. Grief was a funny thing, though; everyone walked along its path
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