A train whistle sounded, distant and forlorn in the midday silence, echoing across the gray, flat surface of the Rock.
"Choo choo," Harper said, and she made some train noises. She shuffled around in a circle, dragging her stick, chuffing out clouds of breath into the sunshine.
lean make this work, Bennett thought, staring off into the distance, out where the whistle was still echoing through the winter silence.
"Hi, there, cutie," a voice behind her said. "You are about the sweetest little muffin I've ever seen."
Bennett turned quickly, shifting in a smooth, practiced motion to place herself between the newcomer and Harper. The young woman facing her smiled and shrugged, as if apologizing for her abrupt appearance while at the same time saying, so what? She was close to Bennett's age, tall and lanky, with wild red hair that stuck out. Her bright, green eyes fastened on Harper with an eagerness that was disconcerting. "Hey, you."
Then she glanced at Bennett, and the look cooled and hardened. "You are one lucky mom, to have someone like her. How are you doing? My name is Penny."
She stuck out her hand. Bennett hesitated before accepting it. "I'm Bennett. This is Harper."
Penny shifted her stance without moving her feet, loose and anticipatory. "So, are you from around here or just passing through, like me?" Penny grinned. "I'm visiting my granny for the holidays, but you can believe me when I tell you this place is in a time warp. Nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one to see. I can't wait to get out. You?"
"I'm from here, back for a visit with a ... friend, an old friend." Bennett held her ground, watchful, the hand in her pocket fastened on the switchblade. "We're staying on awhile."
Penny sniffed. "Whatever. I'm outta here December twenty-sixth and good riddance."
She looked off into the distance as the freight train swung into view out on the levee, wheeling down the tracks with a slow-building rumble of iron wheels and pistons. They stood motionless, the three of them, staring out at the train as it bisected the horizon in a seemingly endless line of cars, a zipper motion against the still backdrop of water and winter woods. When it disappeared, the sound faded gradually, still audible when the train was several miles up the track.
"So, you having fun here in the park, Harper?" Penny asked suddenly, shifting her gaze once more.
Harper nodded wordlessly and edged closer to Bennett. She sensed the same thing about this woman her mother did, that something wasn't quite right. Bennett felt suddenly exposed and vulnerable, standing at the edge of the wooded slope, away from everyone and everything in the hard edge of the winter chill. Clouds had crept out of the northwest, obscuring the sun, and the gray sky was melting down into the backdrop of the skeletal trees.
"We've got to be going," Bennett advised, reaching down for Harper's hand, keeping her eyes on Penny.
"Oh, sure," Penny replied, smiling cheerfully, the light in her green eyes dancing, shrugging her shoulders and shifting away. "You go, girl, you need to. But, hey, you look a little uptight. Know what I mean?"
"No." Bennett shook her head quickly, not wanting to hear any more, already sensing what was coming. "I'm fine."
She started away, but Penny moved with her. "Well, you can say you're fine if you want, but you are most definitely not, you know? I can tell. And I don't blame you. I wouldn't be fine if I didn't have a little something to help me get by, let me tell you."
Bennett wheeled on her. "Look, I don't know who you are—"
"Hey, I'm just another victim of life, just another sister fighting to make it through another day." Penny held up her hands placatingly. "You don't need to worry about me. You think I'm the law? I'm not, girlfriend. Not hardly." She winked. "Hope you're not the law either, because I got something for you, you want it, something to make you feel a little better."
Bennett heard the blood pounding inside her head. She felt the familiar pumping of adrenaline, her body's automatic response to the possibility of a fix. Everything seemed to kick in at once, all the familiar expectancies, all the insatiable needs. She was surprised at how strong they were, even in the face of her resolve to put them aside.
Penny eased closer to her, eyes bright. "What I got, is a little white dust that doesn't take but a single whiff to sweep you away to la-la land, smooth and easy and cream-puff sweet. You can live on this stuff for days, girl. Keeps you sharp and strong and focused, but takes the edge off, too. I got it before I came to Dullsville, knowing what it would be like. I used it day before last, and I'm still flying high."
"No, thanks," Bennett told her abruptly, shaking her head, starting off again. It took everything she had to say it, to make her feet move, to keep her mind focused, but she managed. "We've got to go."
"Hey, wait up, Bennett!" Penny came after her quickly, keeping pace as she walked. "Don't be mad. I wasn't trying to jerk you around or anything. I was just trying to be nice, trying to make conversation. Hey, I'm lonely here, I admit it. You seem like me, that's all. I was just looking for some company." She paused. "I wasn't going to ask you for money, you know. I was going to share, to give it to you for free."
Bennett kept walking, trying to shut the words out, trying to make Penny go away. Even here, she was thinking. Even here, someone's got the stuff and wants me to use. She was walking faster, practically dragging Harper, needing to escape and not wanting to, both at once.
"We could meet later and do some together," Penny was suggesting, keeping pace effortlessly. "My place, maybe. You know, just the two of us. Granny doesn't know what's going on anyway, so she won't be a bother."
"Owee, Mommy," Harper was complaining, trying to pull free from her mother's grip.
Bennett shifted her hand on the little girl's arm and looked over at Penny angrily. "I can't—"
"What do you say?" Penny cut her short. "You want a little now? Just a taste to see if it's worth doing some more later?"
Bennett stopped and stood with her head lowered and her eyes closed. She wanted nothing more. She wanted it so bad she could hardly wait for it to happen. She felt empty and sick inside, and she found herself thinking, What the hell difference does it make after all the other drugs I've done?
Penny's hand was on her shoulder, and her frizzy red head was bent close. "You won't be sorry, babe, I promise. Just a taste to get you by until, oh, maybe tonight, okay? Come on. I know the signs. You're all strung out and uptight and you want a little space for yourself. Why shouldn't you have it?"
Bennett felt her defenses shutting down and her addictive needs sweeping through her with relentless purpose. The itch was working its way up her spine and down her throat, and she thought—knew—that if she didn't take what was being offered, she would self-destruct in spectacular fashion. Besides, a taste was not so much, and Nest could help her later, give her the strength she lacked now so she could start over again.
"Come on, I'll do a little with you," Penny persisted, whispering now, so close that Bennett could hear her breathing.
Her eyes were still closed, but now, on the verge of capitulating, on the edge of a hunger so intense she could not find words to define it, she opened them.
It was then she saw the Indian.
Nest Freemark opened her front door and found Deputy Sheriff Larry Spence waiting, his big hands clasped around his leather gloves. He was dressed in his uniform, brown over tan, and he wore a leather jacket with the collar and cuffs trimmed in dark fur. Bits and pieces of metal stays and accents glinted dully in the graying light, giving him that armored look that lawmen and the military favor.