“If they name those bones Randy’s, then there’ll be an investigation. The FBI will come in here, Mikey. You know that the Sheriff can’t allow that. You know he’s going to have to say that those bones belong to some drifter, or maybe a kid from that work farm up near Bigbee River. If he says that they belong to a boy who lived in this town, then all kinds of people are going to come in here, Mikey. This town has too many secrets to keep.” His voice was flat as he talked, and the words seemed to come at a steady rhythm. He was talking through some kind of trance, just like Randy’s mother had.
“But what if they are Randy’s? I mean, he can’t make them not belong to the kid,” I said.
Kevin blinked slowly, again, and sat up straighter in the chair. His eyes met mine, and a chill ran across my shoulder blades, again. “What makes you think he couldn’t?”
“But there’ll be DNA tests, or whatever, right? I mean something. Aiken said that Jim Clarke is looking at the bones. He’ll be putting out a report or something, right?” I said. A part of me could hear the pleading.
Kevin shook his head, “Do you think that the wives and mother’s around here are the only people he’s attacked? Do you think that a couple of illegitimate children and a hooker or two are the only secrets in this town, Mikey?”
“Then what am I going to do?” I asked.
“That’s what you have to tell me. You could just leave.”
I couldn’t. He knew I couldn’t, too. It showed on his face. “I have to—I have to—have to get someone to know that—that those are—are Randy.”
“Are you sure they are?”
“Yes,” I said, and felt as if something huge had been lifted off of me. I knew it, at that moment. To this day, I don’t know why it took all of that to make me sure, but I knew that I wouldn’t have come back unless I knew already. Somehow, with no evidence or idea even what might happen, I had known that these bones were Randy. I had known I was coming back to finally put him to rest.
Some part of me was certain that Kevin was right, too: the sheriff was going to do everything he could to make sure no one thought of the remains as Randy. He couldn’t let them.
“What does Jim Clarke have to hide?”
“Let’s just say he gets in to his work.” The tone in Kevin’s voice made it clear what he meant.
“How do you know any of this?”
“You were the one that left, Mikey, not me. I stayed here. I know these people. I know them.”
We sat there for a long time, just breathing. “What happens if I don’t believe you about any of this? What if I say that this all sounds like some sort of horror movie, and decide to get on a plane and walk away?” I asked.
“You still could. There will come a time when you won’t be able to go back the other way if you don’t like how things are unfolding, but that hasn’t happened yet.”
“So, what are you, some sort of guru?” I asked.
“Don’t take this out on me, Mikey; you’re the one who’s thinking about taking on the Sheriff. You can still walk away from this. All I’m saying is that what happens for you depends on what you decide to believe right now. You know those bones are Randy’s, though. I can see it in your eyes,” he said, and leaned forward so far, I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead, his hand found my shoulder, and squeezed, “Like I said; I know you went there tonight to see if she would tell you what to do. I know what she said to you, though. I think if you pay attention, you’ll find that she did tell you everything you needed to know.” He turned, and opened his door. The car light came on, and the shadows in the empty car were too much. I got out.
“If it doesn’t matter to you what I do,” I asked, grabbing his arm and stopping him; he didn’t turn around, “then why take me there? Why let me talk to her?”
His head hung down for a moment. He raised his eyes to mine, and I almost let go of his arm; something powerful and very old was in them. “because you asked me to.”
“What?” I asked. He shook free of my hand and continued toward the door. I followed after him. He opened the door, his keys jingling. I started to follow him inside, but he stopped. His arm was on the door, and his body blocked the doorway. He said, “You should go back to your parents house and think about it, Mikey.”
“How did I ask you to take me there?”
“Who else have you talked to about any of this?”
“Nobody,” I said, after a time.
He nodded, straightened, and closed the door. The click of the lock felt like a punch to the throat. I stepped backward off of the porch, and my shoes nearly slipped in the wet grass.
THIRTY
Every time a car passed me on my way back to my parent’s house, I expected it to be the Sheriff. Somehow, I just knew it would be. Every time it wasn’t, I exhaled again; but something still felt strange. I knew that he was watching, even if he wasn’t using his eyes to do it. My sister would call that ridiculous, but I knew. I wanted Kevin. I wanted Susan. I wanted someone, so that the sounds of my shoes on the asphalt wouldn’t be the only sounds.
The key in the lock was loud, and I was sure I’d wake someone as I came in. No lights were on, though. I closed the door behind me, and toed out of my shoes. I picked them up and crept up the stairs. Halfway up, I thought about eating something; I wasn’t hungry, though. It was an old habit. Coming in from my night rides to the field, I’d always get a glass of milk and whatever was left over from dinner before going to bed. Something didn’t feel right about it, though. The house looked the same, but everything had changed. I thought, just like me. I wanted to talk to my mother, to ask her what Kevin meant, and if what Mrs. McPherson said was true.
I stopped at the top of the stairs with the sudden realization that I believed it. That no matter what my mother would say, I believed what Kevin told me. I looked toward the door to my parent’s room. It was closed, as it had always been. Their room was off limits at all times growing up. The door remained closed. If any of us needed to speak to them, and that door was shut, then we simply had to wait.
When Katy had gone, Sarah had woken me up. She’d found it when she’d rolled over in her sleep and fallen out of bed. That couldn’t have happened if Karen had been in it. She’d read the note, and come to get me. “Door’s closed,” she’d said, and handed me the note. I read the note and cried. Thing is, I remember crying more because something so big was happening, and I couldn’t tell mom or dad. I knew I better not even knock on that door.
We knew because the last time something big happened, it was Katy. She’d just gotten her first period. I didn’t know it at the time; a few years passed before anyone told me. She was scared, and even though it was three in the morning, she knocked on mom’s door. I didn’t come out of my room, but the strange noise woke me up. I peeked out from the crack in my door. Katy was crying, and shaking. They finally opened the door after she’d been knocking for about forty-five minutes.
Mom was disheveled, and her makeup was all over her face. There was a large red mark on her neck, too. For years I tried no to think about it, but sometime after the third shrink I was seeing, I had to admit that mark was a hickey.
She closed the door immediately behind her, and began to whisper-cuss Katy. She never once asked what was so important as to break the central rule of the house. She just kept talking in that steady, forceful whisper. The only time she paused was when Katy would say “Yes, ma’m.” After a few minutes, I heard Sarah crying in her room. I noticed that my eyes had gotten blurry. I went back to bed. I don’t know what happened the rest of that night, but the rule had been solidified: there was no such thing as a good reason to bother my parents if the door was closed.