The Devils Punchbowl

“Because he couldn'’t find me.”

Caitlin pauses, then nods in sober agreement. “After he hid the disc, Tim somehow got back to his car and overpowered the guard, then took off for town. But Quinn had already called for help. The second vehicle blocked the road, so Tim turned and headed out Cemetery Road as fast as he could.”

“That'’s when he made the voice memo in his phone.”

“Right. The plan he mentioned in his memo was simple. He ran his car off the cliff into the Devil’s Punchbowl and dived out at the last second. He was trying to make them think he’d spun out and killed himself.”

“Why didn't it work?”

“Think about it.”

This takes only a moment. “Dogs.”

“

Dog, singular. The backup team had brought Sands’s Bully Kutta in the second vehicle. Tim hid in the woods across the road from the Punchbowl, but he didn't have a chance with that monster hunting him.”

“My God,” I whisper, remembering the massive white dog pinning me to the wall of my house.

Caitlin closes her eyes. Recounting this is obviously a struggle for her. “The dog mauled Tim pretty badly, as you saw. But the real torture happened in the backseat of the SUV. They were taking him back to the Queen to question him with electricity, but naturally Quinn couldn'’t wait. He beat Tim with a club to subdue him, then started on him with a cigarette.” She wrings her hands as though unsure what to do with them. “Quinn told Linda a lot of horrible

things, but I think he was just trying to make her suffer. Tim was only in the SUV for a couple of minutes. At least I hope he was.”

“A couple of minutes of fire is more pain than most people can imagine.”

Caitlin pulls her jacket tighter around her. “Tim had passed out by the time they reached the bluff—or so they thought. But just as they passed Bowie’s Tavern, he exploded off the seat and started hitting everyone in sight. Then he grabbed his cell phone and jumped out of the SUV.”

“Where the witnesses first saw him.”

“I doubt Tim even knew where he was when he started running.”

My throat constricts when I think of Tim giving his last reserves of strength to escape his torturers. By then he must have been thinking only of Julia and his son. But now I remember Logan telling me that Tim tried to call me just before he went over the bluff. This memory brings blood to my face and tears to my eyes.

“It was Quinn who chased him?” I whisper.

“Yes. I think Quinn panicked. They switched on the jammer to stop Tim from calling anybody, but Quinn wasn'’t sure he could get Tim back into the vehicle before a crowd gathered. That'’s why he shot him.”

“They would have killed him in the end anyway.”

“Yes.” Caitlin reaches out and touches my hand. “Penn, there’s a reason I told you this story. I wouldn'’t want you to have that stuff in your head unless I thought it was necessary.”

“What do you mean?”

“You blame yourself for Tim’s death. I know it. I don'’t think you could have done what we did at the lake unless you did.”

My throat is so tight that breath can hardly pass through it. She’s right. When Kelly shoved Quinn off the boat, I didn't protest because I had focused all my guilt and self-disgust on him. But Quinn’s death has not lightened my guilt—or eased my suffering.

“Look at me,” Caitlin says. “Sit down and look at me.”

I do.

“You think Tim died because you were late for that meeting.”

“didn't he?”

“No. He died because he put himself into a situation he didn't understand, with some very bad people. Only one thing would be

different today if you had showed up at the cemetery on time. You’d be dead too.”

“You don'’t know that. I had a gun with me.”

Caitlin shakes her head. “Don’t kid yourself. You and Tim were no match for Quinn, his gang, and that dog. You were lucky to get off the

Queen

alive the other day, and you were only fighting Sands.”

She’s right again. “I know that. My real mistake was letting Tim go forward at all. I knew what could happen when—”

“Stop,” she says sharply. “You have to stop. You’ll drive yourself crazy. Do you want me to spend the rest of my life torturing myself for not saving Linda?”

“You couldn'’t have—” “

Stop.

You have to let go, Penn. Now, out here, today. And I mean all of it. Tim, Quinn, everything. When you start this boat again, we’re going to leave it behind us, in the river.”

She stands and comes to my seat, then pulls my head against her abdomen and runs her fingers through my hair. I haven'’t been this way with her in so long that a dizzying feeling comes over me.

“Are you still planning to resign?” she asks softly.

When I don'’t answer, she says, “Paul Labry must have mentioned your talk with him to someone before he died, because the rumor’s already spreading.”

“I know. Drew asked me about it when I called to borrow this boat.”

Caitlin steps backward and looks down expectantly. “Well?”

She’s waiting for me to say yes. Hoping for it. I can see that as plainly as the sun over the river. But from the moment Kelly gave me his Mark Twain speech on the bluff, I’'ve been questioning my decision. Surprisingly, my father gave me his blessing only a day after Kelly left. The two had evidently discussed my dilemma, and Dad was aware that my reluctance to disappoint him had already kept me in office longer than I might have stayed otherwise. He told me that, considering all that had happened, he wouldn'’t think less of me if I felt I had to step down. I don'’t know if he meant that, but he said it, and he said it knowing that if I resigned, I would probably move Annie to a new town far away. But yesterday, as I watched two black men in overalls lower Paul Labry’s casket into the earth not far

from Tim’s grave, I knew with utter certainty that if I resigned, I would think less of myself for the rest of my life.

“It would be wrong to quit now,” I say in a shaky voice. “I wish that weren’t the case. But I made a commitment to the town. I made promises, and people believed me. If Paul were still alive, I might feel differently. But now…as badly as I want to go away with you, I don'’t feel I should leave the job in the hands of those most likely to get it.”

Caitlin’s eyes narrow for a few seconds, then she turns to her right, looking out over the water. She’s hiding tears.

“Was that a no?”

Despite my best intentions, the truth emerges when I speak. “No. No matter what it costs me, I can’t lose you again. I can’t do it.”

She raises a hand to her face and wipes her eyes. “Then I'’ll stay.”

The words don'’t quite register at first. “You don'’t mean that.”

She turns to face me, her green eyes wide and filled with resolve. “I do. I'’ll stay until the end of your term. For two years, I'’ll use all my power to make this town worthy of Tim’s death, and of what you'’ve worked for. I'’ll fight to make it a place where I can feel good about Annie living and going to school.”

Blinking in disbelief, I feel the first rush of euphoria that comes with the knowledge that life is granting you the grace of a dream realized. “Caitlin, you don'’t—”

“Wait a second. I have one condition.”

“What? We leave town after my term is up?”

Her face tightens with irritation. “Would you let me talk?”

“Sorry.”

Holding up two fingers, she gestures at me like the beautiful schoolteacher of some little boy’s dreams. “After two years, we look hard at what we’ve accomplished, then reassess where we are.”