Sweat trickles down his forehead, catches on a thick gray eyebrow, and holds there a moment before rolling along the arc of hair and running down the side of his face. He smears it away with his palm, pushing it into his retreating hairline.
Then he turns left on Main Street and heads toward Bill’s Liquor.
Some ways down, through heat fumes rising from the cracked asphalt, he sees several cars parked on the shoulder of the road up ahead and pulls his foot off the gas.
‘What the hell?’
He downshifts to third, then second, then first as he approaches. Two cars from the Tonkawa County Sheriff’s Department and one from the Bulls Mouth Police Department. A sheriff’s deputy is sitting on the hood of one of the county cars, staring at nothing in particular and smoking a cigarette.
Henry brings his truck to a stop and rolls down his window.
‘Hey, dep,’ he says, ‘how the hell are you?’
‘All right, Henry. How you doing?’
‘Can’t complain.’ He smiles. ‘Hot, though, ain’t it?’
‘Shit yeah, man. Hotter’n a pussycat in a pepper patch.’
‘What’s with all the police?’
The deputy glances over his shoulder, sees nothing of concern, and leans toward Henry conspiratorially.
‘You really wanna know?’
‘No, I ast ’cause I wanted you to lie to me.’
‘Bodies.’
Henry’s face goes numb. He tries not to show it.
‘Bodies?’
‘Little girls. Two or three of ’em buried in the woods.’
‘No shit?’
‘None.’
Henry forces a surprised whistle and the shake of a head. ‘Well, I’ll be goddamned.’
‘Indeed.’
‘What kind of bastard would go and kill little girls?’
‘The sick kind. Probably raped ’em first.’
Henry feels his face go hot, feels anger clamp down on his chest like a pair of channel-lock pliers. He’s no rapist. He’s a family man. He loves his wife and would never cheat on her. Especially not with a rape to no little girls. He feels an urge to reach out his window and grab the deputy by the collar and slam his face against the metal door of the truck. Instead he nods and says, ‘Probably did. It’s a sick world. I hope you catch the son of a bitch.’
‘I’m sure we will,’ the deputy says.
‘Well, good luck to you,’ Henry says, tossing off a sharp salute.
He puts the truck into gear and lets off the clutch and presses the gas and continues south on Main Street. As soon as he knows the deputy can no longer see him the life drains from his face and his friendly expression sags into a dead scowl. The light leaves his eyes and his mouth curls down at the corners.
His mind is a gray fog which no thought can penetrate, which nothing can penetrate but an uncomprehending animal dread. But as he approaches Hackberry Street he sees Chief Davis’s car heading toward him, and behind it a red 1965 Mustang, and that clears the fog in a hurry.
They found the bodies. It won’t be long before the police figure that two plus two equals four. Even if there’s no evidence on the bodies themselves-and his guess is that with all the science they got these days the police will find him all over them-they’re on his property. He’ll be the first person they question. They may even get a search warrant. Sheriff Sizemore is friendly with some judges that might make it happen in a hurry. If they get a search warrant they’ll find Sarah. If they find Sarah it’s over.
The little bitch said she’d called her daddy. He hadn’t wanted to believe it. It meant his life would shortly be falling apart. Which meant it couldn’t be true. Except it was true. It was true and it still is. He doesn’t know how she knew about the bodies, but she did, she must have known about them, and-
After the two cars pass by, he makes a u-turn.
The beer is canceled. Work is canceled. His life is canceled.
It’s time for a new plan. He drives toward home, toward what has been home for over forty years, and thinks about what he should do. His brother Ron has a place in California, in a practically deserted mining town called Kaiser just other side of the Arizona state line. He and Beatrice and Sarah can go there. They’ll hide out there till the heat dies down. He has no doubt that there will be heat. People care about dead little girls. He’ll be tried and convicted on the news shows within days. The media need a villain. But they can hide out in Kaiser till the heat dies down, and once it does. . well, that’s where things break down a little bit in his mind.
If the police don’t have enough to arrest him he might be able to come back home. His running will be suspicious, but suspicious behavior ain’t evidence. It seems more likely, though, that Bulls Mouth is about to become a part of his past. In which case they’ll head down to Mexico. It won’t be safe to try for Mexico till things quiet down, but once they do quiet down they should be able to make it across the border without too much trouble. Most eyes are usually focused on those trying to enter the United States, not on those trying to leave it. He’s not sure how exactly they’ll get by in Mexico, but he’s sure they will get by. Maybe they can even get a house on the ocean. He’s always wanted to see the ocean. Or maybe Canada instead. They speak English there. He can work that out later.
Up ahead Chief Davis’s car and the Mustang pull to the shoulder of the road. Henry drives by them a moment later. He maintains his speed despite a great urge to put the gas pedal to the floorboard. He can’t act suspicious.
At Crouch Avenue he turns right, and again into his driveway two minutes later. Gravel kicks out from the tires and shotguns against the side of the house as he brings the truck to a stop.
He storms up the wood stairs to the porch, takes two steps across the porch, and pushes his way through the door and into the house.
‘Bee!’
‘What?’
He walks into the kitchen.
Beatrice stands at the sink, a soapy plate in her hands. She looks at him, her eyes searching his face. ‘What is it?’
‘Put that down. We gotta get out of here.’
‘Get out of here? What are you talking about?’
‘I’m talking about we gotta get out of here. Pack some shit. Whatever you want to take with you. Whatever you can get into boxes in the next twenty minutes or so. We’re leaving town and my gut says we gotta make it snappy.’
‘Leaving town? Why would we leave town?’
‘There’s some trouble.’
‘What kind of trouble? Did we do something wrong?’
‘We didn’t do nothing wrong, but people will say we did. Pack some shit. We gotta go.’
‘Well, how long we going for?’
‘Probably forever. Goddamn it, Bee, we don’t have time for questions.’
‘How are we supposed to pack everything in twenty m-’
‘We’re not packing everything. Only things we have to take. Now, goddamn it, get your fat ass moving. We don’t have time to fuck around. I got no idea when the police will be here, but I fucking know they will be. So move.’
Beatrice’s chin begins to tremble and her eyes get glossy with tears. A strange, sad squeak escapes her throat.
‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry I yelled at you, Bee, but we need to leave. I don’t have time to answer a lotta questions. What I need is for you to go to the garage, find some cardboard boxes, and start packing whatever you can think to pack. Can you do that?’ He strokes her round smooth cheek with a callused hand. ‘Can you do that, Bee?’
She nods.
‘Good girl. Now get to it.’
He gives her a quick kiss on the mouth, then turns to the bedroom.
‘Bill’s Liquor.’
‘Donald.’
‘Henry. What’s up?’
‘Me and Bee are leaving town. You might want to do the same, though I don’t know for sure if it’s necessary for you.’