Taking the pill from her, the boy knelt by the dog. He took the animal’s large head in his small hands, and the dog swallowed. “L-Like this?”
She blinked. “Yes, just like that.” She watched while he stroked Dooley’s head. He didn’t look up at her again.
“It went to the L. That means love.” Starry-eyed and completely absorbed, Pam prattled on about the Ouija board, about the handsome stranger in Lonny’s old room.
Athena found herself standing by the door.
“You going out?” Pam asked.
“No.” She pushed open the screen. “Perhaps just right outside. For some air. Keep Matthew in here. I don’t want him out at all today.”
“Matty? C’mere and play, baby. You want to talk to Chabwok?”
Letting the screen door slam behind her, Athena went quickly down the porch steps and stood, blinking at the dazzling afternoon. Behind her, shadows muffled the house, and she heard the murmur of Pam’s voice. Even the insects had receded to a dull pitch, reiterative, everywhere and dying, spent. With some notion of watching for Doris, she went around the side of the house.
The headlights of the rust-eaten Plymouth glimmered almost invisibly in the daylight. “Damn!” She ran to the car, switched them off and tried to start the engine. “Damn damn damn.” The car didn’t even cough. “Oh, great going!” She slammed the door. Now she was really stuck here. She stamped away from the car and stood by the side of the road, fidgeting. “Okay, Doris,” she muttered to herself, “where are you?”
This man in town—he had to be the one. But what if he were gone by the time Doris and Steven got here? It seemed to her he might fade back into the woods as easily as he’d come, and there would be no way to trace him. But what could she do alone? Ask around at least, she thought. Find out if this were more nonsense of Pam’s before sending the others involved. Maybe get a look at him at least? No, she had to wait for the others, but she couldn’t just stand still.
The sky breathed down. Swatting away biting flies, she paced along the white-powdered road.
“Nobody ever listens to me.” Pam sat at the table, her fingers on the old jelly glass that scratched across the board. “W-I-C…” She stopped, confused about the spelling of “witch.” No longer moving from letter to letter, the jar hesitated a moment, then moved resolutely to the yes.
She smiled, remembering what Doris had said about the sex/magic bond between werewolves and witches. She held her arms close to her body, hugging herself. Everything she felt for her husband stirred somewhere deep within, mingling with a generalized misery and resentment that grew worse by the moment. “Them damn pineys. I’ll show them. I’m better than they are. It said L for ‘love.’ Didn’t I tell you?”
He knew it wasn’t really him she was speaking to. Breathing in the deep, warm smell of her, an aroma of sweat and coffee and some indefinable sweetness, the boy sat close, watching her move the glass back and forth across the board.
She told herself she was going for a walk, just as far as the bridge, just to stretch her legs.
The woods looked very different this afternoon. She wasn’t far from where she’d found Lonny. Maybe I should visit the spot, lay a wreath or something.
The water was low. Standing on the bridge, she gazed down: debris choked the stream. Or perhaps I should just take a stroll over to Pamela’s and check on things at the trailer. The water looked thick and brown. No one’s been there since that morning. But she didn’t turn aside at Hanging Tree. Instead, she trudged along, fighting the sullen lethargy of the day. It’s stupid of me to come this far without a gun. She climbed over singed-grass hillocks, and sand flew up dry in her face with the least breeze.
Even from a distance, the raw town had a beleaguered air, as though a great battle had been fought amid the rusting cars and the concentration of low buildings. Some trick of the light distorted everything. Heat seemed to press the shadows, condensing them till they bore no resemblance to the shapes that cast them. And she heard no dogs, unusual in itself. Something smoldered on the central garbage dump, leaving a thin haze through which the shacks and other structures seemed to waver, and the smell that washed across made her think of rancid glue—sweet, corrupt.
Nothing moved. Where is everybody? And what do I do now? The air seemed filled with floating particles, scented, invisible dust, which emanated not only from the houses but from the mean yards and rickety fences, an odor held in place by the pressing heat. Should I go from door to door asking if anyone has seen a monster? I’ve got to make some move. Taking a deep breath, she started forward. We’ve waited too long.
Constructed of dark cedar wood along more solid lines than any of its neighbors, the first house scarcely slouched at all. Somebody has got to do something. Approaching the mud-spattered door, she knocked solidly and had the impression of movement beyond the curtained windows. “Hello?” But no one came. Turning her back to the house, she looked around. Apparently, unoccupied shacks.
“What d’you want?”
Even as she spun around, she recognized the voice. I should have remembered the house.
“I know you. ’At daughter a mine’s sended you over here, dinchee?”
Athena didn’t believe she’d ever seen anyone so dirty. The dress looked as though it had been used as a cleaning rag. Hair trailed about the shoulders in gray-blonde strings, and the rough complexion lay buried beneath layers of old makeup. “Hello, Mrs. Stewart. I wonder if…”
“Miz.” Opening the door farther, the woman spat on the step. “Miz Stewart. I ain’t married.”
“Yes. I wonder if you’d mind talking to me about your son-in-law Lonny. I wanted to ask if you’d seen or heard anything the night he was killed.”
“She sended you round here to spy on me, dinchee? She wants my boy, donchee? She tried to get ’im from me before. You can tell ’er she ain’t gonna get my kid.” Lizzie’s chubby eyes slitted as she appraised Athena. “You got a retard kid too, doncha?”
Athena took a step forward. Holding her breath against the rotten-meat smell of the house, she spoke forcefully. “The night Lonny was killed, did you…?”
Lizzie stepped back, correctly assuming she would not be followed. “I don’ know nothing. Shit. You seen my boy out dere?”
“No, actually I don’t see anyone. Could you tell me where they all are?”
Lizzie just leered.
“I asked you a question.” She leaned on the door. “Perhaps you’d rather I had some friends of mine come around and talk to you.”
“Home. Behin’ locked doors. Where da ya think everbody is?” The woman threw her weight against the door, slamming it. Metal rasped as the bolt slid home, but cursing penetrated the wood. “…gonna send ’er friends ’round…who da fuck she think she…”
A fine start—strong-arming old whores. She walked rapidly away from the house. Maybe I should go back to the city and get a job with a collection agency. She peered up the road. Doris was probably at the house by now. When she sees I’m gone, she’ll be after me like a shot. I could probably walk up the road and meet her. The stench drifted from another direction now.