BRIAN CRAY LOOKED AROUND THE LIVING ROOM AT THE FOLKS packed into the small house on Dawson Street. Debbie was sitting in her favorite chair near the window. She’d let him do most of the talking so far, but this was her place, and the gathering had been her idea.
“Bring them out to the house,” she’d told him two nights ago after dinner. “It’s time this town had a discussion about what to do with David Reece.”
Brian had been sitting on the couch, smoking a cigarette. “What do you mean?” he asked, although he’d known her long enough to have a pretty good idea about where this conversation was heading.
Debbie stood in the doorway to the kitchen, drying her hands on a dish towel. Her shirt was tight across her chest. It was the kind of thing she usually wore when she wanted him to do something for her.
“They found a second body. You know that, don’t you?”
He lifted the cigarette and took a drag. “I heard.”
“So he killed those people,” she said. “He killed Curt and Rose Perry and Angela Finley and little Jimmy Raffey. I can remind you of the names of the other twelve in case you forgot.”
Curt. Her dead husband. Not dead but missing, Brian corrected himself. Even now, after fifteen years with her, Brian could still feel the man’s presence in the house, as if Curt Hastings had just stepped out for a pack of smokes and would be walking through the door any minute.
Brian glanced at the front door, a habit a long time in the making. “I know who they were.”
“Seems to me like a lot of people want to forget.”
“One of them was David Reece’s wife. You figure he killed her, too?”
“Why not? It’s usually the husband who does it. I’m sure they’ll find her buried on that farm with the rest of them.”
He took another drag from the cigarette. “It’s over, then. People can finally put it behind them.”
“The hell with that,” she said. “What about justice? What about retribution?”
He looked at her. Debbie looked good in that shirt. He had to give her that.
“You wanna tie a noose around his neck and hang him from the nearest tree. Is that it?”
“No,” she said. “I’d like to torture him for a few days first. All those people buried in the ground. A monster like that doesn’t deserve an easy death.”
Brian shook his head. “He’s on a ventilator. Who knows if he’s even gonna make it.”
“He’s off the ventilator,” Donna Raffey announced, and Brian blinked. He was sitting in the living room with the rest of them now, and it suddenly occurred to him that he was the outsider, the only one among them who hadn’t lost someone at the hands of David Reece.
Kate Anderson shifted in her chair. “He’s getting better,” she said. “He could be discharged by the end of the week.”
Debbie nodded. “And now he lies there in a hospital bed with people wiping his ass and arranging his flowers.”
Brian brought a hand to his face, covering a smile. Wiping his ass and arranging his flowers, he thought. Nice touch.
Bill Stutzman stood in a corner, leaning against the wall. “He’ll be arrested as soon as he’s discharged from the hospital.” He looked over at Mike Brennan for confirmation.
“Maybe,” Debbie said, “and maybe he’ll get a fancy lawyer and a change of venue and drag the case through the courts for eight years. God, Bill, who knows if you’ll even be alive that long.”
“Screw you, Debbie.”
“That’s not on the menu,” she said. “Besides, I don’t think your heart could take it.”
Bill ignored the comment and looked at the rest of them. “If this is what we think it is, he’ll be found guilty and go to prison for the rest of his life.”
Debbie laughed. “You think they’re gonna try the case here in Wolf Point? It’ll happen in another town far away from here. Most of us won’t even be able to attend the trial. Does that sound like justice to you?”
Vinny Briggs tipped back in his chair. “He could get the death penalty,” he said, and he smiled, pleased with the idea.
Mike Brennan shook his head. “It’s unlikely. Montana hasn’t executed anyone in over twenty-three years.”
“So he’ll live out the rest of his miserable days in prison,” Bill said. “That’s good enough for me. It’s got to be. I mean, what are we talking about here?”
“Do you speak for all of us, Bill? What’s good enough for Bill Stutzman is good enough for the rest?”
Bill turned to Donna Raffey. “That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it.”
Dan Finley put a hand to his temple. “Excuse me, Bill, but your situation is a bit different than ours. When Kenny was hit by that car, it was a tragedy, but you know what happened to your son. That’s not the same for the rest of us. If they find the remains of my daughter buried on David Reece’s property, I’ll kill the man myself.”
“I can understand you feeling that way, Dan, but—”
“It’s not that I’m feeling that way, Bill. I’m telling you that I’ll kill him.” He turned to Mike Brennan. “Maybe you could lock me up just for saying that, Mike. But a threat is just a threat until it’s carried out, and you can’t lock me up forever.”
Mike raised a hand. “I won’t be locking up anyone tonight. You’re just blowing off steam as far as I’m concerned.”
Bill took a step forward. “So we’re making blatant threats on the man’s life now?” he asked. “That’s the solution? That’s what we’ve come here to talk about?”
“We’re discussing our options,” Debbie told him. “That’s all.”
Bill shook his head. “We don’t have any options. We sit back and let justice take its course. We don’t go off half-cocked and decide to take matters into your own hands. I mean, Jesus, haven’t we lost enough people already?”
“Listen, Bill,” Vinny said, “you have the right to your opinion, and we have the right to ours.”
“It’s not an opinion. It’s the way things have to be. You lost your brother. I understand that you’re angry.”
“Oh, I’m more than angry, old man. I’m ready for some payback.”
“You’re always ready for some payback,” he said, “even if it’s you who caused the trouble in the first place.”
“Ain’t no trouble if people stay out of my business. You should do yourself a favor and remember that.”
Bill took a step forward. “Is that a threat? I may be old, but I can still beat the crap out of a punk like you.”
Vinny jumped to his feet. “Well, let’s see it then. I’ll throw your fat ass through the window.”
“Stop it,” Mike said. “Sit down, Vinny. Or I’ll drag you out of here and beat the crap out of you myself.”
Vinny turned to him. “Come on, Mike. You heard him. The old man wants to fight.”
“Sit down,” the cop said. “I won’t tell you again.”
Vinny plopped himself back down in the chair. He scowled at Mike and kicked the leg of the coffee table with the heel of his boot.
“Thank you,” Mike said. “We’re gonna keep this civilized. We’re not here to fight each other. Bill has some objections and I think we should hear him out.”
“I’ve said everything I have had to say,” Bill told them. “I know what you’re considering, and I can tell you it’s a mistake—not just for me, but for all of you. You wanna come together as a community? That’s fine. Hold a memorial service for the people we lost. But don’t make the error of deciding that evil deeds require evil deeds in response. We’re better than that. Wolf Point is better than that. It’s the only thing that keeps us human. Don’t you see?” He searched their faces for signs of understanding. “It’s the only thing we have left.”
They were quiet for a moment, none of them looking at the man in front of them.
“Thank you, Bill,” Mike said. “I appreciate your perspective. We all do. A memorial service is a good idea. A candlelight vigil, maybe. That’s the way we ought to handle this.” He walked over and put an arm around the man. “We’ll let these folks work out the details, but it’s your suggestion and we won’t forget that. Thanks for reminding us of who we are.”
They nodded and murmured their agreement.
Mike walked Bill to the door. “The two of us came together,” he told the group. “I’ve got an early shift in the morning, so I’m gonna drive Bill home and then get some sleep myself. Thank you, Brian and Debbie, for inviting us out here this evening. It was a good idea to talk this over.” He put his hand on the door. “No one gets behind the wheel until they’re stone-cold sober. I have your word on that?”
They looked at him and nodded.
“Well, that’s fine then. You folks have a pleasant evening,” he said, and the two of them walked out together.
A minute later they heard the sound of two car doors closing and an engine starting in the street. They listened as it faded away into the night.
“You shouldn’t have invited a cop and the father of a cop,” Vinny said. He leaned back in his chair again, raised the bottle to his lips, and finished off the last half of his beer.
Debbie got up from her chair and went to the window. “Doesn’t matter,” she said, looking out at the night. “Let’s get back to business. What are we really going to do about David Reece?”