seven

Loyal was still angry with Mother, but he knew that if he ever wanted to leave the front porch, he’d better get on her good side. So he did all his chores without being asked and even pulled the push mower out of the shed and began trimming the patch of yard in front of the house. He liked watching the whirling blades slice through the grass, making it spin and fly through the air. There was a rhythm and satisfaction to making the plot smooth and pretty.

He’d just finished and was standing back to admire his work when Michael slouched down the street with Rebecca a few paces behind. The older boy’s posture straightened when he spotted Loyal. He waited for his sister to catch up, then jerked his head toward Loyal. “Look, it’s your deaf boyfriend. Bet he talks worse than you.” He threw his head back and laughed.

Rebecca ignored her brother and smiled at Loyal. She approached the picket fence and admired the yard with its abundance of late-summer flowers. “Your yard sure is pretty,” she said.

Without considering that she didn’t know sign, Loyal fanned his fingers and touched his thumb to his chin. She cocked her head and wrinkled her brow. He licked his lips, focused on forming the word mother with his mouth and voice. He rarely spoke, but everyone at school had learned to do so, and he could do it if he needed to. Something about Rebecca made him want to talk to her any way he could.

Her eyes lit up. “You can talk!” Loyal shrugged.

Michael butted in. “I was right. He talks worse than you. You two can stand here making noises at each other, but I’m going on into town.” He stuck his chest out. “I’ve got business.” Rebecca rolled her eyes and turned her back to her brother. He waited a beat as if expecting her to follow, then swatted at the air and continued on his way.

Rebecca looked at Loyal, mimicking the sign he’d just made. “This means mother?” she asked. “She grows the flowers?”

Loyal nodded as he reached out to adjust her fingers a little until it looked right. She smiled, and it was blinding. “Show me father.” He did, then moved on to brother, sister, family, and finally she asked for the sign for friend. Loyal hooked his index fingers together, flipped the position of his hands back and forth, released and then re-hooked his fingers. “Oh, like your fingers are hugging.” Rebecca repeated the sign. “I like that one.” She eyed Loyal intently. “Can we be friends?” she asked, hooking her fingers and holding her hands between them.

Loyal said yes as he raised his fist and moved it like a nodding head. He also smiled almost as big as Rebecca. He had plenty of deaf friends at school, but not many hearing friends. Well, none really, and he liked Rebecca a lot.

They were quiet and still for a moment, just admiring the flowers. Rebecca tapped him on the arm, and he turned to her, eyebrows raised. “I talk funny,” she said. “I guess you can’t hear it, but kids make fun of me sometimes. My brother does all the time.”

Loyal furrowed his brow and tilted his head to the side.

“I have a lisp,” she said. Loyal didn’t even know what that was. He guessed you had to be a hearing person to understand. He smiled and shrugged, lifting his hands in the air.

She laughed. “I guess you don’t care since you can’t hear it.” Her smile softened. “And when I’m with you, I don’t care either.”

They stood there quietly for a moment, smiling at each other. Loyal hadn’t realized a hearing person could understand him so well without sign. He wondered if it was just because no one else had ever cared enough to try.

Virgil sent Bud up the mountain to fetch Creed later that week. Creed didn’t much want to go back to town. Didn’t much want to be caught up in this mess over a dead man he didn’t know, but since Loyal was involved, he went regardless. He didn’t want Virgil or anyone else putting his son on the spot, questioning him or pressing him for information. He remembered how his own father had always been pushing him. Do more. Try harder. Always have the right answer ready. The man was never satisfied, even after Creed worked his tail off to become sheriff. His dying words for Creed were to make sure his grandson—then almost two years old—turned out better.

Well, Creed had messed that up, too. He sure wasn’t going to let anyone else make things worse.

Virgil had his bald head bent over a stack of papers. His free hand worked across his shiny pate in circles as though rubbing it helped him think. He flung his pen down and stood when Creed came in.

“I’ve gotten twenty-eight calls from Washington, D.C.”—he dragged out the D and C—“since you went and turned up Eddie Minks’s body. Now they want me to fill out all these forms like that’s gonna help them more than me getting out there and figuring out who did it.”

“Guess Earl informed his superiors,” Creed said.

“He didn’t exactly rush to do it, but it’s done now and they’re planning to send an investigator down here to help me ‘resolve the issue.’” Virgil rubbed his head some more. “All they’ll do is slow me down. That’s why I sent for you. I need someone who can actually help.” He glared at Creed. “Which I thought you were going to do before you ran back up the mountain without a word to me.”

Creed held his hands up. “Figured you were done with me once we found that slug. I’ve got work to do.”

Virgil shook his head. “Why somebody with a good-lookin’ wife and a boy at home wants to be up on that mountain is beyond me.”

Creed hardened his jaw. “Maybe it’s not for you to understand. Maybe I’ll just go back up there so I don’t have to deal with people like you sticking their noses into my business.”

Now it was Virgil’s turn to hold up his hands. “You’re right. I crossed the line. Your family’s your business.” He braced his hands on his belt. “But I sure could use someone with brains and common sense, not to mention experience, if you’re willing to stick around awhile.”

Creed felt like a dog letting its hackles fall. He shook out his neck and took a breath. “You said Earl didn’t hurry to report his partner’s death. You got any idea why he might’ve waited?”

Virgil perked up. “No, but I did think it was almighty strange. You got any ideas?”

“Well, he came up the mountain to see me the other day. Said he’d reported the murder and seemed plenty anxious for you to solve the case before anybody else showed up. Seemed to think I could hurry you along.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes. “You probably could. That fellow’s been turning up here twice a day to ask if there’s been any progress. Have I found any new clues? Who’s my prime suspect? Finally told him if he didn’t leave me alone, I’d never get anything done.”

“Guess he’s upset about his friend,” Creed said.

“That’s just it. I’ve dealt with more than one killing over the years, and nobody’s ever acted like this one. Shoot, if Maxine over at the motel hadn’t sworn Earl was there when Eddie must’ve been killed, I’d say he’d make a fine suspect.” Virgil drummed his fingers on the desktop. “He’s just too . . . anxious. Nervous.”

Creed nodded his head. “I noticed that, too. Like he can’t make up his mind how to feel about his buddy getting killed. One minute he talks like he didn’t think much of you, and the next he’s worried about your looking bad. Double-minded that way.”

Virgil snapped his fingers. “That’s the word for it. Makes me wonder what his angle is.”

“What about Eddie?” Creed asked. “What’s his story?”

“A gal in the office he works out of gave me the particulars from his employee file. He doesn’t have any family that they know of. Been contracting with them for almost a year, doing this land-acquisition work. Gal kept saying his work was marked ‘satisfactory.’ Guess that means he wasn’t great, but he wasn’t terrible either.” Virgil had been ticking the facts off on his fingers. “And that’s about it. Listed an address in Pennsylvania.”

Creed chuckled. “Well, not to sound like Earl, but do you have any suspects?”

Virgil frowned. “Hadden Westfall’s the only one so far.”

“And he’s got an alibi. Guess that checked out?”

“Talked to the secretary over there at the engineer’s office. She said Hadden was there sure enough. She saw him arrive around eleven in the morning and leave after four. Takes a good hour to drive up there, so unless we’re way off on when Eddie was killed . . .”

“What about the engineer? What’d he say?” Creed asked.

A slow smile crept over Virgil’s face. “You trying to catch me out on not being thorough? I left a message for Gordon Shiloh to call me—he’s the one in charge. I expect he’ll confirm what the secretary said, but you can’t be too careful.”

“Sounds like you’ve got everything covered. What was it you needed me for again?”

Virgil laughed and slapped his hat on his head. “We’re going to talk to the Hacker boys.”

Creed groaned. He didn’t have anything against the Hackers, but he didn’t seek them out either. Rough as cobs, every one of them. “Alright then. What you gonna take ’em so they don’t run us off?”

Virgil reached under his desk and pulled out a paper sack. He winked. “Got me some conversation starter right here.”

When Delphy heard voices out front, she headed for the door to peek outside. Loyal must have company, though she couldn’t think who . . . Ah-ha. The Westfall kids. She saw the older boy—she couldn’t remember his name—sauntering off as Loyal and . . . Rebecca—that was her name—engaged in conversation. She watched for a moment, reveling in the sight of her son and a young lady communicating with each other. It made her heart swell. She gave them a few moments before pushing open the door.

Rebecca turned toward her, cuing Loyal to do the same. She smiled so big it almost hurt. “Rebecca, what a treat! Won’t you join us for luncheon?” As she used the more formal word for the noon meal, she saw Loyal roll his eyes. She stifled a laugh. Boys. He and Rebecca exchanged a look that did her mother’s heart good.

She ushered them inside and fed them from the garden—buttery corn on the cob, slices of deep-red tomatoes, green beans with streak o’ lean, and golden biscuits with the strawberry jam she’d made earlier in the season.

Humming to herself, she pulled out cloth napkins and adjusted the jar of black-eyed Susans she’d set in the middle of the table that morning for no reason. She wanted to laugh at her son, who was clearly confused by all the fuss. Much as his father would be. That last thought sobered her. When they married, she’d assumed they’d have lots of children. She’d even thought she was pregnant about a year before Loyal lost his hearing, but it had been a false alarm. And then, when Creed brought their boy home so sick and the fever left him deaf . . . well, suffice it to say they hadn’t tried for another child after that. Thinking back on those dark days, she wasn’t sure whose choice it had been—hers or Creed’s?

Watching the children there at her table, she felt a pang of regret. Maybe it wasn’t too late . . . No. She would not torture herself that way. If Creed wanted to put his family back together, he’d have to do a great deal more than spend a few nights and learn a few signs.

Forcing a smile, she set a plate of cookies on the table and tried to be satisfied with the blessings in front of her.

Once they’d eaten and Rebecca helped with the dishes, Mother suggested they go for a walk. Loyal squinted at her. Just that morning she’d acted like she wasn’t going to let him leave the house except to go to church. And now she was practically pushing him out the door. He shook his head. People were complicated.

The house sat on the outskirts of town just beyond the Beverly cemetery. He and Rebecca strolled along past Cemetery Lane and onto Main Street. Loyal was gawking at the display in the window of the Beverly Market when Rebecca bumped his arm and tilted her head toward the old courthouse catty-corner to where they stood. Although the county seat had moved to Elkins before Loyal was born, the sheriff still kept an office in Beverly in the brick building with its double doors flanked by windows.

Loyal spotted his father climbing into the sheriff’s car. He lifted a hand to flag him down, but the car was already pulling away from the curb and Father didn’t turn toward him. He wished he could yell or whistle—shoot, he knew he could—he just wasn’t quite sure how to manage it properly. He longed to know where the two men were headed and wished he was going with them. Then Rebecca poked him again and pointed to the public square, a grassy area on the corner across from them. This time he saw Michael standing near a tree, watching the sheriff’s car as if he were a spy.

Rebecca tugged on his arm and motioned for him to follow her. They crossed the street and walked toward Michael. He jumped as they approached. Loyal guessed he didn’t hear them coming. He knew how that was.

“Where’d you two come from?” the older boy snapped.

Loyal didn’t see how Rebecca answered but could tell she was being sassy. Loyal bumped her and made the sign for what, then gestured toward Michael.

“Yeah, what are you doing?” she asked. “Were you hiding from Sheriff White?”

“No.” Loyal could see the annoyance in Michael’s eyes. And when he glanced at Rebecca, he noted caution in hers.

“Then what?”

Michael shrugged and slouched onto a nearby bench. “Just seeing what I can pick up around town.”

“What do you mean?” Rebecca asked.

Michael darted a look at Loyal and jerked a thumb at him. “He can’t hear, right? Like he has no idea what I’m saying?”

Rebecca looked at Loyal out of the corner of her eye. “That’s right. Deaf as a post.” Loyal tried not to frown. He hated that saying.

Michael leaned forward. “I’m trying to figure out what the sheriff knows about—” he paused and glanced around them—“you know. That day on the river. What happened.”

“Do you mean, like, has he figured out it was us?”

Michael’s eyes darted all around as he patted the air as if tamping down dirt. “Yeah. Exactly like that.”

A look of alarm spread over Rebecca’s face. “What if he thinks the wrong person did it? What if someone innocent gets into trouble?”

Michael gnawed at his lip. “Best-case scenario, it just goes unsolved.”

“But what if—?” Michael stood abruptly, cutting Rebecca off. “I don’t want to talk about this. You and your boyfriend go on now,” he said with a sneer. “I’m going to see if I can’t find some stuff out.” He stuck his thumbs in his pockets and sauntered down the street in an exaggerated way that Loyal supposed he thought looked casual.

A soft touch drew his attention. Rebecca was looking at him with tears welling in her eyes. “How much did you see that day?”

He hesitated, then shrugged, not sure how to tell her he’d just seen them running.

“You saw everything?”

Loyal thought for a minute. The sign for running might not make sense to her. He pointed at her and then moved his arms as if he were pumping them to help him run.

“You saw us running away.” He nodded. “But you didn’t see . . .” She ducked her head, and when she looked at him again, a tear trickled down her cheek. He reached out to gather the moisture on the tip of his finger and shook his head.

“It was awful,” she said. Loyal wanted to comfort her but wasn’t sure what to do. Hug her? That seemed awkward. Although he also thought it might be kind of nice. While he was still trying to decide, Rebecca pushed a smile onto her face. “Thank you for being my friend,” she said and made the sign he’d taught her earlier.

Loyal put his flat hand to his chin and moved it forward and down. Then he managed a smile of his own. He pointed toward the horseshoe pits in the square and raised his eyebrows.

“Okay,” Rebecca said, “but my aim is terrible.”

Loyal waggled his eyebrows and rubbed his hands together. He was delighted to see Rebecca’s posture relax. He’d think more about what Michael had implied, later when he was alone.