THEY PULLED OFF THE STATE ROUTE INTO THE DRIVE OF THE abandoned house at twilight. A fog had come in from the sea. The gate to the cyclone fence was left open. The grass was long. Hidden in the tall grass were husks of trash metal sinking into the ground like the rusting bones of a dismal feast. A cast-iron bathtub turned on its side. A dented water heater. Snares of blackberry seemed to be using the house as a ladder. The Fairlane was parked in front of the garage. Batey left the Bronco running and leaned over the wheel.
Well, Batey said. There’s our Fairlane.
Well, Fielding said.
Yep.
They got out of the Bronco and stood in the drive a moment. The high-voltage lines were thrumming overhead, lost in the fog. They sounded like they were trying to burn their way through. The three of them hooked their thumbs in their jeans. No one wanted to make the first move because to make the first meant there was no turning back.
A good plan violently executed right now, Fielding said, is far better than a perfect plan executed next week.
What? Batey said.
General Patton, Fielding said.
What’s Patton got to do with this?
Means let’s get this show on the road.
Rawlings led them toward the house. They stopped at the Fairlane and peered into it. All but empty save the videotape on the dash. They went on. They were stepping though all manner of trash. Near the open garage they saw a rat skitter. They had to push through the tall grass and weeds like they were on a safari. At the wooden steps of the porch Rawlings toed a rotten board to see if it would bust through. The door had been pushed aside and the condemned sign was askew. The three of them stood on the porch a moment as if not sure what to do next.
Well, Fielding said to Rawlings, go on. Yer the law around here.
Rawlings knocked then he tried the door. It fell inward. A foul smell billowed out. Like cat urine and vinegar and mildew. The floorboards were curling or punched through. Blackberry vines grew up the walls and piles of garbage were scattered everywhere.
I think Mr Fairlane has skedaddled, Fielding said.
Think you’re right, Batey said.
They exited the porch and started off toward the Bronco.
Feel like I need to take a shower just standing there, Batey said.
That ain’t the last time yeh’ll be standin in that spot, Fielding said. Yeh just opened a whole drum of somethin. Better start buyin yer soap in bulk.
Walking back Fielding saw something in the grass. Something foreign, like a gem lying in a bucket of tar. He toed it. It was a shoe. He said Batey’s name. Batey came over and looked down at it.
What’s that look like? Fielding said.
That’s a shoe.
Yeh have daughters. What kind of shoe is that?
That’s a girl’s shoe, Batey said.
What kind of girl?
The kind that might have gone missing.
That’d be my guess too.
Fielding knelt and picked it up. It was new. There was very little scuffing on it. He turned it in his hand. Then he looked back at the house in the forlorn light.
They got in the Bronco and Fielding handed the shoe to Rawlings.
Yeh go ask Eunice’s folks and see if this shoe is hers, Fielding said. I’d be willin to stake everythin I own that it is.
Rawlings looked at the shoe.
Raise your right hand, Rawlings said.
Why? Fielding asked.
I’m deputizing you.
I don’t think yeh can do that.
Maybe not, Rawlings said. But I’m doing it anyway. Right hand.
Fielding raised it.
Rawlings said what he had to say and then said, Okay?
Alright, Fielding said. And then he said, And don’t tell Price about the shoe. We won’t let the wolf in the henhouse quite yet.