THE GIRL’S SHOE NAGGED AT FIELDING. HE DIDN’T KNOW WHY but he was getting pulled back into it. Not getting pulled—he was already in. Not his business he kept telling himself. Leave it alone, he said. Said, Yeh don’t need to be the hero here. He was lying on the couch telling himself this when the phone started up.
He stood and went into the kitchen and took the phone off the wall.
You a gambling man? Batey asked.
No.
Let’s say you are.
Okay, Fielding said.
Would you still stake everything you own on that shoe being Eunice’s?
I think I would.
Congratulations. You haven’t lost a thing.
What’d I win?
Not sure there’s a winner in any of this.
Not sure that’s a fair bet.
Want me to come get you?
Why would yeh come get me? We goin somewhere?
We’re going to go talk to this creep.
Which creep is that? Lot a creeps out there.
Mr Ford Fairlane.
Not me, Fielding said. I’ve taken this ride as far as it goes. About time we handed it over to Wilson. I think yeh should get off as well.
Can’t do that, partner.
Why not?
Cause I have girls of my own. Plain and simple. And that missing girl could easily be one of mine. Can’t go backward now.
But she ain’t yers, Fielding said. She ain’t Lola and she ain’t Emmy Lou. And havin yeh dead over all this ain’t goin a help anyone. Especially yer girls.
You going to tell that to her folks? You going to look her father in the eye and tell him she isn’t yours to find? Nope, Batey said. Can’t do it. I can’t anyway. And I don’t think you can either.
Fielding knew he was right. If this had been anyone coming to him for help in Oscar, Iowa, he would do the same thing. And he knew a hundred others who would have helped right alongside him and he knew they wouldn’t stop helping until she was found. He said that to Batey and then he said, Alright. All in.
An hour later they were driving in Batey’s Bronco. Turned onto the state route and went south. The macadam was wet but it wasn’t raining.
I feel suspended out here, Fielding said.
He’d just been sitting there in silence when he said it. Just sitting there looking out the window.
Suspended? Batey asked.
Like a piece of Styrofoam on the water.
How do you mean?
In Iowa it would get cold in the winter and hot in the summer. In the summer it would rain and in the winter it would snow. Some days it was sunny and somedays it was cloudy.
You know you’re describing weather, partner. That’s what weather is.
Not out here, Fielding said. Out here it never stops rainin. Out here it’s not too hot and it’s not too cold. Out here the sun never comes out and the sky is always gray.
I get the feeling you’re wanting to tell me something.
No, Fielding said. Just that I’m livin a life in suspension.
Nothing suspends forever.
No. I suppose it don’t.
Goes up and it goes down.
Sounds about right.
Well that’s good, Batey said.
What’s good?
Get all the crazy stuff out before we talk to the real crazy.
At the abandoned house Batey slowed the Bronco and pulled off the blacktop and onto the gravel apron.
Batey parked behind the Fairlane. He put the transmission into park and they sat there looking at the house for a moment through the windshield. They noticed that the dome light was glowing faintly.
You remember that light on yesterday? Batey asked.
No I do not.
Batey said, I think the water under that Styrofoam is about to get bumpy.
Outside the air was thick. Overhead the high-voltage lines droned on like broken cicadas. Batey followed Fielding up to the house and when they passed the empty Fairlane Fielding stopped and peered in. He couldn’t see much. But it was all but empty. On the dashboard was a videotape.
What’s yer opinion on that? Fielding said.
Batey looked in.
Oscar winner, if you ask me.
They looked up at the house.
We go burstin through that door, Fielding said, there might be somethin waitin to burst back.
Batey expected Fielding to say something more but he didn’t. He just tapped his lower lip with his forefinger.
What do you suppose is on that tape? Batey asked.
I don’t think I care to know.
Without a word Batey turned back to the Bronco and opened the driver’s side door and leaned in for something and then shut the door behind him. He came out with his gun belt and his 9mm Beretta in its holster. He put that on so that the gun was on his right side. Fielding looked down at it and raised his eyebrows.
Never know, Batey said.
They made their way up to the house. The grass was tall and wetted their legs as they walked through it. Near the house a rat shot from the brush and gave Fielding a start and he tried to kick at it but it disappeared under the rotten porch.
At the foot of the steps Fielding said, How yeh want to do this?
I guess we just knock.
At the slumped door Fielding knocked on the jamb with the heel of his hand.
Sheriff’s office, he said.
Batey gave him a look. Fielding shrugged and knocked again. Then he stepped over the door.
What are you doing? Batey said. He was almost whispering.
I’m goin in.
That’s trespassing.
Our little secret.
The necrotic light from the headlights was lapping against the moldy walls like scum on the shoreline of a dead pond. In the middle of the floor was a wide black oval. Fielding crossed the room. The wood floor was sticky and his boots made sounds like they were fighting glue. He stepped in something like tar. Or asphalt sealant. He looked down at it. It was the same color as tar. He said, Dee, pitch me that flashlight. When he clicked it on and trained it at the floor he found the color was not black but very dark red. He swung the light around but the room was empty.
Yeh seein this? Fielding said.
Batey came into the house and crossed the room and toed at the blood on the floor.
Ain’t dry, he said. But it ain’t fresh neither.
He clicked the safety off on the gun. He said, You think anyone is in here?
No I do not, Fielding said.
Batey took stock of the room. He looked off down the hallway. Then he took stock of the room again.
Where you think that hall leads?
Rooms, I suppose, Fielding said. Keep that pistol ready.
They went down the hall. The floor was sagging in places. There was nothing on the walls. The first room they came to had no door and no trim and the Sheetrock was exposed and crumbling. Inside the room was nothing but stacked boxes. Some of the stacks were piled to the ceiling. The room smelled like moldy oranges.
The next room had a door but it was closed. Fielding nodded at it. Batey stepped forward and was ready with the Beretta. Batey nodded and Fielding opened the door. The room was empty and dark and musty. There was a mattress on the floor. A greasy sleeping bag laid out. Fielding swung the flashlight around and lit up some graffiti. There were dirty clothes spread over the floor and cigarette burns in the carpet.
There’s got to be something waiting for us, Batey said.
That’s what I’m afraid of, Fielding said.
Back in the living room they stood looking at the stain of blood. Batey said, You think we’re onto something here?
Yes I do.
Fielding looked around the room. He said, This place have a pump house or a cellar of some kind?
Your guess is as good as mine.
Outside they followed a well-trodden path that looked like a game trail from the porch steps to the side of the house and then around to the back. Fielding watched for any light or movement in the windows but there was no light and nothing moved. Batey kept turning around like something was following them.
The backyard was full of junk and brier and old wooden crates and pallets and leaning columns of bee boxes and rusted engine parts and bald tires and it was all half-hidden or half-sunk. All was perfectly still and nothing but the power lines made a sound. Absolutely dead quiet.
Could be anything hiding out there, Batey said.
There ain’t nothin out there but ghosts, Fielding said.
They kept on and came to the far side of the house and their eyes fell to the cellar door at the same moment and neither of them wanted to say what they were both thinking.
There was an iron bar slid through the handles.
Found the cellar, Batey said.
What spooks me is what we’re goin a find inside it.
Inside it?
Come this far, haven’t we?
You get the bar and I’ll get the door.
Deal.
The bar weighed more than it looked. It was rusted and bent and did not slide well. It jammed once or twice and Fielding cursed it under his breath and when it finally slid free he pitched it into the grass and spat into the dirt. The door was heavy and awkward and the handle was wet and Batey’s hand slipped and the heavy door slammed down. The thick air muffled the noise and they expected an echo or a dog to bark in return but there was no echo and no dog. Just the cellar to be opened. Just the silence.
The smell that escaped was like poking a bloated dead animal. The odor got the best of Batey and he spun around and threw up into the grass. Fielding took a bandanna from his back pocket and held it to his nose. The wood of the stairs leading down looked punky and Fielding wondered which one would break on him. The night air was cold but a strange warmth spilled out from within. Fielding looked down the stairs. They disappeared into a darkness absolute. Into the throat of some beast without a name. Into the dark heart of the unthinkable.
Batey came up behind Fielding. He was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Fielding looked at him but didn’t say anything. He only nodded.
We go down there, Fielding said, we might not come back out.
You wanting to call it in? Batey asked. Get Marty out here? I’d be fine ending this nightmare.
Somethin tells me we call it in that chief of police might throw the book at me. Might throw the whole damn shelf.
I don’t think you’re wrong on that.
So we’re goin down?
Lead the way.
Fielding clicked on the flashlight and pointed it down the stairs. It made a white circle on the concrete floor.
Okay then, Fielding said.
Batey raised the gun and they started down the stairs. Each step creaked. The wood sounded like the moaning of a ship’s planks. At the bottom of the stairs and straight ahead the flashlight caught the image of a chair and a dead woman tied to the compression post. Her top had been removed. Her skirt hiked up and torn. Fielding seemed transfixed on her. Batey tapped Fielding on the arm. He said: Partner. Then he pointed.
Fielding swung the light around and caught a hanged man lifeless at the end of a rope. His face was blue and swollen. His eyes were glassed over and bulging in the skull. A shot man was collapsed on the floor. Fielding shined the light on the wall. It was covered in blood and gore and small fragments of bone. Shined it back on the dead man on the floor.
Mr Fairlane? Fielding said.
Your guess is as good as mine, Batey said.
Fielding shined the light back at the chair.
What do yeh think happened here? Fielding asked.
Haven’t a clue.
Looks like they did somethin to the girl.
You think that one shot the other then hanged himself?
Yeh better call this in, Fielding said.
Yep. And you better make yourself scarce.
What’re yeh goin a tell them?
Going to tell them I came out here alone on some anonymous tip about some poaching activity and that I found the cellar door open. I’ll call Marty and tell him. I’ll come back out here with him and let him find these three himself.
Seems thin.
Like new ice, Batey said, but I don’t think we got another way.
Batey went to the hanged man. Found his wallet in his back pocket. Opened it and saw all the money. Looked at his driver’s license.
Lot of money, Fielding said.
Too much.
Batey put it all back in the wallet and put the wallet back in the guy’s pocket.
Back outside they stood under the low clouds and the humming power lines and Fielding put his hands on his hips and looked out at the junk in the field and then down the cellar stairs and then at Batey and shook his head. He said,
None of this is right.
No it ain’t.
I mean it ain’t right. The three of them down there. One hanged, the other two shot. But here’s my question.
What question is that?
How are three people goin a slide that iron bar through the handles from the inside?
Hmm.
Yeah, Fielding said. Hmm.
A long moment passed and then Fielding said: They were put down there, weren’t they?
I’m starting to wonder.
That shoe we found. That was Eunice’s shoe. Eunice was in that basement at some point, wasn’t she?
Batey nodded. We got to find that girl.
Yes we do.
Fielding slid the iron bar back through the handles. He said: We’ll let Marty find it the way we found it.
Going back to the Bronco Fielding stopped at the Fairlane and opened the door.
What are you doing? Batey asked.
Nothin, Fielding said.
He reached in and grabbed the videotape.
I wouldn’t, Batey said.
I won’t.
But he knew he would. Fielding set the tape on the dash of the Bronco. Then they drove away.