Dane got the call from August less than an hour later. They’d gotten to the teacher’s house too late. Another body had been added to the list. Dane also had to counter that news by telling his boss that the prisoner he’d convinced him to have released had eluded custody before he could return him to the McFalls County sheriff. Dane sat in his truck outside the trailer park he grew up in and tried to pack it all away for a few hours. Dane had sold the trailer to Misty’s sister a few months ago, but it still filled him with a feeling of coming home every time he turned in the gate and saw that wooden sign with the arrowhead carved in it and mounted to the gate. ARROWOOD: A MOBILE HOME COMMUNITY. Dane had kept the place even after his mother passed away, and he let Misty convince him to let her sister move in, despite his best efforts to cut all ties to McFalls County. This place may have been home once, but it was still another gut-check reminder of his other life. Dane could hear Misty and her sister talking inside when he pulled up. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but neither of them sounded happy. He got out of the truck and heard the water running in the kitchen. He gave a quick knock on the door before walking in, and the conversation the two women were having came to a dead stop. Jenn sat on the kitchen counter watching Misty wash dishes. It was a little late to be cleaning anything, but that was Misty’s way. It always had been. Whenever she was pissed off about something, she cleaned the house. In this instance, Jenn had benefited from that particular quirk. It was a win/win situation. She got to see the sister and she got her house cleaned.
“Hey, girls, what’s the word?”
“Hey, Dane,” Jenn said. Her voice was flat and cold as she hopped off the kitchen counter. Jenn wasn’t much to look at, a younger, less attractive version of Misty. Her hair was thinner and years of smoking and tanning beds had leathered her skin. Dane looked around at the freshly vacuumed carpet and the newly dusted secondhand furniture—some of which had belonged to Dane’s parents when it was firsthand and hadn’t been moved from where it sat since he was a boy. The trailer was normally cluttered with gun magazines and newspapers, children’s toys, and all sorts of thrift-store shit that Jenn could never bring herself to throw out, but now the place had been Misty’d, so it actually resembled the home he used to know except for Jenn’s shitty attitude, which filled the place like the smog from a paper mill.
“Where are the boys, Jenn?”
She didn’t look at him as she stuffed her keys and a pack of Salem 100’s in her purse from the end table. “Jackson’s in his room on the PlayStation and Jake’s at his piece-of-shit father’s house. It’s his weekend to have him. He’ll be home tomorrow.” She slung her purse over her shoulder and grabbed a beer from the fridge. She held it against the edge of the counter top and banged the cap off with her palm. She whispered something to Misty before passing Dane to get to the front door. “There’s two more Blue Moons in the fridge if you want one.”
“Thanks, Jenn, but I don’t drink, remember?”
“Maybe that’s your problem, Dane.” She turned the bottle up and pushed open the screen door. “I’ll be over at Granny’s if you need me, sis. Good luck.”
Dane stopped the door from slapping shut and walked into the kitchen, where Misty was scrubbing a frying pan that had been burnt black weeks ago. “Good luck with what?” he asked. “We’re not fighting, are we?”
Misty stopped scrubbing and turned off the faucet. She dried her hands on a dish towel and opened up the fridge to get one of the last two beers. She was cleaning and she was drinking. That told Dane what he needed to know. They weren’t fighting yet, but they soon would be. She held her beer against the counter and tried to smack it open the way her sister had, but only ended up hurting her hand.
“Ouch. Goddamnit.” She shook the injured palm in the air as if she could shake the pain out.
“Here, give me that.” Dane took the beer bottle, twisted the top off, and set it on the counter. “She’s going to tear up the counters in here doing that. Dad spent weeks cutting all these countertops.” He rubbed his hand over the area of small nicks in the granite. “And for twist-top beers. Misty, I love your sister, but damn, she doesn’t have respect for nothing.”
“That’s pretty funny coming from you.” Misty picked up her beer and walked into the den.
Dane leaned against the sink. “Okay, so I guess we are fighting.”
Misty sipped at the beer. It was clear she didn’t even want it. She stood in the den looking out the screen door into the dim purple light of the bug zapper hanging above the porch. The fluorescent light brought out the tense muscles in her face. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, or she’d cried it off. Either way, she was angry, and it dawned on Dane that she hadn’t even made eye contact with him since he’d been there. He scanned the interior of the trailer looking for his envelope—for those goddamn lab results—but he didn’t see anything. Maybe they were still in his pants on the floor back home. Just because he didn’t see them didn’t mean she hadn’t found them or knew what they said. Still, it was possible. He wasn’t about to volunteer anything—not yet. Maybe he’d been way off about the whole thing. Maybe this was just something silly—about money—or something he forgot and should’ve remembered. Misty had anniversaries for everything—first date—first movie—first kiss—first fucking trip to the grocery store. It was exhausting and hard to keep up with. He came up behind her and put his hands on her hips, and she let him. She was wearing a pair of black and orange spandex leggings and a loose-fitting tank top over a sports bra. Dane loved it when she dressed like that. A lot of women went for the workout look, but Misty had the body to pull it off. She actually made it to the gym every day.
Her granny only lived three lots over, so he could hear Jenn talking from where they were standing. “Your sister is loud as hell.” Dane moved his hands off her hips and up her back.
“Stop it. I’m sweaty.”
“I like you sweaty.” He leaned his head forward and kissed her neck. She let the first kiss go, but pulled away from the second. He slid his hands back down to her hips. He wasn’t ready to let go. He needed something to go right tonight after everything else had gone off the rails.
“I’m serious, Dane. I’m sweaty and I’m not in the mood. It’s nine thirty. I talked to you at two o’clock this afternoon. I thought you’d be here long before now.”
“So did I, but Ned—”
“But Ned,” Misty repeated, not giving him a chance to finish.
“He’s in a lot of trouble, Misty.”
“Does he know?”
Dane’s heart dropped. “Know what? What are you talking about?” He took his hands off her and sank them into his pockets. She walked into the den, set the beer down on the coffee table, and pulled the tattered envelope out of her purse.
Shit.
“About this, Dane. Does Ned know about this?” She slapped the envelope down on the coffee table and there it was. She finally looked him in the eye. “These are dated over a week ago.”
Dane walked back into the kitchen. “Misty…”
“You’ve known about this for a week?” She was yelling now. “A fucking week. When were you going to tell me?”
“I don’t know. I—didn’t know how.”
“You didn’t know how to tell the woman you share your bed with every night you have a tumor in your lung? You didn’t know how to tell me you’re sick?” She started crying immediately.
Dane moved in and tried to hold her, but she pushed him away. She circled the den and then barreled back at him and banged her fists into his chest. He took the first few hits before grabbing her by the wrists. “Calm down, Misty.”
“How can I calm down? Do you even know what this means? Do you even know how serious this is?”
“Yes, I know how serious it is. It’s happening to me, remember. I haven’t even been able to process it myself. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, much less you. Listen, I told you about the weak spells I’ve been having—the dizziness. I played it down but it started worrying me a little, so I went and had some tests done. I thought McKenzie was going to tell me I had high blood pressure or something, not that I had stage-two lung cancer. I was scared. I’m still scared. I didn’t know how to tell you, so I waited, and then I waited so long that I was afraid this would be how you’d act.”
The slap surprised him—and it hurt. Misty must’ve hurt herself, too, because she started waving her hand in the air again. Dane touched his face. It was raw and pink even under the fresh new beard. “Jesus Christ, Misty. What the hell was that for?”
She lowered her voice and Dane saw something in her face—something he hadn’t seen before. “You went fishing, you son of a bitch. You found out you were sick and not only did you ignore what the doctor said—I found your prescriptions, I know you didn’t fill them—but you decided not to tell me of all people, and then you went fishing.”
“It’s not like that, Misty.”
“The hell it isn’t. Does Charles know? Did you tell him that was the reason for taking the time off?”
Dane didn’t have to answer her. He had told Charles and she knew it by looking at his face. “I can’t believe you would do this to me—to us.” She picked up the envelope from the table and pointed it at him like a weapon. “This isn’t just happening to you, Dane—it’s happening to us. We are supposed to be partners, remember? I guess you were just going to wait until you dropped dead in the creek somewhere—or out with your high-school buddies—and leave me to sort it out on my own. It’s almost like you want it to happen. Is that why you let me move in? Because you knew it wouldn’t matter in a year or two anyway?”
“That’s ridiculous, Misty.”
“Is it, Dane? Is it ridiculous?”
Dane understood exactly where her anger came from. She was right. They were supposed to be partners. She had every right to know about his health and what was happening to him, but he’d been selfish and he knew it. He took the envelope out of her hand and she let him. He unfolded the paperwork and spread it out on the coffee table. He sat on the sofa, and after a long moment, Misty sat next to him. She let a few more tears escape before she wiped her face clean. “Okay,” she said. “Okay. What do we do now? We need to get you on these meds.”
“Misty.”
“And then what comes next. Radiation? Tell me how it works. Tell me how we’re going to beat this.”
“Misty.”
“What?”
“I’m not taking any meds or any radiation.”
Misty sat and stared at him with a blank expression. Dane kept her eyes and nodded. After an awkward moment, Misty slowly stood up and grabbed her purse.
“Please, babe. Don’t leave. You don’t understand. Hear me out.”
“You want me to hear you out? No, you’re right, Dane. I don’t understand. You’re sick. It’s treatable but you’re telling me you’re not going to do anything about it?”
A toilet flushed down the hallway, and Misty stood quietly in the middle of the den, holding her purse as if she’d forgotten where she was. She stared at Dane, waiting for an answer as he watched Jackson come up the hall and plop down on the sofa.
“Are you going to die, Uncle Dane?”
The boy’s casual question snapped Misty out of her trance and she stormed out of the trailer sobbing. The screen door slammed shut behind her. Dane knew she wasn’t going anywhere. Just to find her sister. She wanted him to follow her and he knew he should, but her nephew sat down next to him on the sofa and put his arm around him. Jackson pushed his glasses up on his nose and asked Dane again. “Are you going to die?”
“Everybody dies, Jackson.”
“Like the dinosaurs?”
Dane laughed. “Yeah, buddy. Like the dinosaurs.”
“I don’t like that.”
He pulled the kid into him and hugged his neck. “I don’t, either, kid. I don’t, either.”
Dane could hear Jenn coming all the way up to the front stoop, so he straightened himself out and got ready for another ass chewing. Sisters—piss off one, piss off them all. He hoped Jenn wouldn’t hit him, too. His face still burned from Misty’s slap. Jenn opened the door and poked her head inside. “Dane, she’s a mess. I’m going to take her down McDowell Road for a while, maybe stop at the Food Lion and get some ice cream if they ain’t closed—if that’s all right with you.”
Dane exchanged looks with Jackson. That wasn’t what either of them expected. “Of course, Jenn. Thank you. I’m sorry about all this. Is there anything I can do?”
“That one there needs a bath, if you’re up for it? If not, don’t worry about it.”
Dane looked at the digital clock on the microwave hanging over the range and then down at Jackson. “I can do that.”
“Thanks. Be back soon.”
“Okay.”
Jenn almost let the door shut but turned and poked her head back in the trailer. “Dane, I’m sorry.”
He was used to the twinge of sympathy that came hand in hand with talk of his dead wife and daughter, but that was the first time he’d heard it from someone talking about him. He hated it just as much.
“I am, too. Thanks.”
This time she let the door close all the way, and a few minutes later the girls were off running down McDowell Road.
Dane squirted a little shampoo from the bottle on the ledge into the stream of water from the faucet and watched it form a heavy layer of bubbles across the surface. Jackson stripped out of his little boxers and got in. The boy was thin as a rail. Dane could see every rib. He smiled. He looked just like that when he was kid. He stayed that lanky until the day he turned thirty. That’s when shit starts to fall apart. He looked at himself in the mirror and pinched at the soft flesh above his belt. Getting old was a bitch. At least now he wouldn’t have to see it happen. That shit in his lung would kill him long before he’d be old enough to wear dentures or shit his pants.
Cancer jokes. You’re making cancer jokes. Maybe Misty is right. Maybe you are welcoming it. One happy dead-family reunion, right? You selfish prick.
He looked deeper into the mirror at Misty’s handprint on his left cheek. Thank God he hadn’t shaved in the past few days—domestic camouflage. He took a seat on the commode and watched Jackson make a Santa beard out of a heap of bubbles. Dane leaned over and gave himself one. They both made faces at each other before shaking them off. They spent the next few minutes cycling through variations of bubble beards before Dane grabbed the shampoo bottle again and got to washing the boy’s hair. Jackson was specific and bossy about how it needed to be done, the way mama did it, and Dane thought about some of the things that Clem Richland had said about William Blackwell’s condition. She called it Asperger’s. He wondered how many people he grew up with were bullied for having something no one even knew was a thing. A kid like William or Jackson would just be labeled a spaz or a freak and that was it, a lifetime of being treated like shit, especially out here in the country. Dane leaned in and turned Jackson’s head around under the running water to rinse out the shampoo. He finished rinsing the suds out of the boy’s hair and dried his hands on the towel.
“I love you, Uncle Dane.”
“I love you, too, Jack.”
The boy went back to building new and more elaborate structures out of the dissipating bubbles. Dane smiled and out of the blue decided to drink that last beer. “Hang on a second, Jackson. I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going? The water is going to get cold. It wasn’t that hot to begin with.”
“I’m only going to the kitchen. Wait right there, okay? I’ll be right back.” Dane went and got the last beer, twisted the top, and drank about half of it standing in front of the fridge. He was headed back down the hall when his phone rang.
“Agent Kirby,” he answered.
“Kirby!”
Dane closed his eyes. “Hello, Agent Talbott.”
“It’s Eric, bro. Call me Eric. Where you at? Come meet me at the Vortex. I’ve got a tallboy and a shot of Fireball with your name on it.”
“I can’t, but you sound a touch past lit. Are you all right?”
“Hell yeah, I’m all right. I’m better than all right. Come on down. You know the place? The beer’s on me, brother.”
“Not gonna happen, Eric. I’m in Waymore Valley about two hours away. No late-night beers in my immediate future. Sorry, man. Maybe next time.”
“Hell, Kirby, I thought that’s why you were calling me.”
“What are you talking about? You just called me.” Dane switched the phone to his other ear. The reception was bad.
“Kirby—I had two missed calls from you in the past hour.”
Dane looked at his phone and thought about the number Talbott had written on the Walmart receipt. He rifled through the paperwork on the counter and there it was. “Goddamn,” he said. “Sorry, man, I’ve got a girlfriend who doesn’t like to find phone numbers in my pockets when she does the laundry. She must’ve called you, man. Sorry about that.”
“Damn, son. Sounds like you got woman problems, too. I hope she don’t turn out like mine. Bitch is takin’ me to the cleaners, man.”
“I hear you, man.” Dane sipped at the beer and stood in front of the screen door. He couldn’t believe Misty blind-called a number she found in his pocket like they were in high school.
No. Scratch that.
Yes, he could.
He wanted to be angry with her for not trusting him, but he knew how ridiculous that was. She had every reason not to trust him. “Well, I’m sorry to bother you this late, Eric.”
“Hell, it ain’t no bother. I’m just disappointed you can’t make it out. I could use a wingman.”
Dane looked down the hall through the open door of the bathroom, and Jackson scooped up an armful of depleting bubbles and made himself a big, sparkly Afro. Dane held up a finger and mouthed the words, “Wait a minute. I’m on the phone.” Jackson pushed the suds off his head and stared down at his reflection in the cloudy water as Dane sat down on the sofa. “After an entire day of getting kicked in the nuts with this case, I could use the time out, but maybe next time.”
“I thought you were working the airport homicide with Velasquez and them. Ain’t that shit figured out?”
“Sorta. August—Director O’Barr—put us on a missing kid. The dead guy at the airport has a little brother. We followed a lead up here to a farm owned by someone I know. It’s a long story.”
“A farm?” Talbott said, as if he’d never heard of such a thing. “How did it turn out? You find anything?”
“Not what I was looking for. At least, not yet.”
“Well, I can’t believe you got Roselita Velasquez to go out to a farm. That woman breaks a fingernail and goes ballistic. I can’t see her stepping a foot into a place that might get shit on her heels. She’s particular that way.”
Dane laughed. Eric was right. “It’s funny you say that, Eric.” He took another sip of his beer and pushed the screen door open. “But to tell you the truth, I like her. She puts up a pretty good front, and I guess she has to working around all us humps, but she’s good police.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like her. I said she was uptight, that’s all. You know she plays for the other team, right?” A pause on the line. “Kirby, you know what I mean?”
“She’s a lesbian, Eric.”
“Right.”
“So wouldn’t that make her a member of our team?”
Another pause on the line. “Huh?”
“Never mind, man. Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“Right. Anyway, I ain’t talking shit about her or nothing. I like gay people. Chicks or whatever, I’m just saying, I can’t picture that one out in the pastures, milking cows and shit, wearing those thousand-dollar suits of hers. That chick is all about presentation.”
Dane was done with this conversation. He felt the breeze come in through the screen door. The night was going to be cold, he thought. He saw Misty’s jacket lying over the arm of the sofa and suddenly regretted everything he’d said to her. He’d told her so, but he hadn’t actually felt it until just then. If the roles had been reversed—if he’d found out she was sick and had kept it from him—he would’ve reacted exactly the same way. He hoped Jenn didn’t have her out all night. They needed to talk this out. Dane missed a little of what Eric was saying on the phone, but he didn’t care. He sipped his beer and waited for a break in whatever story he was telling to cut him off and let him go.
“Shit, Kirby, I’m just running off at the mouth, so I’m gonna shut up and get back into the game over here. And hey, you want to fuck with Rosey? Do me a favor.”
“What’s that?” Dane said as a courtesy. He had no intention of “fucking with Rosey.”
“Before you roll out of there, take her over to Black Mountain. There’s a drive-through Safari Park over there where the llamas and zebras and shit eat right out of your car window. If you think getting her to go to a farm was something, I’m telling you she will have a coronary if she gets llama slobber on one of those silk shirts of hers. That, my friend, would be awesome.”
Dane froze on the porch. “Hold up. What? A what kind of drive-through?”
“It’s a zoo—right off the interstate. The place is awesome, but Velasquez will—”
“No, I mean, what did you call it?”
“The Safari? That’s what it’s called. The Black Mountain.”
“Do they have birds?”
“I guess so. It’s a zoo.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“What? What’s happening right now?”
“Nothing. Listen, I’ve got to go. I appreciate the call, Eric, really.”
“Whatever you say, Kirby. Last chance, and this is my final offer, beers and blondes, on me. This place stays open twenty-four seven.”
Dane leaned back more on the doorframe. “Thanks, but no thanks, Eric. I’m happy with what I’ve got at home.”
“Until she fucks a dentist.”
Dane laughed. He knew he shouldn’t have. It wasn’t funny. “Have fun, man, and be safe—don’t drive.”
“Scout’s honor, Kirby. I couldn’t if I wanted to. The ex took the Malibu.”
Dane ended the call and leaned his forearms down on his knees. He sat there for a second alone on the ramshackle steps and took one last pull from the Blue Moon.
“You know, you shouldn’t be so hard on her,” Gwen said. She sat next to him on the porch, her yellow dress perfect and unsullied by the dirty stoop, her dark honey-streaked hair hanging loose over her shoulders.
“Not now, Gwen,” Dane said.
“Don’t get snippy with me. I’m not the one keeping me here, Dane. You are.”
Dane closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, uh-uh. Don’t do that,” Gwen said. “You’ve got to stop seeing only what you want to see. That girl loves you. How many people find that twice in their life?”
“She’s not you,” Dane said, his eyes still closed. He wasn’t sure, if he opened them, if she would vanish or steal his breath. He also wasn’t sure which he’d prefer.
“Of course she’s not me, silly. I’m a supernova. No one can be me—but I’m also dead. You’re not. She’s not. So why don’t you wake up and see what’s right in front of your face?”
“I don’t want to see it,” Dane nearly yelled at the empty stoop as he opened his eyes and realized he’d just wished her away. “Fuck,” he said into his beer bottle before turning it up. He took a hard swallow and nearly choked on it when Misty walked out of the shadows beside the trailer.
“Let me guess. You’re talking to her again, right?”
“Jesus, Misty, you scared the hell out of me. I thought you were going to the store with Jenn.”
“I did, but I thought I’d come back and see if we could talk like adults.”
“Where’s Jenn?”
“She’s at Granny’s.” She pointed at the empty bottle in his hand. “That’s new.”
Dane held the bottle out in front of him. When he stood, he realized the damn thing had given him a buzz. “Yeah, well, it’s been a shitty day.”
“I know the feeling. You gonna tell me who that was?”
He looked at the phone in his other hand. “That? Nobody. Just someone from work. You could’ve just asked me whose number it was instead of calling it, by the way. What were you going to say when he answered?”
“Someone from work?”
“Yeah, a kid. I barely know the guy. He’s the agent that flew me home the other night. He thinks we’ve bonded or something.”
“It sounded to me like you did.”
“He called. I answered. Why is everything so raw with you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the same reason nothing is raw for you.” She stepped past him through the door. “It was a mistake coming back. I thought we could talk and try to figure out how to deal with this, you know, as partners.” She was crying now. “But apparently you’ve already got enough people to talk to—living and dead. I’m just going to get my jacket.”
Dane dropped his head and poured the backwash from the bottle into the dirt. “I don’t want you to leave. I do want to talk to you. I just answered the damn phone. That’s all.”
Misty had already walked inside and left Dane talking to himself. He stepped up on the stoop and got a head rush. He stood and waited it out before following Misty into the house. She was standing in front of the open freezer looking at nothing. She didn’t want to leave, either. She wiped at her face. Her voice was softer now—less angry. “Did you tuck Jackson in?” she asked, and Dane’s heart sank for the second time. “What?”
Misty recognized the panic on his face. “Where is he, Dane?”
“He was in the tub. I gave him a bath like Jenn asked me to, and then Eric called.”
She was already passing him on her way to the bathroom. “Take it easy, babe. I gave him a bath. He’s clean. I’m sure he’s got himself out by now.”
“He doesn’t just get himself out, Dane.” Misty pushed open the bathroom door and Jackson was still sitting in the middle of the tub. He held his tiny knees close to his chest and was shivering. He looked up at Misty and his thin lips were tinted pale blue. “Hi, Aunt Misty.” His voice quivered.
Misty rushed to the tub and snatched a towel from above the toilet. Dane stood in the doorway behind her and watched her lift the skinny little boy out of the water and wrap him in a bundle. She spun around, holding her nephew to her chest. In the entire time Dane had known this woman, he’d never seen her look the way she did now, as if something behind her eyes could explode into splinters. Her tan face was a hot pink and her light green eyes were piercing. Dane’s own vision blurred from his beer buzz and he felt a crushing wave of guilt seize his gut.
“Damnit, Dane, you left him in here by himself?”
“Yeah, but just for a few minutes. He was playing. He was fine.”
Misty was practically growling. “Does he look fine to you? He’s freezing.”
“He’s not freezing, Misty.” Dane went to touch the boy’s face, but Misty smacked his hand away. She’d never done anything like that before, either. “What the hell, Misty?”
“You really don’t care about anyone else but yourself, do you?”
“Misty. C’mon, I—”
“Get out of my way,” she said, and bulldozed past him out of the bathroom. Dane had to balance and pivot on one leg to let her by. He grabbed the wall to keep himself upright and stood there confused, watching Misty storm across the trailer into the boy’s bedroom. Dane walked behind her. “Why didn’t he just get out?”
“Leave us alone, Dane. Seriously. Go find your friend from work or do whatever it is you do when you’re not here.”
“No. I seriously want to know.” Dane looked at the boy as Misty dried him off and dressed him in his pajamas. “Jackson, tell me, if you were done in there, then why didn’t you just get out?”
Jackson didn’t answer.
Dane’s temper rose, although he knew he was wrong. “I asked you a question, buddy. If you were cold, why didn’t you just get out on your own?”
“Just leave him alone,” Misty said as she tucked the boy under the covers. Jackson still said nothing. “I’m sorry, Jackson. We shouldn’t have left you. We won’t do it again.”
“Jesus, will someone please tell me what the hell just happened?” Dane was getting loud. He heard the front door open and Jenn’s voice call out. “Everyone okay in here?”
“We’re fine,” Misty answered, before standing up and shoving her face just inches from Dane’s. “I said leave him alone, and get out of my way.”
“I’m not going anywhere, and I just asked a question, Misty, and I should be able to do that without being ignored. I was only on the phone for ten minutes tops. Look for yourself.”
“I don’t want to look at your stupid phone.”
“And I want an answer.”
“I was waiting for you, Uncle Dane,” Jackson said, and sat up in the bed. “You told me to wait. I thought you might’ve died. I didn’t know what you wanted me to do.”
Misty burst into a full sob and pressed past her man. She made her way to the other side of the trailer—to Jenn’s room—and slammed the door. Jenn stood in the middle of the den. She didn’t even ask what had happened. She didn’t have to. Misty was her sister. Sympathy for her sister’s boyfriend had run out. She glared at Dane with the same anger Misty had directed at him, then joined her in the bedroom. She slammed the door, too. Dane stood alone in the den, baffled for a full minute before he sat down on the sofa. He figured that was where he’d be sleeping tonight. He leaned his head back and stared at the whirling ceiling fan. A few minutes later, his head popped up straight, and he tried to remember where he’d put his phone. He remembered what Eric had said. “Son of a bitch.” He spotted his phone in the kitchen and stood up to get it. He ran a hand through his dirty hair and thought about the last time he’d showered as the phone rang. He could barely contain himself. The damn thing seemed to ring forever.
“Velasquez,” Roselita said when she finally came on the line.
“He’s not hiding, Rose.”
“What? Kirby? It’s nearly midnight.”
Dane looked at the clock on the microwave. It was late. Neither of them had gotten any decent sleep in two days. He didn’t care. “My girlfriend’s nephew,” he said more to himself than Roselita.
“You’re what?”
“Nothing. Listen. Arnold didn’t stash William away somewhere so no one could find him.”
“What are you talking about, Kirby?”
“He told him to wait. Arnold thought he’d gotten away with it. There was no reason to hide him, so he just told his brother to wait—and he’s still waiting—right now—the kid is still waiting for Arnold to show up.”
“Okay, great. He’s not hiding. He’s waiting. How does that help us?”
Dane snatched his ball cap off the coffee table and pulled it down low on his brow. He saw it all playing out in his head at once. William’s fascination with animals. The Safari that Richland mentioned. The Farm. Eddie. He pictured Jackson sitting in that nasty tub of cold water—and knew William was sitting somewhere the same way. It all made sense in his head, but it was coming out like gibberish through the phone. Dane pushed open the screen door and headed toward his truck.
“I know where he is, Rose. I know where William Blackwell is—and I’m going to get him.”