Steve Karner had several more visitors after his uncle left.
A few of his old friends from the mill stopped by. They were careful to avoid asking about the murders or the disappearance of Jack Buckley. He was glad to see them, although he realized the person he was now was far removed from the man they had last seen several years ago. Karner now divided his life into two distinct phases—before the night of the attack, and after. He still liked the young men who stood rather awkwardly outside his cell, trying to make small talk. But he didn’t feel he had much in common with them anymore. He had the impression they could feel the distance between them, too. They left after fifteen minutes.
A flood of complex emotions filled Karner when Patsy McCurtin’s mother and father came to see him that afternoon. The McCurtins owned a small farm about five miles outside town. Patsy had been their only daughter, and Karner was now painfully aware that she had died while searching for him.
Mack McCurtin wasn’t an old man, but the death of his daughter and the passing of the years seemed to have aged him considerably. His clothes hung loosely from his body, and his chest was sunken. He was clean shaven and his still-thick hair was neatly combed. Nancy McCurtin, too, seemed much older than her actual years, her white hair pulled back in a pony tail and soft folds of flesh sagging under her eyes. Their faces brightened when they saw Steve Karner, who leapt to his feet and reached through the bars of his cell to grasp their hands.
‘Very good to see you both,’ he said. His eyes pooled with tears, and then theirs did, too. ‘It’s been a long time.’
‘We heard you were back this morning,’ said Mack. ‘We had to come and see you. Wish it wasn’t under these circumstances, of course, but we’ve never forgotten how much you meant to our girl, and how much she meant to you, too.’
Patsy’s mother squeezed Karner’s hand with a strength that belied her haggard appearance. ‘You look good, Steven,’ she said. ‘Tired, but good.’
Karner smiled. ‘Thanks, ma’am. I wish our meeting again wasn’t like this, but I can’t help that now.’
‘What happened?’ Mack asked.
Karner was vague in his explanation, but he did tell them that he hadn’t left Stayton of his own accord. He told them that he had decided to stay away when he learned of Patsy’s death.
‘I visited her grave the other night,’ he said. ‘I still can’t hardly believe she’s gone.’
Mack McCurtin nodded. ‘Neither can we,’ he said. ‘We go out there and visit her every Sunday after church.’
‘You know, she sure did think the world of you, Steve Karner,’ said Nancy. ‘You were always real good to her. We’d have been proud to have you as a son-in-law.’
‘There’s nothing I would have wanted more,’ Karner said, his face suddenly ashen. ‘I’d have taken good care of Patsy. She deserved it.’
‘That she did,’ said Mack.
‘That’s part of why I’ve come back to Stayton.’
Mack McCurtin arched an eyebrow. ‘What do you mean, son?’
‘I’ve come back to take care of a few things. I can’t really say more than that. I wish I could, but I can’t.’
‘They say you might have been involved in those … killings,’ Nancy said.
Karner looked toward the floor of his cell. ‘Don’t believe everything you hear,’ he said simply.
‘We don’t,’ said Mack firmly. ‘Believe you me—we don’t.’
‘Good.’
The conversation lulled. The McCurtins took their leave, promising to come and visit again.
When they had left, Karner tried to sleep, but his racing mind and the sounds of activity out on Main Street kept him awake. Ethan Bursofsky brought him his lunch but didn’t try to get any more information from him. Karner had the impression that Bursofsky was biding his time before he tried to get the prisoner to talk.
He was just finishing his meal when he heard the key rattle in the cell block door. The marshal opened it and made way for yet another visitor. Tom Lockhart walked in and Karner rose. He greeted Lockhart warmly.
‘Hell, Tom—didn’t expect to see you here. How’ve you been?’
Bursofsky closed the door and Lockhart shook Karner’s hand.
‘I’ve been well, Steve. Real well.’ He sat down on the chair outside the cell. ‘I can’t believe I’m seeing you here, in the flesh. To be honest, almost everybody thought you’d died.’
‘I nearly did,’ Karner said.
‘What do you mean?’ Lockhart asked.
Karner paused. He had known Tom Lockhart his entire life, and, like almost everyone in Stayton, he had always liked and respected him. Lockhart had been a good friend during their childhood, seemingly oblivious to the massive social disparity between the orphaned boy and himself. He had also been a friend to Patsy McCurtin, who looked upon Lockhart almost as a brother. Karner didn’t doubt that Lockhart had been devastated by Patsy’s death. He was almost tempted to give him some of the details about the night he had nearly died, but something caused him to hold back. He hadn’t told anyone but Ash, and he decided to keep it that way, at least for the time being.
‘It’s a long story, Tom,’ Karner said. ‘Maybe someday I’ll be able to tell you everything. I don’t plan on staying in this cell forever.’
‘I hope not!’ Lockhart said, trying to keep the conversation as light as possible under the circumstances. ‘I take it the marshal is treating you well.’
‘Yes, he is. He’s a good man. Just doing his job and such.’
‘I understand. I think it’s hard for him, what with his being a friend to your uncle for so long.’
‘Ash don’t hold it against him.’
‘What exactly are they holding you for?’
‘According to the marshal, it’s for attacking Phil Taylor. Sounds like they might charge me with attempted murder.’
‘Were you … trying to kill him?’
‘If I had been,’ Karner said, ‘he’d be dead right now.’ There was no arrogance in his statement.
Lockhart looked relieved. ‘So you weren’t trying to kill him.’
‘Let’s just say I wanted the two of us to have a talk. He wasn’t too keen on it, and his missus got scared. Bursofsky was riding by and heard her scream, and when he came to see what the ruckus was about, Phil was trying to pull his gun on me. And so here we are.’
Lockhart had a concerned expression on his face as he said, ‘I’m sure you’ve heard about what happened to Patsy.’
‘Yes, I did. Her ma and pa came to see me.’
‘Patsy was a real special girl,’ said Lockhart. ‘She always was. If I remember right, you two were going to get married.’
‘That was the plan.’
‘Any man would have been proud to have her for a wife.’
‘I think so, too.’
There was a moment of awkwardness. Lockhart changed the subject. ‘So what’s going to happen next? Is the marshal going to charge you?’
‘They’re waiting on a lawyer to come over from the district attorney’s office in Salem. That’s what he told me this morning. I’ll guess we’ll wait and see.’
‘If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know,’ Lockhart said. ‘You know I’ve always liked you and your uncle—’
The door to the front office opened and both men turned to see Paul Lockhart step into the corridor. He walked up to the cell door and smiled at Karner. There was no trace of friendliness in his disdainful eyes.
It had been years since Karner had laid eyes on Paul. He noticed that the man had changed much more in the intervening period than had his twin brother. His hair was thinning at the temples and streaks of premature grey showed in it. There were lines in his face that his brother lacked. But still there was the same arrogance in his expression. Karner thought that Paul Lockhart, unlike Tom, had always had a chip on his shoulder—a strange thing for a boy who had never had to work for anything in his life, and whose involvement in the running of the family business had been peripheral at best and, more often, non-existent. There had always been a contemptuous anger in the man, even when he was a child. He had been a bully—not unlike Pete Taylor. Karner reckoned it was all still there, and wondered why Tom had turned out to be such a different person from Paul.
‘Howdy, Paul,’ Karner said.
‘Karner,’ Paul retorted. His appraising eyes looked Karner over, and it seemed he was unimpressed by what he saw. ‘Welcome home.’
Karner smirked, staring back at Paul but saying nothing. His greeting was all the words he would waste on the man.
Tom Lockhart could feel the tension. ‘We were just finishing our little visit here, Paul,’ he said. ‘You ready to head on home?’
Paul stared for another moment at Karner, then pivoted and walked down the corridor to the office. Tom looked at Karner apologetically.
‘You know how Paul is, Steve,’ he said. He shrugged. ‘I best be heading out. Maybe I’ll come back and see you in a day or two, if you’d like that.’
‘I would, Tom,’ Karner said. ‘Thanks for stopping by.’
They shook hands again and Tom Lockhart left. Bursofsky closed the connecting door, leaving Karner alone with his thoughts.
Marshal Ethan Bursofsky came into the cell block at dusk, carrying Karner’s dinner with him. He unlocked the barred door and handed the covered plate over to the prisoner. He wasn’t concerned that Karner would try to escape. Karner took the plate gratefully.
‘Thanks, Marshal,’ he said.
Bursofsky removed a fork from his pocket and handed it through the bars after he closed and locked the cell again.
‘One thing you won’t be able to say is that we didn’t feed you well here in the Stayton jail,’ said the marshal. ‘You know, old Nelly at the café has always liked you. I think she’s making these meals extra tasty.’
Karner laughed and began to eat with a healthy appetite. Bursofsky pulled the chair closer, its legs making scraping noises on the plank floor. He sat down and exhaled wearily.
‘You might be interested to know that I got a telegram from the district attorney’s office in Salem,’ he said. ‘Looks like it’s going to be four or five days before they’re able to send out the prosecutor.’
‘I heard the Taylors are going to try to nail me to the wall.’
‘Who told you that?’
‘Ash.’ Karner swallowed a large bite of mashed potatoes. ‘He said that was the word going around town.’
‘I haven’t heard from any of the Taylors,’ Bursofsky said. ‘Which is kind of surprising, to be honest. We’ve got a lot of gossips here in Stayton.’
Karner had his own thoughts about the Taylor family’s reticence, but chose to keep them to himself. ‘What are you planning on charging me with, Marshal?’ he asked.
‘That depends. You did physically attack Phil Taylor. Two witnesses saw it happening, myself included. But if he’s not going to press charges, then I don’t know that you’ll end up being charged with anything.’
‘Suits me fine.’
Bursofsky examined a cuticle on his thumb, considering the words he was about to say. ‘I have to ask you, Steve—did you have anything to do with the deaths of Snow, Thompson, or Ballard?’
Karner wiped up some gravy with a chunk of bread and chewed it carefully before he responded. ‘What do you think, Marshal? Do you think I killed those fellers?’
‘Don’t know. But I’m going to tell you the truth—I think it’s very possible you did, maybe even likely.’
Karner nodded pensively. ‘I can’t say I blame you for thinking that.’
‘It seems more than coincidental that you would return after years of people thinking you were dead, and then these fellers are each murdered, one after the other.’
‘True.’
‘And Jack Buckley. Were you two friends?’
‘Not quite.’
‘Can’t blame you there,’ Bursofsky said sardonically. ‘He ain’t the most likeable feller in town.’
Karner raised an eyebrow, letting that speak for itself. ‘So it’s mostly up to the Taylors, whether I get charged with anything?’
Bursofsky nodded. ‘Yeah. We’ll have to see what Phil wants to do. My hands are tied, you understand. I saw what I saw and I’ll have to testify to that in court if the prosecutor moves forward.’ He rose, moving the chair back toward the wall across the corridor from the cell. ‘Come to think of it, you aren’t the only person who’s reappeared all of a sudden.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I heard Pete Taylor’s in town.’
Karner stepped forward and clutched the bars of his cell, his face coloring. ‘What did you say?’
‘Pete Taylor,’ said Bursofsky, slightly taken aback by Karner’s sudden intensity. He frowned. ‘Everything alright, Steve?’
Karner seemed to looking through him rather than at him.
‘Yes, sir,’ he said softly. ‘Everything’s just fine.’