Thirty minutes after I’d sent the text, on the dot, the burner rang.
“Mom,” I said.
“Baby girl o’ mine. How are you?”
“I am okay.” I forced myself to relax some. I didn’t want to freak her out too much.
“Don’t bullshit the bullshitter. What’s up?” She struck a match.
I could smell her. I’d never smoked, not even tried to, but there was something about the smoky scent of her well-driven old cars that would always be comforting. When I hadn’t been with my grandfather, living like a normal person in a small house in a small town, I’d been with my mother in that car, searching, breaking into homes, “investigating.” Even then, I could see how strange her behavior was. But I would always think back fondly on those moments, all those greasy fries and milk shakes, that cigarette-smoke-infused smell.
I told her everything, but I only used first names. When I finished, her first comment was concern about my head, and her second was a question.
“Are you sure your fingers didn’t touch anything in Randy’s house?” she asked.
“I’m sure. I learned from the best.”
“Damn straight, you did. Good. It will be fine. And if anyone asks you, deny, deny, deny. Don’t ever admit to anyone but your old mother. Got it?”
“I got it. Thanks, Mom.”
“No problemo. Now, this creepazoid, Lane. Just stay the fuck away from him. He’s probably harmless, but Jesus and Mary on a cracker, Beth, look at the way he lives. It ain’t right. It just ain’t.”
“I understand, and I agree, except…”
“What?”
“He’s sad about something. He’s secretive and mysterious, but he’s sad, too. I think the police chief needs to explore that—maybe his sadness has something to do with the body.”
“It’s possible. I bet he’s the one you keep seeing out in the woods. I mean, think about it. It’s like Bruce Wayne and Batman—you’ve never seen them together, right?”
“I’m not sure that theory works in this sparsely populated area, and we saw the figure by his house and then came upon him arriving from the other direction.”
“A feasible thing for him to do, circle around that quick?”
“He would have to be in amazing shape.” I thought about the figure and how it could have been wearing a bearskin coat exactly like the one Lane had been wearing when I first saw him.
“The man walks through the woods every day. If anything could get someone in great shape…” Mill said.
“Maybe … but the sadness.”
“Tell the police as much. And don’t let them give you any crap. You’re smarter than twenty cops. Make them listen. You don’t need to know why Lane is sad. You don’t need to care, but I don’t disagree that your police force should. It’s not Walker wearing that coat and watching you, baby girl. He hasn’t found you, I’m sure, and I can’t even get a line on if you’re being followed on purpose or it’s just all chance. You yourself just mentioned the small population. Wrong times, wrong places, maybe.”
She sounded confident and that helped infuse me with some confidence, too. “Okay.” I sighed.
“As far as people recognizing you. It’s gonna happen. In fact, you should probably own that. Don’t let anyone see that it bothers you. People are assholes. Don’t let them have something up on you.”
“But I’m trying to hide.”
“Not completely. Think about it. Yes, you ran far away, and you’re hiding a little, but you’re not living by yourself out in the middle of the woods, because, different than that trapper, you’re a normal human being who doesn’t want to be alone all the time. It’s actually a good thing. Own it, though. Don’t run from running away. You keep the power over your own decisions. Own your own life, Beth.”
In her messed-up way, she made sense. “Yes, I understand.”
“Here’s hoping the police check out that freezer tout suite.”
“I think they will.”
“Then good. I bet some answers will be found soon. You’re fine. I promise you’re fine.”
I took a deep breath. “You’ve helped, Mom. I feel better.”
“That’s what us moms do.” She sucked on the cigarette. “Now, I have some other news. You ready to hear it?”
“Yes. Please.”
“I don’t think Levi Brooks needs any further attention at this time. But it seems that Travis and your dad did know each other. They were friends, darlin’; well, more like coworkers, in a way.”
I felt a new wave of sick, but I didn’t want to hang up. I didn’t want to pass out or have another vision, either. I just wanted to listen and see if her words gave us some answers.
“Okay,” I managed to say, pretty levelly. “Tell me more.”
Mill took me back in time, back to when I was about four, and my grandfather had stopped by the house and asked me to go outside while he had a talk with my mom and dad. I had no memory of that moment, but Mill did—though it had only recently come back to her.
During that conversation, my grandfather told them he’d become aware of a friendship growing between my father and Travis Walker, a man who’d been born in Milton but had left when he was a child. My father had admitted to knowing Travis, having met him because they both sold the same brand of cleaning supplies and their territories bordered each other’s.
My grandfather had become aware that Travis might be selling more than supplies, that he’d ventured into selling drugs as well. My father had claimed not to be aware of such activity. Gramps was pleased to hear that news, but wanted to emphasize to my father that he shouldn’t ever be seen socializing with Travis—lunch and drinks at bars, those sorts of things.
My mother told me that my father resented my grandfather’s interference, but he also knew who the boss was. My grandfather ruled our small part of the universe. It wouldn’t do anyone—including my dad—any good to cross Gramps.
“Dad ended his friendship with Travis Walker?” I asked.
“I don’t really know,” Mom said, her lips around a cigarette. “But not right away, for sure. That man came over to our house, girlie.”
I wished I remembered, but I still didn’t. “Okay.”
“Now I remember him stopping by. You were in the front yard. He picked you up and carried you to the front door. He knocked on the screen, said he’d found a little pretty one on the front lawn and did she belong to Eddy Rivers.”
“Mutherfucker,” I said, my teeth clenched.
“At the very least,” Mill said. “I grabbed you from him and took you out to the backyard while he and your dad had a convo. Dad later told me that he told Travis that he couldn’t be buddies with him anymore, but he wasn’t overly convincing. He told Travis that the police were onto him and he might want to watch out.”
“How did that go over with Travis?”
“Don’t know. Dad shut up after that, told me we could never talk about it again. Until I let that picture Majors showed me soak in, I didn’t remember any of it. The moments were brief—the conversations. It all seemed resolved. It’s been over twenty years, but I remember some of it now.”
“Dad refused to talk about him anymore, or did you put a stop to it?”
“Dad demanded we didn’t talk about him, and he never demanded much of anything. We moved on. You know, meals to make, bills to pay. I never thought it was as serious as I maybe should have thought it was.”
“You mean that he would eventually take me?”
“Yes, that, and he might have had something to do with Dad disappearing, too.”
“Jesus, Mom, did he take me to remind us of Dad?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know. We’re only speculating here, but I think it’s all possible.”
“It’s old news now. No one cares; no one’s paying attention.”
“There’s some of that. I’m trying to get a local news slut to help me get the story going again.”
“You might not want to call her a slut.”
“Well, not to her face.”
I sighed. “This is pretty big news, nevertheless. Don’t you think you should tell Detective Majors?”
“No, ma’am. Not yet. You gonna tell her?”
I thought a long time before answering.
“No, not yet,” I finally said.
“All right. Just let me know if you change your mind. I’ll have to change how I’m doing what I’m doing if the police know.”
I did and didn’t want to know what that meant, but all I said was “Will do.”
“Now, other than what all this hairy news has done to you, how are you feeling?”
I took stock of myself. “No promises, but at this moment I feel fine. Sore, but not bad. Somewhat liberated, in fact. This has helped. Thank you.”
“Yep, truth, knowledge, it’s all powerful stuff. That doesn’t mean we don’t still have work to do, but we’re getting closer.”
She was correct, and I hadn’t lied completely. I did feel a little more power, but also a little more anger; if that was actually part of the power, it might be a toxic mix of it.
I thanked her and told her I loved her. Today, she loved me more than the first fireflies on a Missouri summer night, which was more poetic than her normal declarations.
We disconnected the call. I sat for a long moment. Should I call Detective Majors? I’d told Mill I wouldn’t. So I wouldn’t. Not quite yet.
Maybe this afternoon.