An End to a Silence: A mystery novel (The Montana Trilogy Book 1) by W.H. Clark Page B

“I’m going to come and see you. You at home?”
    “No,”
Cherry said. “Yes. But I’ve got—I’m in the middle of something.”
    “I’m
coming.”
    Cherry
became quiet and then Ward thought he heard her choke back tears as she
swallowed a couple of times. Maybe she was eating after all.
    “Okay,”
she said.
     
     
    When Ward
got there he saw her glance quickly through the window and she opened the door
and walked into the house, Ward following. She had her back to him as she
fussed over some dishes in the kitchen sink. Ward approached her slowly and he
placed his hand on her shoulder.
    “It’s
okay,” he said. “It’s okay.” And Cherry burst into tears and turned and hugged
him. He hugged her back but she winced with pain and he eased off a little. He
gently held her there for a minute, maybe two, taking the time to calm himself
and to prepare himself for what he knew he was about to see. Cherry let go and
stepped back, her eyes cast down to Ward’s feet but he could see.
    “Aw
jeez,” Ward said when he saw her face, bruised and bloodied. “Aw jeez.” Her
left eye was almost closed and was blue and she had a cut that crossed both
lips and made it difficult for her to talk. The right-hand side of her face had
a swollen blue grazed-up ridge where she had struck something hard, probably as
she had fallen. He didn’t see what damage there was under her clothes and she
wasn’t inclined to show him any more than he could already see.
    “He came
after you’d left,” she said. “I told you he would do anything to get a fix.
Look what he did. Nice work, huh?”
    Ward
fought back rage. She noticed it in his eyes and she held his hand.
    “It
wasn’t your fault,” she said. “This is what he does. He didn’t take much. I didn’t
have much. Maybe that’s why” – and she gestured to her face – “this.”
    Ward bit
his bottom lip and when he finally spoke he spoke through gritted teeth,
struggling to part his lips through the anger and the sorrow he felt inside. “I
am so sorry,” he said. “I’ll call this in and get someone out here.”
    “No,”
Cherry cried, and again she winced against the pain in her middle. “I don’t
want that. The cops don’t do anything.”
    And Ward
felt even worse at that. He was quiet for a few moments but he knew she
wouldn’t back down. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.”
    “I don’t
like the sound of your voice. Don’t you do anything. Don’t you dare get involved in this… in this shit. It’s not your problem. I hardly even know you. Promise me.”
    He nodded
and said, “You have my number now. If he comes back you call me.” But he knew
Troy wouldn’t come back.
    Cherry
nodded and closed her eyes. When she opened them Ward was gone.

34
    Ward
entered Bill Bear’s Mountain and River Outlet. He bought a pair of ski gloves.
The sales assistant asked him, “Would you like a bag for that?”
    Ward
said, “No,” and then, “Actually I will take a bag,” and the assistant handed
over the gloves in a large plastic bag.
    “I’m
sorry, it’s the only size we have.”
    “That’s
fine,” Ward said. He left and climbed into his car. He took the gloves out of
the bag and stuffed them into his coat pocket. He scrunched up the bag and
placed it behind his car seat.
     
     
    It didn’t
take Ward long to find the house where Troy was staying. A rundown 1920s house
in the west side of town, it was ready for demolition but had had a stay of
execution due to City Hall red tape. It had been taken over by squatters of
various bad character and degrees of drug addiction. Two women who turned
tricks for drug money were the first people he saw when he entered the house
without knocking. One sat on the stairs in the hallway smoking a cigarette and
the other was standing and she approached Ward and tried to touch his crotch.
He knocked her arm away and the whip of his hand almost broke her wrist.
    “Motherfucker,”
said the whore. She was ready to take a swing