out the
night. He would cruise the streets of Vinewood and the outlying roads, swing by
the Partain home on Maple Circle, then drive by the Bottom to make sure Fate
and his boys weren’t up to any middle-of-the-night mischief.
As he drove by the high school, he
saw the police cruiser prowling the parking lot beside the brick gym. He pulled
off the road and flashed his lights at the cruiser, then stopped beside the
blue-&-white. Craig Hemphill rolled down his window and said, “Hey, Luke.
What’re you doing out this time of night?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Luke told him.
“Everything quiet?”
“Quiet as a tomb,” Hemphill said.
“Like always.”
“You checked on the Partain place?”
“Yes, sir. As ordered. Nothing
doing there.”
“Chief Keller tell you trouble
might be brewing between the Porch boys and the Partain kid?”
“Sure did. You know what it’s
about?” Hemphill scratched at his wide chin.
“Nah. Just that something might be
up.”
The young officer nodded. “You miss
it, don’t you, Luke? The job?”
Luke smiled. “Only on nights like
this when I can’t sleep.”
“Shoot, only time I can’t sleep’s
when I’m pulling the graveyard shift. I’m so sleepy now I can hardly keep my
eyes open.”
“Enjoy it while you can. Things
change when you get older.”
“Hell, Chief, you ain’t that old.”
Luke gave him a two-finger salute.
“Old enough to know better,” he said, then drove away.
He drove across town and slowed
down as he passed by the Partain house, then circled the block and stopped
behind the little cinderblock building that was Skeeter’s living quarters. The
boy’s truck was parked on the dirt driveway, and the pillbox building’s windows
were dark. There was nothing to suggest that Skeeter was not safe inside,
snoring the night away in his bunk. Luke sat there a full minute, his truck’s
engine idling with a deep rumble. Then he cut the engine, grabbed a flashlight
from the glove box, got out and crept to the window. He clicked on the light
and aimed the beam through the small opening between the flimsy curtains. From
his vantage point he could see the foot of the bunk bed, but his field of
vision was too limited for him to determine whether the bed was occupied.
In the near distance a dog barked,
setting off a mounting chorus of canine barks and howls all across the
neighborhood. Cursing silently, Luke hastened back to his truck. He didn’t want
to be caught skulking about in the dark. Some homeowners would shoot first and
ask questions later. He didn’t know if James Partain owned a gun, but this was
not the time to find out. He started the engine and drove off down the
tree-lined street.
He cruised past The American Legion
building and Ree Tyler’s house just outside the city limits. He imagined Ree
curled up in bed, sleeping peacefully. Sleeping in the nude. He imagined
himself lying beside her, smelling her perfume, snuggling against her warm
flesh. He immediately felt a twinge of guilt for indulging in such lascivious
thoughts. He chastised himself for being unfaithful to the memory of his dead
wife. What would Jenny think if she could somehow look down on him, see into
his heart and mind and know of his lustful feelings for Ree Tyler? Would she
release him from his vows and wish him well? Or would she regard him with the
intense jealousy she had occasionally exhibited when she was alive? He
accelerated and drove south toward the Bottom and the Porch farmhouse, trying
to push the idea of a jealous ghost from his mind.
He turned off the blacktop and
drove up the rutted dirt road until the darkened farmhouse came into view.
Fate’s Ford pickup and the old Cadillac were parked in front of the house, but
the used Firebird Luther had recently acquired was nowhere in sight. Was Luther
conducting some nocturnal drug deal? Was he shacking up with a girlfriend? Or
was he closing in on Skeeter Partain and Joe Rob Campbell? Of course there was
another
night. He would cruise the streets of Vinewood and the outlying roads, swing by
the Partain home on Maple Circle, then drive by the Bottom to make sure Fate
and his boys weren’t up to any middle-of-the-night mischief.
As he drove by the high school, he
saw the police cruiser prowling the parking lot beside the brick gym. He pulled
off the road and flashed his lights at the cruiser, then stopped beside the
blue-&-white. Craig Hemphill rolled down his window and said, “Hey, Luke.
What’re you doing out this time of night?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Luke told him.
“Everything quiet?”
“Quiet as a tomb,” Hemphill said.
“Like always.”
“You checked on the Partain place?”
“Yes, sir. As ordered. Nothing
doing there.”
“Chief Keller tell you trouble
might be brewing between the Porch boys and the Partain kid?”
“Sure did. You know what it’s
about?” Hemphill scratched at his wide chin.
“Nah. Just that something might be
up.”
The young officer nodded. “You miss
it, don’t you, Luke? The job?”
Luke smiled. “Only on nights like
this when I can’t sleep.”
“Shoot, only time I can’t sleep’s
when I’m pulling the graveyard shift. I’m so sleepy now I can hardly keep my
eyes open.”
“Enjoy it while you can. Things
change when you get older.”
“Hell, Chief, you ain’t that old.”
Luke gave him a two-finger salute.
“Old enough to know better,” he said, then drove away.
He drove across town and slowed
down as he passed by the Partain house, then circled the block and stopped
behind the little cinderblock building that was Skeeter’s living quarters. The
boy’s truck was parked on the dirt driveway, and the pillbox building’s windows
were dark. There was nothing to suggest that Skeeter was not safe inside,
snoring the night away in his bunk. Luke sat there a full minute, his truck’s
engine idling with a deep rumble. Then he cut the engine, grabbed a flashlight
from the glove box, got out and crept to the window. He clicked on the light
and aimed the beam through the small opening between the flimsy curtains. From
his vantage point he could see the foot of the bunk bed, but his field of
vision was too limited for him to determine whether the bed was occupied.
In the near distance a dog barked,
setting off a mounting chorus of canine barks and howls all across the
neighborhood. Cursing silently, Luke hastened back to his truck. He didn’t want
to be caught skulking about in the dark. Some homeowners would shoot first and
ask questions later. He didn’t know if James Partain owned a gun, but this was
not the time to find out. He started the engine and drove off down the
tree-lined street.
He cruised past The American Legion
building and Ree Tyler’s house just outside the city limits. He imagined Ree
curled up in bed, sleeping peacefully. Sleeping in the nude. He imagined
himself lying beside her, smelling her perfume, snuggling against her warm
flesh. He immediately felt a twinge of guilt for indulging in such lascivious
thoughts. He chastised himself for being unfaithful to the memory of his dead
wife. What would Jenny think if she could somehow look down on him, see into
his heart and mind and know of his lustful feelings for Ree Tyler? Would she
release him from his vows and wish him well? Or would she regard him with the
intense jealousy she had occasionally exhibited when she was alive? He
accelerated and drove south toward the Bottom and the Porch farmhouse, trying
to push the idea of a jealous ghost from his mind.
He turned off the blacktop and
drove up the rutted dirt road until the darkened farmhouse came into view.
Fate’s Ford pickup and the old Cadillac were parked in front of the house, but
the used Firebird Luther had recently acquired was nowhere in sight. Was Luther
conducting some nocturnal drug deal? Was he shacking up with a girlfriend? Or
was he closing in on Skeeter Partain and Joe Rob Campbell? Of course there was
another
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