managed a small nod.
Taylor leaned in close. “Are you awake?”
4
Timmy stood just inside the Texaco’s closed doors as I pulled into the lot. He held the shotgun with the barrel high. It moved in small, sporadic circles, like a batter itching for a hanging curve. His starched shirt hung loose from khaki pants that had been torn above the knee. His cropped hair was tinged a bloody red.
I got out of the Blazer and tucked Bessie at the small ofmy back. A ’70s Ford pickup sat crooked at the far end of the building. It looked familiar in a strange way, though my mind was too muddled to place it. The canopy lights ended just beyond its front bumper. The moon took over from there, shining its passive glow over fields of shrubs and tall grass. I saw no movement there. High on the hill across the road, the Kingman house stood dark and silent.
The heavy clack of the doors unlocking made me jump. I managed to pull my arm behind myself, wanting to show Timmy that had been no jump at all, I’d just been reaching for Bessie. He cracked the right-side door just enough to speak.
“The one’s in the cooler, Jake. Haven’t heard’m in a while. Don’t know where the other one is.”
“That their truck?” I asked.
“Yeah. They were gonna kill me, Jake.”
I took a long pull of air through my nose and let it gather before passing it over my lips in a thin stream. Doc March had suggested that little exercise to help me stay calm. I found it worked just as well in Timmy’s parking lot as it had in my own bed.
I said, “Okay, Timmy. You did real good, but I don’t want no trouble and I need to know what I’m dealing with. So why don’t you just open that door and let me in.”
“But he’s out there, Jake.”
“Maybe so,” I said, “but not in this very spot. Come on, now. You can lock back up when I get inside.”
Timmy opened the door just enough for me to squeeze through and clacked it shut again. His face was swollen, and his right eye would look like Zach’s by morning. Timmy might have gotten them both, but they’d gotten plenty of Timmy too. I had to get him to the hospital, or at least to Doc March.
“You say he’s in the cooler?” I asked.
“Cooler,” he said. “Somebody done got their licks in on them both, Jake. Reckon that was Andy. Is Andy okay?”
“Squad’s headed there now.”
“The little guy, he wanted money. Said they killed Andy and the sissy he was with.”
I blinked, trying to replay that last bit in my mind. “Somebody was with Andy?”
“That’s what he told me,” Timmy said. “Then the big guy, he asks me if I was awake. What’s that mean, Jake?”
I didn’t know. I took off my hat and ran a hand through my hair. My fingers came back soaked. There was no such thing as police procedure in Mattingly, other than staying ten feet behind Hollis’s tractor during the parades. I had no deputies, nothing in the way of staff other than Kate, and even she was unofficial. I supposed I could call Alan Martin at the county police station in Stanley, but decided against it. Alan was forty minutes away, I was there now. Which meant I had to do this on my own.
“I’m gonna go in there and bring him out,” I said. “You stand ready.”
I moved past a tangled mass of overturned snack racks toward the cooler in back. There was nothing on the other side of the door but the steady hum of the fans. I pulled Bessie from my belt. Just as I was about to thump her against the door, my cell rang. I jumped—this time so fast and so completely that I couldn’t disguise it as anything else—and pulled the phone from my pocket. Loud voices and a wailing siren greeted me.
“Jake? Joey. It’s bad. Had to get everyone else up here too. Both trucks.”
Both trucks. So the man in the cooler had told Timmy the truth.
“How’s Andy?” I asked.
“Hanging on. He got burned up pretty bad. Banged his head too. Frankie says he’s hallucinatin’.”
“You said you needed both
Taylor leaned in close. “Are you awake?”
4
Timmy stood just inside the Texaco’s closed doors as I pulled into the lot. He held the shotgun with the barrel high. It moved in small, sporadic circles, like a batter itching for a hanging curve. His starched shirt hung loose from khaki pants that had been torn above the knee. His cropped hair was tinged a bloody red.
I got out of the Blazer and tucked Bessie at the small ofmy back. A ’70s Ford pickup sat crooked at the far end of the building. It looked familiar in a strange way, though my mind was too muddled to place it. The canopy lights ended just beyond its front bumper. The moon took over from there, shining its passive glow over fields of shrubs and tall grass. I saw no movement there. High on the hill across the road, the Kingman house stood dark and silent.
The heavy clack of the doors unlocking made me jump. I managed to pull my arm behind myself, wanting to show Timmy that had been no jump at all, I’d just been reaching for Bessie. He cracked the right-side door just enough to speak.
“The one’s in the cooler, Jake. Haven’t heard’m in a while. Don’t know where the other one is.”
“That their truck?” I asked.
“Yeah. They were gonna kill me, Jake.”
I took a long pull of air through my nose and let it gather before passing it over my lips in a thin stream. Doc March had suggested that little exercise to help me stay calm. I found it worked just as well in Timmy’s parking lot as it had in my own bed.
I said, “Okay, Timmy. You did real good, but I don’t want no trouble and I need to know what I’m dealing with. So why don’t you just open that door and let me in.”
“But he’s out there, Jake.”
“Maybe so,” I said, “but not in this very spot. Come on, now. You can lock back up when I get inside.”
Timmy opened the door just enough for me to squeeze through and clacked it shut again. His face was swollen, and his right eye would look like Zach’s by morning. Timmy might have gotten them both, but they’d gotten plenty of Timmy too. I had to get him to the hospital, or at least to Doc March.
“You say he’s in the cooler?” I asked.
“Cooler,” he said. “Somebody done got their licks in on them both, Jake. Reckon that was Andy. Is Andy okay?”
“Squad’s headed there now.”
“The little guy, he wanted money. Said they killed Andy and the sissy he was with.”
I blinked, trying to replay that last bit in my mind. “Somebody was with Andy?”
“That’s what he told me,” Timmy said. “Then the big guy, he asks me if I was awake. What’s that mean, Jake?”
I didn’t know. I took off my hat and ran a hand through my hair. My fingers came back soaked. There was no such thing as police procedure in Mattingly, other than staying ten feet behind Hollis’s tractor during the parades. I had no deputies, nothing in the way of staff other than Kate, and even she was unofficial. I supposed I could call Alan Martin at the county police station in Stanley, but decided against it. Alan was forty minutes away, I was there now. Which meant I had to do this on my own.
“I’m gonna go in there and bring him out,” I said. “You stand ready.”
I moved past a tangled mass of overturned snack racks toward the cooler in back. There was nothing on the other side of the door but the steady hum of the fans. I pulled Bessie from my belt. Just as I was about to thump her against the door, my cell rang. I jumped—this time so fast and so completely that I couldn’t disguise it as anything else—and pulled the phone from my pocket. Loud voices and a wailing siren greeted me.
“Jake? Joey. It’s bad. Had to get everyone else up here too. Both trucks.”
Both trucks. So the man in the cooler had told Timmy the truth.
“How’s Andy?” I asked.
“Hanging on. He got burned up pretty bad. Banged his head too. Frankie says he’s hallucinatin’.”
“You said you needed both
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