imagine going anywhere ever again unarmed. The sun was up. People were out.
Wayne Dobbs tried to stop me as I walked. “What the hell’s been going on, Toby? People says there’s been gunshots.”
“It’s over now. Under control.” I didn’t even slow down.
I met Roy and Howard coming the other way.
“Can I go home yet?”
“Thirty minutes, Roy.” I kept walking.
I got to Molly’s street, heard the rumble of a big engine, turned back to look.
An old school bus heading out of town. The Mexican illegals hung from the windows, the faces of men, women and children. I saw my smoking buddy. He waved as they went past. I returned the wave but didn’t pause.
When I got to Molly’s, I let myself in as quietly as I could.
The boy still slept on the couch, a little drool in the corner of his mouth. I wanted to cry he looked so beautiful.
I went into the bathroom, scooped sink water into my mouth, swallowed. It felt cool on my raw throat. There was a little mirror near the sink. Molly probably used it for makeup. I grabbed it and took it back into the living room.
I sat on the floor next to the couch, looked at the boy’s face, then at my own in the mirror. I tried to see any hint of me in him. The ears, the nose, the shape of his cheeks, the chin. The color of his hair had been dark when he was first born, but it had gotten lighter each year, with a little strawberry. I looked at myself in the mirror again. Bloodied, bruised and dirty.
“He’s been asleep the whole time.”
I looked up, saw Molly coming into the room. She’d put on jeans.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I think so. It’s all over.”
“I need to talk to you, Toby.”
I stood, set the mirror on the coffee table. “Okay.”
“I don’t—and please don’t be upset—but I don’t think we should see each other any more.”
“Okay.”
“It’s just, you know, this stuff with Roy, and the whole night’s been crazy, and I’ll be heading away for college soon.”
“I know. It’s okay.” “I really am sorry.”
“I don’t want you to feel bad about it,” I said. “We both knew you’d be going away. Go to college. Get out of this town. Go be something.”
A smile tried to invent itself at the corners of her mouth but didn’t get very far. “Thanks, Toby.”
There would be part of me inside that would be raw and hollow for a while after she left, and I’d get lonely, long for her touch, need to feel her beneath me. But thinking about her leaving wasn’t as hard as I thought. It even seemed right, which was a good thing because it was going to happen anyway whether I thought it right or not.
But there was more too. I would miss her when she was gone, but it would be a relief too.
“Thank you for watching TJ. I didn’t have anyone else.”
“He was good. He slept.”
“Thanks.”
I bent and scooped up the boy. I held him against my chest with one arm, and he nuzzled his head under my chin, murmuring and drowsy. With the other hand I grabbed the shotgun.
“Roy will be back soon,” I told her. “But I think he knows to leave you alone. Just stay out of each other’s way until you go to college.”
“Don’t worry.” “Goodbye, Molly.”
“Goodbye, Toby.”
And I thought maybe I should kiss her on the cheek or something, but I didn’t.
I walked out and didn’t know where I was going. My Nova was flipped and it was too far to walk back to my trailer. I headed for the stationhouse.
Coming down Main Street I saw the lights. Two State Police squad cars—no, three. They parked behind and alongside the Jordans’ pickup trucks, the blues and reds going crazy, the street filling with citizens who couldn’t help but take a look. It had all been too much for the little town, like some bloody carnival act. Everybody wanted a peek at the show.
There would be hard questions. Accusations and blame. But the boy was safe, and I was alive. I’d come though the long night.
I cradled the boy, put the shotgun on my shoulder and walked toward the lights.
My boy was safe. My son.
Mine. And God help any man who said different.
ONE YEAR LATER
EPILOGUE
I walked into the stationhouse, passed Amanda at the front desk. Another long night shift almost over. “I need to speak with you, Toby.”
“Sure. Can I get some coffee first?”
“No problem.”
I went into the back room, poured a fresh cup from the expensive new silver coffee maker. It had a timer on it, and I always set the thing to finish up about five minutes before I walked in, so the stuff would be fresh. I bought the coffee maker out of my first paycheck after they put me on full time. Good coffee too. Columbian.
I filled my mug, went back to the front desk and flopped into the chair opposite Amanda. “How was it out there tonight?” she asked, not looking up from her stack of paperwork.
“Caught some kids parking and told them to go home.”
“A regular crime wave. Anything else?”
“Slow,” I said.
“Good. Mrs. Carmichael called in a complaint again about dogs getting into her trash cans. Keep an eye out for strays, okay?”
“Right.” We got that complaint from somebody about twice a month. I supposed I’d do what I always did. Not a damn thing.
“How’s that Indian woman working out?”
“Alice. Good,” I said. “The boy likes her, and her schedule is pretty flexible. I pay her okay.”
“Sounds like it’s working out.”
“It is.”
Since that long bad night, Molly had gone off to college. In San Francisco, it turns out. I got exactly one letter from her, saying how great it was and that I should come visit. I didn’t answer that letter and didn’t get any more. From Doris I’d not heard one peep. Nothing. God help her if she suddenly felt maternal and came back for the boy. Just let her try.
The Jordan Brothers were all buried together on a Saturday, dowager Antonia looking regal in black. The funeral was crowded. The last bit of hurrah for the biggest thing that had happened to the town in decades. Not big in a good way, but it made an impact, and people wanted to be part of it in some way.
People are strange.
Antonia lived three more months and died in her sleep. Maybe she didn’t have anything left to live for.
I got a courtesy call that autumn from the warden of the prison where they kept Brett, the oldest Jordan
