So Cold the River

them.

The phone was silent then, as was the house around it, just the hissing of the gas flame on the stove and the dripping of water down the gutters and off the porch roof to keep her company. She was glad the phone call hadn’t been Eric Shaw, having another spell, but she also would have been interested to know what was happening with him. If he were to be believed, things would remain normal for a few hours, at least. Then the pain would come back, and then he’d need some more of her water, and then he’d take to seeing things… seeing the past.

That’s what he’d said this afternoon, at least. What were you seeing? she had asked, and he’d said, The past. Moments from the valley’s history. And people from it. He’d seen the hotel in its glory, and then some old whiskey still up in the hills, seen it just as vividly as if it were real, seen the people as if they were in the room with him.

She thought on that while she ate her dinner and cleaned up, and when she was done, she went to the stairs again, sighed, and took the railing and started up.

When she got up to the empty bedroom, she unwrapped another bottle—her supply was dwindling fast this weekend—and held it in her hand. She hadn’t tasted the stuff in years. Decades. Surely nothing would happen, though. Whatever Eric Shaw was experiencing had to be unique, or unrelated to the water at all.

But she’d seen him react to it. She’d sat there in the living room and watched his eyes leave this world and find another, and in that world was this town in a way she ached to see it, with people she missed, people she loved.

He’d told her it appeared to be sometime in the twenties in the visions. Her mother and father would have been young people then. Her grandmother would have been alive. Now, that would be something to see again.

There was no telling the water would land her in the same place as him, either. It could take her fifty years back instead, to a time of Harold and her children…

“Why not, Annie,” she said. No one had referred to her by that name since she was a child, but sometimes she said it aloud to herself. Now she unfastened the wires and lifted the stopper from the bottle, smelling the sulfur immediately. What she’d told Eric Shaw on his first visit was true enough—this water was probably dangerous. But then, he didn’t seem to drink much of it. Just a taste. And that taste took him back.

She tried a nip. Horrible stuff, made her head pound and her stomach churn, but she got it down. One thing she’d never lacked was willpower. She took a minute to settle herself and then tried another swallow, smaller this time, and then she replaced the stopper and wrapped the bottle again and put it away.

Now she would wait. Wait and, hopefully, see.

41

TIME SLID AWAY FROM Josiah while he was out in the wet woods. He’d walked all the way to the far end of the ridge and then down the slope, moving aimlessly but enjoying the feel of the water running over his skin and saturating his clothes, savoring the way he sometimes had to blink it out of his eyes just to see. The lightning stopped and the thunder softened and then faded away, and it surprised him when he realized that the western sky was no longer dark from storm clouds but from sunset.

He started back up the ridge then, mud and wet leaves stuck to his boots, everything smelling of damp wood. He caught himself spitting often, which was odd as it wasn’t a habit he’d practiced before. Stranger still was the mild taste of chewing tobacco in his mouth.

The long stretch of summer twilight that should have guided him back wasn’t present beneath tonight’s overcast sky. He came back to the timber camp in almost total darkness and didn’t make out the shape of the car until he was almost upon it. He gave a start at first and shrank back into the woods but then recognized it as Danny’s Oldsmobile. When he came up behind it, the driver’s door swung open and Danny stepped out with a face twisted with consternation.

“Where in the hell you been? I swear, Josiah, I was ten minutes from leaving.”

“My truck was in the barn.”

“I seen it, else I would’ve been gone an hour ago.” He frowned. “You been walking around in the rain?”

“I have.” Josiah leaned past him, looked into the car. “That a pizza?”

“Figured you’d need some grub. Cold by now, of course.”

“Hell if I care.”

They pushed the barn door open a few feet and sat just inside while Josiah ate some pizza and drank a bottle of water. It took the edge off the powerful thirst that had built in him, but neither food nor water removed that faint taste of tobacco.

While he ate, Danny gave him the update from town. Talk of the murder was common, but credible theories were not.

“You find out if the one who called himself Shaw is still in town?” Josiah said.

“He is. I had a hell of a time finding him, but then I got lucky.”

“Yeah?”

“I called both hotels and asked for him. French Lick said he wasn’t registered, but West Baden put me through to a room. I hung up soon as it rang.”

“That’s a hell of a hard time?”

“No. But just because he had a room doesn’t mean he was still in it, and besides, you told me to follow him. But I don’t know what kind of car he has. Car they were in yesterday was the black guy’s.”

“Right.” Josiah caught Danny frowning at him. “What are you staring at?”

“Why do you keep spitting?” Danny said. Josiah was surprised; he hadn’t even realized he was doing it again.

“No reason,” he said. “Get back to the story.”

“Well, I went through the parking lot, looking for Illinois plates, but there was quite a few of them, so I didn’t know what to wait on. It started to rain then and I decided I’d drive back up here and ask what you thought. I was halfway through town when I seen him walking down the sidewalk.”

“You did.”

“Uh-huh. Wouldn’t have even noticed him but he was all bent over like he was about to be sick. He walked all the way back up to the hotel, stumbling like a drunk. Wasn’t but five minutes later he came out and got in a car. Acura SUV. Then he drove to Anne McKinney’s house.”

“Anne McKinney?” Josiah said, incredulous.

“You know who she is, right?”

“Got that house with all the windmills and shit. Comes to the hotel every day.”

“Yeah.”

“What would he be doing up there?”

“I’m not sure,” Danny said, “but he looked awful strange going inside. Left the door open and the engine running. She had to come out and turn it off.”

“She did? Well, how long did he stay?”

“A long time. Then he went back to the hotel. Didn’t see him come out again, so I left to come up here. Something else—what he told Grandpa is that some woman from Chicago hired him.”

“A woman?”

“That’s what he said.”

“Bullshit. He’s working for Lucas.”

“I got to say I don’t know what we’re doing, following this guy around,” Danny said. “You’re in a shit-ton of trouble. You ask me—”

“I didn’t ask you.”

Danny shut his mouth and stared at Josiah, then spoke again, his voice lower.

“Maybe not. But if you did ask, I’d say you only got two options. First is to turn yourself in. I know you don’t want to do that, but I think it’s smartest. That guy pulled a gun on you, right? You did what you had to.”

“Not going to happen,” Josiah said. “I got no interest in trusting the local law.”

“Fine,” Danny said. “Then you best get out of town. You said you need money to do it, but I don’t know how you’re getting any from these people from Chicago. I’ll give you what I got left from the casino, be enough to get