He’d bought a top-of-the-line laptop, fast processor, huge memory, massive hard disk, every bell and whistle known to man.
“It’s nice,” Brooke said as he put it on his desk and plugged it in.
“It was actually somewhat inexpensive. Ish. But it has room to grow.”
She sat down at the desk as he crawled around hooking it up to their home network. He had an Ethernet. Out here, wireless was unstable because of all the electrical storms.
“What’s this?”
“What?” He came up from behind the desk.
“2012,” she said.
“Died under the hatchet, I’m afraid.”
She stood up, gestured. He looked at the screen and saw words there, neatly typed: 2012, The War for Souls. It was his title page.
He reached out, ran his fingers down the screen.
“But you—you—oh, Wiley, this is weird, this is scaring me!”
“It’s scaring you? I went at that hard disk with a hatchet, and this computer has never been near this house before. It’s brand new, look at it, I just took it out of the box.”
“Now listen, because I am going to believe you. I am about to believe you. And if you are lying, and you did this to impress me or make me crazy or for whatever convoluted Wylie reason, then we are over, no matter how much we love each other, because I can’t—I can’t—I don’t like things that are weird like this, Wylie, I do not handle this stuff well. As you know.”
“Brooke, on my honor, on my soul, on all that I hold sacred, I brought this machine in here clean and clear and empty. I made no effort whatsoever to put those words on it, and I really and literally cannot imagine how they got there.”
She nodded. Then she kissed his cheek. “Wylie, I choose to believe you. Because I saw you hack that computer up and the hard disk is still in it, and you are telling me—assuring me—that you didn’t first put 2012 on an external drive—”
“Absolutely not. What external drive? I don’t even own one.”
“I know that. So I think we have to now escalate this whole thing. This is genuinely strange, it isn’t just Wylie weirdness. And my instinct is this. It is to protect my kids. Very, very carefully.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
She sighed. “I want to show you something that I wasn’t planning to let you see. But I think you need to see it and I’m sorry I hid it from you.”
She passed him the second section of the Lautner County Recorder, and there, on the first local news page was a fantastic and disturbing story. A man who lived about thirty miles south of there had disappeared while riding a four-wheeler near Coombes Lake. “Local residents who wish to remain anonymous claim that he was seen ascending in a shaft of extremely bright light. A search thus far has turned up no sign of William Nunnally. Dogs have been unable to gain a scent except from the abandoned vehicle itself.”
He read it. Read it a second time. Then he grabbed his phone. “I gotta make a call.”
Matt was off his cell, so he called him on the official line.
“Police emergency.”
“It’s me.”
“Not on this damn line!”
“Then turn on your cell, damnit!”
“I don’t want to turn on my cell, you’ll call me and call me and bother me with trivia while I’m trying to work.”
“This isn’t trivia.”
“I’m out there gettin’ that drunken shit Joe Wright to stop going after his sainted wife with a cheese grater of all the damn things, and you call. Happens every time. Or I’m trying to eat. Then, for certain, it’s gonna be you.”
“Speech over?”
“I’m hanging up.”
“I have a police report.”
“If this is about a skunk, possum, or coon, please call the FBI.”
“It’s about a possible UFO attack down in Melrose County.”
“I’m hanging up.”
“Call down there and then call me back, can you do that?”
“’Course not. It’s not police business.”
“A man has disappeared. That’s police business.”
“The fact that this tragedy is of interest to you is what isn’t police business. Now, I’ve gotta go, seriously. I’ve got a call out on Mr. Leonard’s god-for-damned-big fuckin’ snake got away again.”
“Don’t hang up, damnit, do this! Hello? Shit!” He slammed down the phone. “He has to go catch a snake.”
“That thing. Who in the world would want a fifteen-foot python for a pet?”
“I thought about a python at one point.”
“And then I had children.”
The phone rang. Brooke picked up. She listened, handed it to Wiley. “Look, the truth is I got an assignment down there, and I’m leaving in a few minutes and I guess you can tag.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, and I’m not waiting, either. They want me to look over the dogs, the dogs are acting up and I’ve run a fair number of ’em. So I’ll pick you up in fifteen.”
“What about the snake?”
“Screw the snake. A man’s life is at stake here. I’ll pick you up in fifteen.”
He hung up the phone. Brooke looked at him. “And?”
“I’m going down there with Matt.”
For a moment, she returned to the paper. Then she looked up. “You know that I love you very much,” she said. “Never forget that.”
He reached out to her and took her hand. “I’ve thought—lately, you know… it’s been hard. I know I’ve been tough to live with.”
“You have yet another book that’s making you crazy and I’m a writer’s wife. My skill is to keep you from going around the bend until it’s finished and we’ve got our money. Then you can go around the bend until I miss my guy, then you have to come back.”
“Do I come back?”
She squeezed his hand. “You come back.”
He looked up, looked at Brooke. “Where are the kids?”
“The kids are in their rooms cowering.”
“Oh, yeah.”
She put her hand on his forehead. “You’re not going anywhere, you’re on fire.”
Matt honked.
“I’ll take a couple of aspirin, I’ll be fine.”
“You’ve been up working almost continuously for days, and a couple of aspirin aren’t gonna do it.”
Matt came in. “Hey, Wiley, I haven’t got all day!”
Brooke went between them. “He’s sick as a dog, he’s not coming.”
“Jeez, musta come on all of a sudden.”
“He’s exhausted, he won’t sleep!” She took him under the arm. “You’re taking a pill and going to bed, and that’s final.”
“Sorry, Wiley, feel better.”
He shook her off.
“Wiley, you can’t do this!”
“I have to! HAVE TO!”
