As the shadows of the pines grew longer and darker, they left the car on the shaggy road and walked toward the fire tower. “And you’re the one’s supposed to be so goddamn conscientious, too. I waited over a hour for you.”
“Look, I’m sorry,” repeated Steve. “I told you. There was something I wanted to check out. Unofficially.”
“I’ll bet. So, how was it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Come off it.” Barry turned away. “And I frigging covered for you with Frank too.”
“Barry, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Where do you think I went?”
Shooting him a suspicious glance, Barry kept griping. “Not bad enough we got to work on Sunday. We got to get started a hour late on top of it.” One of the local fire watchers had disappeared, apparently just gone off without notifying anyone. With the heat wave continuing, they’d been instructed to periodically check his tower.
“Quit bitching, Barry.”
“From now on, the only thing’s gonna be working overtime is this. Sunday’s the only time I get to spend with Cathy.”
“I never noticed you being anxious to see your wife.”
“Yeah? Well, I am now. Especially since that Jack’s been sniffing around.”
“You sure about that? It doesn’t seem likely somehow.”
“What, you gonna defend him now? Guess I ought to expect that from you.” He glared. “Did you think ’Thena wouldn’t tell me about you being over there the other day?”
“You’ve seen Athena?”
“I called her. Not that it’s your goddamn business.”
“Barry, I only went over there to—”
“I know what you went over there for. What, do you think I didn’t know you was spying on us all them times? You sick bastard. What do you think ’Thena’s going to say when I tell her about that?”
Steve turned his back to him, willing himself not to listen. He looked up. The ladder to the fire tower hung just above his head.
“Huh? What’s the matter, boy?” Barry stopped ranting, and a sly look came onto his face. “Too high for you? You’re the one supposed to be in such great shape. Are you too drunk? Big hero. Too drunk today? Let’s see you climb it, boy. Let’s see what kind of shape you’re really in. After how many years of hitting the bottle? Ever since Anna died, you ain’t been nothing but a drunk. So what you covered for me a couple times? You think that makes you a better cop than me? I been carrying this team. About time you remembered it. You don’t do shit, just sit in the car and get loaded, and now you’re hanging around ’Thena’s. Big cop from the big city. You ain’t nothing but dead weight. When I tell her about…”
Steve threw himself at the base of the ladder and climbed, pulling himself arm over arm, rung by rung away from the voice.
Halfway up, it became excruciating. A drop of sweat tickled his stomach. Barry was right. He was out of shape. Breathing hard, he pulled himself up another rung, his uniform suddenly drenched. The voice rose from below, taunting, ridiculing. The heat grew unbearable, and a nerve throbbed in his temple. Sweat got in his eyes, and it became hard to clutch the wet, slippery rungs. His arms trembled. Barry’s voice surrounded him, but he could no longer make out the words, though vaguely he realized the tone had changed to one of alarm. Almost to the top, he heaved himself, and lights flashed in his brain.
The insistent voice seemed to be coming from another planet.
At last—thick breath bursting from his lungs—he muttered, “Yeah, yeah, I’m all right.” He lay on his back on the platform. The shouting continued, and he turned on his side. “Quit yelling. I said I was all right.” The air he drew seemed filtered through blood. “Just got sick for a minute.”
“I’m coming up.”
“No. Stay down there.” He sat up, ashamed. Of course, Barry was right. All the years, all the drinking—the body in which he’d taken such pride had betrayed him. Or rather he’d betrayed it. Panting heavily, he got to his feet and leaned on the rail until his whirling vision steadied.
Distant pines clawed the horizon. Astonished, he turned around: an ocean of harsh green. A dim corner of his mind tried to estimate the acreage. Endless, it swept to the bristling sky, and except for the police car directly below, nothing man-made could be seen. Gradually, his breathing returned to normal.
“You okay up there? What the hell are you doing? I didn’t mean what I said before. About Anna. You gonna make me drag myself up there?”
Steve started down. “Would you shut up already?” He expected to be shaking when he reached the bottom. Instead, with his feet on the ground, he felt strangely calm.
“Asshole! What, were you just goofing off up there? I thought you had a heart attack or something.” Barry stomped toward the car.
After a moment, Steve followed, slowly at first, more acutely conscious of the woods than he’d ever been. Every muscle in his body ached. And it felt good. “You know,” he said, catching up. “When I went over there, Athena said something about wanting to talk to us again, about what she saw that night.” As though suddenly distracted, he stopped and looked away into the pines. “She mention it to you?”
“You ain’t gonna start all that crazy shit again, I hope.”
Steve didn’t flinch from the sudden hate that blazed in his partner’s eyes. He drew a deep breath.
“No, shut up,” Barry cut off his response. “I don’t want to hear about it. Anyway, you know what Frank said. He’s the boss, and he told you to lay off—he don’t want no more crazy talk.”
“I’m pretty hot about that too. Seems to me, somebody must’ve gone to Frank with a story to get him to jump on the thing the way he did.”
“Don’t give me that,” Barry sneered. “I know what you’re hot about.”
He only restrained himself with an effort. “Maybe it’s true. Maybe you just don’t care what happens out here. Some cop. Maybe all you care about is what the troopers might uncover. I got ears, Barry. How many hot cars has Frank Buzby got out here right now? You think I don’t know who torched that place?”
“Big fucking deal! I don’t see you resigning,” he laughed. “What’s your goddamn problem, Steve? Wouldn’t she give you none when you went over there?”
At the last instant, Steve managed to pull the punch.
Even so, Barry staggered back against the car. His teeth turned red. Instantly, he started swinging. “You fucker!” His knee caught Steve in the groin.
Doubled over, Steve tried to dodge or block the worst of the blows. “Stop it!” Then the muscles of his back bulged and flattened as he struck. Quickly, efficiently, he pinned the heavier man against the car, twisting his arm behind him. “I said, knock it off!”
Barry grunted, seemed to relax, and Steve eased off. Barry drew his gun. Steve hit him in the gut. As Barry crumpled, gasping, Steve disarmed him…then just went wild.
Barry clung to Steve, tried to pull himself up as punches hammered into his stomach. His face turned to the sky.
Steve grabbed him by the throat and squeezed. The face clotted to a deep purple. Hands clawed wildly.
Steve threw him to the rough soil, and small infantile noises broke from Barry’s open mouth. Steve bent and retrieved his partner’s gun from where it had fallen.
Choking, Barry looked up. Their eyes met.
Steve turned away. He tossed the gun through the open window onto the backseat and got in.
Barry knew he’d never been closer to death. He’d seen it in Steve’s eyes. The dust cloud from the car still settled, gagging him, as he lay in the dirt and waited for his breath to return. His throat hurt so bad he couldn’t swallow. He rolled onto his side and curled up. The pain diminished, though the side of his face continued to throb. Finally able to rise, he brushed away some of the sand and stood, clenching and unclenching his fists. He peered down the road after the car.
That son of a bitch had wanted to kill him, Barry thought with something like admiration. Who would have guessed old Steve had it in him? Wondering how long it would be before Steve came back, he massaged first his arm, then his throat. He knew Steve would come back soon as he cooled off. In the meantime, he was stuck out
