Second Grave on the Left

convict.

No, Neil was afraid. He seemed to genuinely care for Reyes. The realization surprised me. Neil worked with hundreds of convicts on a daily basis. Surely compassion fatigue played a big role in his profession. One would think frustration alone would keep any feelings of true concern at bay. But I could feel it. I could feel the connection he had with Reyes. Maybe he’d formed an attachment after having Reyes as a prisoner for so long, knowing all the while he was something more, something not entirely human. Either way, I could have kissed him on the mouth right then and there if he hadn’t been such a jerk to me in high school. Relief at having Neil on my side through this, on Reyes’s side, eased the tension in my stomach, if only minutely.

“How do you know he’s hurt?” he asked, and I could literally feel the emotions warring within him. Concern. Empathy. Dread. They pushed forward and swirled through me like a suffocating smoke.

I blinked through it and concentrated. “I’m going to tell you something,” I said, hoping that leap of faith wouldn’t come to a crash landing in a cactus patch. ’Cause that shit was painful. “And you know that whole open- minded thing you’ve got going here?”

He hesitated, wondering what I was up to, then offered me a wary nod.

I leaned forward, softened my voice to hopefully lessen the blow. “Reyes is a supernatural entity.” When he didn’t react, didn’t even blink, I continued. Mostly ’cause I really, really needed his help. And a little because I was curious how far I could go. How far he would go to learn the truth. “I mean, I have a little supernatural mojo myself, but I’m nothing like him.”

After a long, thoughtful moment, he covered his face with his palms and looked at me through his splayed fingers. “I’m losing it,” he said. Then, rethinking his verb tense, he added, “No. I take that back. I’ve lost it. It’s a done deal. There’s no hope for me now.”

“Okey dokey,” I said, shifting in my seat. I figured I’d just go along with it. No judging. No jumping to conclusions. No buying him a straitjacket for Christmas.

He pressed a button on his speakerphone.

“Yes, sir?” came the immediate response. She was good.

“Luann, I need you to have me committed ASAP. Yesterday, if possible.”

“Of course, sir. Any particular program?”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “Anything will do. Just use your best judgment.”

“I’ll get on it immediately, sir.”

“She’s a good egg,” he said when Luann disconnected the call.

“She seems like it. And you’re having yourself committed because?”

He scowled at me like his mental breakdown was my fault. “As much as it pains me to admit this, I believe you.”

I fought to keep a relieved grin from surfacing.

“No, I mean, I believe believe you. As if you’d just told me you had a flat tire or it was cloudy out. Like what you said is just an everyday thing. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to get worked up about.”

Man, he had changed a lot since high school. And I didn’t just mean the beer pooch and receding hairline. “And that’s bad?”

“Of course it’s bad. I work in a prison, for God’s sake. Things like this just don’t happen in my world. And yet, every bone in my body is accepting the fact that Reyes is a supernatural entity. I’d sooner doubt the weatherman, at this point.”

“Everybody doubts the weatherman, and you’re in my world now,” I said with a grin. “My world is supercool. But I told you that for a reason.”

He refocused on me and raised his brows in question.

“I need your help. I need to know who’s been visiting Reyes.”

“And you need that information because?”

“Because I need to find his body.”

“He’s dead?” Neil shouted in alarm. He jumped up and walked around to me.

“No, Neil, calm down.” I held up my palms in surrender. “He’s not dead. Or, well, I don’t think he’s dead. But he will be soon. I have to find his body. Like I said, he’s hurt. Bad.”

“And you’re thinking someone might be harboring him? Someone who’s come to visit.”

“Exactly.”

He turned and punched a button on his speakerphone again. “Luann, can you get me the names of everyone who’s visited Reyes Farrow in the last year? And I need to know who he’s requested be put on his visitation list, whether they were approved by the state or not.”

“Would you like that information before or after I have you committed, sir?”

He pursed his mouth in thought. Making a decision, he said, “Before. Definitely before.”

“I’ll get them immediately.”

“I just love her use of the word immediately,” I said, vowing to introduce the concept to Cookie. “So, visitors have to be approved?”

“Yes.” He sat back down behind his desk. “The inmate has to turn in anyone’s name he wants to receive visitations from; then that person has to fill out an application, which is submitted to the state for approval before he or she can visit. So let’s get back to this supernatural thing,” he said, a tinge of mystery in his eyes.

“Okay.”

“Are you psychic? Is that how you know Farrow is hurt?”

Always with the PS-word. “No. Not especially. Not in the way that you mean. I can’t predict the future or tell you about the past.” When he eyed me doubtfully, I said, “Seriously, I can barely remember last week. The past is a blur, like fog only blurrier.”

“Okay, then what do you mean by supernatural?”

I thought again about telling him the truth, but just as quickly decided against it. I didn’t want to lose him, but I didn’t want to lie to him either. This was a guy who’d worked with convicted felons for over a decade. Deceivers one and all.

I studied the speckled pattern of his carpet, trying to figure out what to say. I hated the uncertainty of how much to tell someone, how much to hold back. The problem with telling people the truth was that by my doing so, their lives were forever altered. Their perspective forever skewed. Since most people would never believe a word of it anyway, I was rarely put in such a precarious position. But Neil had seen things. He knew Reyes was more powerful than any man he’d ever met. He knew I could see things others couldn’t. But there was a line, a limit to what the human mind could accept as reality. If I crossed it, I would lose his cooperation and his friendship. Not that I really gave a crap about his friendship, but still.

“Neil, I don’t want to lie to you.”

“And I don’t want to be lied to, so this whole thing should be pretty cut and dry.”

With a deep sigh, I said, “If I tell you the truth … let’s just say you won’t sleep well at night. Ever again.”

He tapped a pen on his desk in thought. “I have to be honest, Charley, I haven’t slept all that well since your last visit a couple of weeks ago.”

Damn. I knew it. I’d already screwed up his world.

“I could be wrong,” he continued, “but I’m certain I would sleep better if I knew the whole story. It’s the bits and pieces that are kicking my ass. Nothing is solid anymore. Nothing fits. I feel like the foundation of everything I’ve ever believed in is crumbling beneath my feet and I am losing my grip on what’s real and what’s not.”

“Neil, if I tell you more, the last thing that knowledge will do is help you get a stronger grip on reality.”

“Can we agree to disagree?”

“No.”

“So we are disagreeing?”

“No.”

“So we’re in agreement?”

“No.”

“Then let me put it this way.” He leaned forward with an evil, evil grin. “If you want a gander at those visitation records, I want to know everything.”