level and start to mold into shades of gray.”
“How thin?”
“Thin. He didn’t seem much more than a hanger for the clothes he wore. I’d bet anything the guy never worked out.”
“Do you remember the color of his clothes?”
“No. It was dark and I wanted to make the buy and get out of there as fast as possible. I drove over the bridge, then about another hundred yards and flashed my lights twice. A guy at school said most nights he’s not there, but if he is, he’d flash back from the trees.”
Dillon shivered. “I almost jumped out of my skin when I saw a small light blink back at me, but I put the car in park and waited. He came up to the window and we didn’t waste any time talking.”
The boy looked up and saw Luke still waiting. “His clothes were dark, I guess. I probably would have noticed if he’d had on white. I do remember his hand looked dirty, black kinda, but not oily.”
I got nothing.
Luke had him start with one feature at a time. Round eyes, thin nose, wide mouth. Jeans, maybe. Dark baseball cap with the brim out of shape. Boots, not tennis shoes, maybe. Dillon kept repeating that he really didn’t look.
My drawing looked like an alien with a hat. The only good it did was when Nana walked by, she laughed.
Luke stood and stormed away, probably trying not to show his frustration, but failing.
I offered Dillon a cookie and waited while he ate. “You’re doing great,” I said. “Most people don’t really look at other people. Sometimes I think it’s more a feeling we get about folks than the facts about how they look. When I draw, it’s usually a feeling I’m chasing, not a likeness.”
Dillon nodded. “This guy seemed more nervous than me. He was downright jerky.”
Luke, who’d moved over to pour himself a cup of coffee, looked up. “Skiddery, like those bugs that skim along the top of the water in summer?”
“Yeah,” Dillon agreed. “You know anyone like that?”
Luke frowned. “No, but I’ve seen him. Could his hands have been burned and scabbed over instead of dirty?”
Dillon shrugged. “I didn’t look that careful. I just remember them being black, like they were caked in mud.”
We talked on, but learned nothing more about the stranger. Dillon finally stood and said he’d promised to drop by over at Timothy’s place before he headed back to town.
“You’ve been a great help.” Luke stood.
“You won’t tell my dad about what I did?”
Luke offered his hand. “You have my word, if I have yours that you’ll keep quiet about this. The only way we’re going to catch these guys is by surprise. Don’t tell a soul we’ve talked.”
“I promise.” He took Luke’s hand. “You know, my dad’s wrong about you all. Dead wrong.”
Neither Luke nor I said a word. The boy had to figure it out for himself. Sheriff Fletcher might not be doing much of a job, but he was still Dillon’s father, and letting the sheriff believe his boy was perfect didn’t seem like much of a crime.
We stood on the porch and watched him drive away. The late-afternoon sun danced on the water, turning it to shimmering silver in spots. I folded my ledger book. “I’m sorry I wasn’t much help.”
“You were more than you know.” Luke didn’t look directly at me and I had the feeling he was a million miles away.
“What are you going to do?”
“Wait,” he said. “And watch. I might even drive over the bridge late tonight and flash my lights. Maybe the bad guy will come right to me.”
The mail truck rattled down the road and pulled up a few feet from where we stood.
“Running a little late today, Fred.” Luke didn’t sound too interested in the mailman’s answer. He was just paying a greeting, like when folks ask how you are and then walk away before you answer.
In the weeks I’d been here I’d never thought about asking the mailman his name. He seemed only the unfriendly alien mailman who complained about delivering our mail and drank all the free coffee he could hold as fast as possible.
“I have a special delivery. For what they paid to get this delivered, I thought I’d bring it out fast.”
I studied Fred. Tall, thin, over thirty, hat. He almost fit the description of the drug dealer. Only Dillon would have noticed his long fingers.
Fred handed me a wide, white envelope. “It says I have until noon tomorrow to deliver, but I had to make another delivery out near here so I brought it along. I don’t like the pressure of last-minute things.”
The mail was addressed to me. I’d seen the return address before: Garrison D. Walker, Attorney.
For once Fred didn’t stay for coffee. “Got to run. The wife and kids will be waiting supper on me.”
Luke wished him well. I just stared at the envelope.
After the sound of his rusty blue hatchback disappeared, Luke whispered, “You got to open it, Allie, to know what’s inside.”
I smiled. Nana always said the same thing. I made up my mind. “It can wait until after supper. Want to join us?”
“I’ll see what all she’s cooking.” He smiled and I knew it didn’t matter; he’d love it.
As we went back inside, I dropped the envelope on the shelf in the old office that had become the catchall for things that belonged nowhere. Duct tape, pencil sharpener, old towels too ragged to carry upstairs.
I glanced at the receipt boxes I’d never bothered to toss and decided it would be more interesting to follow Luke to the kitchen than to clean.
When I pushed the swinging door open, Nana was frying up fish Willie had given us. The old man sat at the kitchen table reading last week’s paper aloud, and for once he didn’t seem to smell.
As always, Luke had disappeared without saying goodbye. I wasn’t sure if he planned to eat with us or not, but I pulled down four plates just in case. Willie and Nana debated for a few minutes on whether to have Dr. Pepper floats or Cherry Cokes for our evening’s fine wine.
I pulled out the glasses and silverware, then wandered back to the store. While I counted out the cash drawer money, I listened to Willie read to Nana. If he was a pervert, he was sure taking his time to show his colors. Near as I could tell, he was just a lonely old man looking for company.
When Luke returned, he’d changed into dark clothes and wore a black Windbreaker. His dark hair and short beard added a look of danger about him. He wore his black jeans and boots like a uniform and his shoulders were no longer relaxed. A man on a mission, I thought, wondering what he planned to do once the lake grew dark and still. And if he were fishing for trouble, what did he plan to do with it if he found it?
We moved one of the tables near the bay windows and ate watching night drift across the lake. Fish, coleslaw, and hush puppies made with sweet onion chips inside tasted like heaven.
Willie told stories of his years at the lake-storms, snakes, and wannabe fishermen doing crazy things. He related the year a bunch of drunk college kids had a party and decided to steal all the boats Jefferson rented by the hour. They tied a string of canoes together behind a powerboat. The rope got knotted up and the students were tossed out in the middle of the lake. “None of them could swim worth a lick. If it hadn’t been for the beer coolers, a few might have drowned. Jefferson and me was fishing for college boys half the night. Come morning, he made them pay twelve hours’ rental for every boat.”
We all laughed and I tried not think of the letter in the office waiting to be opened.
Nana told of her first time on a lake. “It was like this one, only not near as many cabins or people. I had just turned sixteen and couldn’t drive. It was my first summer more than fifty miles from Hollis, Oklahoma. Mary, my sister-in-law, was pregnant and thought she had to get away for a few days. We got in the car and drove until we saw a little sign that said CABINS FOR RENT. She let me go watch the fireworks with a boy I’d met at the swimming hole. He was all legs and arms and red hair. We spent almost the whole night sitting on that cabin porch talking.
“The night was hot and full of the sounds of the lake.” Nana smiled as the memory surrounded her. “He won me that wind chime at a little fair we passed.”
I caught the last of her story. She’d never told me about the wind chime. I guess, since it had always been in
