Kin

Listening to the shy monotone muttering of the boy as he answered Wayne’s cheerful queries, she tried not to think about what she had to tell Wayne later. Aside from everything else, Pete’s presence had bought her some time. Time to work out in her mind what she was going to tell him, if anything. Time to try to grasp those elusive threads and weave a better story in which she was the victim, not the villain.

But isn’t that the truth? she asked herself, and realized that she was no longer thinking about the diner and what had happened there.

With a deep breath, she hurriedly brushed her hair away from her face and took the hot chocolate and coffee into the living room. It was a mess, but Pete didn’t seem to notice. She supposed he wouldn’t. The farm had hardly been well maintained, inside or out.

“So,” she said, handing him the mug. “How on earth did you find me?”

Wayne took the coffee from her without looking away from the boy. “And what made you think of lookin’ for her now?”

This was going to be Louise’s next question, and she wished Wayne had let her ask it. She would have put it to the boy with less suspicion in her tone.

Pete looked from Wayne to Louise, then down into his hot chocolate. An expression of deep sadness came over his face and Louise felt her chest grow tight. Somethin’s happened. The boy confirmed this a moment later when, eyes still lowered, one gloved finger running circles around the top of the cup, he said, “My Pa’s dead.”

Louise gasped, a hand to her mouth, though in truth the shock was less potent than she pretended. Something about the boy’s posture once she’d recognized him outside the apartment had suggested loneliness, and his face when he removed the scarf seemed thinner than she remembered it, the light in his eyes dimmer than before.

“What happened?”

Knowing how close Pete had been to his father, despite the man’s utter inability to express any kind of love for the boy, she fully expected to watch him crumble, to see the tears flow as his face constricted into a mask of pain.

What she saw instead surprised her.

There was grief, and pain, but presiding over them all, was anger.

“They kilt him. The Doctor too.”

Wayne’s eyes widened. “Shiiit. I think I seen that on the news.”

Louise turned to look at him. “And you didn’t tell me?”

He shrugged. “It was half over and I was drunk when I switched it on. Didn’t get no names. All I remember thinkin’ is: ‘Damn, Louise used to live somewhere around there.’”

“We’ve talked about the farm, Wayne, don’t give me that shit. I must have mentioned Pete and his daddy a hundred times. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Wayne’s face darkened. “I said I didn’t hear the goddamn names, all right?”

Not now, she cautioned herself. The kid doesn’t need this, and I don’t either. She returned her attention to Pete who seemed to be preparing to withdraw into himself. She scooted close and put her hand on his wrist.

“Who killed them, Pete?”

“We found a girl, in the road. She was messed up pretty bad.”

“Messed up how?” Wayne asked.

“Beaten. Cut up. She were naked, all covered in blood. Me and Pa… we stopped to pick her up, brung her to the doctor’s house to get her fixed up.” There was no emotion in his voice now, as if this was a story he had grown weary of telling. “Pa told the doc it’d be better if he didn’t ask any kinda questions about it all. I didn’t understand that. Not then. I was worried about the girl. We went home, left her with the doc. But then my Pa… he got his rifle out and sat there like he were waitin’ for the devil to kick down the door, and he… he told me I needed to get in the truck and go to the doc’s house again, even though we’d just come from there. He said the doc would tell me what to do. So I went, and when I got there the doc said to me I needed to bring the girl to the hospital ’cuz she was in real trouble.”

“Who was the girl?” Louise asked. “Did you know her?”

Pete raised his head, shook it once. “Her name was Claire. She were pretty like you wouldn’t believe. Least I guessed she was. It was hard to tell because of all the blood and they had cut out one of her eyes.”

Wayne frowned. “Jesus.”

“You took her to the hospital?” Louise asked. “Why didn’t your Pa go with you?”

“He stayed home,” Pete said. “And he shot himself. Don’t know why, but I guess he were too afraid of what was comin’ to want to be there when it did.”

Louise buried her face in her hands. “Oh God.”

“I didn’t know, or I’d never have left him. Maybe if I was smarter I’d have known, but I ain’t, so I didn’t. I just drove the girl outta town to the hospital.” Something like a smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “She were real nice, though. The girl. We talked some on the way. Just a little because she was tired. But I liked her. Wished I could have stayed with her a while.” He dipped his head, sipped at his drink, and his smile grew. “This is real good. I always liked your hot chocolate.”

Louise’s vision blurred with tears, her throat tightening as she struggled to keep her composure. It’s not fair, she told herself. Not fair that I left them. Not fair that he died. And when a grimmer thought followed, What if I had stayed with them? Wouldn’t I have died there too? The answer was: Maybe you should have. Maybe that was where your true path ended and now you’re wanderin’ blindly ten miles farther along the same road ’cept now you know for sure it ain’t goin’ nowhere.

“You tell the cops what happened?” Wayne asked, his interest apparently sincere.

Pete frowned. “When?”

“When you got the girl to the hospital?”

The boy shook his head. “I didn’t want to answer no questions. I was afraid, so… so I just got the girl inside and let the hospital men take her away. One of them asked me my name and I told him, but then he told me to wait and I ran. Maybe I shouldn’t’ve.”

“You were scared,” Louise said.

“Sure was,” Pete agreed. “More scared than I’ve ever been in my life. I drove home pretty fast. But when I got there, the house were burnin’ and weren’t no one tryin’ to put it out. I tried to do it myself but couldn’t.” A single tear welled in his left eye. “I told myself Pa got hisself out. Told myself a piece of burnin’ wood had tumbled out of the fireplace and Pa had tried to put out the flames, but then run when it got the better of him. Told myself he was out there somewhere in the dark past the fire, waitin’ for me, and I just couldn’t see him. So I looked.” He drew the back of his glove across his nose and blinked, freeing the tear to run down his cheek. “That’s when I found all the blood. In the barn. It was burnin’, but only the roof. I went inside, to see if Pa was in there maybe tryin’ to free the animals—” He glanced at Louise. “That’s what I’d have done.” Then he lowered his head again. “They was gone, but there was a whole lotta blood in there, all over the place, great big puddles on the floor and splashed up the walls like it had come outta a hose. There were plastic there too, bits and pieces of it, like someone might’ve wrapped up the pigs before cuttin’ on ’em.”

“Are you sure your Pa didn’t—”

“No. He wouldn’t’ve. They was all we had left in the world, ’sides each other.”

Louise moved close, put her arm around him and let her chin rest against his head. “Why would anyone take the pigs?” she asked quietly, and felt him shrug against her.

“Horse was gone too. Cora.”

“Cora?”

“That was the mare’s name. Good horse too. But she weren’t hurt. I found her on my way into town after I gave up tryin’ to find Pa.”

“What did you do?” Wayne asked, his elbows braced on his knees, fists propping up his chin like a child watching Saturday morning cartoons.

“Rode ’er to Sheriff McKindrey’s, but he weren’t there. The lady at his office said he was down at The Red Man Tavern, so I went there. The Sheriff was pretty drunk, but when I mentioned the fire, whole buncha folks ran