Peter was short, a little overweight but he carried it well. Lucy smiled in the kind of wholesome way that made Duchess think she was born to be a mother or a third-grade teacher. Shelly waved and they began to walk over.
Peter turned and whistled. A black Lab looked up, one paw in the air, then began to run.
“They’ve got a dog,” Robin said it in a whisper.
“Just try and be cool.”
Robin looked up at her. She waited a little, then nodded and he took off, running at the Lab and waving like a madman.
“Shit.”
“Don’t worry,” Shelly said.
“He wanted to bring his suitcase, in case they want to take us right off.”
“Shit,” Shelly agreed.
It could’ve been awkward when they met, like the other times, careful handshakes and too much eye contact, but Peter and Lucy were warm and open right off. They introduced themselves, talked about how far they’d come, driven up with Jet, their Lab, from their small town in Wyoming. Peter set off with Robin and Jet, staying just about in sight as they crossed over long grass. Robin kept looking back and waving till Duchess waved back. Duchess did not say anything wrong, just did not really say anything at all. Lucy told her she liked her dress and Duchess told her thank you. She asked about school and Duchess said it was nice. And about living with the Price family and Duchess said that was nice too.
The whole time she watched and worried, Robin taking Peter’s hand and clutching it tight, then petting Jet and smiling too wide. When Lucy mentioned they kept chickens Duchess hoped and prayed Peter didn’t tell Robin the same thing.
Ten minutes later Robin turned and mouthed chickens to her. Duchess gave him a smile and Robin clapped his hands.
They kept to a safe limit, no talk of the past though Lucy said she was sorry about Hal, about everything. She told how her own mother passed when she was small.
When it was time, Robin hugged Peter so long Duchess had to intervene.
Robin talked the journey back, not stopping for air. He said Peter mentioned meeting again, how he’d let him hold Jet’s leash next time. Shelly told him he did good, that Peter and Lucy said how much they liked meeting them.
“And?” Robin said.
“We’ll see. But I’ve got that good feeling again,” Shelly said.
Robin clapped his hands, then he jumped from the car and ran up the path to the Price house. Mrs. Price met him at the door and smiled for Shelly.
“You shouldn’t say shit like that. Not till you know.”
“It’s important to stay positive,” Shelly said.
Duchess rubbed her eyes, the year long, the uncertainty draining.
She was not sure if she believed in God, but that night she prayed.
34
WALK FOUND HER AT THE church.
He stood by the door, rested a hand on the old clapboard and looked to the water, the flowers on graves.
Martha sat alone on the front bench, her eyes on the stained glass and the pulpit, the same seat she used to take each Sunday morning when her father was minister. Walk took his seat at the back, silent, not wanting to disturb her. He had spent the morning on the phone, first to Boyd, to fill him in on Milton. He told him about the link to Darke, that they went hunting together and that Milton was seen entering and leaving Darke’s place. He could not mention the blood, but Boyd said he would work on it, get a warrant.
And then he’d called a trial lawyer over in Clearlake, a guy named Carter, one of Martha’s contacts. Carter wanted a meet with Vincent King, Walk could not make that happen. It was looming, weeks away, not long enough for anyone to prepare.
“I need you,” he said, and the old church carried his words, causing her to stop, lift her head but not turn. She finished speaking whatever silent words she had chosen.
He walked down, together they sat before the old cross and the sainted neighbors.
“I need you. For the trial.”
“I know.”
He looked down at his tie, gold clip, starred collar, he had never felt so weak, or maybe he always had, but did not realize it till then. He had seen Kendrick again, upped the dose. There was no way to stop what would come.
“I’ll make mistakes. And they will matter.”
“I know it’s unfair.”
“It’s more than that. It’s life and death. I once wanted to stand up front and help people that way. A port of call when times were good and bad. He took that from me. My father.”
“You could have still—”
She cut him off with eyes full of tears. “I didn’t want to live a lie.”
“Milton is dead. The butcher. I think Darke killed him. I think Darke killed Hal to get to the children.”
“He’s worried the boy will remember.”
Walk nodded. “Darke can’t come back here now. He owes money to people, bad people.” He’d run the plates, this time got a hit. The sedan was registered to a construction company in Riverside, one of the directors was linked to a known crime family. Darke’s problems would not go away.
She looked at him then. “Take it to Boyd. They need protecting.”
“I have. He still doesn’t buy it.”
“Because Vincent King is in the way.”
“But if he were innocent. If we can get him off …”
“Shit, Walk. The best trial lawyer in the country couldn’t get him off.”
“If Vincent is innocent then Darke is coming for Robin Radley, not Duchess.” Walk closed his eyes to the tremors, rubbed his neck, the muscles so stiff it hurt to turn his head.
“You want to tell me what’s wrong now, Walk? You think I haven’t noticed all this time. You look tired. You’ve lost a lot of weight.”
“It’s just the stress.”
“Say that enough and you’ll start to believe it.”
“I won’t.”
He watched an old
