somehow just looked like the run-down old place that had sat there since he was kid.
As he brought the car to a stop, he saw Bill come out the front door. Today Bill was all smiles and outstretched hands. He was dressed in a pressed denim oxford and khakis, work boots. His belly was so big and protuberant that he might have been hiding a medicine ball under his shirt. He was the very picture of upper- middle-class comfort and success. But Jones had seen other versions of him, too. Jones had wrestled Bill, red- faced with rage and booze, from a drunken brawl at the Old Mill Bar. He’d watched the man collapse in wailing grief when he thought his youngest son had died after a fall down a well back in the woods. Jones had endured Bill’s powerful, weeping embrace of gratitude when Jones delivered his son from the hole, with a broken leg but alive and ultimately well.
“How are you, Cooper? Good to see you.”
“Good, man,” said Jones. “How’s that boy?”
“Keeping him out of trouble-best I can.” A hearty laugh.
“Glad to hear it.”
They exchanged the usual handshake and niceties, asking about the usual things-the family, work, plans for the holidays. How was Ricky doing at Georgetown? Did he still have that crazy ring in his nose? What was wrong with these kids today? They were like aliens sometimes, weren’t they?
Then right to business. “So what brings you out, Jones?”
Jones glanced around the property. Once upon a time, the place had been littered with all manner of rusted- out vehicles, dead appliances, a tilted, rusted old swing set-it had been a virtual junkyard. Now there was a row of three white Dodge pickups, the doors bearing the neatly printed business name: GROVE AND SON GENERAL CONTRACTING. Bill’s shiny new black Mercedes preened in the sun. Jones knew that particular vehicle cost about a hundred thousand dollars. He didn’t assign any special value or judgment to this. He just noticed these things. Every little detail told you something about a person.
“You remember Marla Holt?” said Jones.
Bill squinted. “I guess I do. Young woman ran out on her family about half a lifetime ago? Mack Holt died just recently, right?”
The sun was high in the sky. And Jones put a hand up against the glare as he told Bill about finding Michael Holt digging back by the Chapel, and the legend Holt had told Jones.
When Jones was done, Bill wore a deep frown.
“I want you to give the Hollows PD permission to dig where he was digging,” Jones said. “We want to know what’s back there.”
Bill rubbed his forehead. When he took his hand away, the frown was still there.
“You know I’m not crazy about that fellow from New York,” Bill said.
Chuck had referred to the Grove land as a “compound.” And the word had gotten back to Bill; he hadn’t appreciated it.
“Chuck’s all right, Bill. He’s a good cop.”
“In my book there’s no such thing.” Bill cleared his throat. “Present company excluded, of course.”
“Of course,” Jones said with a smile. “Besides, I’m not a cop anymore.”
Bill let go of a breath.
“Fact is,” Jones said, “I can’t keep them from getting a warrant and going back there anyway. I just wanted to pay you the respect of getting your permission. It would mean a lot to me, since this is my first consulting gig. You’re going to make me look real good if you say it’s okay.”
Jones was certain the other man was going to tell him no, to get on. But people were always full of surprises.
“How can I say no to you?” Bill said finally. “After what you did for my boy? But you tell them to watch their way, respect the land.”
Jones called Chuck as he backed out of the drive, asked him to keep it small, just a few men. He told him to ask the boys to tread carefully, to treat any watching landowners with courtesy and gratitude. Chuck agreed, but he didn’t sound as if he liked the advice. The idea of finesse was a bit lost on Chuck; that was city people for you. Before Jones got on his way, he made another call. He rang Dr. Dahl’s office and made himself an appointment for tomorrow afternoon.
As he pulled down the drive, the rain came. It was just a drizzle, really, a few drops glinting on the windshield. He didn’t even bother with the wipers. The blue sky was still peeking out from the low, gray cloud cover. But the sun had disappeared. Jones thought that they’d better start digging soon.
part two faith
– TRUMAN CAPOTE,
– JOSEPH DUNNINGER
chapter twenty-three
Eloise didn’t remember that Marla Holt had been a smoker. And yet there she was in a pair of navy pedal pushers and a crisp white top, smoking a cigarette. She sat on the chair by the fireplace that Eloise hadn’t used in years, her legs draped over the arm like she owned the place.
“Do you mind?” Marla asked. She held up the cigarette in two slim fingers.
“Not at all,” said Eloise. There was no use in fighting these things. Better just to ride it out. She’d been vacuuming. Now she was talking to Marla Holt. That’s just the way it was some days.
“Can I help you with something?” asked Eloise. She took a seat on the couch.
“You were always so kind to me,” Marla said. She offered that warm smile Eloise remembered. Smiles like that, genuine and open, were truly rare. “So kind to the children. Thank you for that.”
“It was my pleasure,” said Eloise. “They’re lovely children. I hear Cara has two girls now, twins.”
Marla looked distant. “Yes.”
That’s how Eloise first knew that these types of encounters weren’t supernatural, exactly. Meaning that Eloise was quite sure she wasn’t talking to a
“What happened to you, dear?” Eloise said. “Where did you go?”
Sometimes it was that easy. Sometimes they just told you. Of course, it wasn’t always the truth. Or it was some kind of riddle. This was a very confusing business.
Marla took a drag of her cigarette, crossed her legs. Her long hair was lustrous and thick, falling in waves over her shoulders. Her body was equally lush, full at the breasts and hips.
“When you’re young, you only think about
