Mortal Fear

telling this lie made me uneasy, but Bob didn’t give me time to equivocate.

I felt like an infantryman being given orders by a veteran sergeant. When I reminded Bob that a crime like this might make the late news in Jackson, he said he’d take care of that too. To my embarrassed relief, he did not question me in detail about who might have killed Erin. Either he suspected Patrick and did not want to voice those suspicions, or he suspected the truth and did not want to flay me long-distance. After he signed off, I realized that Erin’s death was a tragedy Bob had probably rehearsed many times over the years.

I know now that I’ve rehearsed for it too, the way we do with any friend whose life is ruled by chance or driven by demons. Yet for her to die this way leaves me feeling ambushed by fate, as though a relative had survived cancer only to be run over by a truck. Steadying my shaking hands, I pick up the phone and dial the Anderson house.

“Hello?” Margaret says. “Erin?”

I feel like I’ve connected to a parallel universe where physical events register only after a confusing time delay. Pulling the phone into the bathroom, I shut the door and say, “This is Harper, Mrs. Anderson.”

“Oh. Is Erin there? She told me not to call, but it’s getting late. I’m worrying myself into a migraine, Harper. She was acting so strangely.”

Keep your voice steady,says my instinct. A mother can sense danger to her children like a shark smells blood. “Erin’s not here, Mrs. Anderson. Drewe either. They went to Jackson on some kind of shopping errand. They left a note, but they didn’t say what they were after.” I pause. “What time did you see Erin?”

“She called around three-thirty and asked if I could keep Holly while she talked to Drewe about something.”

My heartbeat skips, then starts to race.

“You know me,” Margaret goes on, “I didn’t want to butt in, so I didn’t ask any questions.”

“You’ve got Holly?”

“Lord, yes. She got so hungry I finally fed her supper. I know Erin’s finicky about what this girl eats, but I didn’t have anything healthy so I gave her frozen pizza. Erin will just have to get over it.”

For the first time tonight, tears well in my eyes. “I’m sure it’s okay, Mrs. Anderson.”

This time Margaret says nothing. Just as I am about to speak, she blurts, “Harper, is Erin going to leave Patrick?”

She’s already left him, says a manic voice in my head. “I don’t know, Mrs. Anderson. They’ve been having some problems, I think.”

“She can’t leave him, Harper. She can’t. That boy worships the ground she walks on. I want you to talk to her. She might listen to you.”

I’m squeezing the phone so hard that the skin on the back of my hand feels like it might split. “I’ll do what I can, Mrs. Anderson. I think you’re doing the best thing you can just by keeping Holly. In fact, if she gets sleepy, why don’t you just put her to bed over there?”

Another silence. “I hear you. All right, I’ll do that. And you do what you can to straighten this mess out.”

“Yes, ma’am. Bye.”

“Bye-bye.”

My heart is still racing, but my hands are steadier. Holly is safe. At least there’s that. As silently as possible, I slip back into the bedroom. Drewe’s chest rises and falls with comforting regularity beneath the coverlet. Not wanting to wake her, I sit in a hard wooden rocker in one corner and resume my vigil.

Why in God’s name did Erin come to our house? If she called her mother at three-thirty, she did it right after I left her house. She told Margaret she had to talk to Drewe about something. What? Did she decide I didn’t have the guts to tell Drewe the truth about Holly after all? Maybe. But even if she did, she would have given me a chance to do it. Maybe she decided that telling the truth would be a mistake after all. Did she rush after me to stop me? Unlikely. Her resolve to finally be rid of the lie was ironclad. So why did she come?

Then I see it. She must have decided that telling Drewe the truth was not my obligation, but hers. Drewe and I are husband and wife now; we weren’t at the time of the affair. But Drewe and Erin were sisters. And by that logic, Erin’s was the greater betrayal. Of all the alternatives, this is the noblest, and nobility was Erin’s predominant state of mind when I last saw her. Alive, I mean.

Rocking quietly in the dark, I recall the unalloyed panic that jolted me when I believed Holly unaccounted for. If she really had been missing, I would have been the one that required sedation. Children are stolen from parents every day in this country, by monsters as brutal as Brahma. I met two such parents in Chicago. And though Erin is lost to me now, to us all, I thank whatever god or fate exists that I am not now thrashing through the fields in search of my daughter, that Holly is safe and warm in the loving arms of her grandmother.

Is she? whispers a voice in my head. Are you sure?

The squeak of the rocker stops. Rising quickly, I go to the kitchen and look up the number of the Yazoo County sheriff’s department, which I memorize.

“Sheriff Buckner, please,” I tell the dispatcher. “This is Harper Cole, from Rain. About the double homicide.”

After about a minute, Buckner comes on the line. “What is it, Cole?”

“I talked to Dr. Anderson.”

“So did I. Just got off the phone with him.”

“I think you should get some men over to his house and watch until he gets home. Maybe all night.”

Buckner spits, probably into a cup, and takes his time about answering. “Doc told me he was going to have a friend of his take care of things.”

“We’re not talking about the same thing, Sheriff. Erin’s three-year-old daughter is over there. I think she might be in danger. Especially if Bob’s friend cuts off communication with the house. You hear what I’m saying?”

I can almost see Buckner snapping to attention in his chair. “You telling me this serial killer might go after Bob Anderson’s grandchild?”

“I’m saying there’s no telling what he might do.”

“Christ! You’ve stirred up some kind of shitstorm around here!”

“Will you do it?”

“Hell yes I’ll do it! I’m tempted to cordon off the place with a SWAT team.”

“Don’t do that! If Mrs. Anderson sees cops, she’ll know something’s up. She’ll start trying to call her neighbors. Can you keep your men out of sight?”

“You ain’t got to tell me my job, boy. I’ll take care of it. By the way, Doc’s already got a plane lined up. He was talking to me from a car phone on the way to the Memphis airport.”

I calculate quickly. “How soon will he be here? Hour and a half?”

“More like thirty minutes. Bob Anderson don’t fool around. He called whatever high roller he was meeting up there and got hold of a King Air. One of my deputies’ll be waiting at the new airport for him.”

God Almighty. I look around the empty kitchen in a daze.

“You there, Cole?”

“Yes.”

“Gotta go. I got a manhunt to run.”

After hanging up the phone, I look in on Drewe again. She’s still out. But for how long? With Vistaril she could sleep eight more hours or wake up any minute. What am I going to do when she does? What can I tell her? Sooner or later the tough questions will be asked. Should we even stay here in the house? No. Drewe will want to stay at her parents’ house. But she’s still going to wake up here. Bob could show up too. In fact, I should probably expect him. He’ll take care of his wife first, but then he’ll want to see Erin’s body, wherever it is. After that, he’ll come here. To see where it happened. To convince himself that it did happen. And to find out who in holy hell is responsible.

One thing I do know: I don’t want Drewe or Bob to have to face the abattoir that is my office. Drewe saw it once, and that was too much. I may not be able to wipe out the acts that led to Erin’s death, but I can damn sure scrub every last drop of blood out of that office. If I can’t, I can repaint the goddamn thing by morning. Buckner and the FBI will probably crucify me for destroying evidence, but evidence hasn’t led anyone to Brahma yet. From a