The scarecrow was stitched for the town fair back in '61, and the Allens left it out among the weeds as a sort of eerie landmark about which the locals could weave stories to entertain travelers. Mr. Hollow, they called him. He was surrounded by a circle of rocks, making the mound look like some mystical shrine to an ancient deity. Large crows would settle over the vast span of Mr. Hollow's arms, setting him alive with fluttering motion.
Mr. Hollow didn't come down until '79 when Slick James and a crew of his friends ran him over during a drunken ride in their Ford pickup. He was so big he left a dent in Slick's front bumper and Slick bragged for weeks about the size of the deer he hit on Highway 74.
In the vast expanse of weedland between the four running boys and the scarecrow there was a smaller figure, an animated dot in Jade's view. It was another boy, about eleven years old, whose run was clumsy with fear. A silver chain with medical tags bounced around his neck as he moved.
Jade could see his face more clearly now, the droop of his cheeks, the full upper eyelids, and the lolling lower lip. It was a miracle that his awkward legs found footing at all, but he lurched along with a spastic rhythm. A thin line of drool spun from the retarded boy's lip, draping across his shirt, and he grunted like an animal fleeing a predator.
In the distance, another boy ran down a countryside path into a quaint two-story home. He carried a baseball bat across his shoulder, his glove hooked on the end of the bat through the wrist hole. The boy looked tough; he was definitely a scrapper, and he wore a baseball hat cocked defiantly backward on his head.
The screen door slammed behind him as he casually loped into the house. His eyes were green, as green as emeralds. Jade looked into his eyes and his pulse raced.
A pair of hands grabbed him, nails digging into his arms. The face of a woman, distorted with rage and fear. Goddamnit, where's your brother? I told you to watch your brother! Over her shoulder as she bent to swat his face, the boy could see a bedroom door open, a frayed cord dangling from the doorknob. Behind the swinging door, yellow-and-pink striped wallpaper-the wallpaper of a circus tent-was visible, suited to a child much younger than eleven. On the floor a small music box lay on its side, thrown down in the child's rage at being trapped alone in his room. A brightly colored porcelain circus tent was glued on top of the lid. The woman's hand drew back to land another blow on the boy's reddened cheek.
The images scattered dreamlike across Jade's mind, every detail unfolding with excruciatingly slow clarity as the scene started to come apart.
The slap of his hand on the desk brought him back to reality. Jade shook his head as he raised it from the desk. He had been counting. Forward or backward, he didn't know, but he was on 153.
The box of pens and pencils faced him and he ran his fingertips across it. He had to move, had to keep moving. There was still a lot of digging to be done at the Atlasias', with Darby in particular. He pushed himself back from the desk and stood up, walked out of the study, and closed the door behind him.
After a minute, he came back in, picked up the phone, and dialed.
'Yeah. Travers. I'm heading back to the Atlasias.' You coming? Yeah, whatever. I just want a driver.'
Chapter 36
Darby had greeted Jade and Travers coolly, but with forgiveness in her smile. We're all doing our jobs here, her smile said. Let's not forget that. She had just come in from a visit with neighbors and she was breathless. She seemed always to be slightly breathless, Jade thought.
Now he and Travers sat side by side on a brown couch, facing Allander's parents as classical music played softly in the background. It was a shame to interrupt the peaceful sound with words. Especially these words.
As soon as Jade said Allander's name, the makeup came out again. Darby turned away, looking into a small mirror. Arching her eyebrows, blushing her cheeks, painting her lips.
'Mr. Marlow, you have a propensity for ruining my afternoons,' she said with a wicked grin.
Jade didn't respond.
'Oh, come now. I'm just teasing you. Since you're down here to make me miserable, you should at least allow me the occasional tension breaker.'
'All right. Fair enough.' Jade was being gentle. He found that he liked Darby and Thomas more each time he saw them. He wondered why. It might have been the sad but honest life they had managed to put back together for themselves. Like resurrecting a house after a tornado blows through, he thought.
'I need to ask you a few questions about Allander's childhood.'
'Why?' Darby asked. 'Is it really necessary to get into all this?'
'Well-' Travers started.
'Yes, I'm afraid so,' Jade said, shooting Travers a warning look. 'I'm trying to get a profile of how he thinks. I need your help.'
'And why…' Darby's voice trailed off.
'Should you help me?' Jade finished. 'Because you don't want him to kill more people. Because you feel responsible every time he does. Because he should be caught. Because you know you agree with me.'
He was going out on a limb, but he thought he was right. He and Darby stared at each other for a long time, momentarily forgetting that Thomas and Travers were in the room.
'You're going to kill him,' Darby said simply. 'And you want me to help.'
'I don't know if you've been watching the news, but-'
'Please, Mr. Marlow,' Darby said, cutting him off sharply. 'Let's not play these games. I am well aware of what is going on and you are well aware that I am. So why don't you reconsider how you're going to ask for our help.'
Jade sighed and rubbed his forehead. He noticed a hint of a smile on Travers's lips.
'Look, Darby. My job's not exactly a picnic-'
'Oh. That's right. You have to make the difficult decision to sacrifice people you hardly know.'
'Look, goddamnit.' Jade pointed at her, and Thomas leaned back. 'That is not fair and you know it. You want to stop playing games? Let's cut the one-upmanship.'
Darby nodded, her mouth shifted to one side. 'You're right. That was unwarranted. I apologize.'
For a moment, Jade wasn't sure how to respond. Then he nodded his acceptance. 'I know that you and Thomas want to help end this,' he said. 'However painful it may be, I'm going to need you to open up.' Of course, he knew that what he really needed from them involved more than just 'opening up,' and he had a suspicion that Darby knew, too, but there was a sort of unspoken agreement between them to take things one step at a time.
They locked eyes for a long time as Darby thought. 'I will help you,' she finally said, 'if you promise not to kill him. If you promise to bring him in alive.'
Standing suddenly, Jade threw his arms up and walked away from Darby. 'Jesus Christ!'
'Look, Jade, I think-' Travers said, but Jade waved her off violently.
He turned and approached Darby, his hands and voice shaking with intensity. 'Do you know what that means for an investigation like this?' he asked. 'It's like sending me into a war zone with my hands tied.' He realized that he was coming dangerously close to pleading.
'Do I know what it means?' Darby asked coldly, her eyes indignant.
Jade's sigh sounded like a growl. He turned and walked toward the fireplace, having a heated dialogue with himself under his breath. He ran his hand through his hair, stopping to grip the top of his head with his fingers.
'Mr. Marlow,' Darby said calmly to the back of his head. 'I think we both know you don't have much choice. You need our cooperation. We might as well begin.'
Jade turned around. 'Fine,' he said shortly. 'Fine. I'll try to bring him in alive.'
'You will not try to bring him in alive, Mr. Marlow. You will bring him in alive. Don't equivocate on that point.'
'I'll bring him in alive,' Jade repeated, feeling like a punished schoolboy.
Darby stood and approached him, her head cocked, looking deeply into his eyes, asking if she could trust him. 'Do you promise?'
'What the hell? You have my word. You want me to swear on a Bible?'
