The Guardians

'That was you at the Old Grove, wasn't it?'

'Helo to you too, Trev.'

'I saw you.'

'You think I'd miss Ben's funeral?'

'That's what we were betting.'

'Wel, I was there.'

'But you were hiding.'

Carl doesn't flinch at this. As though he hadn't heard it at al. 'I came as soon as I heard.'

'How did you hear?'

'You left a message. It went down the line of some people I know. And when I got it, I caled in some favours and got enough money to get a standby ticket.'

'You took a flight?'

'From out west.'

'Where out west?'

Carl grinds his teeth. 'You sound like a cop.'

'I just think it's strange, the way you've turned up.'

'You mean me being in the house?'

'Yeah.'

'You were there too, weren't you?'

I let this go for the moment. 'Why did you run? When I saw you at the cemetery?'

'I didn't want you to see me.'

'Why not?'

'I came for Ben. To say goodbye. That's al I had the strength for.'

'And spending five minutes with me and Randy would have been too much for you? Saying helo might have tired you out?'

Carl scratches his ankles. He's not wearing socks, and the skin is blue from cold. 'You sound angry, Trev.'

Below us, another eighteen-wheeler hauling pigs to the slaughterhouse in Exeter wheels by, and I have to wait for the echoes of its shifting gears to dissipate before speaking again.

'Where's Tracey Flanagan?'

'I heard she's missing. That's it.'

'Is she in the house?'

'What?'

'Did you see her?'

Did you hurt her? I want to ask . Were those your hands that pulled her back into the dark?

'I didn't see anybody.'

'Because that's why we were in there. We were looking for her.'

'Good for you.'

'So you don't know anything about it?'

Carl places his hands on his knees. Shows us the dirty fingernails. The pale knuckles.

'If you want to accuse me of something, say it so I can walk over to where you're sitting and stick my fist down your throat,' he says. 'But if you're just a little worked up, if those shakes of yours have eaten away at your brain and twisted the wires in the part that tels you when it's time to calm the fuck down, then I'm ready to forgive you. Which is it?'

'It's Parkinson's. And if you talk about it again the way you just did, I'l be the one to take some of your teeth out the hard way Understand?'

Carl starts over toward me. But when he gets within range of my trembling, cross-legged self, instead of throwing a punch as I—and a stiffened Randy—expect, he places his hand against the side of my neck.

'Look at us,' he says. 'A pair of grey-haired geezers.'

'I tried to fight it, then I tried to ignore it. Nothing worked.'

'Me, I tried to end it,' he says. 'That didn't work either.' He spits a thick gob and watches the white foam snake down the concrete away from our feet. Then he elbows me in the ribs.

'I'm stil waiting for you to tel us,' Randy says directly to Carl.

'Tel you what?'