Burnt River (12 page)

She skimmed the pages of the other journals, looking for further references. In one passage Annie referred to his thick dark hair and in another to his friendship with Jeremy. At times the writing was so rich in erotic detail that Jessie skipped entire sections. Jessie went back through the journals one at a time, trying to establish a timeframe, but it was impossible to say whether the affair had happened recently or years ago. It was also impossible to say whether or not the whole thing was a figment of Annie’s imagination. Jessie dropped the final journal on the bed and walked over to the window. The Plexiglas was filmed with dried breath and fingerprints. She wiped it with a tissue dampened with spit and stared out across the expanse of lawn toward a low grouping of outbuildings. Every light in Wade’s house was on. Jessie waited. She didn’t see Wade, but had the feeling that his eyes were on her. Wade had always been there for them. He’d often acted as a liaison between Jeremy and Annie. Maybe Annie had built up an entire fantasy world around Wade while she stood looking out the same window. Then again, maybe there was more to Wade than Jessie realized.

Jessie couldn’t remember what he had looked like when he was younger and had a full head of hair. All that was left now was a narrow ring of white, which he kept clipped close to his scalp. He was in his late sixties, and she couldn’t imagine that he’d ever been attractive enough to turn Annie’s head. They’d always called him Wade; never Uncle Wade like had been suggested on occasion.

Jessie went downstairs to the living room, where the photo albums were stored in a cupboard. She flipped through the earlier ones and the plastic-coated pages creaked with age. The old photos were burnt orange and lemon yellow, losing color and definition. In some of the albums, photos were missing from almost every page. All that was left were shadows where they had once been, and crossed-out captions. Always wearing a hat, Wade stood on the periphery of family photos, arms crossed and smiling stiffly. She picked up another album and a photo slipped from the pages. Jeremy stood between two men, one of which she thought might be Wade. Jessie flipped it over. Her paternal grandmother had excellent penmanship. She’d written the date and the names in long, careful lines. Thirty-two years earlier Jeremy had gone hunting with Wade Larkin and Layton Phillips, now the governor of Montana. Back then Layton still had a shock of red hair, which now everyone suspected was dyed, as it was the color of salmon past its sell-by date. Wade’s hair was jet-black and he was quite good-looking.

Jessie slipped the photo between the pages and went down the hall to her father’s office. The employment records were kept in a tall filing cabinet. She switched on the overhead lights and flipped through the name tabs. Wade’s file included his original letter to Jeremy asking if he’d be willing to take him on. It was dated July 1982. The bank had just foreclosed on his farm. He wrote that nothing had been the same since he lost his wife, Alice, in a fire a few years earlier—that his luck had gone from bad to worse. Jessie pushed the file drawer shut and looked around the office. There was a small drawer below the desk where Jeremy kept his personal files. It was locked but she found the key in the bowl full of spare change. Her heart froze over before she even had a chance to start looking. There was a file on Ethan Green. She pulled it out and set it down on the desk. No one in the family or in Jeremy’s employment was allowed to mention Ethan by name. They’d fallen out over a business matter when she was only a baby. She opened the file and sifted through a pile of correspondence between her father and a lawyer named Giles Newton who had an office in Collier. He was acting on behalf of Ethan Green. None of the letters mentioned the dispute. They were haggling over a sum that was to be paid to Ethan. Ethan’s lawyer called it restitution, while Jeremy referred to it as extortion. The language was terse and the letters went on for three months. In the end, Ethan agreed on the sum of thirty thousand dollars. In return for payment, he was to sever all ties with the Dalton family. The money was transferred to a private account at the Flathead Savings and Loan five months after Jessie and her brother were born.

Jessie copied down the name and address of the lawyer in Collier before returning the file to the drawer and locking it away. Upstairs she gathered the rest of her mother’s journals. Once he was home, Jeremy would probably read them, and there’d be no way Annie would ever be allowed to come home again if that happened. Jessie put the journals under the loose floorboards in her bedroom and crawled into bed. The backlit curtains glowed ghost white, and outside, the occasional dog barked. There wasn’t a hint of a breeze. She kicked the sheets away and lay sweating in the darkness. Her parents had been together for nearly thirty years, but the fact they were married seemed to matter little to either of them. Jeremy spent most nights in town with his girlfriend Natalie and Annie spent all her time fixated on events that may have happened before her children were born. Jessie closed her eyes and felt her body soften. Although she doubted he would tell her why Ethan and Jeremy fell out, she would contact the lawyer in Collier in the morning. If that didn’t work, she’d go speak to her mother.

Sleep, when it finally came, was deep and haunted. Ethan grabbed her and dragged her underwater as she swam near the picnic area at Darby Lake. His thick black hair floated around his pale face and his mouth gaped open greedily. Jessie sat bolt upright and gasped. She’d been holding her breath. There’d been a sharp crack that sounded like gunfire. She listened, and seconds later it happened again. She scrambled out of bed, her ankle catching in the tangled sheets. She fell to the floor and the loose floorboards rattled like teeth. She peered down the hallway before jumping across and opening the opposite door. Tara was still sound asleep. A thin film of sweat shone on her skin. Jessie closed the door as quietly as she could and returned to her room.

Wade answered his cell phone on the second try.

“Wade. What’s going on?”

He was winded. “It’s nothing, go back to sleep.”

“What do you mean nothing? You scared the shit out of me.”

Wade yelled something, but his hand was over the mouthpiece so she couldn’t make out the words.

“Who’s out there with you?”

“A few of us decided it would be a good idea to keep an eye on things tonight. Tyler and Dylan are here as well.”

“What are you shooting at?”

“Tyler thought he saw someone moving along the southern boundary. I’m not so sure. The man seems pretty trigger-happy. He’s packing enough ammo to take out half of Wilmington Creek. I’m worried I’m going to find some dead heifers in the morning.”

“He means well.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

Jessie held tight to the flashlight as she walked the length of the corridor. She tried the wall switch, but nothing happened.

She could barely speak. “Wade, you need to get back up here. The power’s been shut off.”

“Get in Tara’s room and lock the door. We’ll be right up.”

Jessie returned to her daughter’s room and stood at the window, straining her ears. The house was so quiet when the power went off. The outdoor lights were still on. It could be that the fuse had blown. It happened sometimes. The house was old and not particularly well cared for. Birds nested in the eaves and mice lived beneath floorboards. They ate through everything, including wiring. Jessie tapped the flashlight and the bulb brightened. The fuse box was in a cupboard in the utility room.

She walked downstairs on tiptoe, stopping every so often to listen. The tile floor in the kitchen was gritty and cool. Tree branches tapped against the windows. Outside, she heard dogs barking and the hum of ATVs. They must have reached the stables. The sink faucet rattled and a thin stream of water drained out into the empty sink. Jessie swung the flashlight around, hitting all the dark corners. The room was empty. The utility room had a door that led out to the backyard. Inside the room it was pitch black and smelled strongly of laundry detergent and dogs. She focused the beam of light on the outside door. It was shut and the keys were in the lock where she had left them. Clutching the flashlight in her armpit, she opened the cupboard. The main circuit breaker was down. She flicked it and the room brightened instantly. Behind her the hot water heater ticked into life. Above her the lighting hummed. She switched off the flashlight before bending down to pick up a stray sock. There was a knock at the door and she screamed.

*   *   *

“I decided it was probably a blown fuse and I was right. I’m fine. Tara’s fine. That’s what’s important.” Jessie lowered her mug of coffee and returned Tyler’s stare. She’d already had one argument with Wade about not waiting in Tara’s room, and she was quite willing to mix it up with Tyler as well.

Dylan stepped between them and grabbed an apple from a bowl on the kitchen table. “Well, no harm done. We’ve checked the whole house. No one seems to have been here.”

Wade grumbled. “That fuse blows all the time. One of these days this whole house is going to go up in flames.”

Jessie placed her cup on the counter. “I’m going to go check on Tara.”

Dylan opened the door for her. “I’ll go with you.”

“You don’t need to.”

He picked up the rifle leaning against the wall. “Yeah, I do.”

“You’re not bringing that in my daughter’s room.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

They stood in the doorway and watched her sleep.

Jessie leaned her head on the frame. “Have you ever heard of some hot springs about twenty miles north of town?”

“No, why?”

“Something I read in my mother’s journals.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing all night?”

“Pretty much.”

“No offense, but do you really think you can believe everything your mother says?”

“She drew a map.”

“Show me.”

He didn’t ask why she’d hidden the journals under the floorboards. He traced his finger over the crude drawing. “There are some landmarks here that I recognize. Have you asked Wade? He’d know.”

“I can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“I think my mother was having an affair. I’m pretty sure it was a long time ago but there’s a possibility it was with Wade. There’s no way I can say anything to him.”

He held the map up to the light and inspected it more closely. “Well, we can drive up there if you like. Have a poke around. Why are you so interested?”

“I want to know if she’s telling the truth. If this place exists, maybe the other stuff she wrote about happened too.”

“Makes sense, I guess.”

*   *   *

Jessie woke up in Tara’s bed. Her daughter was braiding her hair. Jessie smiled when she heard Tara humming. She smelled like milk and bread dough. She breathed through her open mouth.

“Hi, Mommy.”

“Hi, baby girl.”

“Why is Uncle Wade sleeping on the sofa?”

Jessie tried to sit up, but Tara still had hold of her hair.

“You’ve been downstairs?”

“Hold still. You’re ruining it.”

Jessie settled back onto the pillow.

“Someone left you a present.”

“Pardon?”

“It was on the front porch.”

“Did you open it?”

She shook her head vigorously. “That would be cheating.”

“Where is it?”

Tara slid off the bed and skipped across the room to the dresser. She returned, holding a small box. “See, it has your name on it.”

Jessie shook it very gently. It hardly weighed anything. She peeled off the card and turned it over. There was no message.

Tara was breathing in her ear. “Why did you get a present? It’s not your birthday.”

Jessie peeled back the paper. “There are lots of reasons people give presents. Sometimes you give presents because you want to make someone feel better.”

Tara smoothed a tear that had slid down her mother’s cheek. “I love you, Mommy.”

Jessie held her breath for a few seconds. “I love you too. Can you hand me a tissue?”

Tara plucked one from the box on the nightstand and gave it to her mother. “We’re going to be sad for a long time, aren’t we?”

“We are.”

“So do you think someone gave you this so you’d be less sad?”

Jessie removed the lid and emptied the contents into her palm. “I think so.”

Tara reached over and picked up the necklace. “It’s pretty.”

Jessie remained silent.

Tara studied it carefully. “The thingy that closes it is broken.”

Jessie tried to keep her voice steady. “Here, let me have a look?”

The heart-shaped locket felt heavy in her palm. It was plain silver and had no markings of any sort.

“Is there a picture inside?”

Jessie flinched when Tara reached over to open it. “Let Mommy do it, sweetheart.”

Jessie dug her thumbnail in the groove and the locket popped open.

“Mommy, is that me?”

“Yes, it is.”

“How old was I?”

Jessie almost choked. “I think you were four.”

“Are you less sad now?”

Jessie nodded again.

“Then why are you crying?”

11

Macy crossed through the industrial end of Collier without much more than a sideways glance. The road going through town had been improved since the winter her son was born at the nearby hospital. Route 93 now bypassed the entire length of Main Street, leaving the residents in peace. Macy parked near the town square and stepped out into the heat. The eighteen-wheelers may have gone, but the black soot they left behind had yet to be washed off the sidewalks and buildings. Cracks snaked across the sidewalks and ran up walls. A couple of buildings had been repainted, but for the most part the storefronts were as colorless as the sky. The smoky haze had thickened overnight. Visibility had been poor on the drive up from Wilmington Creek, and several emergency vehicles had passed her heading south.

It was ten in the morning and the tarmac was already baking. Eager to reach the next bit of shade, Macy struck out across Main Street. A car swerved onto the road from a side street and bore down on her at speed. The horn sounded as the car came to a stop a few feet away. Macy took her time checking the license plate while the driver gesticulated wildly from the other side of the windshield. From the twist of his mouth Macy could tell he wasn’t wishing her well. She flashed a weak smile and waved apologetically. When he rolled down his window and called her a stupid bitch, she took out her badge.