Cam - 04 - Nightwalkers (44 page)

I just stared at him. He waited. Then I got it.

"Guys," I said. "You know the meaning of the word 'deniability'?"

"As in what we don't hear, we never heard?" Horace said.

"Yup."

"We'll see you in town, boss," he said, and they all three got up and left.

"Okay," I said once they'd gone. "This is the South. What's the deal on the table?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he said. "You do still want this place, right? You want to live out here in this county and be treated respectfully?"

"Oh, my," I said.

"Well?"

"So: I decline to bring charges against the nutters next door. They remain in their haunted house, the major keeps riding, Valeria becomes a spinster, the Johnsons keep their jobs, and any legal issues with that long-lost will evaporate."

"In short, everything stays the same," he says. "Except you own Glory's End, and you have the lock of the century on your neighbors, who will continue, of course, never to speak to the proprietor of Glory's End."

"Wow."

"Well, hell," he said. "We can't try the major, and Hester has to live with what he did and the fact that she lit that fuse in the first place. She and her daughter now know they'll never have Glory's End; on the other hand, the daughter will inherit Laurel Grove because her nasty brother is holding his head in the cold, cold ground."

"And because they'll know that I know the true history, they'll leave me the hell alone."

"They'll also know that I know, which is even better insurance that they will leave you alone."

"Nothing changes, then."

"Not much ever does out here, Lieutenant. Especially across the road. Hester has aged ten years this past week; she is destroyed, I think."

I got up and stretched my legs. He was right, of course. This was the solution. "Who thought all this up?"

"Hester's attorney," he said. "He and I got together for a toddy, and he indulged in some idle speculation.'

"Don't tell me," I said. "His name is Lee."

"Wayne Anthony Marion Lee, Esquire, to be precise. He'd be a good guy for you to know, actually."

I started to laugh. It hurt my head, but it was almost worth it. Then I remembered Carol. I asked him if she had family who could take care of her.

He shook his head. "Her parents were killed in a car accident. She has one sister, but they don't speak, and she wasn't interested in helping out. Something about Carol's time on the force in Raleigh."

"She has nobody?"

He shrugged. "As I recall, she has you," he said.

I thought about that. Of course I would help. I'd do whatever it took to nurse her back to health and hopefully memory, but the practicalities of that were daunting. The sheriff read my thoughts.

"Carol volunteered at the hospital and the library, among other places and causes in town," he said. "There are ladies all over town who will help her get back on her feet, but you're the best candidate to help her understand what happened to her and why. All in the due course of time, naturally."

"Goddamn, sheriff," I said. "That might lead to a committed relationship of some kind."

"Fancy that," he said. "I told you she'd git you."

"I'll need some time to think about all this," I said.

"Absolutely," he said. "I'll give you about a minute."

We grinned at each other.

"Deal," I said. "Deal all around."

He drove me back into town, where I joined up with the rest of my gang, who were indulging in one last fry-fest at the local cafe. My hands were still bandaged, and my joints would have been perfect for
some extreme yoga, but I managed to join in. Pardee and Horace went back to the city with all our gear, and Tony drove me over to the hospital to see Carol. It was awkward, of course. She remembered nothing but had been told some things about who she was and assured that she would mend physically. The nurses at the hospital all knew her and liked her, and I knew that they'd be watching me like a hawk for the next several months. We talked for a little while, and I felt better about my commitment to the sheriff, and to Carol. We were both going to learn some things, and there wasn't the first inkling of regret on my part about the situation.

I asked Tony to take me back out to Glory's End, where I could retrieve my vehicle and settle in my new herd of dogs. He took me there, promised to come out and check on me for the next week or so, but then left me to it.

I wandered around that big empty house again, wondering if I shouldn't just go back to the city and give this strange but fascinating place a pass. The more I thought about it, though, the more I wanted to do it--the house and Carol Pollard. Maybe I would run for sheriff one day when Hodge Walker packed it in; maybe not. Maybe I'd just walk the fields with my dogs, watching out for quicksand, abandoned wells, ticks, and sex-crazed teenagers, all the while restoring the house as best I could. I wanted to find the lost slave graveyard and restore that, too, and to do something about all those boys up the hillside. Heck, I might go buy a metal detector and go exploring for buried treasures.

I heard a noise above my head and looked up. A tiny bird had gotten into the house and was batting around the ceiling, that godawful ceiling with the patchwork of all the gaudy wallpaper, with its fantastic embossed beasts, the gilt edging on the individual panels, scrolls and swirls of antique writing, and the swooping numbers.

Large numbers. Lots of zeros.

I looked again at the individual panels and stared hard at those numbers. Then I began to laugh. I'd need a ladder to make absolutely
sure, but now I thought I knew why the Lees had never just burned the house down with its incriminating inscription in the kitchen. They'd hidden the bonds here instead of at Laurel Grove, in plain sight all these decades, pasted to the ceiling. These were probably the last of them.

The approaching sundown was streaming golden light into all the rooms and positively illuminating the bonds, if that was what they were. I'd have to get one down and then find someone who could authenticate it. I'd been to England. I knew that people there held documents going back a thousand years and used them to prove titles and all sorts of things. If in fact they were still worth anything like their face values, I'd have to find some suitable charities.

Another item for the restoration project. Projects, plural, actually: my new life, restoring Carol Pollard, and, finally, restoring Glory's End.
You said you wanted something to do
, I reminded myself.

There was a sudden commotion in the main hall. The dogs had chased a squirrel into the house and were going hell for leather to capture it. Shepherds and Dobies were skidding over those wood floors like Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner. I yelled at them, and they all, including the squirrel, blasted out the front doors and down the steps.

I went out onto the porch and dropped into one of the rockers. I sensed that I was on the cusp of a sea change in my life. My escape to the countryside had been turned on its head, with the countryside now firmly in control. I was going to stay here, but I had to play by the unwritten rules. I couldn't know how things would work out with Carol, but I was very fond of her and more than willing to re-engage, even help bring her back.

All of this, Carol, restoring the plantation, settling into the warp and woof of the rural south, would take a long time. I might have to give up the pursuit of bad guys indefinitely. Instead I would have to settle for the occasional tin cup of bitter coffee up at the high rocks
with the major while we discussed the increasingly grave situation up in Richmond.

The dogs clattered back up onto the porch and dropped on the floor, panting happily. The squirrel laughed at them from a tree. Everything was going to be okay.