Into This River I Drown (26 page)

He turns to look at me, his face stern. “About messing around with Griggs. You saw the way he looked at you yesterday, Benji! He
knew
. He is not a man to cross, believe me. I’ve seen men like him before. No good can come from it. Let someone else handle it. You call that government man who came by last week. That FBI agent. What was his name?”

“Corwin.”

“You call Agent Corwin if you think it’s important. Or let me do it for you. You let them handle it. But you let it alone, you hear me? You don’t want to be in their sights, boy. Not a single one of them. I don’t know what they’ve got going on, but you need to separate yourself from it. Don’t let it become your problem. For all we know, that’s what happened—” He cuts himself off before he goes any further.

But I heard it, and the words I’ve never dared to speak aloud are given life.

For all we know, that’s what happened to your father. For all we know, he crossed them. The Sheriff. Walken. A man named Traynor. Whoever their boss is. For all we know, he found out what they were doing and it became
his
problem, which then became
their
problem. Griggs has certainly made enough veiled threats, hasn’t he?

“I can handle Griggs,” I say, feeling less sure than I sound.

Abe shakes his head sadly. “That’s where you’re wrong. I don’t think anyone can. I stopped at Rosie’s on my way over to get a cup of coffee. She had some interesting news.”

Dread washes over me. “What?”

Abe looks like he’d rather say anything than what he says. “Apparently our twitchy friend from yesterday, one Arthur Davis from Hillsboro, hung himself last night in the sheriff’s jail barracks, waiting for a bond hearing that was supposed to happen this afternoon. A deputy found him strung up from the edge of one of the bunk beds, a sheet wrapped around his neck. He’s dead, Benji. Our lone gunman is dead.”

the strange men

Apparently
, dead drug addicts don’t warrant much attention. There is a small blurb online, a ten-second mention on the news:
A man under arrest for suspicion of armed robbery at a convenience store in Roseland hanged himself sometime between midnight and 6:00 a.m., when his body was discovered at the Douglas County Sheriff’s Office barracks during the morning shift change. He apparently was a known drug user with a history of petty offenses. Any further information pending notification of next of kin.

Griggs releases a statement, saying, “While the sheriff’s department does its job to keep the streets safe, it is always difficult to understand why an individual would feel the need to take his own life. Our thoughts are with the family of Arthur Davis.”

Apparently it was cut and dry. No further investigation required.

These are some strange days
, Cal said.

I can’t sit at home and stare at the walls. Not while I can sit in the store and stare at the walls there. People ask where Cal is. I tell them he went back to California for a bit.

I pray. I do. I really do. I pray even though I’m not very good at it. I pray because that is how Cal said he came down the first time. I feel foolish at this, now that I have knowledge of what I’m trying to do. When I called him originally, it had been out of horror and fear and the need for someone to hear my pleas.

Now, it’s just for him.

Cal. Please come back. I’ve only known you thirteen days and you’ve been gone for the last four of them. It’s been under two weeks since you fell but it might as well have been forever that I’ve known you. I need you to come back. Please. Please just come back. See my thread. Hear me now. Please.

But there’s no reply. Like any time I’ve ever prayed before, there is nothing. I come to the conclusion that no one is listening, that no one ever did. Angels exist; that’s been proven by the one who fell from the sky. But there is nothing else. I believe in the impossible. I believe in the improbable. I do not believe that my prayers matter. Not for the first time, I realize just how small I really am, just how petty I sound.

That fear doesn’t stop me from closing up the store every few hours to rush back to Little House, only to find it as empty as when I’d left it. It doesn’t stop me from sitting on the roof every morning, watching the sunrise, searching the long driveway for that familiar figure in the dawn, ambling up to say he’s hungry, to ask if we can go for a ride in the truck because it’s so cherry.

But there’s nothing.

Every
time I close my eyes I see blue and hear the rustle of feathers. I hear his warning about the river and I jerk awake, flailing around for someone that isn’t there. My bedroom door is left open, and every time I wake, I look to the floor there, to see if he’s made his nest.

It’s always empty.

I trudge up to Big House shortly after sunrise, exhausted but still unable to get any real sleep. My mother is in the kitchen with the Trio. They are quiet as I walk in, and I get the distinct feeling that it’s only because I’ve entered the room, that any conversation they’d been having ceased at my entrance. Nina watches me with big eyes, looking like she’s going to speak but then thinks better of it. Christie looks away. Mary attempts a smile. My mother hands me a cup of coffee, full of sugar and cream so it’s a light brown, the only way I can drink it. I take a sip. It’s hot.

I shouldn’t be like this. I went twenty-one years without knowing he existed. I’ve spent the last five focusing on one day at a time. I’ve relied on no one but myself. Yes, there is this little family that stands before me, watching, obviously waiting for me to say something, anything to explain away the bags under my eyes, the hangdog look on my face. But even with them, I’ve been alone. Granted, the lonely island I have become is by choice. So why am I acting like such a goddamn pussy? Why do I care so goddamn much?

Because he’s gotten under my skin. He wormed his way in and I can’t figure out how to get him out. I’m haunted. I’m haunted by memory. I’m haunted by the scent of his skin against mine, the scrape of his stubble against my cheek. The way his mouth moves, the way his heart beats in that impossible, improbable way. That feather in the bag on my back. The way it feels like silk under my fingers. The way it’s blue. I need—

No. No. I don’t
need
. I don’t want to
need
. Fuck this. Fuck him.

My mother is the first to break the silence. “You getting any sleep?” she asks, even though she knows the answer already.

“I’m fine,” I say, my voice more rough than I’d like. “I’m fine,” I try again, clearing my throat. It doesn’t sound any more believable.

“Haven’t seen Cal around,” she says carefully.

“He’s back in California,” I mutter, taking another sip of coffee. “Went home for a bit.”

I don’t miss the shared glance between the sisters.

“When is he coming back?” Mary asks.

“I don’t know. Does it matter?”

“It looks like it matters to you,” Christie says. She sounds dubious.

“Benji, what’s going on?” my mother asks.

I set the coffee mug down on the counter, ignoring the way it sloshes over. “It’s nothing,” I say, trying to keep from snapping at them. “He’s not here, he’s gone. So why don’t you just stop with the questions. I didn’t know you guys cared that much about him. I’ll be sure to send him up here should he decide to make an appearance again.” I glare at each of them before I spin on my heels and walk out of the kitchen, heading for the front door.

I’m being childish, I know. It’s rude. They’re just worried about me. But I can’t take it. I can’t take their pity, that look on their faces, the one that says
poor Benji. Poor, poor Benji
. It’s the same look I’ve gotten over the past few days, more and more people coming in to ask about Cal, more and more people getting turned away in my increasing frustration. For the short amount of time he’s been here, he’s certainly affected a lot of people, and I hate him for it. I hate him for leaving me alone to fend against them all myself. That fucking ass—

A hand latches on to my arm as I am about to descend the porch steps to the Ford. The touch is familiar and I sigh. She’s the only one who hasn’t said a word. I don’t turn because I’m worried I’ll snarl at her too.

“Benji?” Nina asks carefully.

“What,” I say, defeated.

“He’ll come back, you know.”

It hurts to hear. “Oh?”

“Yes. And you should know that better than anyone.”

I shake my head. “It turns out I don’t know a whole lot, Nina. Not anywhere near what I should.”

“Do you care for him?” she asks. It’s the second time in only a few days I’ve been asked this question and my answer is the same. I nod. “Then you know
enough
,” she says, sounding far wiser than I ever could. “If you care enough for someone, then you give them the time to know what they need to do for themselves.”

“He won’t come back,” I say, suddenly sure. “I said things. I said some horrible things to him. He won’t come back. I wouldn’t if I’d heard those things said to me. I’d hate me. Every single part of me. I’d turn and walk away and never look back.”

“No,” she says, rubbing my arm. “I don’t think you would. You’re better than you know, and so is he. Promises were made.”

“Not to me,” I remind her.

“Not out loud,” she counters. She moves to stand in front of me. I try to look away, but she doesn’t let me. “Not here,” she says, touching my lips. “But here.” She touches my head. “And here.” She touches my chest. “Sometimes it’s the promises we don’t say that are the ones that are the loudest.”

I can’t help the small smile that forms. “How did you get so smart?” I ask her as I lean in to kiss her forehead.

She giggles and returns the kiss on my cheek. “One of us has to be. Lord only knows what goes on in that foolish head of yours.”

I watch her for a moment. “A promise, huh?”

She nods and looks out into the brightening morning. “Benji, you have to remember that even though you’ve been sad, he’s been the same. You think you’ve been alone, and so has he. But it may have been harder for him. You didn’t know he was there, not really. He knew
you
were there. And he did what he could, but it wasn’t enough for him. You might have called him, Benji, but he didn’t have to come. I felt what he felt. He showed me. There was despair. There was sorrow. And then there was you, so bright within him.”

My vision blurs and I don’t speak, knowing my voice would be broken.

She sees this and reaches up to wipe my cheeks. “So you keep your head up. You stand tall and proud like Big Eddie did. And you will see. You’ll see. Things will be okay, I promise.” She kisses me again and then heads back into the house, shutting the door behind her.

It’s
just after three when Rosie comes into the store. It’s been quiet today, the number of people asking after Cal reducing to a trickle. I’ve taken Nina’s words to heart, but it’s still rough to hear his name coming out of someone’s mouth. I’m thinking how I haven’t visited Big Eddie in a while and should probably go see him when the bell dings overhead. Rosie enters, looking grim.

What now?
“Hey, Rosie.”

“Benji,” she says in greeting. She glances back over her shoulder, her shoulder-length ponytail flipping around. There are more streaks of gray in her brown hair than I remember seeing. Her normally youthful face is now lined with something I can’t quite place. She scans Poplar Street before turning back to me. “Anyone been in here you don’t recognize?” she asks me.

I shake my head. “Regulars today, no out-of-towners. Why? Everything okay?”

She gnaws on her bottom lip. “Maybe. I don’t know. I could just be overreacting. Two men came into the diner today. They seemed… strange. I don’t know how else to explain it. They looked normal. They were in black suits and black ties, but… I don’t know, Benji. Something just struck me as off. They almost reminded me of Cal, but he’s so much more… I don’t know. Cal’s warm. He’s peculiar, but he’s endearing. Does that make sense?”

I nod, only because that describes him perfectly. He is an oddity.

She looks relieved. “But these two, they just felt cold. That same oddity, but cold. I’ve been in this town a long time, Benji, and I’ve seen a lot of people come through here. But never something like them.”

A buzzing noise starts in my ears. “Did they say who they were?”

Rosie shakes her head. “I tried to get names, but they ignored me. I thought at first that maybe they were police or something, but the more I think about it, the less I’m sure.”

FBI
? I think, remembering Corwin’s card in my pocket, and his earlier visit. With all that’s gone on lately, he’s been the furthest thing from my mind. Maybe he sent someone else to follow up here in town. I tell Rosie this, but she’s shaking her head again even before I finish.

“I don’t think that’s it, Benji. They weren’t asking about Big Eddie or Griggs.” She glances over her shoulder again out onto the street. It’s empty. She turns back to me. “They were asking about Cal.”

I can’t prevent the shock on my face. “Cal?”

She nods. “They called him Calliel. They described him perfectly, asking if anyone in the diner had seen him. I had a few of my regulars in there. The doc, Julie from the mayor’s office. Worley had come down off the mountain for a cup of coffee and a burger like he does every week.”

I’m horrified. “They all know him,” I whisper.

She snorts. “We do, yes. But you should know us better than that, Benji. They let me talk, and I didn’t say a thing. I told them I hadn’t seen the person they described. I asked them who they were and what they wanted, but they just said they were trying to find their old friend Calliel. They looked around the diner like they thought I was hiding the big guy somewhere. Then they left and started walking down Poplar Street, store to store. I got the doc and Worley to start calling the businesses to warn them, and I took the back alley from the diner down to here.”

Her loyalty is almost enough to cause me to crumble. “Rosie… I—”