Ravens (29 page)

Tara
lay in bed in one of the camp cabins with Clio next to her.

Came a soft knock and the door opened. Tara didn’t look, but by the very breeziness of his approach, she knew.

“What do you want?” she said.

“Checking on Clio. How is she?”

“Asleep.”

He brought a stool next to the bed and sat down. He spoke quietly so as not to wake Clio. He said, “Listen. Thank you for
standing up to me today. For saving her life.”

“Yeah? OK. Fuck you.”

He said, “I don’t ever want to hurt you. Ever. Or anyone close to you. You know that?”

She just looked out the window.

Said Shaw, “You know what I
do
want?”

She shrugged. “Yeah.”

“What do I want?”

“Love.”

He wanted everyone’s love. Hers, Dad’s, Mom’s, Jase’s, Nell’s. And from everyone else he seemed to be getting it. One by one,
they’d fallen; everyone submitting but her. And maybe soon, her too. Or maybe not. She half-wished he’d try to take her right
now. Either she’d kill him, or he’d overpower her and she could surrender and call him Lord and turn into some kind of gray
nothing like Dad, and after that no one’s life would be in her care.

But he didn’t touch her. He only sat there in the gathering dark, without saying another word.

Burris
knew the cop who was stationed outside the fairgrounds. Name of Mims, county guy. Burris had worked with him in his days
with the Coastal Area Drug Abuse Task Force.

“Hey, Mims.”

“What’s up, Burris?”

“Well. I’m investigating a theft.”

“Oh. Here?”

“Yeah.”

Mims waved him in. No further curiosity, no bother. Well, right, thought Burris. If I’d been parbroiling all day in that Crown
Vic I probably wouldn’t give a damn who came or went either.

He drove up past the big cabin to the grassy field that met woods on three sides and a pond on the other. The sky was still
brimming with light, but dusk had started to pool in the trees. Shaw’s followers crowded the picnic tables, and sprawled on
the grass and on the porch of the big cabin. Mercy. So many of them. And they were all eyeing Burris warily and seemed to
be deeply suspicious.

A man advanced. Baby-faced, dressed like a scarecrow, but nevertheless carrying himself like a big tuna. Burris lowered his
window. “I’d like to talk to Shaw McBride?”

“He’s busy.”

“Would you tell him a police officer wants to see him?”

“About what?”

“Just tell him.”

The man withdrew.

The rude starers stared. Burris stared right back. Y’all are getting the airs of a damn
cult
, you know that?

After a few minutes, Shaw McBride came sweeping toward him from across the field, with a half-dozen acolytes trailing behind.

“Officer? Can I help you?”

Burris said, “Got a minute?” He unlocked the passenger door, and McBride got in — then Burris raised the windows and relocked
the doors. Asking solicitously: “It’s not too cold for you, is it? Air’s not blowing on you?”

“I’m fine,” said McBride. His devotees were out there gawking unashamedly, as though the cruiser were some kind of aquarium.

Burris asked him, “You used to this?”

“To what?”

“People staring at you all the time.”

“I think it’s
you
they’re staring at. They’ve seen enough of me.” His grin seemed natural and unforced. “So tell me, Officer, what can I do
for you?”

“Well, I was just wondering. You went into Chummy’s convenience store the other day? The day after you won the lottery? You
recall that?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Oh, well. Seems silly now, but I felt I just had to go back there. To see where it all came down? That make sense?”

“The counter girl says you didn’t even know. Till she told you.”

“Know what?”

“That you’d won the jackpot.”

“Well, right. We were keeping it a secret.”

That easy smile again. He was good. Anyone else getting grilled in a patrol car might be squirming and sweating, but not McBride.

Burris got down to business: “Sir, you know a man by the name of Romeo Zderko?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I’d like to know the answer, sir.”

But be my guest, Burris thought, and deny it. I’d love to hear you deny it.

McBride didn’t deny it. He offered, in a surprisingly calm and flat voice, “Romeo used to be my best friend. Is he in some
kind of trouble?”

“Used to be? No more?”

“Uh-uh.”

“What happened?”

“Well. We came down here together, on vacation? We’ve been friends since we were kids. And we worked together up in Ohio.
So we were coming down 95, and I saw the sign for Brunswick, and I remembered this was where Mitch Boatwright was from. So
I said to Romeo, hey, I want to look up this guy I know, OK? This guy who helped me when I was so nuts? And he was fine with
that. So I called Mitch, hung out for a while. And then, you know, I go back to the motel, and then I get that call from Mitch,
he says, ‘Shaw, I think we won the jackpot.’

“So I told Romeo about this, and he says, ‘We won the jackpot?’ And I say, ‘Well,
I
won it.’ He goes, ‘Oh, no. We got a
deal
for this trip. We go half on
everything
.’ I say, ‘What? I’m not giving you half my jackpot ’cause of some deal about splitting expenses.’ And he goes, ‘Not
giving
me. What I’m
due
.’ I say, ‘You’re my best buddy, and you
will
get something good out of this. A Porsche at least.’ But he says, ‘I want my
half
.’ He starts, like, swearing at me. I mean he went completely apeshit. You know what I’m saying?”

It was hard for Burris to think straight. The radio kept buzzing in with news of trivial misdemeanors around the city. And
all those silent spectators were staring at him, and fireflies were flashing their secret messages and this interview might
have been the strangest thing he’d ever done in his life. But the story McBride was feeding him did have a sort of lit-from-within
plausibility.

Could it all be moonshine?
All
of it?

Just then he noticed that one of the devotees had a video camera and was taping this encounter. “Wait a minute,” he said.
“Is that from a news station?”

“Uh-uh,” said McBride. “One of our own. I could tell them to cut it out, if it’s making you uncomfortable.”

Burris murmured, “Too late now.”

Though he had a strong sense he’d wind up on the eleven o’clock news, and by morning be nothing but ashes. His job gone, his
pension gone, and Nell would get wind of this visit and think he was harassing her family and never speak to him again. So
that’ll be it then. So strike the tents.

McBride was going on: “Officer, you know the thing that’s setting Romeo off? What
I
think? This might sound odd, but I think it’s not the money. It’s just that he’s alone now. I mean we’ve been good friends
for a long time, and then we come down here, and me, I’m welcomed into this family. This world. But Romeo… well, he’s just
out there,
you know? He’s just all alone and drifting. You know? You understand?”

It did seem to cohere. Burris mumbled, “Yes I do.”

“So if you do have to pick him up,” said McBride, “Try to be kind to him, OK?”

“OK.”

“Oh, and I think there’s still some barbecue shrimp. The ladies made it. It’s kind of amazing. Can I fix you a plate?”

“No sir,” said Burris. “But thank you, sir. Been a long day. Feel kinda whupped.”

Romeo
had to jump a drainage ditch and negotiate a barbed-wire fence, then hike through swampy woods in the dark with only a rind
of pale damp moon to guide him. It was the smell of the fairgrounds that he got first — bug repellent and lamp oil and roasting
marshmallows. Then he started to hear the shouts and laughter, and finally he came to the edge of the trees and beheld a field
full of running kids. They were pursuing some peculiar game. A few of them, wearing red bandanas, were chasing the others
around the field. It took Romeo a moment before it came to him: this was the old game from Piqua, the game that he and Shaw
had made up when they were kids: Hawks and Sparrows.

Shaw himself was ‘base’. He called, “Come out, little Sparrows!” and the kids came running toward him, except the ones with
red bandanas — those were the Hawks. Their job was to catch the Sparrows. As Romeo remembered, if a Hawk caught you then you
had to go to the Hawks Nest. But you were safe so long as you were touching Shaw, or touching someone else who was touching
him. But since Shaw was always moving, the Sparrows had to scramble wildly to keep their holds, shrieking and climbing Shaw’s
back, and the Hawks hovered close to them and taunted.

When Shaw shouted, “Hide, little birds!” all the Sparrows had to leave him and run for their lives.

Romeo could see that everyone was in bliss. Because of the wild cycles of the game, of course, but also on account of the
dusk, the fireflies, the colliding fragrances.

A small flock of Sparrows came running into the shelter of the trees. They saw Romeo, and cried, “Hawk! Hawk!” and ran off
again. He felt abysmally banished and unreal, and wished he hadn’t come. Yet he didn’t leave. He stayed there, watching. Even
when the game faded, after the kids were called to their cabins and tents and campers and RVs, he stayed.

In the dark, his alarm buzzed. Time to call Shaw. He pressed 7 on his keypad — and across the field, Shaw opened his phone.

“How you doing, Romeo?”

“OK.”

“I’ve got news. That old cop came by to see me. But I think I
broke
him. I mean really, I think he’s shattered. You know what’s amazing? It’s amazing how much these people want to protect me.
Jesus. Romeo, you wouldn’t believe these people.”

Even as he spoke, Romeo was watching him stroll along near the line of tents, like a general inspecting a bivouac. While Trevor,
his aide-de-camp, lagged fifteen steps behind, to give him privacy for the call.

Shaw murmured, “Of course we have tricky moments ahead. Have to find some way to take our winnings and move on, and keep the
Boatwrights scared from a distance. But we’ll do it. I have a plan for that. Oh listen, you have to dump the Tercel.”

“I do?”

“That old cop will be watching for it now. Get a new ride.”

“But I like the Tercel.”

“Jesus,” said Shaw. “You should see these fireflies!”

“Yeah. I see them too.”

“Where are you?”

“Patrolling. Shaw, I got a question.”

“OK.”

“Who should I kill first? I mean suppose you don’t answer my call? I was thinking Nell but that seems too obvious. That’s
the first place the cops would cover, right? So how about Vanessa and Henry? Tara said how much she likes Cousin Vanessa’s
art and all. Right?”

Shaw had stopped in the field. “Romeo. You won’t need to kill anyone. We’re good now.”

“Or I could do Shelby,” Romeo went on, as though Shaw hadn’t said a word. “But he’s got those kids and could I really kill
them? Maybe I could. Though if it’s daytime the kids’ll be in school and then I’m pretty sure I’d want to do Shelby first.”

“Hey!” said Shaw. Sudden flash of impatience. “Stop talking about killing! This isn’t about killing! This is about love!”

Romeo fell silent.

“Stop worrying,” said Shaw, and he was soft again. “The whole world is on our side now.”

Burris,
checked off by doom, unsalvageable, sat in the cruiser in front of Nell’s house, and watched Nell working in her kitchen.
Nell was facing away from him, but by her slight hunch and the small rhythmic movement of her shoulders he figured she was
washing dishes. He knew he should get away from there before he was tempted to do something stupid. Like going in and trying
to talk to her. No. Drive away
now
. What are you doing here?

I have business, he told himself.

No you don’t. Move along.

I have to warn her.

Go home.

Nell turned and hung a washcloth on a little hook. And Burris got out of the Taurus and marched toward the porch.

Losing steam quickly though. By the time he reached the top step of the portico he was thinking, this is
suicide
. This will be added to the long list of memories that make me cringe and weep, and will stay with me forever. He was at the
point of retreating — but then the automatic porchlight flicked on, and Nell came to the door to see who it was.

Through the open screen door she said, “Burris?”

He felt deeply the chill in her tone.

“How are you, Nell?”

“I’m fine.” But she spoke it briskly, and pointedly she wasn’t asking him in.

Behind her, two cats were on the kitchen table, one was on the floor, one was in the rocking chair. All were eyeballing him.
The one in the rocker looked like a living electric shock. Burris knew he was an imbecile to have come, but now he had to
play it through. He said, “Sorry to be visiting so late. I saw your light.”

“I was just about to turn in.”

“OK. Could I have one minute though?”

“Why?”

“Just something I need to talk to you about.”

“What is it?”

What an indignity having to stand out here. What a rude stony-hearted woman. Which she’s always been, come to think of it,
and I was a sap to have ever chased her. She’s always been a diva, and her looks which were never much are now completely
shot. Also, this house reeks of too many cats.

Still, it gave him vertigo to be so close to her.

Finally she threw him a crumb: “Burris, you want to come in?”

“Thank you.”

The screen door creaked. She gently purged the kitchen table of its cats, and he took a seat. Noticing the trophy head he
said, “That’s not a real buck, is it?”

“No. It sings.”

Not deigning though to make it sing for
him.
She just sat across from him and folded her arms and waited.

At last he began. “Well, what I’ve come about? I’ve come about Shaw McBride.”