Shadows Burned In (22 page)

“I understand you’re worried, Mr. Jackson,” he said in the
most soothing voice he could muster after being pulled out of bed. “But
statistics show she’ll be back by morning. She came back this evening, didn’t
she? And she even knew she was in for it after being dismissed from school.”

“Yes, but now she’s gone again.
Again
.” David paced
the living room as he talked to Applewhite. The sheriff appraised his
nervousness and, had he been interrogating Jackson for, say, a bank robbery,
his lawman’s instincts would tell him that the man was guilty as hell. “And I
saw on the news tonight,” said David, “that a prisoner from Huntsville escaped.
A child molester! I mean, the streets aren’t safe anymore, no matter
where
you
fucking live!”

Applewhite sat down on the couch in hopes that by doing so,
Jackson would calm down a bit. “That’s under control, Mr. Jackson. It’s nearly a
hundred and fifty miles away. And Wayne Alan Kitts is damned near seventy years
old. I doubt he’s made it this far this quickly.”

“Yes, but you don’t
know
that, do you?” The question
came from Susan, who was sitting on the far end of the couch. She’d been pretty
quiet until now, but she’d obviously been crying. Her fear at the mention of
the escaped prisoner was too much to keep bottled up inside.

“No, ma’am, I can’t say that for sure, that’s true.”

“Can’t you at least look for her?” asked David, sitting
down. His face seemed to have aged several years in the last few minutes.

Applewhite sighed. So much for finishing out at least six
hours’ sleep before tomorrow’s shift started. Sometimes he really hated being
on call all the time. Then he pushed the thought aside. “I know y’all are
worried.” He sighed again.
Make a commitment
, he heard his wife’s voice
say. “I’ll tour around the neighborhood, see what I can find.”

“Thank you, Sheriff!” The relief from Susan was like water
on a fire. Someone was handling it, everything would be fine now was what her
voice said.

“Do you mind if I ride along?” asked David.

Applewhite paused. Technically, he should say no. But he put
himself in Jackson’s place for half a second and said, instead, “No, I suppose
not. You can look out one window and I’ll look out t’other.”

“I’m coming too,” announced Susan.

“No,” said David, and the fire in her eyes pulled him up
short for contradicting her, particularly in front of company. “She might come
back here. You should be here in case she does.”

Susan swallowed her argument and waved him out the front
door.

The two men got into the front seat of the sheriff’s car.

“You’re not supposed to be sitting up here,” Applewhite
observed as he started the car.

“You want me to move to the back?”

The sheriff considered the question. “No, stay where you
are. It’s all right.” He backed the car out of the driveway and turned east
down Elm Street. “We’ll make the block and slowly widen our search area to
cover more streets. If we don’t find her by morning, I’ll call my deputies and
we’ll go by foot.”

He kept the car below five miles an hour, occasionally
swinging his spotlight around to find a cat or a bush catching the wind.

“Elizabeth!” David yelled out the passenger window. His eyes
scoured the dark patches where bushes and grass disappeared around neighbors’
houses. “Elizabeth!”

With his spotlight and eyes scanning, Applewhite said,
“She’s not a dog to come a’runnin when you call, y’know. You’re more liable to
scare her off than anything by doing that.”

Though reluctant to take his eyes away from the search,
David glanced at him and said, “How do you figure that?”

“If she ran away, Mr. Jackson, she’s not likely to come to
the sound of your voice.”

“We don’t
know
she ran away. Her window was open.
Maybe somebody
took
her. Maybe that child molester took her! Ever think
of that?”

Applewhite decided the conversation might detract from the
search after all, so he pulled his car over to the side of the street and
stopped. “Yes,” he said quite rationally, “I thought of that. But you said
yourself that she ran away earlier today. Then you disciplined her and—by all
appearances—she’s run away again. We’re a long way from Huntsville, Mr.
Jackson, and Kitts is an old man. Odds are he didn’t make a beeline for your
house or anyone else’s in Hampshire. Odds are he’s lying at the bottom of the
Trinity River, hounded there by the prison dogs.” Applewhite realized his voice
had gotten harsh. He didn’t like people second-guessing his work, as if he were
an uneducated hick who didn’t know his own job. But then he put himself in the other
man’s shoes again and realized David was just a worried father. He said a bit
more softly, “I don’t think anyone took her.”

“You don’t
think
.”

“Mr. Jackson, do you know when the last child abduction was
in this county? Twelve years ago. Little Shelly Meyer over in Sweeny. Mother
snatched her out of the community park, the one across from the cemetery. The
parents were estranged and the mother wanted the daughter, simple as that.
Things like that just don’t happen around here. Much.”

David turned his eyes to scan out the passenger window.
“That’s what I used to think, Sheriff. It’s why I moved us here.” He paused,
and Applewhite recognized the sign of a man trying to stifle tears in front of
another man. Jackson cleared his throat after a long pause. “I just want
Elizabeth to be safe.”

Out of respect for Jackson, Applewhite made a show of
turning his spotlight on the trees outside his own window. He counted the
leaves on a branch just across the road before saying, “I know, Mr. Jackson.
But let me do my job my way. Odds are, we’ll find her and she’ll be fine. No
promises, but I have a feeling about this one.”

David looked at him, despite his misting eyes. “How do you
know that?”

Applewhite turned to him, let him see the conviction in his
eyes. “Half my job is following my gut,” the sheriff said. “My gut’s telling me
she’s fine.”

It was a sixth sense all lawmen—the good ones,
anyway—developed over time. Good lawmen could form a likely theory, more often
right than not, with limited evidence and a lifetime’s experience with human
nature. This situation told Applewhite that they’d find Jackson’s daughter safe
and sound, and then the
real
trouble would pick up again. And if it
wasn’t taken care of inside their family, in about two years or so, an
estranged Susan Jackson might decide to pick up her daughter one afternoon from
the community park without informing her ex-husband. And then it would be
Applewhite’s problem again.

“Now, if we’re done talkin,” he said, “let’s find your
daughter.”

David relaxed a bit. “Yeah, okay. I’ll shut up. And do
whatever you need to do. I know you know your job.”

Applewhite nodded, putting the car in gear again. “Good.
Look out that window. Tell me if you see anything.”

Chapter 20

It was a rare thing for anyone to be prowling the streets of
Hampshire after midnight. This late, the town was covered in a quiet calm that
had once convinced David Jackson of its safety. And despite what he’d said,
despite his sense of dread for Elizabeth’s well-being, somehow driving these
empty streets now with Applewhite helped reassure him that the town itself
hadn’t let him down.

They made a perfect square around the block but found no
sign of Elizabeth. Then Applewhite pulled his patrol car into an overgrown
driveway and parked, stretching over David to look out the passenger window.

“What is it?” David asked, then saw what was attracting the
sheriff’s attention.

Old Suzie’s house.

Something inside David wasn’t surprised to find them here.
Since yesterday, he’d been thinking off and on about that Halloween thirty
years earlier, and Theron’s dare and having to hide his smelly Batman costume.

Old Suzie’s house made it hard
not
to remember. There
was firelight burning inside the house, and that teased the old fears of
childhood. They climbed up his spine on spindly legs to stroke the back of his
neck. “I, uh, I thought no one lived there anymore,” he said.

“No one does,” deadpanned the sheriff.

“Well then—kids? Someone set a fire?”

The sheriff unfastened his safety belt. David wasn’t so sure
he was glad to be along for the ride after all. Then his fear for Elizabeth—his
need
to find her—took over, and the little boy so preoccupied with Old
Suzie and her Halloween cauldron was pushed aside by the worried father he’d
become.

“I don’t think so,” said Applewhite as he opened his car
door and stepped out. “Why don’t you stay here until I get back?”

A voice in the back of his head, a little boy’s voice that
had once chanted “Regina, Regina, she’s such a va-jeena,” thought maybe that
wasn’t such a bad idea.

“No, I’m coming with you. Elizabeth might be in there.”

Applewhite nodded wearily. “Suit yourself.” It was just too
damned late to argue about it.

They walked up to the porch, and the sheriff motioned David
to hold up a second. Applewhite looked the boards over, assessing the decayed
state of the wood, and decided there was only one way to find out if they would
hold his weight. He placed his hand on the rail and stepped up. At first he had
the palpable sensation the house was falling over on him, crushing him beneath
its dead weight. During that moment he wanted nothing to do with Old Suzie’s
house. Though he’d known her when she was alive, he hadn’t approved when folks
began to turn their children away from her at the grocery store. So he didn’t
see as how the house might have it in for him. But for that brief moment filled
with vertigo and fear, he thought they might just be right and the house was
cursed, as Frank McFreod, the last-of-his-kind real estate agent in town,
claimed. But then the moment passed and after a few steps he found himself
standing at the front door.

Applewhite could hear voices inside.
Children
, he
thought, and before he could stop it, the other voice in his head—the same one
that berated him for being a pussy when he didn’t go all-in playing
poker—wondered if they weren’t the ghosts of the children she’d cooked and
eaten all those years ago. He shrugged it off like he’d shrugged off the gossip
about Suzie when she was still alive and opened the front door.

creeeeeak

The sheriff winced.

“Why are we going so slow?” asked David.

“
Shhhh
,” said Applewhite, waving his hand. He hadn’t
even heard Jackson come up behind him.
Too late and too old
, said his
poker voice.
Fuck you
, he shot back. “Go my speed or go back to the
car.” His tone was simple, direct.

They walked through the entryway, passing a closet on either
side, and stepped into the parlor proper.

“Hello, Sheriff.”

The voice startled Applewhite, and he thought with a sudden
bitterness that he didn’t have his gun in his hand. Didn’t even have the flap
unsnapped from his holster.

I ain’t sayin nuthin
, the poker voice poked at him.

He moved his hand to unsnap the holster but stopped when he recognized
the voice. It was coming from the other side of the armchair, its dusty
upholstery flickering with the light from the fireplace. Then he noticed the
two children sitting cross-legged on the floor, one of them a girl petting a
dog lying beside her. Her face matched the picture he’d been given.

See? Told you it’d work out
.

“Elizabeth!”

Applewhite noted the quality in her father’s voice. He’d
heard it many times before. At first, the near disbelief that she’d actually
been found, unharmed. Then the relief in knowing that she was all right. Then
the love that losing her had recalled. All spoken instantly when he’d said her
name.

“Daddy?”

David ran to her and, though she shied away at first, he
picked her up anyway. He hugged her close and, after a moment, she returned his
embrace.
Reluctantly
, Applewhite noted.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” he said into her hair. “We were
so
worried.”

“I’m okay, Daddy,” she said. His emotion made her want to
cry. She had never seen him like this. Had never imagined in her fertile
imagination that he could
be
like this.

There, once again the old gut is right on target
,
thought Applewhite. “Well, Rocky, how you been?”

The old man shifted in his armchair to watch the sheriff as
Applewhite walked into the parlor. “Pretty good, Sheriff. You?”

“Fair,” Applewhite said, his breathy tone adding,
for
being up at one
A.M.
and wondering if my foot’s going to go
through the next floorboard I step on
.

David put his daughter down with a smile and turned his eyes
on the old man. He’d known what he was looking at when he’d walked in here but
had been so anxious to ensure Elizabeth’s safety, he’d ignored it till now.
“Who the hell are you?” he asked, losing the smile.

“Nobody you know,” replied the old man. Someone else
might’ve gotten up, a defensive move against the challenge in the younger man’s
voice. But the old man was old and so he stayed in the chair.

David’s eyes narrowed. “I know you.”

The old man leaned forward into the firelight. “Somehow I
doubt it.”

David shook his finger loosely. “No, I’ve seen you before.
I’m sure of it.”

Rocky shrugged.

“You probably have,” said Applewhite. “He works the roads
for me. I struck a deal with him. I let him kick around town, he scrapes up the
roadkill for the county.”

“That’s it!” said David through his epiphany. “You’re the
Walking Man.”

The old man grinned through wasted teeth. “I
do
walk
a lot.”

With that curiosity satisfied, David advanced, asking,
“What’ve you been doing with my little girl?” The old man drew away from him, pressing
back into the armchair.

“Whoa, hoss,” said Applewhite, moving between them and
placing a hand on David’s chest
.
“
H
old
up a minute. We don’t know that he’s been doing
any
thing.”

“Daddy, he’s been nice to me!” Elizabeth said, coming up behind
David and placing her hand on his arm.

The dog lifted her head from the floor and watched the scene
unfold in front of her. Her ears were up, her eyes focused. She seemed to sniff
at David to scent his intent.

“Nice how?”

“Mr. Jackson—”

“Hey,” said David, throwing his arms up and away, freeing
himself from both Applewhite and Elizabeth, “I just asked a question. Nice
how
,
Elizabeth?”

“He
. . .
” She knew by hesitating
she made it look bad for Rocky, but she wasn’t sure how to answer the question.

“Nice how?”
prompted her 3V voice.

“He talked to me,” she said finally
.
“
That’s
all. He just talked to me.”

“Uh-huh,” said her father, “and what did he say?”

“Now son,” said Rocky, “I’d never hurt your daughter.”

“I wasn’t asking
you
,” said David. He had it all now,
the whole picture. Just the details were missing. What had the old man been
saying to her and the boy she was with? Had he been trying to make them do
things? Together? So he could watch?

“Ghosts, Mr. Jackson,” said Michael. “We talked about ghosts
and stuff. You know, for Halloween.” The boy sounded scared.

“Ghosts?” exploded David, incredulous. The boy might as well
have suggested they’d been talking about
Web Report
.

“Am I gonna have to knock you upside the head?” asked
Applewhite. David’s gaze met the sheriff’s, and though Applewhite’s tone had
been playful, his eyes weren’t. “Now, we ain’t seen any evidence of any harm to
your daughter, or to this boy neither, if anyone’s keepin score.” He knelt next
to Elizabeth and put his hand on her arm. You can tell things by touching
people. Whether they like to be touched or whether they’re afraid of it. Though
Elizabeth shied at first, she seemed to sense the protection in his hand. In
turn, Applewhite sensed her need for it. A family portrait of the Jackson clan
formed in his mind, the sketch he’d drawn earlier now filled in with some color
by the brush of his intuition. “Did he hurt you, Elizabeth?” asked the sheriff.
“Rocky, I mean.”

“
No
,” she said. “He’s been really nice to me. And
Michael too. We’ve just been talking. I met him earlier today—”

“Earlier today?” Incredulity again.

“Mr. Jackson, I’m
really
good with my baton.”
Applewhite turned back to Elizabeth. “You sure, honey?”

“Yes, I’m
sure
,” she replied in her 3V voice, out
loud for a change.

The sheriff nodded, knowing it was so, and stood up, looking
over to the other culprit. “Michael Miller, your momma know you’re out?”

The boy, hands in his pockets, looked at the floor. “No,
sir.”

“Then I think it’s best she knows you’re all right, at
least.”

The boy frowned, knowing that translated into being
grounded. “Yes, sir,” was all he said.

Applewhite turned to the old man. “You really shouldn’t have
that fire burnin, Rocky. Ain’t safe in an old house like this. Don’t make me
look up the ordinance.”

The old man shrugged. “Forgot to pay my electric bill this
month,” he said, motioning at a shady corner. “And the boy seems a bit skittish
of ghosts.” He smiled at Michael.

“Hey!” exclaimed the boy. “I weren’t no more scared than
she
was.”

“Liar!” Elizabeth proclaimed.

“All
right
.” David’s tone was less than patient and
more than tired. “That’s enough from both of you. It’s too late to be arguing.
Elizabeth. You’re coming home with me. As for you, Michael, Sheriff Applewhite
will take you home, won’t you, Sheriff?”

“Sure,” said Applewhite as he thought about it. Part of him
was convinced Jackson might have more in store for Elizabeth than a good
talking to. He’d seen the way the girl had drawn away from him at first. But it
was hard to distinguish what might be a telltale sign of one thing from a
simple case of the I-got-caughts.
Sometimes I really hate this job
. He made
a judgment call and felt more than anything like he’d just tossed a coin in the
air. Not liking that feeling, Applewhite decided to sit the fence. “Y’know, I
can drop y’all off too, on the way to Michael’s.”

“That’s all right, Sheriff,” David said
.
“
I
t’s just a walk up the street for us. Night air might
do us some good.”

The sheriff hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Why don’t you
take the kids out on the porch, Mr. Jackson? I want to talk to Rocky here for a
minute.”

David gave him a look that said,
Uh-huh, you take your
club to that old pervert
, which Applewhite shrugged off. Elizabeth felt her
father’s hand on her shoulder and moved a little faster in front of him so she
wouldn’t have to. They made their way through the entryway and out the front
door.

“What’s on your mind, Sheriff?”

Applewhite turned back to him and leaned against the wall.
He had the passing thought that he might go straight through the wood rot and
into the kitchen, but the old wall held his ten-too-many-hotdogs frame.

“Once things cool down in their house,” he began, sounding
like a doctor who’s seen all he needs to see in the test results, “word’ll
spread that you’re livin here. That in itself ain’t a bad thing, though Frank
McFreod will come down and bend my ear the wrong way about it. This is private
property, after all.”

“But Sheriff, there ain’t nobody livin here. Ain’t been in
years.”

“Doesn’t make any difference. The long-story-short of it is,
you don’t own the place. But like I said, that
ain’t
the biggest part of
it. Hell, McFreod knows he can’t sell this place. Too many spook stories. And
it’s too dilapidated. Nobody in their right mind’d buy it. And there ain’t too
many folks—Jackson there is a notable exception—beatin down the doors of
Hampshire lookin for a home anyway.”

“So what’s the big deal? I ain’t hurtin nobody by stayin
here.”

The sheriff paused a moment and looked at the old man. Rocky
had always struck him as someone who didn’t like charity. Would’ve been
offended if you’d offered it to him. That’s why Applewhite had suggested the
job of cleaning up the animals who got hit along the highway. Nobody else
wanted to do it, and it gave the old man a little spending money. But he
earned
it, and that was all the difference to men like Rocky. Besides, the fuckers
from the county were always a week behind the sideswipe schedule.