The Devil Walks in Mattingly (34 page)

Getting even, she’d said—
Do you ever think there’s a better place, not like heaven but maybe? Do you ever feel like everything’s broken and the pieces won’t fit together again?

And there was something else as well, something Kate had found the day before in Lucy’s living room that she’d not mentioned to Jake or Clay Seekins or Trevor, something in the carpet with
Safe and Effective!
written in purple on the front. A part of Kate had known even then that Lucy had run away. She’d sat with Kate and Zach at the meeting, not with Johnny Adkins and his parents. The only reason boyfriend and girlfriend would avoid each other at a time like that was if they were boyfriend and girlfriend no more.

And yet Kate had lied and said otherwise. She’d put all the blame on Jake and said nothing to the contrary when Trevor took the leap of connecting Lucy to Taylor. She’d kept still even when she knew Trevor would write a story that would end both her husband’s career and their life in Mattingly. Lying there in the midst of another almost perfect morning in what was once an almost perfect life, Kate realized she had harmed her marriage more than any lie Jake could tell. She had sacrificed his reputation for fear of what Lucy’s disappearance truly meant—that Kate had not done enough, and now another child was gone because of her.

In Kate’s mind life was a scale upon which all stood. People were born in the middle and spent their lives drifting to one side or the other—teetering as their faith and love grew, tottering when they gave in to sin and hate. Kate’s own scale had tottered the day she played her trick on Phillip, and there it had stuck. It did not move when Sheriff Houser got that anonymous call and Phillip’s body was found, nor even when
Phillip’s death was ruled a suicide. Kate knew she’d taken Phillip McBride’s life even before he could take it himself, as did all of those who’d peered and laughed from the bleachers that day. And though those same classmates greeted Kate each day with genuine love—and though she’d begged for and received God’s forgiveness every day since—still Kate had not felt that scale evened. Only the penance of serving children like Phillip would shift that balance. Kate had known all along it would take more than one notebook to gain freedom from her past. Now she knew there wouldn’t be enough want in the world for her to be free of both Phillip and Lucy.

She felt Jake’s hand touch her hip and turned. His face appeared drawn and thin in the morning light. Thick stubble filled in the shallow craters where cheeks had once been. The drawn skin over his stomach rose and fell against pajama pants that barely covered his hips. She and Zach had given those pants to Jake the Christmas before—blue ones with white pinstripes and
World’s Greatest Dad
stenciled on the right thigh. They’d been so tight that the drawstring had disappeared into the waistband, but he had refused to let Kate return them. Now a full three inches of that drawstring had been dug out and knotted just to keep the pants from falling to his ankles.

“Jake?”

His eyes were on the ceiling.

“You’ve been here all night?” She felt a sudden hope. It was a small one, but in light of her dream and
KA . . . te
and Lucy saying the world didn’t fit anymore and the town about to discover that their sheriff had failed them all, even a small hope was reason enough to carry on. “You didn’t dream?”

Jake nodded. Kate didn’t understand if that meant
Yes, I didn’t dream
or
Yes, I did
. He turned his head to her.

“I dreamed,” he said.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you.”

“I didn’t scream,” he said. “It wasn’t that kind of dream this time. Because I gave up, I think. I was too tired, so I stopped and just listened. I think that’s what he’s wanted me to do from the start. He says he’s coming, Kate, and I think he really is. He’s coming for us all.”

“Who?” Kate moved closer. Jake’s breath smelled like drying moss, and a horrible notion came to her—
My husband is dying from the inside out
. “Who’s in your dreams?”

“Phillip McBride.”

“Phillip?” she asked. The name came out cracked and unnatural, as though Kate believed its mention could summon forth the demon that slept under all those names in her notebook and all those trips to the Family Dollar. Jake’s face blurred behind the tears that formed in her eyes. “Why are you dreaming of Phillip, Jake? What do you mean he’s coming for us?”

The telephone rang. Jake reached for it before the noise woke Zach. Kate took his hand and held it. The ringing continued.

“No,” she said. “Don’t answer it, talk to me. Why are you dreaming of Phillip?”

The answering machine picked up—Zach’s voice saying thanks for calling the Barnetts but we’re out now and if you want to leave a message go right on ahead. A beep sounded next, followed by the breathless voice of Reggie Goggins.

“Jake?” he said. “Jake, you there? You gotta get down to the sheriff’s office. Trevor’s got a story about you, and someone’s done something. I’m not gonna be able to keep the people away, and I don’t want them to see it. Jake?”

Kate reached over me and grabbed for the phone. “Reggie, what’s wrong?”

“Kate?” he asked. “Listen to me. You gotta get down to the office right now, before anyone sees.”

“Why? What’s happened?”

“I don’t know what Jake did or didn’t do, but I don’t want things to get worse. You have to come up and clean off that door before the stores open, Kate. I’m gonna go try, but there’s nothing here at the church.”

“Clean what up, Reggie? We can’t come now. Zach isn’t even up and—”

“
Right now
,” the preacher said.

He hung up. Kate placed the phone back into the cradle.

“What’s wrong?” Jake asked.

“I don’t know. He said something happened at the sheriff’s office and we have to get down there. Something about the door.”

To Kate’s amazement, her husband’s skin found a paler shade of white.

9

Lucy woke when she reached for Taylor and found nothing but knotty clumps of soiled mattress. The cabin was empty. Breakfast waited on the table—more stew and another cup of tea from the smell, both of which were fine—and the fire in the hearth was more ember than flame.

She put a hand to her head, meaning to brush the hair from her eyes, but felt only skin and stubble. Lucy carried no remorse for what she had done in front of her bathroom mirror those nights before. The looks she’d gotten from those in town—Kate’s and Zach’s, everyone’s at the meeting, even Hollis Devereaux’s—never once swayed her to think that taking those scissors to her hair was anything but right. But sitting there on Taylor’s bed, Lucy found she had gained her
freedom from one prison only to find herself in another. If the night before was any indication, all she’d succeeded in doing was making herself uglier.

She found Taylor at his overlook. Lucy thought it a wonder he hadn’t worn two half-moons into that rotten log, given how much time he sat there. She wanted to believe that wasn’t always the case, that Taylor spent so much time there now simply because winter had turned to spring and the valley lay in blossom. But a part of her knew that wasn’t true. In her mind Lucy could see Taylor huddled there against the falling snow and the bitter January wind, his binoculars in one hand and his book in the other. And if there was madness in that thought, it was tempered by Lucy’s next—that of herself huddled against that same snow and wind, though seated at the Hole rather than upon the log.

Taylor’s book was there that morning, but not the binoculars. His back slumped as Lucy sat.

“Fair morning,” he said.

She looked out toward the valley. A jagged line of rising sun eased its way southward, marching for the bends and dips that made up the hill country below. Mattingly lay nestled among patches of forest and square fields that stretched on forever.

“It is fair,” Lucy said. The perfect word.

She said no more, fearing where things would lead. They would have to speak of her failure the night before. No consequences had been discussed before she’d left to cross the rusty gate, but Lucy was smart enough to know some sort of payment would be required. The longer they sat in silence, the longer she could pretend nothing had changed. Yet as the minutes ticked on and the sun crept up the mountainside, Lucy came to see Taylor’s silence as proof things had not only changed, but there was no fixing them. It was the same sort of unease she felt
when her father left on his trips. Taylor had spoken of a coming end. Lucy didn’t know what he’d meant, but she thought whatever it was could only be made worse if she equated the man beside her with the man who had abandoned her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Lucy didn’t look at Taylor as she said those words. If she had, she would have seen the way his elbows drew in to his sides and the way his legs crossed. She would have seen his quick breaths. “I meant to kill—
wake
—that man. I know that doesn’t count for much. It doesn’t for me. I guess I just don’t believe like you do, Taylor, at least not yet. That shotgun was pointed right at him, but the second my finger went to the trigger, something stopped me. I don’t know what it was. All I know is when I was looking at him before, I saw the man who ruined my life. But when I looked at him down that barrel, all I saw was a tired old man.”

The Hollow stood still and silent around them. Taylor cleared his throat but said nothing. Lucy felt both of the things she held most dear slipping away.

“And I’m sorry for the other thing I did,” she said. “I didn’t know what else to do, so I just did what I’ve always done. I thought it would make you let me stay. I’ve been waiting and hoping for one thing all my life, Taylor. Eighteen years of shooting stars and pennies found heads-up on the street, all those times I’d closed my eyes to blow out birthday candles and waited in line to sit on Santa’s lap. Those nights when I’d hear my mom’s voice in the rain and pray to a God I knew wasn’t there. All that wishing, all just to be loved so hard that I’d know what it felt like to belong somewhere. And after all that hurt and praying, I finally got to a place where everything I’d ever wanted could be mine for just one little squeeze of my finger. And I couldn’t even do that. Maybe you said no because you’re older and you think I’m just a kid, but I’m not. I’m eighteen
now. I’m an adult living out here in the wilderness and running from bears and whatever else lives here, and I’m no girl. I’d rather be with a man now. I’ve been with too many boys.”

Lucy felt as though she was navigating a thin wire over a deep canyon. In such cases the best thing was to keep moving forward. As long as she talked, Taylor couldn’t.

“It’s okay that you said no,” she said. “I knew you were mad.” And there was one last option, this so terrible only because it was so likely. “Or maybe you just think I’m too fat and ugly and don’t have any hair.”

There was nothing more she could say, no further defense she could offer. Lucy could only endure the silence now. She could sit still and quiet upon that log for however long Taylor allowed it and face whatever came next with the same hard resolve he summoned to face his every day, and she would hide the tears that spilled from her eyes.

Taylor did not look at her. When he spoke, his voice was as quiet as a breeze. “It’s a hard thing, waking a man. I believed you could, but mayhap that burden lies with me alone. If so, then I welcome it. I’d drown in that pain afore I’d have you dip your toes in it. You say it hurt, lady, looking down that barrel? I say there’s a worse hurt that comes after. That’s the dream. The dream wants to keep everyone here. Wants to feed on us. I’m the only one strong enough to save the slumbering. I shouldn’t have asked you to help.”

“But that can’t be right, Taylor,” Lucy said. “What you say works fine up here, but it doesn’t make sense down there. You say people don’t die and that only you can wake them up, but you’ve been up here alone for so long you’ve forgotten that people
leave
. Dying or waking, people do it every day. People like my mom and Charlie. So how can you be the one making it happen?”

Taylor offered no reply. For a long moment, Lucy considered just how fragile his notions were. She believed Taylor was occupied with much the same. And yet even if that seemed to trouble him greatly, Lucy was unbothered. People believed all sorts of things. That there was a God or there were many or none, that there was a heaven and a hell or a great yawning empty. Why not believe the world was a dream? Why not put your faith in whatever made your living easier? She and Taylor were still together. Still in their fairy tale. All else didn’t matter.

Lucy reached across the log and took his hand. “I love you, Taylor.”

Taylor nodded, that was all, but Lucy saw his eyes grow soft and moist. That was well enough. She would rather hear silence from people than words they did not feel. Lucy had heard such words often enough.

10

I saw the crowd first and knew they hadn’t gathered that morning to seek pardon. This time they’d come to hear me beg my own.

Their heads turned at the Blazer’s approach. Zach said nothing from the backseat. Kate was silent as well. She reached for my hand when she saw the mob at the steps, one so large that it spilled out onto Main Street.

We parked at the curb. Bobby Barnes, Justus, and Mayor Wallis stood facing the door at the top of the steps. Their collective girth made it impossible for me to see what they were looking at. The crowd fell silent as we got out and stepped onto the sidewalk. Reverend Goggins picked his way through the people.

“I’m sorry, Jake,” he said. “I tried. I ran back here after calling you, wanting to find a bucket or a sponge or . . . or anything. But Trevor saw it. He was putting out his papers. Wasn’t anything I could do.”

My eyes scanned the people around me, most of whom I’d known all my life. They were men and women I sat with in church and greeted on the streets each day. People who had shared the comings of children and the passings of loved ones, livelihoods gained and lost, presents and futures heavy with hope and anguish. None of them were what anyone would call great. Mattingly was a small town of small folk who only wanted to live quietly. It was peace they wanted, no less than I did, and a desire to hide from the shadows that crept over the world. That very desire was why I’d agreed to become sheriff, but it was not until that morning I realized that to my town—to my friends—it lay upon me to keep those shadows away.