Widow Town (12 page)

An electronic chime sang in the back of the store as Gray shut the front door behind him.

He gazed around the small shop, its space made to look like a farmhouse from years ago. The wood floors were tarnished with nail heads painted on in uneven rows. The walls were a soft beige trimmed with a border of chickens pecking in a yard, sitting on eggs in a coop, and huddling close in a winter scene. Crystal figurines graced shelves, their actions frozen in mid-stride. An antique
grandfather clock ticked in a corner, and hand-carved picture frames holding digital screens stood in rows along the front counter. ‘Memories’ was painted in stylish letters, faded to look vintage on the far wall.

Gray made it to the cash register before Lynn emerged from the back room.
She stopped mid-stride, her dark hair pulled up and folded the way she wore it so many times at home, before.

“Good morning,” h
e said, trying a careful smile.

Lynn continued walking
toward the cash register. “What do you want, Mac?”

“Was passing by and thought I’d stop in.”

“So what do you need?”

“Just to say hi.”

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

She sighed and walked away, carrying two oblong globes with sparkling rocks suspended within a viscous fluid. Gray followed her across the store, keeping his distance.

“Are those selling well?”

Lynn placed the globes on a shelf, kept her back to him. “As good as everything else.”

“I always liked those.
”

“I know.”

“Business has been okay?”

“
Not great, but I’m getting by.”

“Good. People sti
ll coming in despite the heat?”

“Yeah, mostly because o
f the air conditioning though.”

“You s
hould start charging for that.”

She
turned to face him and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “What are you doing, Mac?”

“Breaking ice, isn’t it obvious?” He tried the smile again.
Lynn’s face remained impassive.

“Mac, do you know how ironic it is t
hat you’re trying to talk now?”

“Listen, I know, but
—”

“No, I’m not doing this again, we’ve been over things too many times.” Lynn pushed past him and made h
er way back toward the counter.

“But we haven’t, we really haven’t and that’s what
’s wrong.”

She wheeled on him, her pointer finger poking out from a clenched fist. “No, you will not do this to me today, I’m through with your blame-shifting shit, Mac. You had ample time to talk to me when we were married and you didn’t. When you came home from work you’d be so
self-involved I’d be lucky to get a ‘goodnight’ out of you before bed.”

“That was Minneapolis, why do you think I suggested we move back here? I wanted to slow things down, I wanted a life with you where I wasn’
t burnt at the end of the day.”

“But it didn’t change when we came here, Mac, don’t you see? You just shifted your energy from a grueling and painful schedule to becoming the sheriff, and after you accomplished that you were
busy getting things organized.”

“I was home way more tha
n you’re giving me credit for.”

“You were home, but you weren’t with me,” Lynn said, tapping her chest. “You haven’
t been with me in a long time.”

Gray shifted his eyes down to the floor. “You’re right, I kno
w you’re right, and I’m sorry.”

Lynn shook her head. “It’s not eno
ugh, Mac, too little too late.”

Gray opened his mouth to speak and struggled for a moment before shutting it. He shrugg
ed, looking at the floor again.

Lynn pursed her lips and moved behind the count
er. “Listen, I have to haul in some more boxes from the back.”

Gray nodded and began walking toward the front door. He stopped halfway there and turned back to her. “The
town celebration is tomorrow.”

“I’ve seen the signs.”

“Are you going?”

Lynn
shifted her gaze to him. “Yes.”

“With him?”

If she was surprised he knew, she didn’t show it. “If you have to know, yes, with Mark.”

Gray dropped his eyes to the floor, dipped his head once. “Hope h
e’s a better dancer than I am.”

He turned toward the door again and stopped, running his hand over the wood before dropping it to the handle. “I was finally able t
o go in there the other night.”

The silence of the shop became
so loud his ears rang with it. Lynn took in a slow breath.

“Mac
—”

“I just wanted to tell you that. I hadn’t set foot in there in over eight months
, but I managed to do it. I wanted you to know.”

Without looking back
he pulled the door open and stepped into the building heat of the morning, the electronic chime the only farewell he received.

The street was nearly deserted, the hour too early for most businesses to be open. The sun shone in
spangles of light too bright to look into. Every inch of glass was a mirror speaking in blinding tones. A car glided by, its engine ticking beneath its hood.

Gray made his way to the cruiser and dropped inside, reaching for an iced coffee that was already warming on the dash.
The bark of the radio startled him and a drop of coffee fell to his thigh.

“Sheriff, you there?” Mary Jo’s voice came through the speakers so loud he winced.

“Go ahead, Mary Jo.”

“Sheriff, I just got a call from Wheaton Medical and you’re going to want to get over there right away.

“Okay,” he said, starting the engine while he stowed away the coffee. “What’s going on?”

“A transport driver found a man out on East Six
early this morning in a ditch.”

“Okay?”

“Sheriff, they think it’s Miles Baron.”

Gray turned the last corner on the third floor of Wheaton Medical and spotted the door he was looking for.

A tall d
octor in a white coat stood at the end of the corridor, his hands shoved into his pockets. He had sandy hair, swept to the side and wore an expression of concentration on his long face. His eyes moved back and forth between a Wheaton sheriff’s deputy and the bulky form of Sheriff Enson himself. Gray made his way toward them and Enson turned just as he stopped before the closed door beside the group.

“Gray, glad you could make it.”

“I bet.”

“We were just speaking with
Dr. Barder about his findings.”

“Well, I appreciate the help, Mitchel, but
I’ll be fine from here on out.”

Enson grimaced and gl
anced over his shoulder at the doctor. Barder looked between the three men and nodded once. “I’ll be inside whenever you gentlemen are ready to continue.” When the door shut behind him, Enson turned a gaze full of anger on Gray.

“What the hell’s the matter with you, Gray
?”

“Nothing, actually I feel fine, although hospitals do make me antsy at times. Nothing good except babies
come out of places like this.”

“Quit fucking around,
you know what I mean.”

“I know exactly what you mean, Mitchel, that’s why I’m saying thank you to you and this strapping young lad here for securing the door for me until
I arrived. Now you can leave.”

The deputy shrugged his shoulders and threw out his considerable chest as color began to creep up from Enson’s neckline in a border of red that advanced like an invading ar
my. “You don’t have the right.”

“Actually I do, Mitchel, you see Miles was taken from my county and was also found there, so the jurisdiction is mine.”

“I meant you don’t have the right to order me around, this is my county hospital. And he was not
taken
,” Enson said, spitting the last word.

Gray cocked his head. “I’m sorry, was he on vacation in
the woods for the last month?”

“I looked at the man’s wounds, he was attac
ked by an animal of some sort.”

“Thank you, d
octor, but I’ll wait until the medical evaluation comes in.”

“You’re a sonofabitch, Gray, you know that?”

“If I say I do, will it make you leave faster?”

The deputy stepped forward and put one thick finger in the middle of Gray’s shirt.
“You should watch your mouth.”

“And you should watch where you put your hands if you want to keep them attached,” Gray said, looking down at the deputy’s finger. He waited another beat and then looked up at the young man who
couldn’t have been older than twenty-two. Gray smiled. “Son, I’ve had two days full of shit and I’m not about to take any of yours.”

“Terrel, stop,” Enson said. The deputy sneered at Gray and then stepped back to a comfortable distance. “I’m warning you, Gray, no b
ullshit without backing it up.”

“I’d like to have one of my deputies stationed outside his door at all times,” Gray s
aid, ignoring Enson’s words as he glanced at the room number.

“No,
there isn’t any need for that.”

“Are
you deaf as well as stupid, Mitchel? Someone was holding that man somewhere and torturing him, the driver who brought him in said it looked like he was in a week-long knife fight.”

“The guy was shook up, that’s all. I’ll bet my paycheck that he was attacked by an animal and got lost in the woods.
Nothing more.”

Gray stepped nearer to the other sheriff. “There will be a guard outside this man’s door, Mitchel.” The hulking deputy
reached for Gray but Gray caught his arm at the wrist and squeezed, feeling the movement of the small bones there. The deputy grunted in surprise and tried to lunge forward but Enson stepped in the way.

“Stop it, let him go, Gray!”

Gray smiled and released his grip. The deputy tried to maintain a calm demeanor but couldn’t resist rubbing his wrist with the opposite hand.

“I’ll put a
guard here since this is my county,” Enson said, pushing his deputy back a few more inches. “That’s the best you’ll get, Gray.”

Gray sighed and clenched his jaw once before nodding. “Okay, but whoever it is s
tays on this door night and day. No leaving for the john, no going home before he’s relieved.”

“Fine.”

“Where’s the driver who brought Miles in?”

“He’s
downstairs in a meeting room.”

“Good. It’s been a pleasure, truly,” Gray said, looking at Enson before tipping
a wink at the glaring deputy. Gray turned away from the two men and opened the door to the hospital room.

It took a moment for
his eyes to adjust in the sudden shift of light. The room was spacious with an upright bureau to hold clothes standing near the only window, its shade tucking the sunlight out. A small bathroom opened to the left and a wide medical bed sat near the middle of the space with a headboard made completely of wires, blinking lights, and switches. Several of the hoses snaked down to the figure occupying the bed beneath a layer of heavy blankets.

Gray moved to
the bedside and nodded to the doctor who made an attempt at a smile and continued examining a digital chart in one hand, touching icons with the tip of his finger. Gray’s breath caught in his throat and he blinked, taking in the man who lay before him.

In school, Miles had been an athlete,
well built but a little gangly. Gray had been able to keep up with him on longer runs, but in the sprints, no one was faster than Miles Baron. The man who breathed slowly in and out in the bed now was at least forty pounds less than the last time he’d seen him. His hair was a dirty red, matted in some places with what could only be dried blood. Miles was bare chested, his skin blistered and raw around numerous lacerations that coated him like a rash. Some Gray could tell were deep while others were shallow and long, barely cutting through the uppermost layers of skin. Gray traced the pallid lines of his friend’s face down to the missing left hand ending in a freshly bandaged wad of gauze.

“My God,” Gray said, his eyes never leaving the massacred flesh.
“He’s cut to ribbons.”

“
Yes, he’s suffering from multiple lacerations and gouges on over eighty percent of his body,” Barder said, setting his chart down. “He’s extremely malnourished and dehydrated. His left hand has been amputated as you can see with a sharp object, but not so sharp to do a good job. It was basically hacked off. I’m amazed that he isn’t consumed with infection.”

Gray reached out and put a hand on his friend’s shrunken shoulder. The skin was cool and overly soft.
“Was he awake when he was brought in?”

“Semiconscious but unresponsive. We gave him a sedative to help him relax and we’re infusing him with a calorie
concentrate along with saline.”

“Will he make it?”

The doctor sighed and came closer to the bed, his intense eyes now filled with compassion. “This man has suffered more trauma than anyone I’ve ever seen in my twenty years as a physician, but he’s strong. His pulse is steady and I don’t see any signs of head injury.” Barder looked up at Gray and smiled. “I think he’s going to be okay.”

Gray released Miles’s shoulder and straightened. “Docto
r, what caused these injuries?”

“I won’t really be able to say until the digital analysis comes back along with the blood work.”

“In your opinion, I won’t hold you to it.”

“
My opinion? Someone did this to him, most likely with knives or hooked instruments.”

“So you
don’t think it was an animal?”

“Like t
he sheriff was insisting upon?”

Gray squinted at the other man
. “Is that what he was telling you to say?”

“He was s
uggesting it in so many words.”

“And you don’t think so?”

“Absolutely not. These wounds couldn’t have come from an animal; the lines are completely uniform in keeping with an edged object. An animal bite or claw marks would have tears; the trauma would be ragged, unkempt.”

Gray lowered his gaze, h
is eyes unfocused. “Thank you, doctor.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll be his primary physician while he’s here with us, so if you have any questions, please let me know. I’ll be sending over the lab results to your
office as soon as they come in and I’ll notify you with any changes.” Barder moved around the end of the bed and stood next to Gray. “You know, what scares me is not only that someone was insane enough to do this to him, but that he was found less than ten miles from my home.”

Gray glanced at him.
“You live near Shillings?”

“About fifteen miles northeast. They said he was found on
East Six, correct?”

“Yes.”

The doctor’s eyes glazed over. “Makes you wonder.”

Gray regarded the other man for a moment.
“Don’t worry, doctor, we’ll find whoever is responsible for this.”

“I hope you do,”
Barder said before quietly leaving the room.

Gray turned back to Miles and sighed, watching his friend’s face twitch in the
drug-induced sleep.

“You’re safe now, Miles, no one’s going to hurt you anymore.
Renna and Davey are on their way, they’ll be here soon.” Gray waited for any acknowledgment from the prone man. None came. “I’ll get them,” he said in a lower voice. “I’ll find them for you. They won’t go free.”

Miles’s right hand flew up from the bed and latched around Gray’s forearm.
He jerked in surprise but managed to keep the yell behind his teeth. Miles’s eyes sprung open, two traps of bloodshot veins that stared at the ceiling above the bed. Gray tried to pry his friend’s grip from his arm but he held fast.

“Dark,” Miles
whispered at the ceiling tiles, his broken voice drawing out the vowel. His hand relaxed and dropped away from Gray, settling on the bed once again. His eyes drifted shut, disappearing behind bruised lids.

“Miles?” Gray
said. “Miles, can you hear me?”

Nothing.
The other man breathed deep and exhaled, his thin chest rising and falling.

Gray stepped back from the bed, watching for any more movement. Miles lay still. He steadied the tremble in his fingers before reaching the door and moved into the hallway. The first thing he saw were two people moving toward him down the
corridor, a skinny boy with red hair leading a slender woman, swaying like a reed on the bottom of the sea. Gray tried to smile as they approached.

Davey’s face was lit from within by a cautious smile, his eyes shining. “Is it him, Sheriff Gray? Is it
Dad?”

Gray put a hand on the boy’s shoulder
. “Yes it is, Davey, it’s him.”

The restrained tears dropped down the boy
’s cheeks and he didn’t attempt to wipe them away.

“You’re sure?” Renna Baron said. Her voice startled Gray and he looked a
t her fully for the first time.

She had aged in the last three weeks since he’d seen her, her hair growing gray roots at the temples, eyes sunken in folds of worry lines that had no business being on a woman’s f
ace that had yet to turn forty.

“I’m sure, Renna.”

“Because I couldn’t take it not being him, not now. I won’t let myself believe it until I see him.”

Davey tried to move past Gray, towing his mother with him, but Gray stopped him w
ith a gentle hand on his chest.

“Wait just a second, son, I need to say something to both of you.”
He paused, looking from one face to the other. One so aged, damaged by despair, the other young enough to still hope. “I want to warn you, Miles is in pretty bad shape.”

“He was in an accident, right? That’s what they
told us at the front desk,” Davey said, trying to look over Gray’s shoulder at the door behind him.

“We’re not sure yet, but he doesn’t look like the last time you saw him, so I want you to be prepared, okay?” Davey blinked several times and then nodded. Renna stared. “I’ll have the
doctor sent in right away and he can speak with you both.”

Gray released Davey and stepped aside for them to pass. Davey opened the door like a present on Christmas, flinging it away to get inside, his mother a weightless waif
towed behind him.

Gray readjusted his hat and began to walk away but not fast enough to
drown out the muffled cries of intermingled joy and horror that came from behind the closed door.