The Liar of Red Valley

by Walter Goodwater

  “Um,” Graciela said. “What the hell happened?”

  Sadie stood up and wiped dust from her hands. “I’ll explain on the way.”

  “The way where?”

  “I need a ride to the far side of the River,” she said. “I need to find my dad.”

  Chapter Five

  “This is nuts,” Graciela said as they neared the bridge. “You know that, right?”

  “What I know is I’ve got to find those ledgers,” Sadie said.

  The town in all its expiring glory slid lazily by her car window. Honest Bob’s Used Automotives had a sagging Going Out of Business sign across the half-empty car lot. In the park by the River, the grass was long dead and the trash cans spewed their contents onto the ground. No one played on the rusted playground. There were some signs of life by the Tastee-Freez, where kids hung around in sweaty clusters and licked melting soft-serve.

  “You think your dad has them?”

  Sadie shrugged. “My mom hid them somewhere. They aren’t at our house or I would have found them. And he’s the only other person I know she trusted. Sometimes.”

  They drove past a cluster of Hassler’s election posters. His eyes seemed to follow them.

  “You don’t talk about him much.”

  “What’s there to say? I’ve barely seen the dude more than a few times. I think he came to a piano recital once.”

  Graciela snorted. “You took piano lessons?”

  “It didn’t stick,” Sadie said. “Neither did having a dad. I don’t think he’s much of the parenting sort. He sure liked Mom, though. And Mom liked him okay too, until she didn’t.”

  The bridge stretched out ahead of them. They weren’t alone on the road; it wasn’t forbidden to cross over, after all, just stupid. Below them, the River churned. The never-ending drought had shrunk the River’s reach, leaving newly exposed riverbanks to dry out like bleached bones, but still its black depths seemed limitless.

  “And he lives over there?” Graciela asked, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel.

  “The last I heard,” Sadie said. “Don’t know where exactly. But we need to find him.”

  “So your plan is…?”

  “To ask nicely.”

  “Right,” Graciela said.

  “What?”

  “You’re not really the ‘ask nicely’ type.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Sadie said, crossing her arms over her chest. “What exactly is my type?”

  “‘…she asked, nicely.’”

  “Shut up.”

  “Real charming.”

  “I said, shut up.”

  They reached the end of the King’s Peace halfway across the bridge. It was marked by a subtle shift in the light, like a cloud passing over the sun, only there hadn’t been a cloud in the Red Valley sky in a long while. Inside the King’s Peace, humans were safe from the other things. Outside, though, there were no rules.

  As they left the bridge on the far side of the River, they passed a gas station with a couple decrepit pumps and dandelions growing between cracks in the pavement. Next door was a Chinese food place where Sadie remembered eating chicken chow mein with her dad once. A sign in the window announced: help wanted, apply within. The sign’s paper was yellowing from the sun, the tape curling away.

  The light ahead turned red even though no cars were trying to cross. Graciela fidgeted in her seat and mumbled to herself. A sudden chill raced across Sadie’s skin. She twisted and looked around. A man in a baseball cap sat slouching at a nearby bus stop. Dark eyes under the brim stared at Sadie. His mouth was pressed into a hard, thin line. As the light turned green and Graciela started forward, the man slid out of view and the chill faded.

  “You sure about this?” Graciela asked.

  “Hell, no,” Sadie said. Something huge moved laboriously in the darkness between buildings up ahead, but she didn’t get—and didn’t want—a good look. There was a reason people like her stayed on the other side of the River. “And if I had a better choice, I’d be all over it. But I’ve got the King and now this undersheriff on me about the Liar’s books. Plus that tweaking Laughing Boy who showed up at my house last night.”

  “Right,” Graciela said, uneasy. “Those things give me the creeps. If I came home and one of them was giggling in my bedroom, I think I’d just burn down my house.”

  Sadie could picture the Laughing Boy’s glowing blue eyes, his pointed teeth. She’d scared him off—for now, at least—but he’d be back. She shivered.

  They pulled into a gravel parking lot just off the main road. This far from the rest of Red Valley, the peeling-paint apartment buildings and chain-link houses had thinned out, leaving plenty of room for For Sale signs in front of fields of dead crops. And for a dive bar.

  “Roberto came here when he turned 21,” Graciela said, eyeing the sheet metal structure with a broken neon sign that read tips bar. It wasn’t even lunch yet, but there were already plenty of cars in the lot. “Got in a fight with… something. Broke his nose and spent a night in jail.”

  “Looks like a classy joint,” Sadie said. “No wonder Dad’s supposed to be a regular.” Sure enough, she recognized his dirty blue Thunderbird parked near the street.

  “I don’t think we’re their normal clientele. They may not even let us inside,” Graciela said. She usually didn’t take crap from anybody, but ever since they left the King’s Peace, her eyes hadn’t stopped darting around and her hands hadn’t stopped their nervous twitching.

  Sadie unbuckled her seat belt. “We’re young and female. We’re every bar’s clientele.”

  “I don’t know, chica,” Graciela said, glancing over her shoulder.

  Sadie touched her arm; Graciela almost jumped out of her seat. “It’s fine,” Sadie said. “You can wait here. I got this.”

  “No,” Graciela said. “You asked for my help. If I sent you in there alone, they’d kick me out of the sisterhood.”

  “You drove me out to a garbage bar on the wrong side of the River on your day off,” Sadie said. “Your sisterhood card is safe.”

  “Oh, man,” Graciela said. “I don’t know…”

  Sadie punched her in the shoulder. “Keep the getaway car warm. If I’m not back in five minutes, remember me fondly.”

  “I hate you sometimes.”

  “But you love me the rest of the time.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Vaya con Dios.”

  Summertime slapped Sadie in the face as she stepped out. She was sweating before she’d gone three steps toward the bar’s front door. She didn’t blame Graciela for wanting to wait this one out. This was a demonstrably stupid idea. The problem was, it was also her only idea.

  She pushed the door open. It was so dark inside that she was blind for a moment while her eyes adjusted. Slowly the interior materialized. There was a long bar along one side and tables scattered elsewhere. A flickering jukebox warbled “Friends in Low Places” from just beside the entrance. A flat screen TV hung on the opposite wall; a soccer game was playing. The bar was about half full. She saw no sign of her dad. A few patrons watched the game. Some watched their drinks. Others watched her.

  The bartender had a gray goatee, a snake tattoo on his neck, and bruised eyes that followed her closely as she stepped inside. “You lost, kiddo?” he asked.

  Chairs creaked. Sadie ignored the stares.

  “I’m looking for someone,” she said. She rested her hands on the smooth bar top, did her best to keep them from shaking. “Hoped you could help.”

  “You got ID?”

  “Don’t want a drink,” she said. “Do you know Brian Holbrooke?”

  “Who’s asking?”

  “His daughter.”

  A patron at the end of the bar chuckled at that and drained the rest of his beer. Sadie couldn’t make out much of his face in the gloom. The more she squinted, the more his features swam and blurred.

  The bartender, however, did not look amused. “You’re in the wrong place, little gi
rl.”

  She hadn’t really expected them to be helpful, but still couldn’t fight the anger simmering in her chest. “I need to find him.”

  “And I’ve never heard of him.”

  “His car is parked out front.”

  The bartender shrugged. “Don’t know what to tell you.”

  “Fine,” she said, turning away from the bar and looking out into the room. The jukebox chugged and switched to “Amarillo by Morning.” A couple of the bar’s patrons finished their drinks and wandered out into the bright noonday sun. Others slinked out the back entrance. Sadie tried to take a measure of those who remained. Most looked normal enough. Others, like the guy at the end of the bar still smirking into his beer, felt… off. Something about how their hands moved, or how the skin hung loose on their faces, or the unsettled shadows behind their eyes. A voice inside her head screamed for her to run, run, run. “Maybe I’ll just ask around.”

  But as she stepped away from the bar, the bartender’s hand latched tightly onto her arm. “Girl,” he said, his voice lower. “You’re too stupid to see it, but I’m doing you a favor.”

  “You think I want to be in your shit bar right now?” she said, matching his volume. There was that natural charm that Graciela had mentioned. Maybe she wasn’t the kind of person who smiled her way through life; too much like her mother. “I ain’t got a choice. I need to find my dad.”

  “Whatever you think your problems are,” he said, tightening his grip as his eyes darted around the room, “they can always get worse.”

  The bartender was a tough-looking man. His forearms were hard and veined. Scars stood out white on his hands. But Sadie saw something else too, when he glanced out at his patrons: fear. “I doubt it,” she replied.

  “I’m only gonna tell you this once more,” he said. “Get the fuck out of my bar.”

  She looked down at his hand, his fingers digging deep into her bicep. “Unless you’re telling me where Brian Holbrooke lives, I don’t want your help.”

  He let go. He regarded her briefly, then shook his head. “Suit yourself,” he said as he turned his back and occupied himself by straightening shot glasses on a shelf behind the bar.

  Sadie rubbed her arm to get circulation going again. She felt the bartender’s fingers—and his words—still weighing heavily. But like she’d told him, if she had any better ideas, she sure as hell wouldn’t be here.

  “I’m looking for Brian Holbrooke,” she announced to the room. “Any of you know him?”

  Silence.

  “I ain’t a cop,” she said. “I ain’t looking for nothing. I just need to talk to him. Any of you know where to find him?”

  Someone near the TV raised the remote and increased the volume.

  “I’m not trying to bother anybody,” she said. “I just need—”

  The patron at the end of the bar picked up his drink and slid down until he was right next to her. When she saw him out of the corner of her eye, he looked bigger. Less human-shaped. Though she still found it hard to make out specific details on his face, she could see he was smiling. It made her blood run cold.

  “I know Brian,” he said. His voice was quiet and a little raspy. His teeth were yellow and sour alcohol vapor hung around him like a cloud. “I know him real well. Old drinking buddies, he and I. Marvelous man, very generous.”

  “Great,” Sadie said, fighting an urge to back away. “Do you know where I can find him?”

  He leaned in a little. “Funny thing: he never mentioned having a daughter.”

  “We’re not close,” she said. “So, is he here?”

  “You don’t really look like him,” he said. “You’re much prettier.”

  “Thanks,” she said, uneasy. “So about Brian…”

  He reached out and patted her arm. His skin was rough, like sandpaper. The touch lingered a little and Sadie wanted to punch his blurry face. “This is a brave thing you’re doing,” he said. “Most people like you know to stay where you belong. Stay where it’s safe. But not you. You come over here to our side of the River, stinking like the King, and start butting into our business. Asking questions. Making noise. Remarkably brave.”

  Sadie pulled her arm away and he chuckled and took another sip of beer.

  “The thing is,” he said as he wiped his yellow mouth with the back of his hand, “this isn’t like the other side of the River. Over here, folks don’t stick their noses in other people’s affairs. Over here, we don’t make noise when we should be quiet. Over here, we got whole fields full of gnawed-on bones from little girls who thought they were being brave.”

  She should be afraid—and she was, terrified even. The room was dark, rank, and unknown. She wanted to run for the welcome light and heat of the parking lot and tell Graciela to drive and not stop until the River ran underneath. But with the sound of the man’s cloying feigned kindness still echoing in her head, she realized she wasn’t just afraid; she was also pissed off.

  “Spare me. I’m not some kid you can give nightmares to,” she said. “I’m the fucking Liar of Red Valley.” It wasn’t true—not yet—but it was true enough.

  The room got a little quieter. The man slurped the last of his beer and brought the glass down on the bar with a crack. “So,” he said, his voice still quiet but suddenly far less sweet, “you are the King’s special pet.” He shook his head, his face smearing. “What a goddamn stupid thing to say in here.”

  He stood up and dusted off his jeans. Sadie took a step back, heart thundering. When will you learn to keep your mouth shut? That voice in her head sounded a bit like her mom, but then again, so had she, a moment ago.

  “I think—” But the man never got to finish his thought before a nearly empty mug shattered over his head. He dropped to the floor in a haze of broken glass and beer.

  Standing over him was a massive man with arms thick with muscle and dark with hair and ink. He nudged the fallen man with a boot. He didn’t stir. Black blood crept along the floorboards.

  “I tell you where Brian is, you stop interrupting the game?” the massive man asked, pointing a thumb over his broad shoulder at the TV.

  Sadie nodded.

  The bartender started to speak, but the big man waved him off. “She’s made her bed, let her lie in it.” To Sadie, he said, “He’s in the back. Past the bathroom, on the left. You’ll know which door.” The big man returned to his place by the TV and the rest of the bar looked everywhere but at Sadie. The jukebox hummed and whirred and went quiet.

  The bartender sighed and wiped some glass shards from the counter with a wet rag.

  Sadie stepped around the pooling blood. If she just kept walking, maybe her legs wouldn’t lock up and her hands would stop shaking. She moved quickly to the back of the bar. There was an unlit hallway there. She passed the foul smelling bathrooms and found an unmarked door, on the left. It had to be the one.

  The door did not belong. It looked heavy, made of old wood stained a dark gray, with a heavy brass knob, like it had originally been made for a far nicer building and inexplicably moved to this dump. Where would a door like this in a place like this possibly lead?

  It’s not too late, she thought. You can still run screaming.

  But she knew it wasn’t true. It had been too late for a while now.

  She put her hand on the cold brass, turned, and stepped inside.

  Chapter Six

  Though it was hard to really see its edges in the gloom, it was clear the room beyond the door was far too large to fit inside Tips Bar. The air was frigid and smelled of old, old things. There was some weak light, though Sadie had no idea where it was coming from. The floor was hardwood covered in a lush rug. Low, leather-bound chairs lined one wall. Along the other wall stood a row of pedestals of differing heights. On each was a reconstructed skeleton of various animals, none of which she could identify, their forms twisted in pain, as though in the moment of their violent deaths. At the far end of the room, figures huddled around a small table, and as she entered, Sadie
caught the end of a conversation.

  “…you know I’m good for it,” someone was saying. “I’ve always paid on time.”

  The figure closest to the door had his back to her. She could see a bald spot and the sun-reddened skin beneath. He was the one speaking, and she knew his voice. Brian.

  “Your debts compound,” said one of the figures on the far side of the table. The voice sounded like a death rattle. She tried to get a closer look, but the figures were draped in almost complete darkness. She saw vague human-shaped outlines shifting in the shadows, but no clear details.

  “I know, I know,” Brian said, leaning toward the shadows. “But I’ve got a plan. A couple plans. I just need to buy some time, get some breathing room.”

  “This is a story we’ve heard before, Brian.”

  “Yeah, I get it. But—”

  Another of the shadowy figures held up a hand, or at least darkness congealed into the shape of a hand. “It would seem that our conversation has an audience.”

  Brian twisted around in his chair.

  “Hi, Dad,” she said in a squeaky voice.

  “Oh, shit,” Brian muttered.

  “Nice to see you too.”

  He got up quickly and crossed to her in a rush. He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her toward the door. “You really, really shouldn’t be here.”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “You picked a real bad time, sweetheart.”

  “I didn’t pick anything,” she said. “But we need to talk.”

  “Fine,” he said. “Fine. Sure. I was just finishing up my business. Wait for me outside. You don’t want to be in here.”

  Sadie didn’t argue. But as she turned to leave the strange dark room, a deathly voice stopped her.

  “You are the Liar’s daughter,” one of the figures said.

  “Not anymore,” Sadie said. “I’m the Liar now.”

  The shadows turned to each other. If they spoke, it wasn’t in sounds Sadie’s ear could recognize. Then they said, “The Long Shadows offer our condolences. Both for what you have lost, and what you have gained.”