Magnolia Sky

by Susan Crandall

  He stepped out into the parking lot. It was packed with vehicles tonight, with the overflow parking going onto the street. They’d brought Ana’s eight-year-old red Ford Explorer, Olivia having insisted that Ana drive so Luke could rest his knee. It was nearly hemmed in by someone who double-parked. Luke hoped they wouldn’t be stuck here when they were ready to leave. The sooner he got home, the sooner he could hide in his room.

  The air was heavy and as still as a tomb. Looking to the western sky, he saw the hint of distant lightning. Unconsciously he rotated his shoulders; the stabbing remained.

  He took a slow walk around the parking lot. That used up about two minutes. At times like these, he wished he smoked—at least he’d have something to occupy himself as he killed time. After ten minutes of loitering, he decided a beer would be as good as a cigarette. He turned to go back inside, but his attention was drawn to a noisy vehicle on the street. He was surprised to see Roy’s beat-up truck chug past. He didn’t slow down and didn’t seem to be looking in the direction of the Boxcar. Luke had hoped the man had left the area entirely. By all indications, he’d at least been staying away from Magnolia Mile for the past week.

  Once inside, Luke stopped at the bar. Analise was standing near the booth talking to a young couple, and Cole was nowhere in sight. For the moment, Olivia sat alone, her elbow on the table, her head resting on her hand. Caught in a moment unawares, her fatigue showed. She was a woman of high animation and her stillness conveyed the weariness she’d been trying to mask. What woman could go through what she had in the past months and not show signs of it? One son dead, the other trying to kill himself with dangerous behavior.

  The protective streak that had reared its head so often leapt to its feet and roared. Luke would do anything to prevent Olivia—her entire family—from further pain.

  First step in that plan was not to cause any more direct harm himself. He remained at the bar and ordered a beer. He lingered there, nursing his drink, waiting to leave. Standing at this corrugated steel and Formica bar, Luke thought of the antique walnut bar in his dad’s tavern. Dad had saved it from an old building being torn down to make way for a new fire station when Luke was just a baby. The antique had always been a true point of pride for Benny Boudreau. He said it gave his place character.

  Luke looked around. The Boxcar had plenty of what his dad would call character—those little things that a long-established business had accumulated along the way, things that said the people who came here cared: an autographed photo of the one high school basketball player who had gone pro; framed reproduction black-and-whites of turn-of-the-century parades on Center Street; a folded and boxed flag with a plaque that said it had been presented to the owner after his son had been killed during a peacekeeping mission in Africa in the eighties; a wooden pillar that had been the recipient of a hundred pairs of carved initials over the years; the worn section of the floor where who knows how many Saturday nights of dancing had taken place.

  Luke was starting to get homesick and only halfway through a longneck when Olivia gathered up her family and started for the door.

  Luke took one last swig, then set the bottle on the bar.

  Back in the parking lot, he was relieved to see the car that had been pinning the Explorer in was gone.

  Then his gaze fell on the windshield of Ana’s car. Relief was instantly replaced by vigilance. He stepped closer to Analise, hands on her shoulders, ready to shove her out of danger should it appear.

  Just then she gasped as she saw it, too—a childish hand had taken red spray paint to her windshield. One word: JEZEBEL.

  Chapter 15

  Luke kept his hands on Analise, quickly scanning the darkness around the lot. Then he looked carefully at the cars on the street. Although he saw no sign of Roy or his truck, he remained alert. He wished he’d checked out the truck more closely. He was certain there hadn’t been a gun rack in the back, but a rural southern man like Roy most likely had a rifle. A mind as unsophisticated as Roy’s didn’t seem the type to take potshots from afar, but he also didn’t seem the type to walk right into a busy parking lot and spray-paint graffiti on a car, either. Luke had Roy pegged as an emotional responder—not as a calculating aggressor.

  “Cole, go back in and get Dave,” Olivia said calmly.

  The boy disappeared without a word.

  Analise reached out to touch the letters, but Luke grabbed her wrist to stop her. “Don’t touch it.”

  She looked over her shoulder with a question in her eyes.

  “Maybe there’s evidence,” he said.

  “Like fingerprints?”

  “Maybe. Don’t want to chance ruining something before the police get a look at it.”

  She sagged back against his chest. “Who in the hell uses the word Jezebel anyhow?” she asked with disgust. “And why me?”

  It was an easy conclusion for Luke. Jezebel was a biblical name. Roy viewed Analise as a wicked temptress. He needed to pray to rid himself of his impure impulses. Luke didn’t tell her that he’d seen Roy drive by earlier—that he’d save for telling the police.

  Cole and Dave trotted up. Dave said, “Don’t suppose you saw who it was?” He directed this question at Luke.

  Luke said, “Nobody in sight when we came out.”

  Dave took a step closer to the Explorer, then put his hands on his hips and looked around. “Reckon it was Roy.”

  Analise stiffened. “You think so?”

  “Who else?” Dave asked, looking around.

  Luke wanted to get things moving so he could get Analise home, safe behind locked doors. “I assume this is city’s jurisdiction. Let’s go back inside and call the police.” He started to move Ana in that direction. He didn’t feel comfortable with her standing out here like a sitting duck.

  “Don’t know what they can do, but I suppose a report can’t hurt. Might help in court if the day comes.”

  Luke stopped. “Shouldn’t the car be checked for evidence—proof that it was Roy?”

  Dave said, “We can look around and get just as good an idea. This ain’t the big city; the department doesn’t have a lot of fancy equipment just to chase down taggers. Besides, fingerprints would only say that Roy touched this car—which he could have done anytime in the past month.”

  Luke looked hard at the deputy for a moment. “Just the same, I think we need to file a report.”

  Nodding and biting his lip, Dave said, “Probably right. I’ll go to my car and call it in.” He started toward the other side of the lot where his cruiser was parked.

  Just then, the first random fat drops of rain plopped against the hoods of the cars.

  Luke said, “You and Olivia go back inside and wait.”

  Analise hesitated. Thunder rumbled closer.

  “Cole, keep an eye on them—just in case Roy makes an appearance in the bar.”

  Cole’s shoulders straightened a bit. “Sure.” He put a hand on his mother’s arm and led her toward the entrance.

  The rain was quickly increasing and the wind was picking up. Analise lingered, hair blowing around her face, staring at the graffiti. “Why would Roy do something like this? Why not just go away?”

  Luke planned to find out. No more sitting around waiting to see if the man was going to do something else; he was going to find him. To Analise he said, “Go inside before you’re soaked.”

  She hesitated.

  “We don’t want Olivia coming back out in the rain looking for you.”

  “Right.” Just before she reached the door, the rain cut loose. She ran the last ten feet. Luke stood there, unfazed by the downpour; he’d been in worse.

  By the time the local police drove up, the parking lot had a half-inch of standing water and the clouds were sending wicked shafts of lightning straight to the ground. The wind was now driving the rain in sheets. The temperature had dropped at least ten degrees.

  The officer pulled his cruiser right up to the Explorer and shone his spotlight on it. Luke and Dave both got ins
ide the car to get out of the rain—Dave in the front, Luke in the back. The young officer introduced himself to Luke as Tommy White.

  Dave reported the details of the evening and his suspicions that it was Roy. “I’ve already run a criminal background check on the man. Nothing.”

  Tommy—Luke couldn’t look at that eager youthful face and think of him as “Officer White”—made rapid notes.

  Then Luke said, “I came out here about forty minutes ago. I saw Roy drive past.”

  Dave’s sharpened gaze snapped to Luke. “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “I didn’t see any reason to get the women more worked up. Besides, he didn’t seem particularly interested in this place as he went by.”

  “You should have told me.” There was a peculiar edge in Dave’s voice—Luke attributed it to resentment that he knew something that Dave didn’t.

  “I’ll take a look around the vehicle,” Tommy said, as he put on his rain slicker and plastic-protected hat. Then he grabbed his flashlight and got out.

  As Luke watched through the rain-streaked window, it was clear Tommy was just going through the motions. Not that there’d be much evidence that hadn’t floated away already.

  Dave turned to Luke again. “Did you see anything else while you were out here?” Again, the edge was present in his voice.

  “Nothing suspicious.”

  “Anybody see you?”

  Luke’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “Just what I said, anybody be able to tell me what you were doing out here?”

  “Wait a minute. You’re suggesting I did this?”

  “I’m not suggesting anything—just gathering the facts. Seems funny that you kept this Roy-spotting to yourself until just now. Seems mighty convenient, him ‘driving by,’ after being damn near invisible for a week.”

  “Why would I have done something like this?”

  Dave gave him a long hard look. “Why would anybody?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Those at Magnolia Mile are very special to me. I plan to put a stop to this.”

  Luke held his gaze. “Good.”

  Tommy got back in, dripping water from the brim of his hat. “Not much to see there.”

  Luke suggested, “Maybe your department could bring Roy in for questioning.”

  Dave said, “They’ve got nothing to hang a charge on.”

  “I know that,” Luke said, “and you know that, but Roy probably doesn’t. It might be enough to shake him up and make him decide to go on down the road.”

  Tommy nodded, sending a little river of water sliding off his cap and into his lap. “Might be a good idea.”

  Dave put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Bringing that man in, if you can find him, will be a waste of time. Besides, if he catches on we’re after him, it might just push him into doing something crazy.”

  Now Tommy looked equally convinced in the opposite direction. “I see. Could be dangerous.”

  Luke shook his head. “Dangerous for whom?”

  Dave turned and looked at him. “This ain’t the army. I know you’re used to doing things different, but we can’t just go in with weapons drawn and bully people around. We got rules—constitutional rights. What if we bring Roy in, we got nothing to keep him locked up. He could just as easy go after Analise in a big way as decide to leave town.” He shook his head. “Not worth the risk—not until we have something concrete that’ll keep him behind bars.”

  Tommy said, “Deputy Dunston, how should I write it up, then?”

  “Criminal mischief—by unknown suspect or suspects. Nothing else we can do.”

  Luke settled back in his seat. Bullshit. There was something he could do. And he was damn well going to do it.

  It was nearly eleven when they arrived back at Magnolia Mile. Although Analise had sworn she was fine, Luke drove home. It had surprised him that Dave hadn’t insisted on escorting them. Luke was having a difficult time deciphering exactly what was going on in the deputy’s brain. Had he seriously considered that Luke had painted the car?

  No matter. Tomorrow Luke would find Roy and get to the bottom of this himself. He wouldn’t be at Magnolia Mile much longer; he had to know the man was no longer a threat.

  The wind whipped the trees and rain continued to fall in a steady curtain. The culvert that ran under the entrance to the drive was filled with rushing brown water.

  Sitting beside Luke in the front seat, Olivia said, “I didn’t know it was going to storm like this. I shouldn’t have left Rufus out.” She leaned forward, straining to see through the darkness. “I hope he had the sense to get on the front porch.”

  “There he is!” Cole’s finger shot between the bucket seats, pointing out the windshield. Rufus was trotting straight for them in the headlight beams.

  “Of all the . . .” Olivia breathed.

  Rufus had something hanging out of his mouth.

  “Looks like a shoe! Rufus has a shoe,” Cole said as the dog stopped right in front of them.

  “Cole, climb over here and drive the car the rest of the way to the house,” Luke said, then got out.

  He stepped directly into a puddle that covered his shoe. He shook off the mud and approached the dog. “Hey, Rufus, let’s see what you’ve got there, boy.” He reached for the shoe. Rufus took a step backward and growled deep in his throat.

  “It’s all right, buddy. We’re on the same side.” Luke inched closer.

  Rufus sat in the muddy drive. The shoe remained in his mouth. The rain pelted them both.

  Luke put out his hand. The rain was blinding him, the ground was slick and his knee hurt; he didn’t really want to chase this dog all over the yard. “Come on, Rufus, give it up.”

  One of the car doors opened and slammed shut.

  Analise appeared on the other side of the dog. “Drop it,” she shouted against the wind.

  The dog’s mouth opened and the shoe fell with a plop into a puddle.

  “Good boy.” Analise patted him, her hand slapping against the wet fur.

  Luke picked up the shoe. It belonged to a man—a big man. He raised his voice over the wind and told Analise, “Better get back in the car.”

  She wiped the rain from her face. “I’m soaked and muddy already. I’ll walk, too.”

  Luke stepped out of the way and motioned for Cole to drive past. Then he and Analise and Rufus walked the rest of the way to the house. The rain made a sound like a giant waterfall and the wind whipped words away, so they didn’t try to talk. Luke noticed Analise looked at the shoe in his hand often as they walked side by side.

  When they reached the back steps, Olivia and Cole were waiting just inside the kitchen door with towels. Analise and Luke took them gratefully. Luke tried not to watch as Analise gathered her hair in her hands and squeezed the water out over the doorstep.

  Rufus suddenly shook his huge loose-skinned body, spraying water on everything in a six-foot radius.

  “Good Lord, Rufus! Couldn’t you have done that outside?” Olivia pointed. “Go to the laundry room!” Then she added, “Cole, get a towel and dry him off.”

  “But I want to see—”

  “It’s a shoe, for goodness’ sake. Take care of your dog.”

  Rufus looked particularly pitiful, his head low, his tail hanging straight down, as he walked slowly into the utility room. Cole looked equally put out.

  “I think you might owe Rufus an apology,” Luke said, holding up the shoe. “Dog was on duty tonight.”

  “Because he dug up some old shoe and splattered my house with mud?” Olivia said.

  Analise said, her eyes riveted on the shoe in Luke’s hand, “Roy’s shoe.”

  “Noooo . . .” Olivia said with disbelief.

  Analise confirmed what Luke had strongly suspected. He looked carefully at the shoe. As kids they’d called them “shit stompers,” not quite a boot, not quite a shoe. There were deep tooth marks all down the length of the cracked leather, and blood on the inside at the ankle. “
I’d say he took a chunk of Roy, too.”

  Olivia’s eyes widened. “You think he came out here to wait for us to come back? He’s still somewhere around here?”

  Luke put down the shoe, locked the door behind him, then wiped the worst of the orange-hued mud off his feet and walked around the entire downstairs. When he came back to the kitchen, he said, “I can’t see that he was inside; there’s no water, no mud. Rufus probably scared him off.”

  Olivia said, “Should we call Dave?”

  “That’s up to you,” Luke said. “I can’t see there’s anything to be done tonight that can’t wait until morning.”

  “You’re right.” Olivia looked pensive for a moment, then said, “Now you and Ana go get those wet clothes off before you freeze to death.”

  Luke automatically looked at Analise. The idea of them taking their clothes off certainly held a great deal of appeal. A shared hot shower to warm them up. . . .

  Analise quickly looked away, apparently able to easily read what was in his mind.

  Analise awakened with a start. She sat up in bed and looked around, her breath caught in her throat. After a second, she assured herself it had only been a nightmare; Roy, with his pale round face and giant hands, was not hiding in any of the dark corners of her bedroom.

  The storm had subsided, leaving only a gentle rain that pattered quietly against her window. It was a soothing sound, one that always made Analise feel snug and secure when swaddled in the warm covers of her bed. Glancing at the bedside clock, she saw it was just after three. Tonight, sleep had been hard won—her body restless as it yearned for Luke’s touch, the warmth and security of him lying next to her, her mind endlessly wondering why Roy didn’t just go away.

  As she pulled the blanket up to her chin, hoping that somehow she’d be able to slide back into sleep, she heard voices. Sitting up, she listened closely.