SW01 - The Edge of Nowhere

by Elizabeth George

  Mr. Cartwright was just sitting in the driver’s seat, not doing a thing, not even looking at the window where his wife was pounding. He turned his head slowly when Seth said, “Mr. Cartwright, you okay?”

  “Yeah, son,” he said with a smile. “I just can’t push the damn clutch all the way down. Something’s wrong with it.”

  By this time, Mrs. Cartwright had come around to Seth’s side of the car, and she started to pull on Seth’s legs to get him out of the passenger’s seat. Her reaction was so extreme that Seth was beginning to wonder if she was a little crazy. He was more than happy to vacate the car.

  Mrs. Cartwright crawled inside. She said, “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay, honey,” to her husband, and then she turned to Seth. “I’m going to need your help getting him over the console.”

  Seth wanted to ask her why she just didn’t ask Mr. Cartwright to crawl over the console himself, but she didn’t look like a lady in a state to receive that kind of question. So he said, “Sure,” and she told him to get in the backseat and help with Mr. Cartwright’s shoulders while she took his legs.

  Mr. Cartwright said, “I c’n manage, Julie,” and his wife said, “Bill, let us get you into the other seat, honey.”

  As far as Seth could tell, Mr. Cartwright couldn’t manage a thing. He was dead weight, and getting him out of the driver’s seat, across the console, and into the passenger’s seat was no easy feat. Seth didn’t see what good this was going to do anyway because of the SUV itself, and he said to Mrs. Cartwright, “He says there’s something wrong with the clutch. Maybe we should leave the car here so—”

  “There’s nothing wrong with the clutch.” She strapped the seat belt around her husband. He lolled to one side, and she cried, “Bill! Bill!”

  Mr. Cartwright said, “I’m okay. That darn clutch . . .”

  Seth could see that something was seriously wrong, and it didn’t have anything to do with the car. He said, “D’you think we should take him up to the hospital?”

  “He said it was the clutch!”

  “But you just said—”

  “Seth, stop it. Please.”

  Seth could see she was near tears. He said quickly, “Okay. I’ll drive this car, you take Sammy.”

  She said, “I’ll drive him home,” but Seth pointed out that it was going to be easier for him just to climb over the backseat and into the driver’s seat than it was going to be for her to crawl over her husband, and if there was something wrong with the clutch, it was better to let him deal with it.

  She agreed to this. She swiped at her cheeks and said, “Bill? Seth’s going to drive you home. I’ll be right behind. You just close your eyes.”

  Mr. Cartwright murmured, “Couldn’t push that clutch in,” and Mrs. Cartwright told him that everything was going to be okay.

  But Seth knew one thing above everything else. It wasn’t going to be okay at all.

  THERE WAS NO question about it as far as Seth was concerned: He needed to tell his grandfather. When he arrived at the property on Newman Road, the lights were on in Ralph’s shop behind the house. He made his way over and looked through the window. There he witnessed a miracle of sorts, and it cheered him up at once. For Gus was sitting on an old army blanket about five feet from where Ralph perched on a stool in front of his workbench. The Lab’s eyes were fixed on Seth’s grandfather in a manner that might have suggested utter devotion had there not been a small pile of dog kibbles next to the project Ralph was working on. As Seth watched, he heard Ralph say, “Good stay, Gus,” and then “Come. Sit,” which the dog did obediently. Ralph said, “Good,” and gave him one tiny kibble. He didn’t look at the dog as he did this. Instead his attention was on what he was doing, which was fiddling with something that lay in pieces on the workbench. Without a glance at the dog, Ralph said, “Bed,” and Gus returned to the army blanket. “Stay,” Ralph told him, and he stayed. “Down,” and down he went and there he remained. It was, Seth thought, the eighth wonder of the world.

  He figured things would change when he opened the door and entered the shop, but when he did this, Gus merely raised his head, wagged his tail, and lifted his ears slightly. Ralph looked over his shoulder and, seeing Seth, said to Gus, “Okay,” and to Seth, “He jumps, you turn your back. I don’t care how much you want to love him. You do like I say. We’re going to train that dog.”

  It took three tries, but Gus finally stopped jumping to greet Seth with typical Lab enthusiasm. Seth was able to pat his head and rub his ears, and when his grandfather handed him two kibbles, Seth said, “Good dog, Gus. Good, good, good!”

  “Last thing he needs is to be a victim of too much positive reinforcement, grandson,” was Ralph’s growled comment. His back was turned, as he continued his work. “One ‘good’ is enough. Now tell him bed.”

  Seth did so. Gus looked as surprised as a Lab could look, receiving a command from someone who previously was considered his number one playmate. But the dog cooperated, heard himself pronounced good, and received one kibble for this feat of greatness.

  Seth joined his grandfather at the workbench. He saw that Ralph had taken apart the hearing box that belonged to Becca King. He said, “Where’d you get that, Grand?” And he added, “What is it?” to hide his own knowledge of its ownership.

  “Diana brought it by.”

  “Mrs. Kinsale?”

  “You know another Diana?” Ralph was separating the wires and frowning down at them.

  “Guess not,” Seth admitted, but he wondered how Mrs. Kinsale had gotten hold of Becca’s hearing device. He also wondered how Becca was doing without it. She hadn’t mentioned losing it or breaking it. But then, she’d been in a panic anyway when he’d taken her to the Dog House, so she probably had bigger worries on her mind.

  He was thinking about this when his grandfather spoke. “Seth, you ready with an explanation?” He paused with what he was doing and looked at Seth, and Seth could see there was an unusual droop to the corners of his eyes.

  “Explanation for what?”

  “Not like you to be less than direct with me,” was Ralph’s reply.

  “I wouldn’t be if I knew what you were talking about.” Gus gave a whine, and Seth looked at the Lab. He was eyeballing both of them, like a kid at a tennis match.

  “My camping gear’s missing, Seth. You left a bungee cord dangling from the rafters.”

  Seth dropped his gaze. He looked up again as Ralph changed positions at the workbench, putting his face in shadow as he leaned against it. The strong task light was behind him then, and it made a halo around his head. His hair was loose, and it glowed in the light.

  “Did you need money for some reason?” Ralph asked quietly.

  “What d’you mean?”

  “I mean did you sell my camping gear?”

  “Why would—” Seth stopped. He peered at his grandfather and saw on Ralph’s face an expression that he’d never expected to see: suspicion. He said, “No, Grand, I didn’t sell it,” but his voice had an edge to it and he knew the edge sounded like a defense being raised. “I needed it for a friend. You’ll get it all back.”

  “It’s not like you to borrow things without asking me,” Ralph noted. “Was I here when you took the stuff?”

  “No!” Seth lied. “I would’ve asked if you’d been here. A kid I know’s been couch surfing, and he was out of places to sleep. I figured he could use the stuff. I know where to find him. You’ll get it all back.”

  Ralph said nothing, but Seth could tell by the way his mouth curved downward that his grandfather not only doubted him but also thought Seth might really have sold the gear, despite his words. There would be only one reason for Ralph to reach that conclusion, too. Drugs.

  Seth never used, and his grandfather was supposed to know that. But the fact remained that he had once been a protégé of Sean Grieder. The fact also remained that Sean Grieder was sitting in a prison cell because of meth, among other things. And these two facts amounted to a single damning point being m
ade.

  Seth wanted to yell, “He taught me to play chess! He didn’t get me into drugs!” But in everyone’s eyes it was a case of guilt by association. Seth had known Sean, and he’d dropped out of school, just like Sean. Everyone drew a conclusion from that. Except his own parents. Except his own grandfather. Until now.

  Seth felt as if something was slicing into his heart. He said, “Okay, then.”

  Ralph said, “‘What’s that mean?”

  “Just ‘okay.’ See you later.”

  “You came by for something, didn’t you? What was it?”

  “To talk. But I guess we’ve done that, huh?”

  “Seth . . .” His grandfather’s voice was gentler now, but Seth didn’t want gentleness from him.

  He walked to the door and opened it. He left the shop but Gus came as well. He said, “Stay, Gus,” but the dog didn’t obey. Instead he leaped up as if begging Seth to remain, to play, to be his pal-above-pals. Seth started to stride off, but Gus followed. Seth headed to the path leading up to his car, but Gus hurtled by him. At the top, the Lab leapt eagerly and Seth staggered backward, nearly losing his footing. He said, “No! No!” and shoved Gus away.

  Gus gave a yelp of surprise. Then Ralph was at the door of the shop down below. He said sharply, “Gus. Come.”

  The dog obeyed at once.

  * * *

  THIRTY-ONE

  Becca had thought the worst part would be the Dog House at night. But the really bad part turned out to be missing school in order to stay away from the undersheriff during his search for Laurel Armstrong. She had all of her books, so she tried to keep up with what she imagined the schoolwork would be, but the integrated algebra was slaying her and there was nothing she could do about her yearbook class.

  Despite the camping food that Seth had given her, she didn’t use the Coleman stove. It worried her that she might cause a fire, so mostly she darted down to the Star Store in the darkness of early morning when Seth was at work. She was quickly running out of what little money Debbie Grieder had paid her for helping out at the motel though. Soon, she knew, she would have no money at all, aside from her San Diego funds, which she didn’t want to spend. She didn’t know what she’d do then except rely on Seth to pass her food throwaways as he’d done on the first morning she’d met him.

  At first Becca had thought that, without the AUD box, she’d be able to sort out truth from lie when she was around Seth. She thought she’d be able to get to the bottom of that footprint she’d seen where Derric had fallen. But inside his head Seth never dwelled on Saratoga Woods, and he certainly never thought about his sandals. Whenever she saw him in those early mornings, the only whispers she was able to hear clearly from him concerned the Cartwrights. If he wasn’t mulling over Hayley Cartwright, he was onto Hayley’s father for some reason, and then onto her mother, and then onto their SUV. It was as if he knew Becca could pick up on his thoughts and was keeping them fixed in a place that was safe.

  At least he had managed to get the rest of her things from the motel. He’d hung around the missionary alliance across the street from the place, he said, till Debbie had finally gone to one of her meetings. He’d sneaked into room 444 then, and he’d collected everything he could find. He brought her his bike as well, and this they’d stowed in the Dog House cellar. Just in case, he’d told her.

  The bike provided an outlet for Becca, the only way to escape worries that ranged from her mother’s continued absence, to Jeff Corrie pulling into town, to the undersheriff’s showing up at the Dog House. When she couldn’t handle one more second of solitude and breathing the musty air of the ancient abandoned tavern, she slipped outside for no more than an hour and tore over to the Langley cemetery. There she took at least a little comfort from continuing to work on Reese Grieder’s grave.

  That was what she was doing the next time she saw Diana Kinsale. On her knees and working on the gravestone, Becca heard her truck this time, and even if she hadn’t, soon enough the swarm of dogs encircled her. She swore at herself for having left the Dog House in the first place. She only hoped Diana hadn’t heard she’d taken off from the Cliff Motel.

  Diana had parked where she always parked, near her husband’s grave, but she didn’t pause there. Instead, she came across the lawn toward Becca, carrying something in a lunch sack.

  The dogs bounded about, snuffling and lifting their legs against the shrubbery. Becca said to them, “Don’t you dare pee on this grave, you guys,” and she heard Diana’s warm laugh.

  Then Becca heard something more. Can you hear what I’m thinking, Becca King? came to her distinctly, every bit as distinctly as she’d ever heard her mother’s whispers of listen my children and you shall hear of the midnight ride of Paul Revere. Becca stopped what she was doing and swallowed down a lump of pure terror. She thought of many things at that moment, but central to everything was Jeff Corrie and what it had meant once someone other than her mom and her grandma had learned about the whispers.

  She said, “Hi!” as brightly as she could manage and she went back to cleaning Reese’s gravestone.

  As if she hadn’t sent out a whisper at all, Diana said, “I thought I might find you here. I’ve brought this back for you.”

  She extended the lunch sack, and Becca opened it to see within it the AUD box and its earphone, all repaired. She felt a surge of relief. She said, “Who fixed it?”

  “Ralph Darrow. Seth’s grandfather. The man can fix anything.” Diana smiled and added, “Almost anything. He can’t fix broken hearts.” She stood next to Becca and looked down at Reese’s grave. “You’ve done a nice job with this. All you need is a new picture of her.” She moved to the other side of the grave where she could face Becca directly. There she spoke again. “Debbie’s worried about you, Becca. She phoned me.”

  To this Becca said nothing, although she considered what kind of answer she could make.

  “My dear, why did you leave the motel?”

  “It was time.”

  “Was Debbie still going to her meetings?”

  Odd question, Becca thought, but she said, “Far as I know.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” Diana squatted. She brushed some of the newly fallen leaves to one side of the grave. “She misses you. So do the kids. It’s double for Josh, I think, because of Derric being in the hospital.”

  Becca felt a little stab at the thought of Chloe and Josh. “They okay?”

  “When Debbie’s there.”

  “Is she going out places and leaving them alone?”

  “No. But there’s being there in body and there’s being there at the same time as your thoughts.”

  “Oh.” Becca knew her voice sounded as small as she felt. Chloe and Josh had done better when she was with them, and she knew that.

  As if she’d heard what Becca was considering, Diana said, “I think Chloe and Josh did a little better when you were at the motel.”

  “Maybe.” Becca knew she sounded miserable, because she felt miserable about those two kids.

  Diana said quickly, “I didn’t say that to get you to go back. I wouldn’t want you to think that. Whatever I say to you . . . Please don’t think it’s anything more than exactly what I’m saying. Do you understand?”

  “Guess so,” Becca said.

  “All I meant is that you provided them with the extra thought thing that Debbie can’t give them right now.”

  “Why not?”

  Diana patted the grave. “Because her mind is on this.”

  “Where’s their mom, then? Debbie never said.”

  “She’s gone.”

  “Dead?”

  “Disappeared. She went to Arizona a long time ago, when the kids were still with Sean.”

  “Why didn’t she take them?”

  “Because she was using. More than Sean was, in fact. It wasn’t a good situation.”

  Becca looked away. She shifted her gaze from Diana to three monoliths that marked the part of the cemetery where people’s ashes were sprea
d, their names left in the form of carvings on the three huge stones so that they wouldn’t go unremembered.

  She felt very bad for Chloe and Josh. She knew Debbie loved them, and she knew they were better off with Debbie than with their mom. But it was true that Debbie wasn’t always there completely. Becca had seen this herself although she didn’t know why Debbie couldn’t move on from Reese’s death.

  Diana said, “Losing a child is the worst that can happen to a woman, Becca, with one exception.”

  “What’s the exception?”

  “Being the person responsible. That’s the worst.”

  THEY WALKED AWAY from Reese Grieder’s grave. Becca went toward her bike, which she’d left leaning against a sweet gum tree that was a haze of red and gold in the afternoon light. Diana was heading toward her truck, but she paused and asked two questions Becca had been hoping to avoid.

  “Where are you staying now? Why aren’t you in school?”

  To avoid answering the first question, Becca went with the second one. “I couldn’t go without the AUD box. Now that I’ve got it back, I’ll go. Thanks for getting it fixed.”

  This constituted the first time that Becca had actually lied to Diana Kinsale. The part about the AUD box was true, and so were her thanks. But the part about going back to school now that her AUD box was repaired was as false as a plastic Christmas tree.

  Diana said again, “Where are you staying, Becca?”

  “At a friend’s.”

  “Seth’s family?”

  “Seth? Nope.”

  “Don’t want to tell me?”

  Becca sent Diana an agonized look.

  “Okay.” At the truck, though, Diana didn’t get inside, although she opened the back of it to let the dogs leap into its bed. They all cooperated except Oscar, of course. Diana opened the cab door for him but still she didn’t climb in. Instead she said to Becca, sounding thoughtful, “I’ve got to go up to Coupeville for an appointment. Would you like to come with me? Have a chance to see Derric?”