“OK,” Dilly said. “You need me to be honest with you?”
“Dilly …”
“Honestly, I’m thinking I need to get out of the house for a bit. Maybe go for a run, like you did. That OK?”
“Yeah, that’s fine, but we do need to talk.”
“Let’s wait for Dad.”
Dilly was out of his seat before Josie could stop him, grabbing a jacket (he wasn’t a stupid kid) and heading out the door.
Even though Josie got it, she understood, that didn’t make the house any less empty or her head any less full. She hobbled over to the kitchen sink to start the water for dishes and then made her way to the bathroom to get some bandages for her swelling foot.
•••
It’s stupid, the thing that goes through a man’s head when he feels sorry for himself. Can I start a new life in another town? Maybe I’ll sleep tonight in some inexpensive hotel, that’ll show her. Suicide, if done right, might not be so bad.
Truth of the matter is, Dave was in a stupor. He had spent the past few nights at “Bar” and had exhausted its limited pleasures. He was exhausted and wanted his own bed or, failing that, the couch. It was time to go home.
“Thanks for the place to crash, Chuck,” Dave said, standing up.
“Yeah,” Chuck grunted. “I don’t mind your money, but it’s probably better if we see less of each other.”
“Rejected by my bartender,” Dave said, tossing a few dollars on the bar. “New rock bottom.”
Another fun thing about Cherry was since Dave and his crew didn’t keep secrets from each other, the whole town basically knew when something was up. He knew what Chuck knew—Byron, who was his responsibility, had slaughtered a girl out back and ruined his evening. A graceful man would have said nothing. Chuck had brought it up at least three times that night alone. For some reason, the decreased dependability of his air conditioner was somehow tied to the incident. It was really time for Dave to go home.
Josie had the car, so Dave got set for a long walk back to the house. Cherry was not populous, but it was big, with houses running north to south for about a three-mile swath. Dave’s house was somewhere in the middle so he had a fifteen-to-twenty-five-minute walk in front of him. Turned out it would be longer.
As Dave rounded the building and pointed himself toward home, a man in a light-colored suit and a bow tie was standing beside a black sedan. He waited for Dave, not giving a hint as to his intention, but simply watching the whole time. It was when the men were fifteen feet apart that the man spoke.
“Mr. Rhodes. Good evening.”
Dave had not had much to drink, one beer after the one with dinner, which he had nursed as a football game finished up on Bar’s shitty TV, but the combination of fatigue and emotional pain had left him a bit loopy. Initially, the fact the stranger knew his name didn’t register. Dave, being a polite fellow, stopped anyway.
“Lovely night,” Dave said.
“If you mean the weather, then yes. It’s quite temperate, Mr. David Rhodes.”
It stuck this time, as did the man’s formal tone and odd, deep voice.
“I … uh … are you a parent of a student of mine? I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you.”
“No, I’m not. My name is William Stander and I need to talk to you.”
“What do you need to talk to me about?”
Before William Stander, the man in the light-colored suit and sharp bow tie could answer, another car whipped around the corner running parallel to “Bar” and onto the street. The car was low, sporty and coming very fast. Before Dave could get a bead on what was happening, the car had pulled into the narrow space between him and Mr. Stander, squealing tires. From inside, loud hip-hop was blaring and as the passenger side door flew open it clipped Dave in the lower torso. Inside was a thin man with wild, brown hair and an unmatched scraggly beard who Dave had never seen before.
“Get inside, you fucking idiot,” the man yelled over the music. “Right now before he says another word.”
Mr. Stander was already moving to the other side of the car, but his long legs proved more hindrance than help as he had a short distance to cover because of the car’s sporty frame. Dave, not accustomed to being called an idiot, stood there dumbfounded.
“Fine,” the man in the car said and, in one swift motion, reached over, grabbed Dave by the shirt and dragged him into the car. Mr. Stander was around the car at that point and had a hand on Dave’s arm.
“I implore you, Mr. Rhodes, it is very important you hear what I have to say.”
“Fuck off then fuck off some more you dandy!” the man in the car yelled over the thump of the music, pulling on Dave the whole time. After a few seconds, the man hit the gas and Dave, half in and half out of the car, had to make a choice—get in the car or bail.
“Come on, Dave!” the man yelled. “Make a good decision for once.”
“I will make you richer than you can imagine,” Mr. Stander yelled as Dave hopped in the sports car. They were half a block away from Mr. Stander when he finally shut the door. The second the door’s locking mechanism clicked into place, the man tromped on the gas and they were gone into the Nebraska night, sputtering gravel behind them.
The man with the beard turned on the dome light, took one look at Dave and cranked the music louder. It was impossible for Dave to communicate with the man until he suddenly slammed on the brakes in the middle of a dirt road about a mile away, shut the car off and turned to Dave. The dirt roads surrounding the town always reminded him of his younger days when Dave and his dates would drive to the middle of nowhere and have at each other. On their anniversary a few years back, Josie had taken him out to the dirt roads far beyond the streetlights to that special sort of dark you could only get in the country and screwed his brains out. None of this came to mind tonight.“Oh my, Dave, you’ve made a fucking mess of it, haven’t you?”
Now that the music had died down and it was just the man talking, Dave could make out the man’s accent. It was Irish, he figured. The Irish flag tattoo the man sported on the back of his left hand confirmed his suspicions. In fact, the man had a few tattoos but in the low light, Dave was having a hard time making them out.
“Respond to me, please,” the man said. “Or are you too fucking stupid to speak, because, to be honest, I kind of think you are.”
“OK, hello, I’m Dave, why am I in your car?” Dave said, torn between wanting to be polite and his fatigue.
“Ahh, the leader finally speaks. Good for you. I’ve got a lot of work to do on account of your dumb ass, so if you’ll sit and listen …”
“STOP!” Dave yelled as the rage he had been sucking on all day finally found an outlet. “Just … stop. I am going to need your name and I’m going to need to know what the hell we’re doing here in the middle of nowhere. And how you know my name. And how you know where to find me! And how you’re Irish … you’re Irish. I’ve never met anyone from Ireland much less one that knows my name and pulls me into his car and drives me to the middle of nowhere.”
The man in the beard raised his eyebrows but didn’t budge.
“So what do you want?” the man asked.
“What the fuck just happened?” Dave said, breathing hard. “Give me something to hold on to because I feel like I’m falling right now.”
Things got a lot brighter as the man opened the door and got out. The car was still running, though the music was mercifully turned off, and the man walked in front of the car so the headlights could hit him. The man began to twitch.
Dave’s eyes got wider as the man started sprouting hair, hunching his posture and growing, or more accurately, stretching into a familiar form, but somehow different than the one Dave was used to. It took the stranger a mere ten seconds to go from man to wolf and once the transformation was complete, the Irish Wolf stood on his hind legs, walked over to Dave’s car door, opened it and in a deep, devilish growl, spoke.
“Like I said,” the Irish Wolf spat, “you’ve made a
big, fucking mess.”
•••
Dave and the man spoke into the night and less than an hour later, he dropped Dave off at his house with strict instructions to not open the door for anyone other than his pack, and even then, beware. Things were about to get complicated, he said. He was right.
More than two miles away in his rented space, Stu was getting ready to plow through another Netflix original series when his cell phone rang.
“Hello, Sheriff. It’s William Stander. We met several days ago.”
“Yes, hello. You’ve caught me at home. How did you get this number?”
“If I had a tip for you about something very odd happening in your town, would you be interested?”
“Yes. Can we talk at the station tomorrow?”
“I’m not coming in to the station,” Mr. Stander said. “What I will tell you is I believe I know the identity of the person who killed Sandra Riedel and Byron Matzen.”
Stu scrambled to find his note pad and something to write with.
“That’s … um, yeah. That’s definitely something I’m interested in. Where are you?”
“I’m not at liberty to tell you that, I’m sorry,” Mr. Stander said. “I know I’m being cryptic, but it’s absolutely necessary, as is this. Do you have a pencil and paper?”
“Yes,” Stu said.
“Would you meet me at the following address tomorrow evening at 7:15? I will be there in person and alone.”
Mr. Stander gave the address which Stu didn’t recognize (to be fair, he didn’t know his own address well at this point), but wrote down.
“Mr. Stander, can you give me any more information? This all strikes me as odd and slightly alarming.”
“Good,” Mr. Stander said. “You are in the proper frame of mind. Until tomorrow night.”
He hung up and Stu immediately put on his uniform, got into his car and drove to the address. When his GPS barked that he had “reached his destination,” he double-checked to be sure. It was an old picnic area right off the highway with nothing but a few picnic tables and some debris from previous campers to make it stand out from the miles and miles of grassland surrounding it. Stu spent about twenty minutes walking around inspecting the area. He found nothing of interest, but did find a good hiding place in a tree stump about twenty-five feet into the wooded area. He could see the entire area, see who was approaching and even had the drop on them should they decide to run.
“Man,” Stu said. “That guy is never going to see me coming.”
A SELECTIVE HISTORY OF BARTER COUNTY, PART 3
Adam Rhodes was born in 1897 and grew into a strapping young boy. At twelve, he was both smart, winning the admiration of his teachers, and a fiercely physical boy, winning the respect of his coaches. He could keep up on the track with high schoolers, he could hit harder than any bully and he was popular with both boys and girls. As he entered his high school years he even managed to fit business into his busy schedule, working at Shreiner’s Grocery and Goods in downtown Cherry. The Governor of Nebraska, Ashton C. Shallenberger, once visited Cherry and tipped young Adam a dime for taking care of his car.
When World War I rolled around, Adam, who was of prime military age, dutifully and proudly enlisted. His brother Kane was too young, but would eventually become a minister at the urging of his mother, who could not stand for her only children to both be overseas fighting a war. She was rumored to suffer from a condition of the nerves and Adam being overseas did nothing to improve her health.
As in all things before, Adam proved a smart, physical and adept soldier. While it was very uncommon for a “grunt” to rise through the ranks, Adam was able to do just that, moving from Private to Sergeant First Class by the time the war ended. To hear his men tell it, Sergeant Rhodes could outrun a bullet, he could inspire a coward, and he could tear a man apart with his hands. Only one of these things was hyperbole.
Sergeant First Class Rhodes came home to a hero’s welcome straight out of American lore. He never paid for a meal and he raised the flag at sporting events for years to come. He married his high school sweetheart, a girl named Nellie Buxton, in 1919, a year to the day after he returned home from the war. Through it all, Adam never once showed any desire other than to stay in his town and make it strong. He purchased Shreiner’s Grocery and Goods, the place he had worked as a boy, and turned it into the shopping destination for miles around by adding more variety and household items that old Mr. Shreiner had refused to stock. The result was a booming business, a young wife and, quickly, a child on the way.
When Adam’s body was found in a ditch, torn apart by what appeared to be wild animals, it tore the town apart. Men wept, women wept, children wept and a malaise descended over the town, from which it never recovered. Nellie miscarried their child out of grief. At Adam’s funeral, Kane gave the eulogy and opined that his brother’s death “would leave a mark on this town that may never fully heal.”
His words were prophetic. Shreiner’s closed six months after Adam’s death and other businesses followed suit. Even the happy occasion of Adam’s son Bruce being born could not make a dent in the town’s mood. Things continued, but growth all but stopped.
Some in the town looked to Kane for leadership and on a spiritual level, he provided. His church thrived during hard times and eight months after his brother’s death he married Nellie Buxton Rhodes, his brother’s widow. It was looked upon, by most in the community, as an act of charity in line with biblical teachings. They had two sons and a daughter, Adam, Thomas and Sarah. Thomas followed in his father’s footsteps, becoming a pastor, marrying young and having two boys and a daughter, naming them Thomas Jr., William and Cynthia.
PART 5 – OUT OF YOUR SYSTEM
The man with the Irish accent was expected to speak in front of the assembled group in the “family room” of Dave and Josie’s house, but he had not yet arrived. Ron and Carl were on one couch section, Dilly and Josie on the other. Kenny Kirk and JoAnn were hanging out by the television, Dave not far away. Willie was off by the laundry room. No one was having fun.
It was a rare day when Dave called everyone together for something other than a scratch but the socializing was part of the comfortable routine they had all fallen into during their time together. They would see each other socially, they would talk one on one or in small groups but the only time they were all in one place was when they scratched. It wasn’t policy or for any particular purpose, so the gathering was an odd one. No one was talking and no one wasn’t looking at the stranger in their midst.
“You should have made some food,” Willie barked out of nowhere. “I’m hungry.”
“You know, little smokies wouldn’t have gone awry,” Ron said.
“Yeah, shut up,” Dave said. “This isn’t a tailgate.”
“What the hell is it then?” Willie said. “Are we gonna all get in touch with our feelings now? Is that what this is about?”
“I’ve told you the story, Willie. That’s what I know.”
“Your story has the whiff of bullshit if you ask me,” Willie said.
Dave turned away from him and exhaled deeply, trying to regain his composure.
“Tell you what. It’s 7:30 right now. If he’s not here by 7:45, leave.”
“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Willie said, and left it at that. He didn’t have a firm hold of the thread and his mouth had gotten ahead of him.
But 7:45 came. Then 7:50 and at five before 8:00 there was finally a knock on the door. Dave went to open it and everyone peered from their seats to get a good look at the man. He was wearing a leather jacket over his thin T-shirt and whispered something to Dave, who whispered back. Even with their above-average hearing, no one in the room heard what was being said.
“OK, everyone,” Dave said. “Conall Brennan, the man I was telling you about.”
“The man who saved your ass from a businessman then turned into a wolf, right?” Willie said.
“I’m sure your son-in-law’s ass
would have been fine, but things would have been a lot more complicated,” Conall said. “Can you save your questions until I get the intro out at least, or are you too much of a tough guy to sit and listen?”
Willie started to answer but couldn’t come up with anything. Conall stared at the old man, raising his eyebrows and leaning forward, almost willing him to come to some sort of point. When he didn’t, the newcomer made a big point of turning away before getting down to business.
“Yes, I’m like you in that I can transform into a wolf. I’ve been doing it since my early teen years, much like you, there, son,” he said, nodding to Dilly. “You didn’t think you were the only ones in the world, did you?”
“We never really got around to researching it,” Ron said.
“Well, you fucking well should of, shouldn’t ya?” Conall spit back. “I mean, it just makes sense that in a world of seven or eight billion people, you’re not the most special group on the planet. Are you the least curious people on the planet or the dumbest?”
“Hey,” Josie said, loud enough to startle the room. “No need for that in my house. You’re a guest here and, to your point, things were going fine. We didn’t need any help.”
“I hate to say this, Josie, is it, but you need help now. You’re all in shit up to your belly buttons and you’re just now asking what that smell is.”
“Why are we in trouble?” Dilly said.
“Because everyone, and I mean everyone knows where you are. Look, I’ve got to back up a bit and I can do without all the jabbering and interruptions.”
“You’re the one asking questions,” Josie snarled. Dilly put his hand on his mom’s shoulder and she let him.
“I’m sorry, you’re right,” Conall said, softening. “I’m in your home. I have a bit of temper and I will try to keep it in check. So please, Josie, may I get back to it?”
“That’s what Byron said,” Willie mumbled.
The room exploded with noise and everyone started moving at once. Dave lunged for his father trying to tackle him but Dilly, who had the height but not the weight advantage, tried to hold him back. By and large, he succeeded. Carl, ever the pragmatist, put himself in front of Willie while Ron yelled from the couch. Kenny Kirk unscrewed a flask, offered some to JoAnn, who demurred, then took a long dreg. It took a good fifteen seconds of yelling before anyone could make out anything resembling a word in English.
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