Matthew continued smiling and finally said, “You say you don’t care if I was guilty, but aren’t you still curious about how I knew your name? Don’t you want to know that?”
“The sheriff said it when he introduced me to you. It’s that simple.”
“No, he only called you Agent Westmore. I’m sure you remember that.”
“Whatever you say,” snapped the agent. “So you heard it somehow. Who cares?”
“You’re right. Who cares that your full name is David Phillip Westmore?”
Agent Westmore stared at him for a moment, looked down at the table, and then back at Matthew. “All right, how the hell do you know all that?” he asked. “What’s your source?”
“My source?” Matthew smiled and laughed. “That is such an appropriate question. Do you want the truth, or do you want a convenient lie that won’t make you feel uneasy?” asked Matthew.
“Of course, I want the truth,” said the agent, now noticeably louder. “But I’m doubting someone like you is likely to give it.”
“Are you sure you want the truth?” asked Matthew again. “Because a lot of people say they want the truth but are not prepared to really accept it when it’s presented to them.”
“Stop fucking with me, Mr. Duncan,” said Agent Westmore. “How the hell did you know my full name?”
“I read it in everything around me…it’s all connected to your name…the flight of birds…the shapes of clouds…the wind across my face… the—”
“Cut the crap, Mr. Duncan!” interrupted the agent in a loud voice. “I don’t care about that shit—what’s your god-damn source?!”
Matthew looked at him with a calm expression. “I was being honest. Nothing less than everything is my source. It’s all connected, and all you have to do is find the key to—”
“Crap,” Agent Westmore blurted out. “The key to crap. This is nonsense, and you’re boring me. You obviously have no intention of telling me the truth and so you’re playing games. The sheriff has you pegged.”
“I am telling you the truth, but you’re not ready. Few are. Your name, my name, and the names of every single soul are spoken by the wind, the rustle of leaves, the singing of birds, if we could but have the right ears to hear—”
“Enough!” the agent snapped. “I know your kind. You’re some kind of computer hacker. You hacked into Washington State databases or some others, and you found out who was working on your case and tracking you down. That’s where you got my name, and now you’re fucking with me—spewing all this mystical-sounding crap and playing games to amuse yourself. You’re just a clever liar, Mr. Duncan, but just a liar. It’s that simple.”
Agent Westmore then walked up close to Matthew and looked him in the eyes. Calmly and with a low tone, he said, “I don’t like liars, and I don’t like to be fucked with. People who fuck with me, end up getting the short straw. You know what I mean?”
“Your meaning is crystal clear to me, David. It is so interesting how we resort to threats when feeling confused by events we don’t understand. This is confusing to you—I do understand. I’m sorry for that, but change can be confusing.”
Agent Westmore drew even closer, his face tight and eyes intensely looking into Matthew’s. “I’ve never understood psyche cases, Mr. Duncan, and I don’t care to, but I’m going to tell you something straight up. In a few days, I’m going to put some handcuffs on you and put you into a car. Then we’re going to leave Cottonwood and drive to Montrose, where I’ll put you into another car, and we’ll drive all the way back to Washington together. You’re going to be handcuffed the whole way. Your wrists are going to be raw by the time we get there. If you try to resist at any time, I will do whatever I need to do to prevent that. Given your past history of escapes, I would be totally justified in blowing your brains out at practically anytime. Do you have a problem with that?”
Matthew remained calm and unmoved.
“I guess I would have a problem with you blowing my brains out,” Matthew said finally and then continued, “but that’s not going to happen. My going back with you to Washington is what you think ought to happen. That’s the image you have in your mind for what the future should hold. Luckily, for both of us as you will see, that is not what will happen, not even close.”
Agent Westmore shook his head slowly but did not take his eyes off of Matthew’s. “You are one fucked-up individual, Mr. Duncan. I’ll be sure to remind you of that fact every few miles as we drive back to Washington together.”
The agent picked up his briefcase from the chair, causing the orange jumpsuit to fall to the floor. He then turned and headed for the door. The door had no handle on the inside but could only be opened from the outside, so the agent stopped and tapped lightly on it, then turned around and stared at Matthew. The redness in the agent’s face had not faded.
“I’ll be seeing you in a few days, Mr. Duncan,” said the agent.
The door opened, and Sheriff O’Neil stepped into the cell.
“I’m looking forward to seeing you again as well, David,” said Matthew.
The sheriff looked at Matthew and then at the agent. “Well, did you boys have a nice little visit?” he asked.
“It was—different,” said the agent.
Matthew smiled and was silent.
The sheriff looked down at the orange jumpsuit on the floor, and then he looked over at Matthew. “Now, is that any way to treat that pretty uniform? I thought it was real nice of Agent Westmore to bring it all the way down here. I bet you missed it.”
“I didn’t care much for it, actually,” said Matthew. “I’m sure it probably looked better on a young man I met in Oregon.” Matthew then looked right at Agent Westmore. “Mick was his name. You must remember Mick? A nice young man, right, David?”
“Let’s go,” the agent said to the sheriff, quickly turning and heading out the door.
The two men left Matthew alone in the cell, with the sheriff making extra certain to check that the locks were secure before they walked down the hallway toward the main office area.
“Keep an eye on him,” said the agent as the two emerged into the main office. “Though he may be a kook, he’s a crafty one. If I were you, Sheriff, I’d put some extra security on Mr. Duncan. He does show some skill for getting around good security.”
“What would you suggest?” asked the sheriff.
“I don’t know. Maybe handcuff him to his bed or something. I wouldn’t take any chances.”
“I guess we can do that, though I think that room is pretty damn secure. We’ve never had an escape from here—so I’m not all that worried.”
“Suit yourself,” replied the agent, “but if Mr. Duncan were to get out, I can tell you that there’s a superintendent of a prison in Washington State that would come down here himself and rip your heart out.”
Agent Westmore spent a few more minutes visiting with the sheriff before heading outside to look for Akash. In looking across the street to where they’d earlier parked the electric car, he was surprised to see that it was no longer there. His brain told him that Akash couldn’t have gone too far in the small town, while at the same time, his stomach was telling him it was time for another meal. Looking up and down the street, he immediately spotted the Tim’s World Famous Tasty Burger restaurant next to the sheriff’s office. It was like a beacon calling out to him, as all the automatic response mechanisms became engaged. He stepped inside, mouth watering, and found out what a burger was meant to taste like.
Sixty-Five
Discovery
Rebecca had declined Dr. Reese’s offer to have Eddie come out and pick her up in a golf cart to bring her back to work. She told Dr. Reese that she’d rather bike the three miles instead. It was a short ride, she insisted, and the exercise would do her good. During the summer and milder parts of spring and fall, it wasn’t all that unusual for Rebecca to bike to work and back. It always made her feel refreshed and invigorated. During her conversation with Dr. Reese, she told him nothi
ng about her encounter with Eddie the day before.
The worst part about her bike trip from Cottonwood to the Home was that Rebecca needed to pass by Eddie’s house to get there. It was located just a little past the halfway point. As she was passing by the house, she looked down at her wedding ring glittering in the morning sun. It gave her a measure of comfort, and she got a sudden surge of adrenaline and speeded up her pedaling, hoping all the while that Eddie wouldn’t also be on his way to work or in the area for any other reason. She was relieved to finally arrive at the Home without having seen any sign of Eddie.
Though she needed to concentrate on her work, Rebecca couldn’t help but have Matthew on her mind and, specifically, whether or not Judge Reynolds would be successful in somehow persuading Sheriff O’Neil to let her in for a visit. Though it seemed unlikely, based on the transportation crisis the town was now experiencing, she even feared that somehow the authorities might arrive from Washington and take Matthew away while she was at work. She tried to push all these thoughts and fears to the back of her mind, as she knew her job required her full attention on the residents.
Rebecca had gone through most of the morning without anyone commenting on or even noticing her wedding ring. Her promise to leave it on would not be broken, and she glanced at it frequently as she went about her morning tasks. Finally, the lunch hour came, and it was time for Rebecca to give Blue Clair her meal. On summer days, Blue Clair liked to eat outside on the bright and sunny patio, where there were picnic tables set up with umbrellas to block the direct sun. The patio was an interior one, with no access from the outside. Residents could be left there without fear of them wandering off. The patio was lined with pots of roses, which at certain times gave the area a most exquisite fragrance.
There were a few other residents and some staff seated around the patio as Rebecca helped Blue Clair to her seat. She then went back inside and returned a minute later with Clair’s lunch tray. As she set the tray down in front of the elderly resident, Rebecca’s hand passed into a shaft of sunlight streaming down onto the table.
Blue Clair’s eyes opened wide. “Pretty, Becca,” she said.
Rebecca looked around. No one else was close enough to hear. “Thank you, Clair.”
Blue Clair reached out toward the ring. “New?” she asked.
Rebecca only glanced at the ring but focused instead on putting a bib on Blue Clair. “Yes, it is. A friend gave it to me.”
The lunchtime meal was meatloaf, and Rebecca began to cut it into just the right-sized pieces that she knew the elderly resident could successfully chew. All the while, Blue Clair continued to stare at Rebecca’s wedding ring.
“Here you go,” said Rebecca, after finishing with the cutting. She handed Blue Clair a fork but kept the knife. “I’m going to go help others with their lunch, but I’ll be back in a little while, okay?”
Blue Clair nodded, though her eyes were locked on the ring.
Rebecca left Blue Clair alone and helped several other residents with their lunches. Not one of them seemed to notice the ring. She had conversations with several staff members who also seemed too busy or distracted to notice it. This was all for the good, as Rebecca remained uncertain exactly how she’d go about answering questions regarding where the ring came from or, more importantly, who the ring came from.
Eventually, Rebecca returned to the patio, where she found Blue Clair had been joined by three other residents as well as Darla Harris, a younger staff nurse who’d only recently graduated from college and joined the staff at the Home. Bubbles of laughter were coming from the group. Rebecca approached the table with caution. She took a deep breath and folded her ring hand down, holding it on her hip as she stepped up to the group.
“What’s this? A party without me? What’s so funny?” Rebecca said.
Blue Clair held up an apple, with her false teeth stuck deeply into it. “No teef,” she said.
Everybody laughed as Rebecca realized that in her earlier haste to get Blue Clair’s lunch, she had cut the meatloaf but had failed to cut her apple into pieces she could manage.
“You’re such a clown,” Rebecca said. “I’m sorry I forgot to cut your apple.” Rebecca reached out and took the apple and teeth with her right hand, leaving her left one curled with her fingers hidden next to her hip. “I’ll cut this up, and you can eat it for a snack, later—after I take the teeth out and wash them off.”
Everyone giggled, and though her maneuver may have seemed natural to the others, Blue Clair’s eyes now shifted to Rebecca’s left hand. Rebecca knew instantly where the elderly resident’s eyes were focused.
“Sew wing,” said Blue Clair.
“What did she say?” asked Darla, looking at Rebecca. “I can’t understand her. She needs her teeth.”
“I need to wash them first,” said Rebecca, shaking her head.
“Sew wing!” said Blue Clair once more, this time clearly pointing to Rebecca’s left hand.
Rebecca knew the game was up, and the longer she stalled, the more awkward it would become. “Oh, she might be saying ‘show ring,’ I think,” she said, pulling her hand up and holding it out in front of her with the palm down.
Her hand was enveloped in full sunlight, and the ring flashed a million brilliant shades of rainbow colors. All eyes in the group were now focused on the ring.
“Oh my god!” said Darla. “When did you get that?!”
And so it has started, thought Rebecca. “Well, just a few days ago,” she said, trying to look at the ring as though it was a small blemish or pimple on her finger instead of the slice of sunlight it was.
Darla reached over and held Rebecca’s hand and at the same time leaned forward to get a closer look at the ring. “If I had a rock like that on my finger, I’d be running around here showing everyone! Who’s the lucky fella? I didn’t even know you were dating anyone. You secretive little devil, you.”
“Well, it was all kind of sudden,” said Rebecca. “I was kind of surprised myself.”
“Well, who is he, and have you set a date yet?” asked Darla, looking up from the ring to Rebecca.
Assumptions can sometimes work in your favor, thought Rebecca as she glanced at Darla and then the ring. “Well, yes, sort of,” she began. “I mean, we know we want to be married sometime in the summer, probably about this time of year. But we’re not in any great hurry.”
“And a name?” asked Darla again. “What’s his name?!”
Rebecca’s stomach twisted. She only had a second to think. Darla was new in the area and had never met Matthew and knew nothing about him. Still, she had to be careful.
“His name is Duncan,” Rebecca said calmly.
“Well, that’s a nice name,” said Darla, still looking down at the ring. “And this ring is absolutely to die for,” she added as she then looked up and released Rebecca’s hand. “And when do we get a chance to meet him? Does he live around here?”
“He might, I mean…after we get married. He travels a lot and doesn’t live here permanently yet. He might be traveling for a while, so you’ll have to wait to meet him.”
Rebecca stared right at Darla, wondering if the story would be accepted.
“I like that,” said Darla. “It makes him sound kind of mysterious—but if he’s half as gorgeous as that ring he’s given you, I’m sure he’s incredible. Does he have any brothers?”
“Sorry, he’s an only child,” said Rebecca.
“Kiff,” said Blue Clair to Rebecca, having stared at the ring during the entire conversation.
“You want to have a kiss?” asked Rebecca.
“Kiff wing,” said Blue Clair, reaching out with her tiny wrinkled hand toward Rebecca’s ring.
“I think she wants to kiss your ring,” said Darla. “Isn’t that sweet?!”
Rebecca glanced at Darla, then at her ring, then back at Blue Clair. Slowly, Rebecca extended her hand toward the old woman. With age meeting youth and one pure heart meeting another, Blue Clair gently held Rebecca’s hand,
put her wrinkled lips to the ring, and gave it a soft kiss. Gently, she let Rebecca’s hand down.
“Luck, Becca,” said Blue Clair, holding her gaze into Rebecca’s eyes. “Luck.”
Rebecca looked down at the ring and then back toward Blue Clair.
Darla said, “I think she’s just wished you good luck in your marriage, Rebecca. Coming from someone as sweet as Clair, how can you go wrong?”
Rebecca said nothing for a moment, but stared at Blue Clair. She wasn’t certain, but she thought she saw a slight tear in the corner of one of the old woman’s eyes.
Darla and Rebecca helped all the residents from the patio move back inside the building, taking several trips to do so. Rebecca removed Blue Clair’s teeth from the apple and washed them. She then cut the apple up and later served it to Blue Clair for a late-afternoon snack. News traveled fast—especially from a new energetic nurse named Darla—and several members of the staff came up to Rebecca throughout the day, congratulated her on her engagement, and asked to see her ring. A few wondered who her fiancé was, and she made a point to always answer that they probably didn’t know him, as he was from out of town. By late in the day, even Dr. Reese had heard the news, and he also made a point to stop her in the hallway to congratulate her.
“Well, I don’t know why you were keeping it such a secret, but I hope you’re going to get married right here in Cottonwood,” Dr. Reese said. “You know that everyone in town will want to be invited.”
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll get married in Cottonwood,” replied Rebecca. “Only my fiancé and I were kind of thinking it would be a very small wedding.” She failed to add that her maid of honor would likely be a yellow lab.
“I can’t see you having a small wedding in a town full of your friends. When the time comes, Amanda is great at planning things, so if you need any help, just ask. She’ll be so thrilled to hear the news.” Dr. Reese smiled and continued on with his rounds.
Touching Cottonwood Page 50