Touching Cottonwood

by Randall Simpson

  Sparky had been standing quietly, watching the exchange between Sheriff O’Neil and Eddie. To Sparky, Eddie appeared to be his normal, confident self. His eyes were calm, and Sparky had noted that Eddie’s palms were dry when they shook hands.

  “This is a little awkward,” the sheriff began, “but I need to ask you something—and please understand that I’m only doing my job here—but I’d like to follow up on something reported to me earlier tonight.”

  Eddie remained expressionless. “Ask me whatever you need to, John.”

  “Thanks. I figured that as a fellow security officer, you’d appreciate the need for me to do my duty. You see, it was reported to me by Diane D’Arcy that you followed Rebecca home from work the other night, and Diane seemed to think you’d really scared her daughter. Why don’t you tell me about that whole incident.”

  Without flinching or missing a beat, Eddie replied, “Oh, I’m sure that’s not how Becky would view that. I think there must have been some misunderstanding.”

  “Well, that’s how her mother reported it to me. Diane said her daughter was scared. That’s all I know.”

  “You know, Sheriff, her mother never has cared much for me. I’ve always known that. If Becky and me ever got serious about each other, I think we’d have to be sneaky about it. Her mother would not approve, I’m sure.”

  The sheriff nodded his head. “Maybe we can get back to that in a moment. But let me ask you straight out—you’re admitting that you did follow Rebecca home last night?”

  “Of course, I did,” said Eddie. “She insisted on riding home in the dark, and, well, I sure wouldn’t want anything to happen to her—after all, it is my job to make sure all the staff members are safe.”

  “Why would she be scared enough to call her mother over to spend the night?”

  “I don’t think she was scared. That was her mother’s opinion. It sounds like Diane may have been a little confused about the whole thing. Maybe she exaggerated to get me in trouble. I can tell you flat out that Becky was not scared. She might have been startled, but nothing else. I did come up behind her kind of fast in the dark. But after she knew it was me, I think she was relieved and appreciated me looking after her like that.”

  “How do you know she appreciated it?” interjected Sparky.

  The sheriff glared at Sparky, but Eddie quickly replied, “She told me so. I followed her nearly all the way to town, and she was very appreciative—trust me.”

  Neither the sheriff nor deputy replied right away. They were both studying Eddie.

  “You think I’m lying about this?” Eddie finally asked. “What reason would I have to lie?”

  The sheriff hesitated, staring at Eddie for a moment. “I’ve got no reason to think you’re lying, Eddie. You’re the chief of security of a large institution. I think that qualifies you for more than a benefit of a doubt.”

  Eddie nodded. “Well, thank you. I appreciate that, John.”

  “So now, let me get back to something you alluded to earlier,” continued the sheriff. “I don’t mean to pry into your personal affairs, but are you and Rebecca close? You know what I mean….”

  This time Eddie paused before answering. It wasn’t a long pause, but long enough for him to quickly guess where the sheriff’s thoughts might be headed. “Well…we have grown up together and worked closely together all these years…things can happen.”

  “And Matthew Duncan hasn’t been around,” the sheriff quickly added.

  “That’s right, he hasn’t,” Eddie said in agreement. “It would only be natural if Becky and me—”

  “Don’t worry, Eddie,” the sheriff interrupted, “your secret is safe with us. I simply needed to get the full picture of what I’m dealing with here. How you conduct your personal life is your business, but you probably know that the whole town already knows about the engagement—most just don’t know who the fiancé is. We won’t tell.”

  Eddie nodded. “You’re right—secrets don’t last long around here. Becky wore her ring yesterday…I guess she was proud of it…but it was stupid…a mistake…I mean…it was the wrong thing for her to do—if she wanted to keep the engagement a secret.”

  “I’m just curious,” said Sparky, not seeming to care if the sheriff glared at him again or not, “but why all the secrecy? Wouldn’t you both want to share your good news with all of Cottonwood?”

  Eddie glanced at the sheriff and then back to Sparky. “Uh, well, we were waiting—”

  “Are you a complete ignoramus, Deputy!” interrupted the sheriff. He was red-faced and leaning forward, glaring almost menacingly at Sparky. “Have you not heard anything that’s transpired here?! This man’s got future mother-in-law problems! She doesn’t like him! Naturally, he and Rebecca have had to be careful in how they’ve approached this whole thing. Putting it out on the Cottonwood gossip network first, at least gives Diane a chance to get used to the idea.”

  “I just can’t see how the two of them—” Sparky began, but the sheriff cut him off.

  “That’s right, you can’t see! I’m thinking your judgment and vision in a good many matters leaves something to be desired lately. Have you done a security check on your handcuffs recently?”

  Sparky backed away, and the sheriff glanced up and down the empty hallway before pulling Eddie aside. “Look Eddie,” he began, his voice lowered, “you’re a fellow lawman, of sorts, and I’ve known you all your life. I can imagine how this must be affecting you. Here you are, trying to be a professional and keep your relationship secret, and then Rebecca goes missing. This has got to be tough on you. Now, I don’t want to upset you, but you probably ought to know that there’s a lunatic on the loose here in Cottonwood. He’s somewhere out there, right now. That lunatic is Matthew Duncan.”

  Eddie raised his eyebrows as the sheriff continued, “I’m sure you probably know he’s back in town, but I’ll tell you straight-up—he’s not the Matthew Duncan you once knew—he’s changed—he’s not the man who left this town years ago.”

  Eddie cleared his throat. “I knew he was back. I even warned Becky about seeing him.”

  “Why was that?”

  “I just thought he was a bad influence on her. He’s been gone so long from Cottonwood. Becky and I have stayed here, while he went away. I know they were close once, but I didn’t think she needed him confusing her. I got a bad feelin’ about things when I found out he was back.”

  “That makes two of us, Eddie,” agreed the sheriff.

  Eddie only nodded.

  “Well, here’s the situation,” continued the sheriff. “I agree with what you said about Matthew Duncan not being good for Rebecca. I also don’t think he’s good for Cottonwood. We’re really looking for him as well tonight. If you haven’t figured it out, I guess where all this is leading to is that I strongly suspect he was directly involved with Rebecca’s disappearance.” The sheriff put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “I’m really sorry to have to put something like this on you, and I’m also sorry for prying into your personal affairs—but we all want to find Rebecca—safe and sound.”

  Eddie was quiet for a moment and seemed to be collecting his thoughts. Then his eyes narrowed, and with a strong and matter-of-fact voice, without anger, he said, “I warned her about Matthew, and I swear to you, if he’s so much as touched a hair on her head—I’ll kill him myself.”

  “Believe me, Eddie,” said the sheriff, still resting his hand on Eddie’s shoulder in a consoling manner, “if Matthew Duncan has done anything to Ms. D’Arcy, I don’t think there’s a person in Cottonwood that would object to some good old-fashioned western justice taking place—if you know what I mean.”

  Eddie nodded and smiled.

  “Now,” continued the sheriff, “I think I’d like to go ahead and speak with Doctor Reese for a few minutes.” He then looked over at Sparky, who was leaning against a wall a few feet away. “Why don’t you go look around, Deputy Sparks? Maybe you can find some way to be more useful.”

  Eddie took t
he sheriff into Dr. Reese’s office, as Sparky remained alone in the hallway. A minute or so later, Eddie returned to the hallway.

  “There’s still no word,” Eddie said.

  Sparky looked at him. “Funny, you don’t seem all that upset to me—considering your future wife is missing.”

  Eddie took a deep breath. “You know, Sparky, in the army I went all over the world and have even been in real live combat. I’ve seen some horrible things, and one thing I’ve learned to do through all of it—stay calm in tough situations. What have you done? You’ve stayed here in safe little Cottonwood and maybe have had to arrest a few drunks or something. What would you know about staying calm? You don’t know how I feel right now—you don’t know anything about me.”

  Sparky remained expressionless. “You’re right,” he finally said, “maybe I don’t know as much about you as I thought I did, but in spending my whole life in Cottonwood, I know enough to find it damn hard to swallow that you and Rebecca could ever, in a million years, be engaged. She’s way out of your league—and we both know it.”

  Eddie stared and gave a slight smile. “I guess that shows how little you really know about her as well.”

  Sparky nodded. “Yeah, well, I’ll believe the two of you are really engaged when I hear it from her own lips. Until then—I’ll remain skeptical.”

  “Whatever suits you, Sparky. Now, excuse me, as I’ve got some real security issues to attend to.” Eddie turned and headed down the hallway. Sparky watched him until he turned a corner and was out of sight.

  The sheriff and Sparky had visited the Home for less than thirty minutes before heading back toward Cottonwood. Dr. Reese had told the sheriff nothing new, except that as each hour went by, the staff was growing increasingly upset. When asked directly, Dr. Reese had also confided that he knew Rebecca was engaged, though he had no idea who her fiancé was. The sheriff didn’t share with Dr. Reese the earlier discussion he’d had with Eddie.

  They hadn’t traveled too far down the highway toward Cottonwood before Sparky said, “Sheriff, as you probably could tell back there, I’m not buying everything Eddie said. A few things just don’t add up.”

  “I don’t want to hear it, Deputy,” replied the sheriff. “If you can’t see how the pieces are falling together, I can’t help that. We’ve got a case of a jealous former boyfriend who’s come back to town after being gone too long, and he just can’t accept the fact that his girlfriend has found someone else. Combine that jealousy with Matthew Duncan’s general loony behavior and past criminal record, and you’ve got trouble. The focus is officially and totally on Matthew Duncan—got that? I don’t want to hear your crazy ideas. When we find him, we find Rebecca.”

  The two spoke no further on the trip back to town. As they neared Eddie’s house, Sparky stared up at its darkened silhouette on the hill, feeling an itch somewhere deep in his mind. Had he been alone and driving the car himself, it was enough of an itch for him to have pulled up into the driveway to have a look around. As it was, he dare say nothing more to the sheriff, and he kept quiet as they passed by.

  When they got back to town, the sheriff dropped Sparky at his house. “Try to get a few hours of sleep,” said the sheriff. “We’ve got the hounds coming to help us—bright and early in the morning.”

  Sparky slept poorly that night—waking up more than once, feeling certain he was in handcuffs.

  Eighty-Four

  Milk & Breadcrumbs

  The ringing came from somewhere far away. It was incessant and irritating and brought him back from a misty and forgetful void. His eyes were impossibly heavy, but with a force of willpower alone, he pulled them slowly open. Immediately, the pounding on his temples began—a vise strapped across the top of his head, turning ever tighter—the drinking man’s morning curse. He realized the ringing was coming from roughly behind him. He turned over on his pillow and saw a red light flashing in rhythm to the ringing. His mind coalesced into semi-coherency, and he found himself staring at the phone on the bedside table in his hotel room at the Cottonwood Inn.

  Barely lifting his head off the pillow, Agent Westmore reached over and picked up the phone. “Yeah,” he answered dully.

  “Is this Agent Westmore?” said a quick and sharp voice.

  “Yeah,” replied the agent.

  “This is Superintendent Stephen Tremont, Washington State Department of Corrections from the Monroe Correctional Complex. Did I wake you?”

  The agent’s mind began to sharpen its focus. The throbbing in his head intensified as each layer of drowsiness was peeling away.

  “No, uh…” the agent said, “I was just getting up and going.”

  “I should hope so,” said the superintendent. “You’ve got a lot of work ahead of you.”

  “Work? What sort of work?”

  “I want Matthew Duncan returned to me! Do you understand?”

  “Yeah, that’s the plan. This damn Dead Zone has delayed my return. I’ve been waiting for a ride out of here—it could be today.”

  “My god,” said the superintendent, “you need to wake the hell up! You’ve got a lot of work ahead to catch the bastard. Haven’t you heard?! He escaped last night from the Cottonwood Sheriff’s Office. It was posted on NCIC. What the hell have you been doing down there? Aren’t you in constant touch with their sheriff?”

  Agent Westmore was jolted into full awareness. His head felt as though it might explode at any moment, which, under the sudden revelation of circumstances, he thought might not be the worst of fates.

  “I went to bed pretty early last night,” said the agent. “I’ve not had any contact with the sheriff since yesterday.”

  “Well, I don’t give a shit about all that. Just get up and get going! Hell, he could be in the next fucking state by now!”

  “I doubt that,” said the agent. “There are roadblocks on the highway, and the mountains around here are incredibly rugged. He’d need to have sprouted wings to be in the next state by now. This Dead Zone has got the town pretty isolated.”

  “Yeah, the Dead Zone,” replied the superintendent. “Probably some gas station got greedy and watered down their gas so everyone’s cars stall out, and then the whole state gets their panties in a bunch over it—but it’s okay, because they got their ten seconds of fame on the six o’clock news. Sounds like it must have been a couple of slow news days in Colorado—what a sorry-ass state.”

  “No, there’s really more to it than that. We’re talking about a whole—”

  “Look,” interrupted the superintendent, “I don’t know what the hell is going on down there, and I don’t really give a damn—I just want my inmate back. Capturing him means a lot to me. Do you understand? I’ve never lost one, you know. I was so damn elated when I found out he’d been captured, I gave all the prisoners an extra half hour of recreation time. I want him back, Agent. It’s bad for morale when prisoners and guards alike think that anyone can just go walking out of here. You catch that bastard. Bring him to me. I don’t care how he got away this time, but don’t let those backwoods fuckers down there mess this up for me. Find Matthew Duncan, catch him, and bring him back here to Washington. Consider it a personal favor.”

  “I’ll do my best,” said the agent. “There are lots of places in the mountains around here for him to hide—so it could take a while.”

  “Take all the time you need. I’ll speak with the Bureau. Hire a god-damn mountain man and some mules if you need to, but don’t come back without my inmate. Think how it would look if you came back here empty-handed after all this—your career might depend on it.”

  The agent was silent for a moment. He knew the superintendent was not making an idle threat. “I understand,” said the agent. “This is very important to both of us. I won’t fail to find him—you can trust me on that.”

  The conversation ended, and the agent stumbled his way across the room into the bathroom. He stood in front of the mirror, forgetting for a moment exactly what he meant to do next. He leaned forward
and noticed the lines on his face. There were lots of them. He saw the lines for the first time for what they truly were—the roadmap of his life. Each one told a story of a new case he’d taken on and a human he’d hunted down. The lines on his face told a story that was true—perhaps sad, lonely, heroic, or mundane—but all true. He decided he wasn’t going to shave today. He knew he looked older when he didn’t, even too old, perhaps, but that was how he felt today—old. He felt as ancient as the mountains around this part of Colorado—millions of years old.

  The hot shower felt refreshing as it bounced off his rough skin. His mind began to clear, and he thought of Sheriff O’Neil. That bastard purposely didn’t tell me! He thought of Matthew Duncan. And that bastard warned me! Each of them had brought the agent to his present circumstances in their own way—one of them by predictable deception and one by unbelievable honesty.

  He finished showering, dressed, and went down to the lobby. Despite Superintendent Tremont’s threat, before beginning anything, the agent decided he was absolutely going to have some morning coffee and something to eat. As he headed toward the front door, he saw Akash coming from another part of the inn.

  “I hope you’re feeling better today,” said Akash, speaking up before the agent had a chance.

  “I’ve got a nasty headache,” said the agent, “but nothing some hot coffee and breakfast shouldn’t cure.”

  “Very good, then—that’s where I’m headed.”

  The two men walked across the street to Ernie’s. The restaurant was not as crowded as it had been on previous visits, and they managed to get a booth by the window. The table had just been cleaned and was still damp from the busboy’s washcloth. The waiter came, and the agent ordered coffee while Akash ordered hot tea.

  They were quiet for a few moments, studying their menus before the agent spoke first. “I can’t remember everything I said last night, but I know it must have been completely off the wall. Sorry for anything stupid I said.”

  Akash glanced up from his menu. “Think nothing more of it. Alcohol has that effect on the human brain—you drink, you say stupid things, and then you regret them. It’s a predictable pattern.”