“Bad move, Lewis,” Olivia whispered. Then they were on the ground floor and the doors opened. Bertha and her son were nowhere in sight. The coast was clear. Moving a little faster than they should have been, considering the offended dignity they were trying to project, they got through the double front doors, all the time hearing the voices of the detectives, determinedly calm, counterpointing with the shrill tones of Lewis, demanding that they be stopped and searched and questioned and thrown in jail. And all manner of other things.
Then they were out into the scorching heat.
“Let’s slow down a little,” Barry suggested. “Tommy, hold on to the railing, okay? Suzie, let me give you a hand.” Tommy didn’t put up any protest, and neither did Suzie. Olivia swung around to get to the bottom of the steps in case they fell, standing ready to catch them. But despite the fact that Tommy and Suzie were both visibly angry—or maybe just excited—they managed the few steps down with no problem, and then all four of them crossed the gravel to the car. The detectives’ sedan was parked behind them.
A whoosh of heat came out of the opened car doors, but they weren’t going to wait for the car to cool. They climbed in, Barry and Tommy in the front, Suzie and Olivia in the back, and then they were going down the driveway.
“Whew,” said Suzie. “That little fucker! Someone should clip his nuts off.”
“If he has any,” Tommy said.
Olivia couldn’t stop the giggle. After a second, Barry joined her.
They’d gotten away with it.
“But we didn’t find out where the jewelry is,” Tommy said.
“Yes, we did.” Olivia smiled to herself. “I know where it is.”
“Where?” Tommy demanded. “Hey, I think I deserve to know!”
“You do, but I have to tell Manfred first,” she said. “This is his deal, after all.”
“How are we gonna get ’em, now that he knows what we look like?” Suzie said. Suddenly they were a gang of jewel thieves instead of a group of newly met misfits.
“We’ll think of something,” Olivia said.
“After we get out of here,” Barry said brusquely, and they all agreed it was time to leave Bonnet Park.
25
The Rev was in front of the chapel, looking up into the sky. Afternoon was drawing to a close, but the sun was still blazing away with implacable heat. He took his hat off and waved it in the air, whether to dry the sweat on the hatband or to create some air circulation, Joe had no idea. The boy was with him, and for the first time they looked like they belonged together. Diederik was slightly behind the Rev, as if he were trying to stand in the Rev’s meager shadow. They both looked into the vast blue, their eyes narrowed against the glare, reading the sky to come.
Chuy had been ordering some nail polish online, but he came to look out when Joe beckoned. “Huh,” Chuy said. “Let me check something.” He returned to the laptop and typed something in a search engine. After a moment, he said, “Yep. The prediction is no clouds, for three nights.”
“I figured,” Joe said. There was a long moment of silence, while they both considered the fact.
“Still,” Joe said, as if their thoughts had been spoken out loud, “as long as everyone stays inside . . .”
“Yeah. But isn’t Manfred out of town now? With Olivia and two hotel people?” Chuy was anxious.
“They’re not back yet. Right.”
“Better text them.” Chuy got out his cell phone. “Both of them?”
“Yes, I think so.”
Joe could hear the tiny click of the keypad on the telephone. He and Chuy were tech titans compared to the Rev. The old minister ignored computers and wasn’t even comfortable on his landline telephone. He had grudgingly agreed to have an answering machine attached to the one in his little house only after he had missed the opportunity of some pet burials because grieving pet owners couldn’t get in touch with him.
The Rev and Diederik looked completely at home in their own world just at the moment.
As Joe watched, the older man turned to look at the boy and said something to him, something very serious. The boy nodded, looking nervous, looking excited. He was even taller than the day before, Joe realized. He looked as old as Dillon, the high school junior who bussed at Home Cookin.
That led Joe to think about the Home Cookin family. “Chuy, I have to go talk to Teacher and Madonna,” he said.
Chuy said, “Sure. I’m waiting to hear back from our wanderers. Hey, take Rasta, so he’ll get some exercise.”
Joe put Rasta on his leash, and the little dog danced around, anxious to go on a walk. The sidewalk was hot for Rasta’s feet, so Joe carried him most of the way but put the dog down to take advantage of a little strip of dirt between the sidewalk and the street. He let Rasta have a few happy moments of sniffing and peeing before they continued on their short way.
As Joe pushed open the glass door, he realized he could not remember ever entering Gas N Go twice in consecutive days. Teacher was making change for a customer who’d bought gas, and when the rancher had climbed back into his pickup and pulled out onto the Davy highway, Teacher said, “What an honor! What’s up, Joe?”
“Close early tonight,” Joe said.
“What? Come again?”
“Close before dark. Go home. Make sure Madonna and Grady are inside. Lock your doors. Don’t go out. Tonight, and the next two nights.”
“What’s up?” Teacher wasn’t as surprised to be given this message as he would have been a year ago. And he didn’t question Joe’s word.
“Will you do this?” he asked.
“Yeah, Joe. I’ll do it. Do I need to get my rifle out?”
Joe sighed heavily. “If you don’t go out, you won’t need it,” he said. “Will you tell Madonna, or do I need to go over to the restaurant?”
“She’ll take this better if it comes from you.”
Joe thought that was an odd thing to say, because as far as he knew, Madonna and Teacher had a companionable marriage, but he wasn’t going to question Teacher any more than Teacher had questioned him. He nodded and left, going straight across the road to the hotel and walking west to the restaurant, taking advantage of another patch of shade to let Rasta get a bit of exercise. Madonna and Dillon were having a conversation about the nature of true barbecue, a discussion that could go on forever, especially in Texas. Madonna was sitting on one of the stools cutting up tomatoes in a leisurely way, and Dillon was wiping down the plastic envelopes that enclosed the menus.
Their heads turned to the door simultaneously when the bell chimed, and Madonna cast an anxious glance to one of the booths, where Grady was stretched out asleep. Dillon, who was always glad to see a customer, smiled in a surprised kind of way, because it was before five o’clock.
“Hey, Mr. Joe,” he said. “You want a table? Or you want to sit up here with us? I can bring you some iced tea.”
Joe shook his head.
Madonna put down her knife and wiped her hands on her apron. “Can I fix you something to take home for supper? Roast beef isn’t ready yet, but I can come up with something.”
“No, thanks. What time have you been closing?” Joe asked.
“By eight or maybe as late as eight thirty,” she said. “Every now and then someone will linger that late.”
“Close earlier tonight. Please.”
“Klan going to come burn a cross?” She bared her teeth in a smile designed to show the boy, Dillon, that she was joking. Just a little bit. When Joe didn’t smile back, she dropped her own quickly. “Seriously, Joe?” she said.
“Yes. I’ve already talked to Teacher.”
She glanced over at her sleeping son. “Okay.” She nodded. “I’ll close by seven thirty at the latest.”
He was pleased that she didn’t ask more questions. “Seven thirty will be okay,” he said. Sunset wasn’t until eight thirty p.m. or thereabou
ts, but it would be wise to err on the side of caution. “Dillon, you drove your truck in, right?”
Dillon looked at Joe as though he’d grown another head. Of course, Joe thought. He’s a rural kid. He’s been driving since he was thirteen, probably. Now Joe remembered that Dillon had saved up to buy a secondhand Chevy 4x4, and he kept it as clean and polished as a vehicle in dusty Texas could be. “Of course you did,” Joe said, with an apologetic smile. “When the restaurant closes, please go straight home.” The Braithwaite ranch was ten miles due south of Midnight.
The boy’s face was full of a thousand questions, but Joe knew if he answered one, he’d be there for ten more minutes. He was ready with a credible story. “A customer in the shop told me he’d seen a mountain lion on his property right outside of town. He said it was wounded, might attack people. I think we need to take serious precautions until they track it down.”
That seemed to make sense to Dillon. To forestall any more questions from the boy, Joe nodded at both of them and left. He hesitated once outside, picking up Rasta and scratching the little dog’s head. Rasta was panting but still glad to be outside with his human.
“What now?” Joe said to the dog. He’d just thought of Fiji when he heard her call his name. He looked far past her down the sidewalk and saw Mr. Snuggly sitting on the edge of her yard looking after her. When Fiji came up to him, he saw that her face was tight with anxiety. Though she was wearing a short denim skirt and a tank top, she was flushed and breathing heavily.
“Tonight,” she said. “Something’s happening tonight.”
“Yes. I was just telling Madonna and Teacher to be inside early. I was going to call you.”
“I went over to the chapel with some cookies for the Rev and Diederik. The Rev wouldn’t come to the door, though I know they were in there. There’s only that big ceiling fan in there, no air-conditioning. Silence. And I got a shivery feeling.”
“Good thing you trust your feelings,” Joe said approvingly. Fiji tried to smile back.
“Something’s going to happen to the boy tonight,” she said. “I think so, at least. He’s been growing so much, and he seems so different from other boys, anyway. I don’t know what it is, but I know he won’t be the same after it.”
Joe nodded. “Don’t forget to tell your cat,” he said. He’d put the dog down, and Rasta was prancing around Fiji’s ankles, smelling the cat on her legs and shoes.
“Mr. Snuggly seems to know. Better than I do. He’s already told me to get a litter box ready for tonight. Normally, he just goes outside.”
“We’ll take Rasta out at the last minute and then hope for the best,” Joe said. “Remember, Fiji. I know you are strong, and I know you are powerful. But no running outside to pick some last-minute herbs for supper or to stand in the moonlight to cast a spell.”
“Do I seem that scatterbrained to you?” Fiji shook her head. “Don’t answer that. I promise, I won’t try to rescue anyone. Have you talked to Bobo?”
Joe shook his head. “I’ll leave that to you, if you have time. I need to get Rasta home. The heat’s too much with all his fur.”
“Okay, I’ll stop in,” she said. “I think Manfred and Olivia have been gone today? You’ve texted them?”
“They’ve been told,” Joe assured her.
“Bye then, and thanks. Stay safe, Joe.” She glanced both ways and then ran diagonally across the intersection and up the steps to the old door to the pawnshop.
It was gloomy inside as it almost always was, and she stopped to get her sight back.
“Hey, Feej,” Bobo called from the back of the store, which was much larger than it looked on the outside. She began fumbling her way back. By the time she reached him she could see.
Bobo was examining a vest. He’d spread it out on the top of an ancient table with carved legs, which probably should have gone to Joe’s antiques shop instead of his own business. That happened, from time to time.
“Is that leather?” she asked, sidetracked for a moment.
“Sure is,” he said. “But I don’t know what the leather is made from. What animal, I mean. Could be anything.”
“Even a person?” She scrunched up her nose.
“I guess so.” Bobo seemed mildly amused by the idea. “It looks pretty cool, though, so I hope not. Maybe when Lemuel comes back, he’d know.”
“I don’t even want to think about that,” she said. “Listen, Bobo, I got a warning from Joe.”
“Joe?” She had his full attention.
“He says to stay in after dark tonight, no matter what.”
Bobo thought about that for a second. “Did he say why?”
“No, but it’s got something to do with Diederik and the Rev.”
“What about Manfred? His car hasn’t been there all day.”
“Joe texted him. Should be okay. I hope he’s close.”
“Maybe Olivia is with him. I haven’t seen her all day, either, and I think her car is gone, too.”
“Yeah, they went somewhere together. They took a couple of old people from the hotel. And the young guy.”
“Weird. That doesn’t seem very much like Manfred. Or Olivia.”
“I know, right? Joe’s probably heard back from them, but I may text Manfred myself, just to keep my mind at rest.”
As it happened, Manfred and Olivia returned to town an hour and a half later, having treated Suzie and Tommy to a substantial midafternoon snack at an ice cream shop. While Manfred dropped off Barry, Olivia saw the two others into the hotel.
Manfred had driven back to Davy to pick up his dry cleaning, and he’d lingered to drive by Magdalena Orta Powell’s office out of sheer curiosity. It did not have gold pavement outside, and the door was not set with gemstones. He’d also picked up some Mexican food for his own supper, and he was looking forward to heating it up. Though that put him much later than he’d planned, he was definitely in before his advised curfew.
Manfred responded to Fiji’s text when he’d had time to feel alone again. “Here I am,” he said when she picked up. “Way before dark.”
She was looking out of her front window. She’d been pulled to it ever since she’d talked to Joe. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“Pouring a glass of V8,” he said. “Why?”
“The sheriff is pulling up to your door.”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Manfred felt he’d had as much tension as he could handle for one day.
“I’ll let you go. If you need me, call me.” She hung up and worried, pacing back and forth in the shop. She heard the cat door in the kitchen make its distinctive clatter, and Mr. Snuggly came to stand beside her.
“Is he getting arrested?” the cat asked her, mildly curious.
“I hope not,” she said.
26
Maybe five minutes before Arthur Smith arrived at Manfred’s, Joe told Chuy he was going to go for a run. He hadn’t been going out since he’d hurt his ankle, but he was so restless waiting for the night to come that he didn’t think he could stay indoors another moment.
Chuy looked at the clock doubtfully. “You warned everyone else in town,” he said. “Do you really want to take a chance yourself?”
“I know when darkness falls tonight,” Joe said impatiently. “You know the longest I’ve ever run is fifty minutes. I’ve got way more time than that.”
Chuy gave him a very direct look. “Okay, you. No fooling around. You get back here in time, and don’t overdo it on that ankle.”
“Yes, Mom,” Joe said, and went to change into his running clothes.
In ten minutes, he’d done his stretching and began to run. For the first few minutes, he brooded over the fact that he hadn’t been kind to Chuy, and he promised himself he’d make up for it when he got back. And then the fact that he had no shadow, since he was running in the evening, was a bit spellbinding. He was use
d to seeing his shadow precede him, and he was constantly tempted to look back to make sure it was following him. He persuaded himself that was foolishness and pounded on with determination. It did feel good to be running again. It had been all too easy to take off days because of his ankle.
Which was beginning to throb again.
At first, Joe tried to ignore the burst of discomfort every time his foot hit the pavement. Then he admitted it but ran through it, because turning back so soon would mean he’d been foolish.
Then he admitted he’d let his anxiety provoke him into unwise behavior.
Then he fell again.
And he was down for several minutes. His ankle hurt far more than it had the first time, and that had been bad. This was terrible. He wondered if he’d broken a bone, for the first time in his long existence.
When he had gathered himself mentally, and the pain had subsided maybe a degree, Joe tried to get up. And failed.
He looked at his watch and began dragging himself back to Midnight.
After ten determined minutes, he had to admit he was not going to make it in time. If fate didn’t intervene, he’d be wounded and disabled out here with nowhere to hide, close to Midnight, when darkness fell.
Chuy might appear at any minute with the Suburban, but he might not. Chuy would wait until the last second, so he wouldn’t look like “Mom,” as Joe had so carelessly called him. Chuy was not overly proud, but he knew Joe very well. Yes, he would wait.
Joe thought about any solution other than the one that had occurred to him, and he came up with nothing. He was going to have to break a promise, and it grieved him. But he felt the surge of excitement even as he felt the grief, and he knew the guilt even as he prepared for the glory.
He sat up straight and let his other nature rush in and fill him. He became more. He became much more. And his wings emerged, white and gleaming, indescribably beautiful. He caught his breath at the wave of joy that filled him, and he willed his wings to move.
He rose in the air, almost screaming with the sensation, and then he was flying. Each powerful flap made muscles in his back flex, muscles he had not used in years. Even on Halloween, when he and Chuy let their wings out for Fiji’s party, they did not fly, because they had promised each other they would not. Now he was breaking that promise, and he would pay for it, but the moment was sublime. He circled high above Midnight, looking down, once, twice, and then he saw his beloved come out on the sidewalk in the gathering gloom to look anxiously to the west. With a sharp reluctance, he knew he must land, and he came down behind the store.
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