Damaged Goods (15 page)

“Welcome to Oregon. It’ll be like this until the Fourth of July.”

She already missed the vast cyan sky of the Wyoming winter and the blinding white of fresh snow. She could lose her sunglasses here in Oregon and not miss them until summer.

Hershel parked the pickup next to the well house today instead of in its usual place in front of the garage. Silvie slid out, always feeling as if she were leaping off a tall ledge with no way of knowing how far down she’d have to go before she hit solid ground. He didn’t walk toward the house but went to the garage and pulled its double doors wide. They gouged the mossy ground. The small building was dark and musty inside. Dust motes floated in the still air. A small window at the back, opaque with dirt and cobwebs, failed in its mission to provide light. Her eyes slowly adjusted, but she couldn’t make out what she was looking at. Hershel shoved a lawn mower back against the wall and picked up a rotting cardboard box, lifting it over his head and lodging it into the rafters.

“It’s not much, but it’ll get you where you need to go.”

As he spoke she finally saw the oxidized orange hood of a small car. It sloped down at a smooth angle, and she could see that the headlights were the kind that popped up when on and disappeared into the hood when off.

“It’s a … a 914,” he said, squinting at it.

“A what?”

He scratched his head and stared down at the car. She’d grown accustomed to his long pauses as he searched for words and names. She busied herself inspecting the paint, pretending she didn’t notice that he hadn’t answered the question.

“A Porsche,” he finally said, as if committing it to memory once again. “It’s a Porsche 914.”

She’d never actually seen a Porsche, except in magazines and movies.

“Don’t get too excited. It’s vintage 1974. But it still has spunk.”

“You’re going to let me drive this?”

“Sure. If we can get it running.”

Silvie looked doubtful. She knew nothing about cars, but joined him in clearing the junk off the hood. Slowly the car materialized. It was dull and dusty, but she didn’t care.

“The top comes off.”

“Cool.”

“Not that we’ll get any decent weather for that. But it’s fun in the summer.”

They both went quiet. She figured he was hoping she’d be far away from Scholls and the rest of his life by summer. She pulled the door latch, but it was stuck. Hershel stepped in behind her, and as he reached for the handle he brushed her forearm, sending a surprising jolt of energy through her. She turned. He was close, just inches from her, smelling of linseed oil and something mildly sweet, like dates. She could feel his breath on her neck and glimpsed a fleeting smile before it disappeared and he stepped away.

“Sorry,” he said.

She stood aside, and he jerked up hard on the handle, freeing the latch. The door creaked open, and he peered inside.

Silvie studied Hershel’s veined hands as he examined the vehicle, running his fingers along the seam of the roof. He slid into the driver’s seat, which seemed impossibly low for a man so tall, and his dark eyes roamed the dash and the instruments. He looked at the car as if it were a long-lost friend, and she wanted to touch him.

“I never gave this car a name,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

“A name?”

“The Charger was Floyd.”

She let out a small laugh. She’d expected that type of behavior from the guys back in Wyoming. She thought of Jacob, who hadn’t named his car but called his genitalia the Club. She’d never been sure whether he meant the kind of club a caveman carried or he fancied that it was an invitation-only party. She didn’t ask.

Hershel rummaged through the glove compartment.

“Why did you call it Floyd?”

He smiled but didn’t answer. He took out the keys, removed one, and tossed it to her. She slid it into her pocket in anticipation of when she might use it.

Carl found Yolanda at the picnic table, gazing out across the fallow wheat field next to camp. The walk home had been dry, and the exercise had warmed his muscles. He’d carefully considered Hershel’s question about the guns. It was a terrible business, the guns. But participation in this
victimless crime
, as Hershel once called it, was the price Carl paid for steady work close to home. Work that provided him with a sense of purpose in strange and oblique ways. It was best, he decided, to leave the question alone. Let Hershel puzzle it out if he could.

Yolanda spotted Carl and hastily wiped her sleeve across her face. “You okay?” he asked.

“Oh, Carlos, I’m fine.”

“You sure?” He surveyed the camp. A familiar row of satellite receivers pointed south, a platoon of dutiful soldiers. “Look a little down to me.”

She shook her head. “I miss my boys, that’s all.”

“They’ve only gone to Eugene—barely two hours away.”

She said nothing. They’d been gone only three days, and it was routine for Manuel and Eduardo, two hopeless mama’s boys in their late twenties, to roam as far as a day’s drive away for the best work. Yolanda stayed at Campo Rojo, maintaining a tentative sense of family permanence by way of consistency.

Carl put his arm around her shoulder, and she leaned her head against him. They’d embraced like this before, and it was becoming familiar. Easy in its softness. But he was too cowardly to take the next step—to kiss her temple, to invite her into his home. Today would be no different. He couldn’t bear the thought of her rejection, though he’d take the sweet scent of her perfume with him and lounge on his bed remembering the warmth of her body against his. For days he would find a secret joy in this small touch.

A door suddenly popped open, shuddering on its hinges, and a man shouted in Spanish. The boy Carl had seen there before ran out and plopped down on the step, looking over his shoulder furtively. His cheeks were ruddy and he’d been crying.

Yolanda pulled away, and as Carl turned to get a better look she put an apprehensive hand on his forearm. Her fingers were icy, and he could feel them through his shirtsleeve. “Leave him.”

“Wasn’t planning to do anything else.”

“These are bad people. Mean.”

“Yeah, I got that already.”

“Did they threaten you?”

“Threaten me? Why would they do that?”

“I don’t know. I … they wouldn’t. I don’t know why I said that.”

The door opened again, and the hard little man stared out at Carl and Yolanda. He narrowed his eyes, and Yolanda jerked her hand away.

“We better go inside,” she said, getting to her feet.

Carl stood also, and the man slammed the door, causing the boy to cower and bury his face between his knees.

“Carlos,” Yolanda whispered. “Be careful. Please.”

“I get tired a little easier than I used to,” Hershel said over cold ham sandwiches. Silvie ate well tonight, and he noticed. “But I’ll get new tires and a battery for that car tomorrow. We’ll have it running by nightfall.”

“How long has it been … since your accident?”

“A little over three months.”

“Does it still hurt?”

“I get some monster headaches. Keep hoping that’ll go away, but they don’t seem to.” Hershel was coming to appreciate Silvie’s careful questions.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“All that crying—I was a mess. I feel better today.”

“I can tell. You’re eating, anyway.”

“It was the work. It did me good.”

“Do you have anyone back home who’s worrying about you?” Hershel asked. In a way, he hoped she was as alone as he was. It was comforting, the idea that she, too, might not have any discernible connections. He didn’t really wish for her the sort of loneliness that he suffered.

“My mom, I suppose, is worried.”

“She doesn’t know where you are?”

“No one does.”

“Do you want to call her?”

Silvie put down her sandwich and leaned heavily on her elbows. “I don’t know what I would tell her.”

“The truth?”

“Jacob Castor would be here in exactly the time it takes to drive from Wyoming to Oregon, maybe faster.”

It was the first time she’d said the man’s name, and Hershel rolled it over and over in his mind. He repeated it to himself, a chant. It was important not to forget this name the way he did all others. “So, I take it she doesn’t know what he’s done.”

“She knows.”

Hershel tried to fathom the idea. “How could she allow that to happen? He’s a predator.”

“Hmm … 
predator.
” Silvie whispered the word. “That’s an interesting way to call it.”

“That’s what it is—what
he
is.”

“You think so?” Silvie took up her sandwich and ate as she waited for Hershel’s response.

“Of course. Don’t you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I was pretty young.”

“Silvie,” he said, leaning across the table. “You said yourself that you didn’t
let
him. And I’d say twelve is more than
pretty young.
”

She shrugged. “Sometimes I don’t know. That’s what they say, you know? That girls are victims if they’re under eighteen. He paid our heat bill lots of times. I think we would’ve been thrown out on the street if it weren’t for Jacob. He was nice most of the time. I’m sure he paid the rent at least once, but my mom never would tell me.”

“Was he dating your mother?” Hershel tried to piece together the circumstances of how Silvie had come to be at the mercy of a pedophile.

“No.” She looked out the window for a few minutes, and Hershel waited for her to elaborate. “Is your mother still alive?”

“She lives in Baker City. Out on the eastern end of Oregon.”

“Do you talk very often?”

“No.” He struggled with the urge to change the subject. But maybe it would help her to know that she wasn’t the only one with a messed-up family life. “They didn’t even come to see me when I was in the hospital.” He cringed as soon as he said it, realizing how trivial it sounded. She’d suffered worse things than he had. And Hershel was certain that he was responsible for the absence of family harmony, though he couldn’t remember what he’d done that was terrible enough to keep them away in his hour of need.

“Wow, that’s harsh.”

“It didn’t feel very good.”

They sat quiet and comfortable in shared silence for a while. Finally Hershel said, “What kind of mother would tell this Jacob Castor where you are? Why would she do that?”

“She wouldn’t do it on purpose. Not to hurt me, anyway. She drinks too much. She’d be all relieved to hear from me and tell everyone that I called and exactly where I am.”

“You don’t have to tell her where you are.”

“I know. I should call her. I don’t want her to worry, really. It’s just that I know Jacob is asking her. He’s probably stalking her, waiting for information, and she’ll tell him. She will.” Silvie finished her sandwich in silence. Then she sat back and smoothed her hair, lost in thought.

“Two lonely people, we are,” Hershel said, as he stood and picked up the dishes. He set them in the sink and got down a pair of tumblers. “Brandy?”

“I’ve never had it.”

He poured them each a drink and returned to the table. “It’s your business. I won’t bring it up again, but if you want to call you’re welcome to use the phone.”

“It’s long-distance.”

“I can afford it.”

Silvie sipped her drink daintily, her nose wrinkled as if she wasn’t sure whether she liked it. “Thanks for everything you’re doing for me. Bet you didn’t expect this much trouble when you stopped to help me that night on the road.”

“Nope, not even half this much trouble.” They both laughed. “It’s okay. I wasn’t doing anything important, anyway. Was sure as hell sick of my own company.”

“Do you think Kyrellis will really try to blackmail Jacob?”

“If he figures out who he is? Yeah, I think he might.”

“He’s gonna lead Jacob straight here—straight to me. I should get as far away from here as I can as soon as I can.”

“You’re safer here. At least you have people to watch out for you.”

“You’re no match for Jacob.”

Hershel felt his cheeks flush as her assessment of him sank in.

“I don’t mean physically,” she said, suddenly aware of how her statement must have sounded.

That was worse, he thought.

“I mean—” She waved a hand in the air, as if to wipe away her
last comments. “He’s sort of above the law. He can do what he wants, and there’s no one to stop him.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Well, maybe in Wyoming, but not here. Probably not even in most of Wyoming. How big is the town you come from?”

“Small. Six hundred people, about.”

“Is he the only cop?”

“He covers the whole county. Jacob and two deputies. He doesn’t even live in Hanley.”

“You think he’ll do anything to stop Kyrellis and come after you, but I think that’s only true within the boundaries of his world. Why would he risk coming out here to hurt you?”

“Because that’s how he is.”

“No. He’s a coward.”

“He’s not. Don’t be fooled.”

They stared across the table for a moment, neither backing down.

“I don’t want you taking off because you’re scared of this guy. If you want to leave, go for some other reason, like that you have some place you really want to be. But don’t just go out of fear.”