The Grove (13 page)

When I pulled up to the house, I stayed in the car and waited. All the lights were off, and the dark windows looked deep and endless. There was no movement on the porch, and when I shut off the engine all I heard was the soft shuffling of the cornfields swaying in the night air.

I got out and crossed the driveway to the steps, then up to the front door and inside the house. I didn’t remember if I’d told Tolliver when I’d be home, but I wanted to be ready for him when he showed up. I took my .22 from the top drawer of my nightstand and slid the clip into the handle.

It clicked into place.

The weight felt good.

“You got it back?”

I turned and saw Jessica in the doorway. She stood with her hands by her sides, absently clicking her fingertips together. Her hair was down, and her face was hidden in shadow.

I had a feeling I didn’t want to see her face, and I looked away. “He gave it to me,” I said.

“The sheriff gave it to you?”

“He did.”

Jessica giggled. The sound was choked and harsh, like the buzzing of flies.

“Perfect,” she said. “That’s perfect.”

I sat on the porch and watched the hills to the north, waiting for Tolliver to come out of the corn.

Jessica stood behind me, leaning against the house.

“You should meet him out there. Why would you even listen to what he has to say?”

I had a full bottle of Johnny Walker on my lap.

I lifted it and drank.

“You know he’ll come right past the tractor to the path,” she said. “You could wait in the grove and when you see him—” She smacked the side of the house with her palm. The sound was like a bone snapping. “—pop him in the back of the head.”

“Pop him?”

She didn’t say anything, and when I turned around she didn’t look at me. She was still leaning against the house, but her head was down and she was examining the palm of her right hand. In the light through the window I saw most of the skin above her wrist was gone. What remained stuck to bone in patches of purple and gray.

It wasn’t funny, but for some reason, seeing her standing like that made me smile. “Are you trying to predict your future?”

Jessica looked up slowly and brushed the hair away from her face.

I stopped smiling.

Jessica’s right eye was gone. Her left eye was milk white and it rolled in the socket like an undercooked egg. When she opened her mouth to speak, I thought I saw something long and black and insect-like scurry behind her teeth, but I looked away too fast to be sure.

“Maybe you’re right,” I said. “Maybe I will wait for him out in the field.”

I capped the bottle and pushed myself up off the chair. I felt her behind me, but I didn’t look back.

“That’s the smart way to handle it,” she said.

“I’m still going to hear him out. I’ll be back.”

To emphasize the point, I took my gun out of my waistband and stuck it under the cushion of my chair. It would be there if I needed it later.

I heard Jessica’s breathing change, but I still couldn’t bring myself to look at her.

“You’re making a mistake by waiting,” she said. “This isn’t going to end the way you want. You need to be man enough to take care of the situation.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

I waited, but she didn’t answer.

Eventually, I headed for the steps. When I got down to the yard, I heard footsteps coming up the path I’d carved into the field. I stopped just as Frank Tolliver came around the corner.

He wasn’t alone.

“What the hell is this?” I pointed to the two boys walking behind Tolliver. “You didn’t say you were bringing them with you.”

Tolliver held up his hands and shrugged. “Couldn’t be helped. Said they wanted to make sure I wasn’t walking into a wasp’s nest coming here by myself.”

“A wasp’s nest?” I looked at the two boys. I recognized Jacob, but I’d never seen the other one. They stood just behind their father with their arms by their sides. From a distance they looked identical. Same color hair, same dirty white T-shirts, both carrying knives.

“These boys love their old man,” Tolliver said, grinning.

“It makes you feel all right knowing that.”

I was pretty sure their decision to come had more to do with the chance of using those knives on someone rather than to protect their father, but I kept that to myself.

“You’re a lucky man, but I don’t have anything planned except a conversation and a few drinks.”

I held up the bottle of Johnny Walker and saw Tolliver’s eyes lock on to it. He bit his lower lip then looked up at me and paused.

“Just the two of us,” I said.

He looked at me for a moment longer, then back at the bottle. “You boys head home,” he said. “Everything is good around here.”

At first, I didn’t think they’d go. Then, without a word, they turned and disappeared back into the field, swinging their knives at the stalks as they went.

I shook my head and held the bottle out to Tolliver.

He took it immediately.

“You’re raising a couple psychopaths,” I said. “Do you know that?”

Tolliver laughed. He uncapped the bottle and took a long drink. When he stopped he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re the expert, ain’t ya?”

He had a point.

I took the bottle from him, and we both climbed the steps to the porch. I didn’t see Jessica anywhere, and I felt a cold rush of relief. I knew if I could talk to him without her, the chances of getting out of this without having to kill him went way up. When she wasn’t around, things were clearer.

Tolliver stepped past me to the wicker chairs. When he went to sit, I remembered the gun under the cushion, and I held out a hand stopping him.

“Take this one,” I said. “That’s my chair.”

Tolliver shrugged and moved over. I went to my chair and sat down. I could feel the gun through the cushion.

“Why don’t you pass that along,” Tolliver said, motioning toward the bottle. “Then let’s talk details.”

I handed him the bottle and watched him drink. I’d never seen anyone drink as fast as Frank Tolliver, and I was happy I’d restocked my supply.

When he pulled the bottle from his mouth, his face was flushed and his lips were wet. He exhaled, loud, and said, “Five hundred a month seems fair to me.”

I laughed.

“You’re not going to argue about it are you?”

“Might as well ask for a million,” I said. “I don’t have that kind of money.”

“You need to get it.”

I shook my head. “Sorry.”

“Sorry?” He leaned forward, bracing his arms on his knees. “What the hell does that mean?”

I motioned for the bottle, but he didn’t pass it back.

I frowned. “I’ve got more inside. Don’t worry.”

He hesitated, then handed me the bottle. It was already half gone.

I took a drink then said, “I didn’t have anything to do with that girl out there. I just found her.”

Tolliver didn’t look like he heard me. He just sat staring at the space between his feet, shaking his head.

“I suppose I could’ve called when I found her, but I wasn’t sure at the time. I had reason to think I might’ve done something to her.” I took a drink and handed him the bottle.

“Now I know it wasn’t me.”

“You still don’t want me going to the sheriff.”

I shook my head.

Tolliver pointed at me and said, “Then you better come up with something. It don’t have to be five hundred a month, but I ain’t leaving empty.”

He eased back in the chair, and we both stared out at the field and listened to the rhythmic buzz of the cicadas coming from the grove. Neither of us spoke.

After a while, I leaned forward and said, “You know I don’t have any money, but I’m willing to let your boys take as much corn from the field as they want, since they do anyway.”

Tolliver made a dismissive sound and looked away, shaking his head.

I went on.

“And I suppose you can come by and sit and drink out here with me whenever you want. I’ve always got a bottle or two in the house.”

Tolliver, still shaking his head, looked down at the bottle in his hands. “God damn,” he said. “Fucking luck, ain’t it?”

“It’s all I got to offer,” I said.

I got up and went inside for another bottle and ended up grabbing two. When I came outside, Tolliver was resting his feet on the porch railing.

I sat down and handed him one of the unopened bottles of Johnny Walker. When he saw it, I could tell he was trying not to smile.

He lifted the open bottle and finished what was left. When he was done, he stood and threw it off the porch into the cornfield.

It spun, end over end, disappearing into darkness.

Tolliver put his hands on his waist and stretched back. I could hear his bones pop.

Pop him.

“So we got a deal?” I asked.

Tolliver glanced over at me, then shook his head again and sat down. “You gonna be here every time I come by?”

“Every time.”

He seemed to think about this, then said, “I goddamn guess we have a deal. Your secret is safe.”

He wouldn’t look at me and I knew he was lying, but I didn’t let on. Instead, I held up my bottle and Tolliver held up his, and we toasted our deal.

For the next couple hours, Tolliver talked about nothing, only stopping long enough to drink and take an occasional breath. The bottle I’d given him was nearly half-empty, and his voice was wet and slurred.

“Almost a full year,” he said. “I saw my share of death, too. It wasn’t just a few months of volleyball in the desert like you hear. There was some fucked up shit happening over there, too.”

I scanned the cornfield, looking for Jessica in the shadows. I didn’t see her.

“You ever seen a dead body?” Tolliver asked, then closed his eyes and put his head down. He whispered to himself and laughed. “What the fuck am I saying?” He motioned toward the grove, now only a shadow in the darkness. “Besides that one, I mean.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I have.”

“The one you killed, right?”

I nodded. “There was another.”

Tolliver leaned toward me in his chair. “Is it true? You really used a crowbar?”

“A tire iron.”

He repeated the words and leaned back. “God damn, what was that like? Must’ve been a rush, ending a guy’s life like that.”

I didn’t say anything.

Tolliver waited, then said, “So, was it?”

I lifted my bottle and drank. “I don’t remember.”

“Bullshit. You don’t forget something like that.”

“No,” I said. “I don’t remember. I never remembered, even after I did it. I’d blacked out.”

“Blacked out?” He frowned. “You telling me there’s nothing there at all?”

“Nothing.”

“Did you know the guy?”

I shook my head. “Not really.”

“Why’d you do it, then?”

That was the question everyone asked when I’d woken up at the police station. They’d asked it for years at Archway, too. I never told anyone, not even Greg. I’d made a promise to Liz, but right then that promise didn’t seem to matter anymore.

“He hurt someone I cared about,” I said. “And I wanted to hurt him back, so I waited for him. I wasn’t going to kill him, but that’s what happened. Next thing I remember, I’m in the police station and I’ve got dried blood on my clothes and in my hair and a piece of his skull in my pocket.”

“A piece of his skull?”

I nodded and held up two fingers about an inch apart. “I must’ve picked it up after. I don’t remember.”

Tolliver stared at me for a while then shook his head. “At least you got off.”

“Got off?”

“No jail.”

I thought about my room at Archway and the electroshock treatments that always ended in convulsions and vomiting and the smell of rotted lemons in the air.

“Yeah,” I said. “No jail.”

I took a drink.

“You still get them blackouts?”

I nodded.

“What starts ’em?”

“Drinking,” I said. “The medication helps. As long as I take my pills I’m OK.”

“You taking your pills?”

“Nope.”

I lifted the bottle to my lips.

For the first time all night, Tolliver stopped talking, and the only sound I could hear was the low shuffle of the wind passing through the corn.

I let some time go by, then looked over at Tolliver. The porch was dark except for a soft yellow light leaking from the living room window. It didn’t do much, but it was enough for me to see his head nod and dip.

“You OK?” I asked.

Tolliver’s head snapped up. He grunted and lifted the bottle to his lips. It was empty, but he didn’t seem to notice. “God damn right I’m OK.”

He was either going to pass out on my porch or somewhere in the field on his way home. I preferred the field, but I knew if he stayed much longer I’d find him out here tomorrow morning.

“Why don’t you head home? It’s late and—”

I stopped.

Something moved in the shadow behind Tolliver’s head. When I looked, I saw Jessica in the corner. She was standing behind Tolliver, staring at the back of his head, not moving.

When she saw me looking at her, her mouth opened like a wound.

The scream was out before I could stop myself.

Tolliver jumped. He knocked over the wicker chair then stumbled against the house, his head twisting from side to side. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

My pants felt wet, and I looked down at the growing stain on my crotch. I couldn’t stop it. I stood and braced myself on the porch rail. Everything spun. I leaned over and vomited into the yard.

“What the hell did you yell like that for?” Tolliver asked.

“What’s wrong with you?”

I forced myself to turn and look.

She was still there. She took a step forward and said, “This is your chance. Don’t fuck it up.”

I turned and spit into the yard.

“If he leaves here tonight, tomorrow he’ll tell everyone. He thinks there’s a reward.”

“There’s no reward,” I said.

“A reward for what?” Tolliver said. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“He believes there will be,” Jessica said. “You can’t trust him to keep quiet.”

I knew she was right. I couldn’t trust him.

“You have to kill him.”

I wiped my mouth with my hand and it came away bloody.

“Do you hear me, Dexter?”

Jessica’s voice had changed. It sounded deeper and dirtier, like a voice shredded through constant screaming, familiar, like my father’s voice.

“I need to get out of here,” I said. “Walk.”

“Walk?” Tolliver looked down at the empty bottle in his hand, his eyes already reverting to heavy. He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“You can’t stay here. I know a shortcut. I’ll walk with you.”

Tolliver pointed at me with the empty bottle. “You’re already backing out on me, you son of a bitch. This ain’t what we agreed on.”

“I’m not backing out on anything.”

“The hell you ain’t,” he said, raising his voice. “If that’s your choice, then that’s the way we’ll play it.”

I held up my hands to calm him, but he wouldn’t stop yelling. Finally I went inside and took another bottle from the cabinet. He was still yelling when I got back to the porch, but he stopped when I handed him the bottle.

“You can come back tomorrow,” I said. “I’m not backing out. I just need sleep.”

He held the bottle up to the light, uncapped it, and drank.

I heard the rumble and whine of Jessica’s breathing in the corner. I needed to get away.

“I’ll walk you back,” I said. “I know a shortcut.”

Tolliver shook his head. “I want to see her again.”

At first I didn’t know what he meant, then it came to me. “No, I don’t think so.”

“I want to see her and all the crazy bug trap shit you got out there.” He held up the bottle. “Then I’ll go home.”

“It’s perfect out there,” Jessica said. Her voice was a whisper, but it burned into my head. “You won’t get another chance.”

“OK,” I said. “I’ll show you.”

Tolliver nodded and started down the steps and across the yard toward the break in the rows.

Once his back was turned, I bent down and took the gun from under the cushion where I’d been sitting and slid it into the back of my pants.

“We’re almost done, Dexter,” Jessica said.

I held the railing and went down the steps to the yard, not looking back. I felt her behind me, and I waited for her to say something else, but she didn’t.

Up ahead, I heard Tolliver stumbling along the path, cursing and yelling.

When I got to the edge of the field, I stopped and looked back. Jessica stood at the top of the porch stairs, silhouetted by the empty yellow glow from the window.

I watched her for a moment, then turned and followed Frank Tolliver into the corn.