The Grove (7 page)

The plan was to clean Jessica’s face and neck, but once I got going it was hard to stop. When I’d finished, I took the bucket into the field and dumped the water between the rows. She stared at me when I came back, but I couldn’t look at her.

“You’re embarrassed,” she said.

I shook my head. “No, not really.”

She came close and nudged my arm. “You are, I can tell.”

This time I said nothing.

Jessica laughed, light and brief. “Don’t be such a prude. I don’t mind. It’s not like you’ve never seen a woman’s body before.” She paused. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“You’re right.”

She watched me for a moment, then said, “Good. You had me wondering.”

I decided not to tell her about Liz. It didn’t feel like the right time. I changed the subject.

“I upset your boss at the café this morning.”

Jessica looked up fast. “What did you do?”

I told her about the conversation and the woman’s reaction.

“What does she mean people don’t get killed around here? It happens all the time. Didn’t some little girl on a bike get killed off CR-11 last year?”

I nodded.

“She doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about.” Jessica walked back toward the body. She got down on her knees and leaned in close, then shook her head. “It looks better, I suppose.”

“Considering.”

Jessica nodded. “Yeah, considering.” She stared at it for another moment, then stood and said, “Did she think Megan would be back tomorrow?”

“I didn’t ask. And I think it might be better to stay out of the café for a couple days.”

“Why?”

“I think I’m attracting attention.”

“You’re not,” she said. “It just feels that way because you’re not good with secrets.”

“How do you know that?”

“I can tell.”

I shook my head. “Don’t you think going in and asking questions three days in a row looks suspicious?”

“So don’t ask questions.”

“What if Megan’s back? Don’t we want to find out what’s going on with her and your boyfriend?”

“We already know. You said it yourself, when something like this happens, nine out of ten times it’s the boyfriend or the husband. Megan was involved somehow.”

“She was acting nervous the other day.”

“She’s always nervous, scared of everything. I bet if you told her what we know, she’d go straight to the sheriff and confess.”

“You think so?”

“I know she would,” Jessica said. “I just wish I could see the look on her face.”

“What if I whispered to her as I was leaving, told her I know what they did and just leave it at that.”

Jessica laughed. “That would be perfect.”

I looked up at her, and when she looked back, the warmth in her face seeped into me and I couldn’t help but smile. It was a gigantic clown grin, and it hurt my cheeks.

“What?” she asked.

“I like having you around,” I said. “You make me feel good, better than my pills ever did.”

Jessica shook her head. “You don’t need those.”

“Not anymore.”

“You never did.”

“That’s not true. I used to need them, but you’re different than the others. You help—”

“Others?”

I thought about it, then said, “My father, mostly. He was a drunk, and when he got bad I’d stay with Greg or I’d sleep outside or wherever. It didn’t matter as long as he couldn’t find me. Sometimes he’d come looking for me. Other times I’d just think he was coming for me.”

I waited for her to say something, but she just stared, that same gray look on her face.

“I’d hear him yelling, but no one else would. Other times I’d see him charging at me, screaming. No one else saw a thing.”

“And you think that’s me?”

“No,” I said. “That’s my point. You’re not the same at all. You make me feel good, better than good. I don’t want you to go.”

“You don’t see him anymore?”

I shook my head. “Not since I started the pills. Before that, I’d have to go up to Archway for shock treatments, and sometimes that would work, but he always came back. It was the pills that finally got rid of him.”

“And if you took the pills now?”

“You’d be gone, too, I guess.”

Jessica looked away.

“That’s why I’m not taking them. I love having—”

Jessica’s shoulders shook, and when she looked up there were tears on her cheeks.

I almost said more, but I stopped myself.

I’d said enough.

WEDNESDAY

The flyers were everywhere.

They were stapled to telephone poles and taped up in shop windows. People stood on street corners and handed them out to anyone who passed by.

The man who handed me one smiled briefly and said, “There’s a number at the bottom you can call. We’ll be putting together a search party in the next couple days if you’d like to volunteer.”

At the top of the flyer was a picture of Jessica. It was a bad picture, probably one of those school portraits no one likes but everyone buys. I wondered how she’d feel knowing that was the photo they’d chosen to post all over town.

I decided not to tell her.

“Count me in,” I said.

“Good.” The man held out his hand. “Everyone’s welcome.”

We shook, and then he nodded and turned toward two older women coming up the sidewalk behind me. He repeated his message to them.

I walked on, reading the flyer as I went. It listed Jessica’s height and weight and said she was last seen leaving the Riverside Café. There was a number at the bottom along with the words

Please help find our daughter.

Something about the flyer got to me.

It was so unfair.

Her killer was still out there going about his day-to-day life. The idea he could get away with this burned in me. I folded the flyer and slid it into my back pocket, then walked a little faster toward the café.

When I walked into the café, I knew something had changed. The dining area was empty. No one was behind the counter, and the kitchen radio was off.

I crossed toward the booth I’d sat in for the past two days and slid in. The vinyl moaned under my weight, the sound loud in the silence.

No one came.

After a moment, I got up and went to the counter. I looked through the cook’s window but didn’t see anyone back there. Finally, I called, “Hello?”

I heard footsteps; then the kitchen doors swung open. Megan stood in the doorway, looking tired and worn.

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

I smiled at her, happy to see she was working. “Are you open?”

“I don’t think so, at least not right now. I’m the only one here.”

“Then I’d guess you probably aren’t open.”

“I guess not.” She looked past me, and I followed her gaze to a square black digital clock above the door. “We might open again around noon, but I’m not sure.”

“Everything OK, I hope.”

She laughed. “I don’t know. The sheriff was here when I walked in this morning. After he left, all hell broke lose. Mrs. Colton threw a ketchup bottle at Paul, and if her aim had been on, it might’ve killed him. It shattered against the wall by his head. Almost looks like she did get him.”

“Mrs. Colton? Is she—” I pointed to the counter.

Megan nodded. “She owns the place, her and Paul, he’s the cook. They’re married.” She paused. “For now, at least.”

“What do you mean?”

Megan looked back over her shoulder and said, “Mrs. Colton was saying something about Paul and Jessica. I think they were having an affair.”

I felt my breath push out of my chest.

“I don’t know if it’s true or not,” Megan said. “The sheriff sure thought it was, though. He told Paul it raised some serious questions.”

It took a moment for me to find my voice.

“Is it true?”

Megan shrugged. “The affair? Who knows?”

I remembered the sound of the cook’s voice, old and hard, and the images of him and Jessica together came in flashes of skin and sound.

Fast, unrelenting, and vivid.

Thin blue panties.

The air around me went cold, and I sat down hard on one of the stools in front of the counter. I heard Megan’s voice, but it sounded thin, far off.

“Are you OK?”

I didn’t answer her.

The idea of telling Megan I’d seen her with Jessica’s boyfriend was gone. My chest burned, and all I wanted right then was to get back home and talk to Jessica, make her tell me all of this wasn’t true.

“You want something to drink? Some water or something?”

I got up and headed for the door.

When I got outside, I passed a couple kids on bikes spinning doughnuts in the empty gravel parking lot. They watched me as I went by.

As I passed them I realized I was talking to myself and drawing attention, but it didn’t matter.

Let them all stare.

I didn’t care anymore.

By the time I got home, the burning in my chest had dropped to a low ache. I’d convinced myself there was an explanation. The idea of Jessica and Paul Colton was too ridiculous to be true, and I was an idiot for listening to the rumors.

I parked my truck next to the house and went in through the back door. I took a bottle of Johnny Walker from the cabinet above the refrigerator. I needed to clear my head, or to at least give myself a little more time to calm down before I talked to Jessica.

I stood in front of the kitchen window, drinking, and looking out at the cottonwoods rising out of the grove, their leaves rustling nervously in the breeze.

Eventually, I felt myself relax.

I took another drink then capped the bottle and carried it with me, out the door and across the field to the break in the rows.

As I walked, I went over what I wanted to say in my mind. It needed to sound casual. I didn’t want to accuse her or attack her, just get to the truth.

I came around the corner and saw my tractor still in the ravine. Again, the knowledge that I was asking for trouble by leaving it out bit at me, but I pushed it away.

I’d take care of it tomorrow.

Today I was going to talk to Jessica. Everything else could wait—

Something in the grove flashed in the sunlight, and I stopped. From where I stood, I couldn’t see anything but shadows through the cottonwoods. I stepped closer, squinting against the sun.

It flashed again, and this time I saw what it was.

A man was standing in the grove.

He was carrying what looked like a long knife in one hand, the blade flashing a dull gold in the sun. With the other hand, he was holding the bottom of his T-shirt folded against his chest.

He didn’t see me, and for a moment I couldn’t move at all.

I watched him walk in a slow circle, first one way, then stopping and coming back, his head down. I tried to see his face, but I was still too far away.

I crouched low and started toward the ravine. The downed stalks were loud and they cracked under my feet.

I cringed with each step.

When I got closer, the man stopped circling and squatted next to Jessica’s body. He was facing away from me, but I could see his army khaki pants, cut off at the knees, and a blue number eight on the back of his T-shirt.

I figured that once I got around the trees I’d be able to get a better look at him. I’d see his face, and if he tried to run I’d be able to follow.

I’d heard about killers returning to the scene of their crimes to relive the rush. Was that what was happening here? If so, then why the knife?

Jessica hadn’t been stabbed. She hadn’t been hurt at all as far as I could tell. There were no marks on her body. She was perfect.

And what about Megan? Where did she fit?

It didn’t make sense.

I’d made it halfway around the ravine when the man leaned forward, slid the knife under the front of Jessica’s skirt, and lifted.

He ducked lower and looked in.

I stood up and shouted, “What the hell are you doing?”

The man turned toward me. His eyes were wide, and I saw it wasn’t a man at all. It was a kid, twelve, maybe thirteen years old, and I recognized him immediately.

Jacob Tolliver.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Jacob let go of his shirt, and several ears of corn fell at his feet. He started to bend to pick them up, then glanced down at the body and backed away.

“Don’t move,” I said. “Don’t you fucking move.”

I picked up my pace, but it was too late. Jacob dropped the knife then turned and sprinted through the field toward the hills to the north.

I followed, but I knew right away that I didn’t stand a chance of catching him. I didn’t have the angle. By the time I got halfway through the field, I saw him cresting the hill and disappearing down the other side.

I stopped and bent forward, bracing my hands against my thighs. My lungs roared in my chest. Electric black flowers exploded behind my eyes. I dropped to my knees, then turned and collapsed onto my back, staring up at the pale blue sky.

Jacob Tolliver?

I stayed there for a while, letting my breath ease and my heart slow, trying to think of what to do next.

My options seemed limited.

Eventually, I pushed myself up and headed back across the field to the grove. As I got closer I saw Jessica pacing around the corn, her arms folded over her chest.

When she saw me she stopped and stared at me.

We had a lot to talk about.

“Where the hell did he come from?”

I motioned toward the north. “He lives on Ezra’s property, just over those hills. The whole family is over there. They’ve got a trailer.”

“Ezra?”

I nodded. “Ezra Hays. Been there forever.”

That wasn’t much of an exaggeration. Ezra was long past eighty, and he’d lived in the same house, working the same land, for as long as I could remember.

The Tollivers were new, came with the spring.

I don’t know how they’d met Ezra, but I knew he’d agreed to let them park their trailer on his property in exchange for helping with odd jobs around the farm.

I doubted this was working out for Ezra. Frank Tolliver was a drinker. They’d been on Ezra’s property for a little over three months, and Greg had been out to their trailer several times already. He never told me why, but on the two occasions I saw Dorothy Tolliver, she’d had fresh bruises on her face. It wasn’t hard to guess.

I thought there were two kids, both boys, but I wasn’t sure. The only one I’d met was Jacob. He’d come by once or twice looking for extra work. Normally I would’ve been impressed—it’s not too often you meet a kid who is willing to work hard—but there was something unsettling about Jacob.

At first I thought it was the way he constantly fidgeted, or the way he wouldn’t look me in the eye when he spoke. I knew he was just a kid and that was how kids acted, but it was more than that.

Watching Jacob was like watching something dirty.

“Why was he out here?” Jessica asked.

“Supper, it looks like.”

The knife he’d dropped turned out to be a rusted lawnmower blade. I assumed he’d been using it to cut the ears away from the stalks.

“Do you think he’ll say something?”

I shrugged.

“OK,” Jessica said, nodding. She crossed her arms over her chest and went back to pacing along the edge of the grove. “Then we have to get a plan together.”

I took the bottle from my pocket and drank.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and he won’t tell anyone.”

I laughed.

“I’m serious,” she said. “Did you see the look on his face when he ran? He was terrified.”

I didn’t think so.

I’d startled the kid, sure, but I hadn’t terrified him. With a father like Frank Tolliver, it would take a lot more than me yelling to terrify him. This I knew firsthand.

“You think he’ll tell someone, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I do.”

She stopped pacing and sat on the dirt with her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth. “Oh my God.”

I took another drink.

“What are we going to do?”

“What can we do? Wait, I guess.”

“For him to tell the police?” She shook her head. “No, there has to be something.”

I didn’t answer. My mind was somewhere else.

She watched me for a moment. “What’s wrong with you?”

I looked up. I wanted to tell her what I’d heard, but the words wouldn’t come.

“We have a big problem, and you don’t seem to care.”

“I care.”

This time she was quiet.

I could feel her studying me, her eyes searching my face. It was a terrible feeling, like bugs crawling over my skin. I couldn’t stand it.

Finally, I told her.

I didn’t leave anything out, and I didn’t try to make it sound casual. I told her about the sheriff and the ketchup bottle and how Megan had smiled when she’d told me. I told her about how I felt like the air had been kicked out of me, and how I didn’t want to believe it, but I had to hear it from her.

When I’d finished, Jessica was silent for a long time, staring past me toward the body in the corn.

Then she smiled.

“I hope she tells the entire town.”

“Is it true?”

She looked at me. “Of course it’s not true.”

I closed my eyes.

“How could you even think—”

“I didn’t,” I said. “I just needed to hear you say it. I knew, inside, that you wouldn’t do that kind of thing, especially with that guy.”

“Paul,” she said.

I waved the name away. “Doesn’t matter.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she said, still smiling. “You want to know what he used to do?”

I wasn’t sure I did, but she didn’t wait for me to answer.

“He would quote the Bible to me all day; then when he’d pass me in the kitchen, he’d run his hand across my ass and grunt. It was disgusting. He didn’t even try to play it off as an accident or anything. He wanted me to know it was intentional.”

“Did you say anything?”

“I almost did, once, after he cornered me in the store room and wouldn’t let me out. He stood over me, not saying a word, just staring and blocking me every time I tried to get by.”

“Jesus.”

“I started to cry, and I think he got scared and let me go. When I went out, Mrs. Colton asked me what was wrong and I almost told her.”

“But you didn’t?”

Jessica shook her head. “I was close.”

I thought about her and Paul alone in a storeroom. Then I tried to imagine what he’d look like dead.

Jessica must’ve seen something on my face because she slid over next to me and said, “He got what was coming to him.”

“It’s not enough.”

“It doesn’t matter. We’ve got to deal with that kid.”

“There’s nothing we can do about him,” I said. “If he’s going to tell someone, he’s going to tell someone. We can’t stop him.”

“They’ll take me away.”

I took another drink.

Jessica watched me, then said, “You could stop him.”

For a moment, I didn’t know what she meant; then I looked up and saw it in her eyes.

I shook my head. “No.”

“You’ll be alone.”

“I can’t do that.”

Jessica didn’t say anything else. After a while, she stood up and was gone.

I stayed in the grove, drinking, watching the sun sink toward the horizon. Then I got up and crossed the field toward the hills to the north.

When I got to the top, I looked down and saw the Tollivers’ trailer on the other side. It was parked at the end of a gravel path, surrounded by weeds and garbage. Alongside the trailer was a rusted green pickup truck. All four tires were flat, and an engine block sat heavy in the back. The shocks sagged under the weight. There were no other cars around.

I stayed for a while, watching the trailer for movement while the sky burned red.