Firefly Rain Read online

  In answer, he reached out and took the shotgun from my hands. “You know how to fire this, boy?” I nodded, flushing with embarrassment. Carl plowed on. “You know how to lock and load it, how to take care of it, how to clean the choke and how to put a snap cap in there?”

  “Yes,” I said, irritation growing in my voice. “So what?”

  “So how many of your friends in Boston town could do that? Not a one, I’d reckon. Am I right?”

  I snorted. “You’re right. So? It’s not exactly a useful skill up there, at least not in the neighborhoods you want to be in.”

  He nodded sagely. “I’m sure. But you were proud that you knew it, weren’t you? Proud and just a little bit standoffish, right? ’Cause when push came to shove, you knew those people couldn’t survive ten miles past the city limits, but you could.”

  “Maybe,” I said, still guarded. I thought back to the years I’d spent in the city, how I’d always found myself lingering on the outside of any circle of friends I’d found. Great people—all of them, no doubt—but there was always a distance there, a shared experience I couldn’t bring to the friendship.

  And when it had all fallen apart, I’d come back here.

  “Maybe,” I repeated. “But what does that prove?”

  Carl grinned at me, looking like the world’s happiest death’s head. “Let me ask you another question. How many cars like yours are there in this town, you think?”

  “Who cares? Other people’s cars are their business.”

  He waggled a finger at me. “You ain’t answering the question. How many cars like that you think there are? How many people are there used to being able to go out shopping in the middle of the night, or find a fancy restaurant, or do any of them big-city things you’re carrying back with you in your custom?”

  “It’s different, okay?” I turned away and studied the trees, just so I wouldn’t have to look at him. “It’s a change, but everyone goes through those changes when they move. I’m not planning to stay that long, anyway.”

  He cackled. “Now you’re getting near it, Mr. Logan. Now you’re starting to get near it.”

  “Get near what? I’m right here.”

  “That’s right,” he said calmly, “and that’s the way it’s going to be for a good while.”

  I took a step back. “Are you talking about keeping me here against my will, Carl? That’s not exactly what I was paying you for.”

  Carl spat on the ground, right between my feet. “Boy, if it were up to me, which it ain’t, I’d say sell the land to someone who wants it and leave now. Hell, I’d help you pack and drive you to the airport if that’s what it took. But it ain’t up to me, and it hasn’t been, not ever. So do both of us a favor, and just shut up for one minute, while I try and tell you a few things that might be useful to you in keeping your mind and your soul in their right proper shapes. That is, if you think they’re worth keeping that way.”

  I bit my tongue and counted to ten, then waited a little longer before I trusted myself to respond. “I’d be very grateful for anything you could tell me, Carl,” I said in as pleasant a voice as I could manage. “As for the state of my mind, well, all I can tell you is that what’s going on right now isn’t helping it any.”

  Carl looked at me then—really looked at me in a way that said he was seeing me, instead of Mother’s son or some snot-nosed punk from the big city who’d intruded on his farm. He blinked twice, and suddenly he looked very old and very tired.

  “It’s real simple,” he said. “You don’t belong here, not really. But you belong enough to fool some folks who ought to know better, so they’re going to keep trying to fit you in to a life that ain’t yours.”

  “By stealing my car?” I asked.

  “Stealing ain’t the right word for it, no. But that’s a little bit of what’s going on, just the smallest part. The fit ain’t right. And you know what happens when a man’s got a part that don’t quite fit into the slot it’s supposed to, right?”

  I frowned. “You get a different part?”

  He gave me a sad little smile. “A sensible man does that, maybe. A clever man tries to shave off a few bits so it’ll fit easier. And a stubborn man gets a hammer.”

  Thinking about that for a second or two gave me all sorts of unpleasant images. I looked up to meet Carl’s eyes, and he was nodding. “Now you’re starting to get it. You think on that, all right, boy? You think on that for a few days, and maybe we’ll have something else to talk about.”

  “All right. But I still don’t know where you fit into all of this.”

  He grinned. “I’m the caretaker, remember? Now go home. Groceries are on the front porch. You’ll want to bring them in before they spoil.” He squinted up at the sun. “It might have been cold yesterday, but the heat’s back today, you know.”

  “Wait a minute.” There was an edge of panic in my voice that I hadn’t put there. “How do I get back to the house?”

  Carl grinned a purely evil grin and tossed the shotgun to me. I caught it, barely. “It’s your land,” he said. “You should know it.”

  With that, he turned and walked off into the deeper wood. He looked like he knew where he was going.

  Me, I waited until Carl was gone, then took a look at where the sun was hanging in the sky and made my best guess at a direction that would lead me back to the house. That worked fine, in that in short order I hit the fence that served to mark the back property line, and I followed that around the long way until I got my bearings again. It didn’t take me more than another hour or so, give or take another half hour I didn’t really want to spend. I spent the time wiping sweat off my forehead, wishing the damn shotgun had been lighter, and thinking about what Carl had said. As pleasant as he’d been—for Carl, anyway—I wasn’t convinced. If there was anyone in Maryfield who had an interest in messing with my head, it was him, and he’d had plenty of time to rig whatever the hell he wanted to in the house. He’d had ten years of access, he had the closest thing going to a motive, and I had no doubt he could put together any sort of door-swinging, window-jamming doodad he wanted to.

  On the other hand, he’d just had his second chance to get me out of the picture permanently, and he hadn’t taken it, not even when he could have rightly called it self-defense. Besides, the shape I’d seen in my car couldn’t have been Carl, not unless he squeezed three of himself into the driver’s seat.

  But if it wasn’t Carl, who was it? I had no answers, and all of a sudden concentrating on how damn heavy the shotgun was seemed like a real good idea.

  The groceries were right where Carl had said they would be. And this time, he’d brought beer.

  thirteen

  The phone rang twice while I was putting the groceries away. I ignored it both times, figuring that if it was important they’d call back, and if it wasn’t I didn’t want to talk to them anyway. Carl had given me a lot to think about, and very little of it was good.

  It rang again—with more urgency than you’d give an old push-button credit for—as I was closing the door. I considered just letting it ring, then decided that persistence ought to be rewarded.

  “Hello?” I said as I picked up.

  “Jesus, Logan, about damn time.” Jenna’s voice washed down the line with the force of a spring flood. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “Out back,” I said in my best exaggerated drawl, though I realized as I did it that it didn’t take that much exaggeration. “Damn, it’s good to hear your voice. How are you?”

  “Frustrated,” she answered, “because the man who calls me up telling me how much trouble he’s in can’t be reached due to his sudden need to take nature hikes. Other than that, pissed off at American Airlines, irritated with Hertz, and not entirely thrilled with the MBTA. How are you?”

  I almost laughed, but I managed to hold it in. “It’s been eventful lately,” I told her. “Let’s just say that I’ve been out in the rain more than I should have.”

  “Sounds ominous,” she r
eplied. “Care to tell me about it?”

  I pulled up a chair and sat myself down, near where the empty shotgun leaned against the wall. “Not particularly, but I have a feeling you’ll beat the answer out of me anyway.”

  That got me a laugh, at least. “Good boy. You’re learning. But the good news is, you don’t get your beating right now.”

  “I don’t?”

  Her voice was full of satisfaction. “Yup. Because I’m coming down to see you, like you asked. I’ll be coming in to RDU on Friday and staying a week. If these directions are right, I’ll be hitting your place around seven thirty, and I fully expect there to be a jug of moonshine on the table and a barbeque going in the backyard. Banjo music is optional.”

  “It’s not all like that, you know…,” I started, but she shushed me.

  “Of course I know that. But you get so puffed up whenever anybody says anything like that to you that it’s absolutely adorable. I’ll bet you’re bright red right now.”

  “Pale pink,” I replied, “and that’s because of the sun.”

  “Whatever you say, dear. Just make sure that you’re ready for me come Friday. Is there anything you want from Boston? I can pack up some Buzzy’s roast beef sandwiches if you want—it’s not like they can go bad on the trip.”

  I opened my mouth to tell her that I didn’t want anything when it hit me that I meant it—I didn’t want anything, and I wasn’t even sure I wanted her to come down anymore. There was silence on the line for a moment while I tried to figure out how to say it.

  “Look, Jenna, I’m very pleased to hear you’re coming down,” I finally stammered. “But I know you’re busy, and really, this is a long way for you to come. If it’s a hassle for you, it’s all right. We can make it another time, if that’s easier for you. Better, even.”

  Now the silence started on her end, and when she finally started talking, her voice was clipped and a touch nasty. “Are you saying you don’t want me to come down?”

  “Well,” I started, and then I paused. “I just know it’s a big hassle.”

  “No. A big hassle would be trying to get the money back for the tickets and canceling the rental car and trying to get my vacation time back from our HR department. Coming down to see you when you’re in trouble is not a hassle. What the hell is going on, Logan? Last time we talked you sounded like you were caught in a cross between Deliverance and The Amityville Horror. Now you’re dropping hints about strange North Carolina rain dances and acting like there’s nothing going on. Next thing you’re going to tell me you got that bruise when you fell down the stairs, and that it’s all right, Daddy really does love you but he just gets mad sometimes.”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about” was all I trusted myself to say. “There’s a hell of a lot of stuff going on that you know nothing about, and that you can’t know a damn thing about, and I’ll thank you not to say things like that about Father.”

  “Look, Logan, I’m sorry. But you’re sounding so strange and, hell, I’m worried about you. You never did mood swings in Boston, but now you’re going like a metronome. All I know is what you tell me, but that’s telling me something’s really wrong, and you sound like you could use a friend.”

  “Sometimes friends know when to stay away,” I said softly.

  “And sometimes they know enough to ignore bullshit protestations that everything’s fine.” She let out a short, sharp breath. “Here’s the deal, okay? I’ll be there Friday night. When I show up on your doorstep, if you don’t want me there, I’ll turn around and go right back home. But I’m betting you will want me there. You’re just too proud and stubborn to admit it.”

  I swallowed hard. “Deal,” I said—was all I could say, really. A moment passed, and then I added, “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

  “I know,” she said. “But something tells me I ought to. See you Friday, General Lee.”

  She hung up. I stared at the phone for a minute, then did the same. Friday. I had two days to figure out what was going on before she got here, otherwise things could get right ugly fast. Once Jenna sank her teeth into a problem, she didn’t let go until it was solved or in pieces, and if she tried bulldozing her way through Carl and Hanratty, there’s no telling what would come of it. She’d come down here thinking that the same act she pulled in Boston was going to bowl over the locals, but she’d learn soon enough that things were different down here—learn the hard way good and sure.

  Jesus. I caught myself. What the hell had I been thinking? For a minute there, it had sounded like Carl was living in my skull, not me. I shook my head to clear it, and I made a silent prayer that I hadn’t pissed off Jenna too badly. Right now, I wasn’t sure what was worse—if she took my words to heart and cancelled the trip, or if she came down mad. Either way, it wasn’t going to go well for me.

  But one thing was for damn sure. I wasn’t going to figure anything out sitting at the kitchen table and worrying. I needed to get off my butt and do something.

  As I sat there, the phone rang again. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said, and I stared at it suspiciously for a moment before lurching to my feet to answer. I caught it on the fourth ring, right around the time most sensible people start thinking about hanging up. Figuring it was Jenna calling back to argue some more, I launched right in.

  “Look, you really don’t have to come down here. I’ll even cover the cost of your tickets. I mean it.”

  “Damn, you’re good. I hadn’t even asked if you wanted me to swing on by yet,” said a faintly familiar male voice. “But, since y’all feel that way about it, I guess I don’t have to ask. This, in case y’all are wondering, is Samuel Fuller. I gave you a ride into town the other day.”

  “Yeah, right, of course,” I stammered. “I mean, let me start again here. Thank you kindly for calling, and you do have my apologies. I, well—let’s just say that I thought you were someone else.”

  “I had made that guess, yes.” You could hear the smile in the man’s voice. “Apology accepted. Now, would you like me to tell you why I called, or do you want to feel like an ass for a while longer?”

  I felt myself grinning. “Can I do both? You do the talking. I’ve gotten real good at the being-an-ass thing lately.”

  “Sounds fair to me,” Samuel said, and he chuckled. “Anyway, me and Asa were going to head into town in the morning, and it occurred to me that you might be wanting to ride in with us. I mean, I hope I’m not pokin’ my nose where it don’t belong here, but you didn’t seem to have a car last time we talked, and I’m thinking that walk is mighty long. All of which is a roundabout way of sayin’ that if you’d like, we’d be more’n happy to stop and pick y’all up along the way.”

  I gnawed my lower lip for a minute while I thought about it. “That’s mighty friendly of you, Samuel—”

  “I told you, call me Sam,” he interrupted. “The wife does, and what she says, goes.”

  “Sam, then. It’s very friendly of you, but I’d hate to put you out. If you and Asa have business in town, I don’t want to hold you up.”

  “I told you, Logan, you won’t be putting us out none. You’re on our way. My place is about three, four miles past you, down the Harrison Farm Road. We pretty much have to swing by. Ain’t more than a minute to stop for you.” He chuckled again. “Or if’n you want, I can just slow down and you can try to hop in. Just try not to land on the dog.”

  I had to laugh out loud at that. “Well, keep Asa in the cab, and I won’t. All right, you talked me into it. What time should I expect you?”

  Sam hmmed a bit. “I’m thinking ’bout maybe ten thirty, if that’s all right with you.”

  “You’re the one driving, Sam. Whenever the hell you feel like getting here, I’ll be ready.”

  “Mind the language, Logan. This here is a God-fearing phone.” There was no heat in his voice, though, and I didn’t take him seriously.

  “Your phone has my deepest apologies, then,” I said. “See you in the morning, t
hen?”

  “Morning it is,” he said, and he hung up.

  I busied myself doing nothing important. Making the bed, tidying up the towels, cleaning a wad of hard toothpaste off the side of the sink—the sort of housekeeping a man’s got to think of when a woman might be paying his house a visit. By myself, I’m sure I would have gotten around to it sooner or later, most likely later. With Jenna coming, though, I needed to start getting the place in order.

  Mother always liked a neat house, the voice in my head whispered. It’s good of you to keep things the way she liked them. I frowned and shook it off. Slamming doors were one thing, but voices in my head were proof, right and proper, that I’d gone bughouse. Answering would just have put the cherry on top of the sundae of crazy I was making myself.

  Besides, if I’d said anything, I would have had to say that I was doing it for Jenna, and I was afraid that somehow I’d get an argument.

  The sun was going down before I’d finished all the little chores that I’d been neglecting. That was fine with me. There was no mystery in the washing up or in doing some laundry in the sink with help from an ancient bottle of Woolite. No sense in mucking about with the washer, I decided, not if I was only washing a few things. Besides, it felt good to be doing something with my hands that I could see the results of, even when those results were wet socks and dirty suds.

  I hung the clothes outside as the sky went purple and the first sparks of yellow light appeared on the road. “Not this time,” I told them as I went back into the house, and I tipped two fingers to my forehead in a salute. “You fellas stay over there where it’s safe. You decide to come back, well, I’ll be waiting.”

  They didn’t answer, not that I’d expected them to. Besides, I’d seen what I needed to from them. Right now, I had other concerns.

  The toy soldier was still where I’d set it, right next to where the gun had rested on the kitchen table. Something Hanratty had said—that the poor little fella looked like he was standing guard—struck a chord with me. It gave me an idea.