Chapter 6
Owen
It has been a week since he got here, and the nightmares are not letting go. He’s glad he has a working conscience, but he also misses good, solid sleep.
“Where are you off to?” his aunt asks as he puts on his shoes. She’s drinking coffee and smoking on the porch.
“I’m going to walk around town and stop at the library.”
“Weren’t you there two days ago?”
“I finished the book I took. It’s a bummer they only let you borrow one at a time.”
“Old Francie can be strict like that. Try sweet-talking her and batting your eyelids.”
“No, thank you.”
She takes a drag of her cigarette. “Suit yourself. You making friends around town?”
He finishes putting on his shoes. “I’m friendly with some. I like how laid-back people are.”
“Don’t mix laid-back with plain lazy, ’cause there are plenty of those around here. I can tell you what’s what on anyone in town.”
He’s sure she can, but he doesn’t want to have his relationships affected by his grumpy aunt’s opinions. “No need. Oh, I heard you arguing with the sheriff yesterday evening. Everything okay?”
She looks away, anger in her tight jaw. “Mitch had a silly idea I needed to squash early. It’s fine now.”
“Okay. Are you working this morning?”
“Starting at noon. Pick up some milk on your way, and call your mom later. She’s driving me crazy.”
“Welcome to my world.”
She raises a finger. “You watch your mouth when you speak about my sister.”
He rolls his eyes and straps his backpack over his shoulder. “Bye, Aunt Sheryl. Smoking is bad for you.”
“You’ve been out of rehab for a minute, kid. Zip it.”
She has a point.
It’s walking distance to town, and the day is warm yet cloudy.
He didn’t think he’d get used to the slow rhythm of Van Buren so fast, but here he is, walking lazily like he has all the time in the world.
When he reaches the town center, he waves to the few familiar faces he recognizes, then stops to buy some pastries from a bakery.
He adds a cup of strong coffee and goes to sit on a bench by the square.
As he drinks, he tries to remember if he has seen any homeless people around town.
They’re a common sight back home, but he can’t remember a single one he saw in Van Buren.
What he did see were people who clearly use drugs.
He can spot them in a heartbeat, and he hates knowing he was once one of them.
With his stomach full, he walks over to the library.
He was skeptical about the place when he first saw it, but he’s grown to appreciate its simplicity.
They don’t have the variety he would have liked, but they have comfortable armchairs for reading.
Francie, the librarian, claims that Owen’s taste in books is messy.
He’d borrow a thriller, then a biography, then a fantasy book.
She says that most readers stick to one genre for a while.
There are only four people inside the rather dim library.
The scent of books and leather is strong and pleasant in the air.
He waves Francie hello, and she nods back before returning to reading her book.
Owen is in the mood for a thriller this time, something dark and weird.
Maybe a story that takes place in a small town like this one.
He stands in the relevant aisle and begins to check out his options.
From the corner of his eye, he notices the front door open as someone enters.
He’s surprised to see Will Thomas. He met the man twice, and both times, Will left rather quickly.
He was polite, but it seemed that something about Owen rubbed him the wrong way.
He would have speculated it has something to do with Owen being gay, but it’s not like he walked around town with a pride flag, announcing his gayness.
Will seems even more surprised to see Owen. He stands as if he’s debating whether to come say hello, but he eventually does, clearly out of politeness.
Owen puts back the book he was holding. “Hey, Will.”
“Owen. Good morning.”
“Are you also a bookworm?”
“Just the worm, I’m afraid. It’s for my sister. She’s… not well. I bring her books, but she goes through them so fast.”
“Sorry about your sister. It must suck they only let you borrow one book at a time.”
Will purses his lower lip. “They let me borrow three.”
Three?!
Oh, he and Francie are about to have a serious talk.
“Does your sister tell you which book she wants to read?”
Will sighs, and even that sounds manly. “I wish, but it’s always a gamble. She mostly likes fantasy, so Francie tries to help with recommendations.”
Owen makes a face. “Francie? She can’t tell the difference between a fairy and an elf.”
Based on the look on Will’s face, he can’t either.
“Do you know what your sister has already read?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
Owen puts a hand over his heart. “I’d be honored to share my wisdom and help you pick out books.”
Will smiles, then his smile falters, as if he remembered something unpleasant. “I don’t want to bother you.”
“I honestly don’t have anything better to do.”
He walks with Will to the fantasy aisle, noticing his faint aftershave scent. He wonders if Will realizes how good he looks. With some people you can easily tell how self-aware they are, but Will seems unbothered by his appearance.
Owen picks up books he’s either read or heard good things about, and Will has no objection.
“Tell me if she liked them.”
“I’ll do that. Thank you. You should consider working here.”
“I don’t think they need the help.”
Will shrugs. “I heard that Francie is looking for part-time help in the evenings.”
Owen glances at the old woman as she reads her book. Working here would be a great way to pass the time and feel less purposeless. “I’ll speak with her. Thanks for the tip. Um, do you maybe want to grab something to eat?” He’s already eaten, but he can eat more under the right circumstances.
“I should head over to my sister. Another time.”
“Will you be at Rodie’s tonight?”
“I… yes, I’ll stop by.”
“Cool. Oh, I see you have a cat.”
“A cat?”
Owen points at Will’s neck. “You have scratches.”
Will’s face flushes in an instant. “Branches,” he mumbles.
“Huh?”
“I got those from branches. At work.”
“Oh, right. Because of the trees.” Owen smiles, sensing that Will isn’t telling the truth.
“Well, I’ll see you tonight, I suppose. Thanks again for the help.”
“And thank you for…” being nice to look at? “You know.”
Will seems confused, but he saves Owen from further embarrassment by walking to Francie at the counter.
Owen rubs his face, telling himself he’s not going to develop a crush on one of the straightest men he’s ever met. Once Will and his testosterone leave, Owen is free to browse for a book in peace. He finds one that seems intense and weird, then he goes to the counter.
Francie twitches her lips at his pick, which Owen takes as a good sign. “I heard a rumor, Francie. It broke my heart into a million little pieces.”
She puts down her book and crosses her arms, watching him through thick, red glasses. “Do tell.”
“Here I am forced to borrow only one book at a time, while others—I will not mention names—are allowed to borrow three books.”
Francie nods. “Yes, people with cancer get special privileges around here. I’m sure you can understand.”
His stomach flips. “Shit. I didn’t know. Shit.”
“One shit was quite enough.”
“Is Will’s sister going to be okay?”
“No, she’s not.”
Owen exhales. His good mood has taken a nosedive. “That sucks.”
“It does. Go on, pick another book. You do read them quickly.”
He’s too sad to smile, so he only nods and goes to pick up another book, not minding what it is. Before he’s about to leave, he remembers what Will said. “Do you maybe need help around here? Like a part-time job.”
Francie sits straighter, giving Owen a closer look as if she hasn’t seen him before. “I might have an open position for four shifts a week between three and seven o’clock.”
“That would be great. I’ll work hard.”
“This position does not require hard work, as you can see. Staying awake should cover most of your responsibilities. We pay one dollar above minimum wage.”
Honestly, he would have worked for free. His parents gave him enough to get by. “That sounds great. When can I start?”
“Monday afternoon.”
He salutes. “See you then, boss.”
*
He buys milk and cookies that he thinks his aunt would like, even though she’ll pretend otherwise. He’s about to leave the town center when a police car slows down next to him. He leans down to see the sheriff.
“Morning, Owen. On your way home?”
“Yeah, I was just finishing some errands.”
“Mind joining me for a ride? I want to show you something.”
Confused, he slips into the passenger seat and fastens his seatbelt.
He doesn’t like sitting inside a police car since it brings back memories of his arrest. It was fine when his aunt was the one driving, but the sheriff isn’t family.
Owen’s skin turns hot and itchy. He tries to lower the window, only to realize it’s already down.
“Where are we going?”
“I have a favor to ask you, but I’d rather show you something first. It will hopefully help with your decision.”
Decision? “Um, okay.”
“Are you having a nice time adjusting? Van Buren isn’t too boring?”
“I’m fine with boring.” Boring is safe. “Got myself a job, actually. Well, part-time. I’ll be helping at the library.”
“Is that so? Good for you. My Joel used to love going there.”
“Oh yeah? Where’s he at?”
The sheriff clears his throat. “He’s in a better place.”
“I… oh. Sorry to hear that.”
“That’s all right. He was led down a dark path by a wicked man.”
The anger in the sheriff’s voice is unmistakable. Owen says, “I hope that wicked man got what he deserved.”
“He didn’t, but he will eventually. You can be sure of that.”
Well, that sounds downright unsettling.
They drive for another ten minutes until they reach another town, even quieter than Van Buren. The sheriff turns into a small street where the houses seem neglected—from the peeling walls to the unkempt gardens. There are people sitting outside, looking… bad.
“What’s wrong with them?” he asks, though he can already guess.
“Drugs were always an issue around these parts. Simple people without good education who are looking to pass the time. It started small, but now it’s a full-on pandemic.
We were able to catch some of the dealers, but they never tell us who sent them, and they seem to be getting off easily.
” He stops the car and turns to look at Owen.
“Something big must be happening behind the scenes to allow such a well-oiled operation to go on like that. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to get to the bottom of it, and it’s not for lack of trying. ”
“I’m sorry to hear that, but if this is about scaring me, I don’t do drugs anymore.”
The sheriff shakes his head. “I’m not trying to scare you; I’m asking for your help.
I would like for you to befriend a few of those dealers by pretending to be a client.
That will give you a chance to gather information that could help us find out who is behind this.
You may be saving a lot of lives around here. ”
Owen leans his head back, feeling lightheaded. The sheriff has no right asking him to do something so dangerous. “I’m on probation.”
“Your aunt mentioned that. The only people who can arrest you around here are me and my officers, and none of us will. Consider yourself fully protected.”
“Is that why you and my aunt argued yesterday?”
The sheriff nods. “That’s right. For this to work, you’ll need to keep it a secret from her.”
“I don’t like that. She’s been cool with me.”
“She’s an honest woman and has been a good friend to me for decades. All I’m looking for is information. The people who are selling drugs are not from this town, so they have no way of knowing who your aunt is.”
Owen wants to refuse—he should refuse—but he thinks of all the friends he saw fading away because of drugs.
He hates the thought of something similar happening to this community.
He also can’t help but hope that doing this good deed may help calm down his nightmares.
A way for him to atone for killing a man.
“If I’m doing this, I’ll need help, like a guide.”
“Of course.” The sheriff watches him closely, a trace of a smile on his lips. “Is that a yes?”
“I… yeah, I think so. I want to do the right thing.”
The sheriff nods. “Thank you, son. You’re a good man. Nate will be your go-to guy for information. Just follow his instructions.”
“Follow Nate’s instructions. Got it.”