Chapter 8 #3
But Annie’s brother was sitting right there, all alone.
He wouldn’t be able to avoid Cody. It would only take a few minutes to ask him about this bar, see why he’d driven all the way out here and had to psych himself up in the parking lot to come inside.
He could kick off the conversation asking if he went to Parson’s Hollow High.
Before he could talk himself out of it, Cody slid off the stool, left a few dollars on the bar as a tip, and, taking his beer, strolled to the booth.
A pendant light hung low above the table, but the bulb was either out or had been loosened.
Andy glared up at him, dark eyes nearly swallowed up by shadows, and his mouth a thin slash of red beneath a flat nose that had been broken at least once in his past. Underneath the attitude, Cody could see the anxious kid he remembered from high school, and his heart went out to him.
“Move on,” Andy said, voice rough.
Cody slid into the booth, reminding himself to play things cool. “I think I know you. Did you go to Parson’s Hollow High?”
“You’re not my type.”
“No, I’m not…” He laughed softly. “You’re Andy, right?”
Andy stiffened. It wasn’t much, a tightening of his jaw and in his fingers around his beer, but Cody caught it.
“You guessed my name, congratulations. Now get lost.”
“You have a twin sister, right? Annie?”
Andy turned sharply to look around, then leaned in and, in a fierce whisper, said, “Don’t say her name.”
“Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.” He shot a glance at the bar where Marlowe stood cleaning glasses and watching them. “It’s just that I remember you both. You were a year ahead of me in school.”
Andy fell back against the booth. “Yeah? Great. Have a great night.”
“I asked her out once, and she laughed at me.”
Andy snorted quietly and shook his head. “I remember you, too. You were a jock. She wouldn’t have gone out with you in a million years. You don’t have enough of an edge.”
Cody nodded slowly, hoping his act was holding up. “Oh, yeah. She kind of liked the bad boys, didn’t she?”
Andy’s mouth tightened. “Still does.”
“Uh oh. She into something bad?”
“Look, are you deaf or just plain stupid? I told you to fuck off.”
“Is that why you’re here? Are you trying to find her?”
Andy came halfway out of the seat, lurching over the table and rattling their beer bottles.
Cody pushed back against the booth, heart slamming and his hands pressed against the sticky vinyl seat.
Andy’s jaw was set and his knuckles blanched where he gripped the edge of the table.
From the corner of his eye, Cody saw Marlowe standing completely still, watching.
“Don’t mess with me, man, all right? I don’t care how far back we go, you don’t know shit about my life or my problems. Just get up and walk out of this bar right fucking now.”
“Hey, look, I don’t think either one of us should be here, you know? Come on, walk out with me. I can help you try to track her down.”
Andy lowered himself into the seat, but remained leaning over the table.
In the dim lighting from behind the bar, his eyes looked dark and hard, lips curled into a sneer as he jabbed a finger down on the table.
“You want to toss around names, let’s do that.
I know who you are, Critter Catcher, and I know what you’ve done for our town.
But what would you do if you were me? Huh?
If someone you cared about, one of your brothers maybe, or your husband, complained for a few days about feeling fluish, but then up and vanished without a word, leaving their phone and wallet behind.
What would you do, huh? What would you do if you sometimes woke up at night certain you could still hear them laughing?
And where would you be if this was the only place you knew to come to for answers? Huh, football star? What would you do?”
Cody’s breath caught. “You’re hearing her laugh at night?”
Andy took another look around before sinking back against the cushion. “Leave me alone,” he said. His voice was drained of emotion.
“It’s not her, man. Don’t let her inside.”
“Fuck off!”
The shout sent a shock through Cody. He drained his beer and carefully set the empty on the table. “Okay, I hear you.”
“Finally.”
“And I understand your position, I do. I’d do the same thing if our roles were reversed. But you shouldn’t do it alone. Call us if you want help. You know we understand this kind of business.”
Andy’s expression softened a bit. “I’ll keep it in mind. Now leave me alone.”
Cody flashed a tight smile before he stood. He gave Marlowe a single nod then turned for the door.
“Drive safe,” she said, then added, “Stretch.”
The back of his neck prickled with the weight of everyone’s eyes on him as he lifted his hand without looking back and pushed through the door and outside.
He was slightly light-headed, and his thoughts jumped and scattered, like when he used to hit the scan button on the radio in his parents’ station wagon.
The sun had set while he’d been inside, and its dying rays painted the clouds banked in the west with fiery yellows and oranges.
He crossed the gravel lot, his steps quick, hand in his pocket clutching the cross against his sweaty palm.
Engines growled in the distance, growing louder until three men on motorcycles pulled into the lot.
None of them wore helmets, and they were all bald with tattoos across their scalps.
They turned to look right at him as they rolled past, the rumble of the engines seeming to echo inside his chest.
The motorcycles cut off one by one, and when Cody reached the truck, he glanced over his shoulder. All three men sat astride their bikes about ten yards away, staring at him.
He almost fumbled the key fob, but managed to hang onto it and unlocked the door. Before getting inside, he grabbed a spray bottle filled with garlic water from the tackle box. He placed it in the cup holder and pulled the door shut, hitting the lock button.
A deep laugh from the biker trio sent a rush of heat to his cheeks.
He kept his eyes down as he started the engine then put the truck in gear and drove fast down the drive.
Gravel pinged against the truck’s undercarriage and wheel wells until he turned onto Hemlock Way and sped off toward Route 118.
The cornfields stretched out to either side of the road, endless and unnerving in the final light of day.
Anything could be out there, waiting. Hungry.
When he turned onto 118, he was able to breathe a little easier.
Sitting back, he let both hands slide to the bottom of the wheel.
His shoulders dropped slightly, but he still kept checking his mirrors.
A mile or so past Hemlock Way, another car passed him going in the opposite direction. It was Zenona’s dark green Subaru, and she was behind the wheel. She didn’t even glance his way, and he eased his foot off the gas, his eyes on the side mirror where he could see her taillights.
A short time later, her brake lights flashed, and then Zenona turned left off Route 118 and onto Hemlock Way.