There was a half-moon. The light was unnaturally bright.
Burgade appeared. He had a hunting rifle and a pair of field glasses. Fargo wasn’t sure that, even with the brilliance of the moon, the field glasses were going to be a whole lot of help once they got into the forest.
They talked for maybe fifteen minutes, just the two of them, about halfway up from the dock. The dogs weren’t barking but they were growling. Tonight just might be their dream—atrocity heaven for carnivores of the worst sort. Even if they could only bag one human, that would be a truly sumptuous and memorable meal. As long as they didn’t kill each other fighting over who got the last few bites.
Burgade went over and let the dogs out.
It was sort of funny the way Noah jerked backwards a bit when the animals came out of their run. So the old man was just as afraid of the dogs as everybody else was. Someday, if Fargo could survive the night, that would make one hell of a saloon story.
The dogs got excited with no warning and for no reason Fargo could see. They leapt up at Noah, who kept backing away and did his own sort of barking at Burgade. Even from here, Fargo could see the strain on Burgade’s face. He liked to boast about the kind of control he had over the dogs but at moments like these his face told the truth. You could see the fear and the desperation as he began to command the dogs into settling down. At one point, Noah raised the Spencer. He looked as if he were about to shoot one or two of the dogs himself.
Noah broke away abruptly from Burgade and the dogs and stalked to the cabin. He threw the door back and swaggered inside.
“Been looking forward to this for a long time,” Noah said to Aaron.
“I may surprise you, brother, and live out the night.”
“The only thing that would ever surprise me,” Noah said, “is if you sobered up once and for all and got some backbone.”
Aaron’s expression wasn’t exactly inscrutable. Noah’s words had hurt and embarrassed him in front of the others. Aaron had apparently found a strange kind of freedom in the cabin. Without Noah around to taunt him, Aaron had been able to pass himself off as a decent, productive human being. But no more. Noah was here to remind him of all his past sins.
“You’re coming with me, Aaron.”
“I’d rather go with my friends.”
Noah smirked. “Friends. These people are riffraff, same as you, Aaron. They’d sell you out in a minute. Ask them. If I offered to set them free and get off this island only if it meant killing you, they’d do it in a second.”
“Don’t be too sure of that,” Fargo said.
“They speak bravely like Fargo here, Aaron,” Noah said. “But look at their faces. Do you really think they’d sacrifice themselves for you?”
“That doesn’t mean they’re not friends of mine,” Aaron said.
Fargo saw the vicious way Noah ruled over his brother. Aaron’s drinking problem had left him with no self-respect. Aaron obviously agreed with everything Noah said. And Noah said everything. He even mocked the notion that Aaron could have any friends.
“How about it?” Noah said. “What if I seriously offered you a deal like that? I get to kill Aaron here and you three get off the island safely? Would you go for that?”
Nancy’s contempt for the old man sounded clear and deep in her voice. “He’s your brother. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Your own flesh and blood?”
“Maybe you wouldn’t say that if you’d had to take care of him the way I have. Aaron always makes it sound as if he’s the wronged one. But given everything I’ve had to do for him, he should appreciate which of us is really getting the short end of the stick. And now I’m going to do both of us the favor of ending his misery.”
He moved without any warning whatsoever. Grabbed Aaron by the arm, shoved him toward the door. He said, “I’m locking you in so don’t try to help. I thought we’d get this night off to a good start.” He smiled at Aaron. “For once my brother’s going to be an asset instead of a liability.”
“Please,” Aaron said, imploring the others with his eyes and voice. “Please don’t let him do this.”
Fargo started toward Noah but the old man clipped off a shot that missed Fargo’s head by no more than an inch. “I really wanted to save you ’til later, Fargo. You’ll be the toughest of these people to hunt down. And therefore you’ll be the most fun.”
Stephanie had teared up. You could hear her tears in her voice. “He’s your damned brother, Noah. You say he was hard to put up with. Maybe so. But when he’s sober, he’s a decent man. He doesn’t deserve this.”
“Maybe I was wrong, Aaron. Maybe you really have made some friends here.” Noah shook his head in mock sorrow. “Poor Aaron. Everything always happens too late to do him any good.”
“You kill him,” Fargo said, “I’ll kill you.”
Noah said, “Now that’s the kind of spirit I like to see, Mr. Fargo. You’re going to be damned tough in those woods. And that’s just going to make everything all that much better for me.”
Noah put the tip of his rifle against his brother’s head.
Aaron was becoming paralyzed with dread at what was coming next. “You can’t do this, Noah. Not even you. I’m your brother.”
“Outside,” Noah said. “And I mean right now.”
Fargo was trying to puzzle out what Noah had in mind here. Not a run through the woods. Aaron wouldn’t be much fun as quarry. He’d probably collapse after the first few minutes on the trail.
The door slammed. Fargo heard a key turning in the lock.
Then he heard the dogs barking in a different way. As if Noah was holding food out to them—and then pulling it back. Teasing them.
Then he was at the window with the women, seeing all too clearly what Noah had in mind for his brother.
21
Liz and Tom Tillman set off in an old canoe. They put in outside of town so nobody would see them—hopefully not, anyway.
Liz thought of how romantic an evening like this could be. The croaking of frogs, the song of nightbirds, the silver brilliance of moonlight, the dark majesty of the trees on the shore, the scent of the river cooling off after the day’s heat. Just drifting on the water, not caring about what time it was or where they were going. For a moment some of her old guilt came back. Liz had always been true to her husband. She’d been a virgin on their wedding night and she’d never once cheated on him in any way.
She’d had some trouble when she and Tom started seeing each other. He was married for one thing. She made him do the right thing. She made him ask his wife for a divorce. His wife said no. These days Tom slept alone on a cot in their spare room. The marriage was in name only. Beyond that, there was the matter of staying true to her husband. At first, her guilt had paralyzed her, nearly destroyed her relationship with Tom. Here she was enjoying romance and her poor husband Richard was dead in the ground. She’d gotten past it for the most part but it had taken time and a lot of reassurance from Tom that it was the proper thing for her to do. Richard would’ve gone on with his life, Tom had reasoned; and so should you.
But tonight, vestiges of her guilt returned. She was glad they were going to Skeleton Key, resuming the work that had cost Richard his life. She felt a connection to Richard again, which was good; and in case Richard happened to be in heaven looking down, he’d see that Tom had taken it upon himself to help finish Richard’s work for him.
“I still wish you’d wait in the canoe.”