“That boy in the wheelchair, his folks, they believed.”
Dot scanned the street as if any moment she expected that Kane would leap out of the shadows in ambush. “We need to get back to Sam’s cabin.” She circled around the front of the Blazer and got in on the passenger side. “Let’s go, Solemn.”
Cork reached through the window and put his hand on the young man’s arm. “Go to Meloux.”
Solemn didn’t answer. He started the engine and, when Cork withdrew his hand, backed onto the street and headed north out of Alouette. The Medinas followed in their truck.
Cork looked at the dust kicked up in Solemn’s wake and wondered about the comment Gooding had made earlier. Maybe he did believe in Solemn’s innocence simply because he wanted to believe. Was that enough to make it so?
31
At nine o’clock that evening, Cork said, “Let’s close ’er up, Annie.”
It was Friday night, and they’d had a steady stream of customers for hours. Cork was tired.
Annie turned from the serving window, which was empty at the moment. “You know, you’d make a lot more money if we stayed open late, Dad.”
“I don’t want to work late. Do you?”
“Not especially.”
“Well there you are. We’d both rather be poor but happy. Let’s get the place cleaned up.”
Half an hour later, Annie walked to the door of the Quonset hut. “See you at home.”
“I’m going to put the night deposit together. If you wait a few minutes, I’ll give you a ride.”
“It’s a nice night,” Annie said. “I think I’ll walk.”
“Suit yourself.”
The evening sky was sapphire. Cork walked to the door and watched Annie head toward town, following the path along the lakeshore toward the copse of poplars that enclosed the ruins of the old foundry. The trees were dark against the fading light, and Annie, against the horizon, was dark, too, and small and lovely. There were moments like this when Cork felt absolutely full, overflowing with love for his life, his family, his friends, this place he called home. He felt all that was familiar wrap around him like an old, comfortable quilt, and he didn’t know how a man could be any luckier.
When he’d finished preparing the deposit, he locked up Sam’s Place and headed into town. After the money was safely in the bank’s keeping, Cork drove Center Street for a while. It was a busy evening. The streets were alive with traffic, teenagers and tourists and locals taking advantage of the summer night. Cork was looking for Kane’s El Dorado, but he didn’t see it, and in a way he was relieved.
He’d just turned on Olive Street to head home when his cell phone chirped.
“Cork, it’s Jo. Where are you?”
He heard the concern in her voice.
“On my way home. What is it?”
“It’s Annie. She’s pretty upset. She’s sure someone stalked her after she left Sam’s Place.”
“I’ll be right there.”
They were in the kitchen, the three O’Connor women, Jo, Jenny, and Annie. Annie sat at the table with a glass of milk in front of her and an uneaten cookie. Jenny had pulled up a chair next to her. Jo sat across the table. They all glanced up when Cork came in. Jo and Jenny looked worried. Annie looked scared.
“Hey, sweetheart, how’re you doing?” He bent and kissed the top of Annie’s head. Her hair still smelled of hot fry oil.
“Dad, some creep followed me home.”
Cork pulled out a chair and seated himself. “Tell me everything from the beginning.”
It was dark outside. The bulb over the sink was on. Night insects bumped against the screen trying desperately to get at the light.
Annie played with her cookie, turning it round and round on the table. Occasionally, her eyes flicked toward the bump and brush of the bugs at the window.
“I saw him the first time in the trees where the old foundry is. He was, like, crouching behind part of that brick wall that’s still there.”
“Why do you think it was a him?”
“I guess I didn’t then. When I saw him the next time, I was pretty sure.”
“Where was that?”
“In Randolph Park. I was walking along the trail that cuts through the ball fields and over the culvert. He was there in the trees along the creek.”
“You got a better look this time?”
“Yeah. But it was also darker, so I couldn’t really see much.”
“Tell me what you saw.”
“I think he was tall.”
“Taller than me?”
“I’d say so, yes.”
“Fat, skinny?”
“Kind of medium.”
“What was he doing?”
“Just standing there, watching me.”
“How do you know it was the same person you saw by the old foundry?”
“I just know it was.”
“Okay. Go on.”
“I started running then, kind of like I was jogging home. I just wanted to get out of there.”
“Sure. That was smart, honey.”
“Then I saw him again. He was waiting in the alley just before I got to Gooseberry Lane. There’s a streetlamp there, but he stayed in the shadow of the Kaufmanns’ big lilac hedge.”
“Did you get a better look this time?”
She shook her head. “I only saw him because he coughed.”
“Did he say anything?”
“No.”
“Did you?”
“No. I ran. I mean I really ran this time.”
“Is there anything you remember about him? Any detail? His clothing?”
“No.”
“Did he wear glasses?”
“I don’t know.”
“Face hair?”
“I couldn’t see.”
She seemed distressed that she had no answers, and Cork decided to let it go for now.
“That’s okay, Annie. You did just fine.”
“This is Aurora,” Jenny said. “We shouldn’t have to worry about pervs here.”
Cork said, “Until we know better what’s going on, you both ride home with me at night, okay?”
“What if Sean gives me a ride?” Jenny said, speaking of her boyfriend.
“Fine. But he sees you to the door.”
“Which he ought to be doing anyway,” Jo said.
Annie held herself as if she were cold. “I think I’m going to take a shower.”
“A good long hot one,” her sister advised. “Wash that creep away. Come on. I’ll go up with you.”
Cork stood up and hugged her. “It’ll be all right, I promise.”
She seemed to believe him. “Thanks, Dad.”
When the girls were gone, Cork sat with Jo at the table. He picked up Annie’s uneaten cookie and began breaking it into pieces.
“What do you think?” Jo said.
“Annie’s as sensible as they come. If she says she was followed, she was followed.”
“Why would someone do that?”
The cookie lay in crumbs on the table in front of Cork. “Jo, there’s something I haven’t told you. I didn’t think much about it until now. The other day when Kane was out at Sam’s Place, he asked me how I’d feel if it were my daughter who was dead.”
“And you don’t think it was just a rhetorical question?” Jo was quiet a moment. “You think it might have been Fletcher?”
“Annie said the guy was tall. Fletcher’s tall. He’s always been odd, but he’s way beyond odd now. I’m not saying absolutely it was Kane, but I’d be a fool-no, worse; I’d be negligent-if I didn’t check him out. Jo, if he did have something to do with Charlotte’s murder, who knows what he might be thinking now.”
Jo’s eyes drifted to the door through which her precious daughter had just passed. She nodded once. “Start checking.”
32
Next morning, Cork stopped by the YMCA early. He found Mal Thorne in the weight room, wearing finger gloves and working a heavy bag. The priest worked out this way several mornings a week, keeping himself in shape. He might not have been the athlete he was when he’d boxed at Notre Dame, but for a man in middle age, he was all right. He wore a sleeveless T-shirt, and his biceps were hard and round as river stones.
Mal stopped when he saw Cork watching him. He smiled and, with the back of the leather glove on his big right hand, wiped sweat from his brow.