"I didn't know you could see those with the naked eye," Maureen admitted.
"You can out here. Back in New Jersey you couldn't. And probably not in California either. But out here, there's no light pollution, no air pollution, and if you stay out here long enough and your eyes get adjusted, you can see some pretty amazing things."
They were silent for a moment, looking.
"I wonder why we never went back to the moon," Barry said.
Maureen groaned. "Not this again."
"I'm serious. When I was little, we were supposed to have colonies up there by this time. What the hell happened?"
"He was so brainwashed by all that NASA propaganda in the sixties,"
Maureen explained, "that he feels cheated and personally insulted that he can't take a flight up to the Lunar Hilton on his vacation."
"Space travel's important," he insisted.
Ray nodded. "The future's arriving at a much slower pace man everyone thought. My father went from a world of horse-drawn carriages to a world of cars and planes and rockets and televisions. I think everyone thought that pace would be maintained. And it hasn't."
"Don't complain," Maureen said. "We may not be Things to Come, but we're not Escape From New York, either."
"Or Farenheit 451 or 1984 or Brave New World." Liz sipped her wine, smiled. "Contrary to what Ray may think."
"Only because the homeowners' association doesn't have the technology,"
he said. "Not for a lack of willingness or inclination."
Liz wrinkled her nose mischievously. "See what I have to live with?"
Barry laughed and was about to chime in with a defense of Ray, when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw colored lights and movement. For a brief crazy second, he thought it was a UFO, but he recognized almost immediately that the strobing red and blue lights were on the ground, coming from some sort of law enforcement vehicle. In the dark and through the trees, the lights seemed amplified, illuminating trunks and branches, the side of a house.
"What's going on?"
"I don't know." Ray stood by the railing, squinting into the night.
"But whatever it is, there's at least two or three patrol cars down there."
"How come we didn't hear any sirens?" Maureen asked.
"Beats me." Ray turned away from the railing. "I'm going to check it out." He nodded to Barry. "Want to come along?"
"Sure."
"I guess the little women will stay home," Liz said loudly to Maureen.
"Since we can't accompany the men on their manly mission, maybe we can go back to the kitchen and make them a nice dessert for when they return. They'll probably be hungry."
Ray looked at her, surprised. "You want to come, too?"
She smiled. "No. But it would be polite to ask."
"Sorry."
Barry looked quizzically over at Maureen, who shook her head. "You boys go have your fun. We'll just stay here and gossip about you behind your backs." She turned toward Liz. "Now, if you want to know what he's like in bed..."
The two women burst out laughing.
"Very funny," Barry said.
Ray motioned him toward the door. "Come on. I can tell when we're not wanted."
"Don't worry," Liz told him. "We'll have all the world's problems figured out by the time you return."
There must have been some residual heat from the barbecue on the porch, because when they walked up the driveway and out to the road, the temperature dropped. Goose bumps popped up on Barry's arms, and he suddenly wished that he'd brought a jacket.
He and Ray walked down the hill, passing Barry's house and stopping for a moment to get their bearings since the lights could not be seen from ground level. They ended up going down the street that led to the east bridle trail, and there, right before the post that marked the trail's entrance, stood a small crowd of people and two sheriff's cars, patrol lights on and flashing.
Barry's first thought was that it was Stumpy, that the limbless man had crawled onto the road and been run over by a car or something. But there was no car in sight other than the sheriff's vehicles, and the tarp-covered body by the side of the road appeared to be full-sized.
Wally Addison, the young deputy who'd taken their vandalism report, was standing next to a mean-looking older man who could only be Sheriff Hitman. Several neighbors had walked either up or down the street from their houses to see what all the commotion was about and were milling around, talking in low, hushed voices. There was no police ribbon up, no authorities ordering people to stay back, but the onlookers seemed to be observing an invisible barrier, and they remained behind the cars, far away from the side of the road where the covered body lay in the dirt.
Ray walked past that invisible line and directly up to the sheriff.
"Saw your lights from up the hill," he said. "What happened?"
Hitman nodded toward the tarp. "Dead body. Annie Borham found him.
Looks like he fell in the ditch and hit his head on a rock. Probably bled to death."
Indeed, there did seem to be a lot of blood on the dirt and stones of the culvert, and Barry could only imagine what the man looked like under the tarp.
"Who is he?" Ray asked. "Anybody know?"
"Deke Meldrum. We arrested him up here recently for harassing a young woman."
The deputy said something to Hitman in a low, inaudible voice, and the sheriff raised his eyebrows, looking over at Barry. "I guess that was your wife."
Barry nodded, his stomach tense. The second he'd heard the name he recognized it, and he was glad that Maureen had decided not to come with them. He tried to speak, but no sound came out, and he cleared his throat. "I thought Meldrum was locked up."
"Oh, he made bail day before yesterday. Court date's set for next month when die circuit judge comes through, but until then he's out on his own recognizance."Hitman paused. "Or was."
The sheriff turned away, obviously not intending to answer any more questions, and Ray went over to talk to some of the gathered residents.
Barry followed. Around them, the pine trees seemed taller than they did in the daytime, the black bulk of their closely grown forms blocking out all but a thin strip of stars. The flashing red and blue lights created a sort of shield about them, boxing them in against the darkness of night, and the faces of the crowd, bathed in the strobing colors, were unreadable.
The scene was surreal, made even more so by the realization that Stumpy was probably hiding out there in the woods, watching this, taking it all in. Barry scanned the lower bushes and the beginning of the bridle trail, looking for a telltale glint of eye shine and though he saw nothing, he shivered.
Ray was asking Russ Gifford, a young man Barry had met at the Dysons’
party, what he thought had happened.
"You got me. I just saw the lights and came out to investigate I
thought it was probably an accident or something, maybe a burglary. I
didn't expect anything like this." He nodded toward the bearded man on his left. "Hank says he heard the guy was creeping around, casing the neighborhood, and he tripped and cracked his head open."
"Is that true?" Ray asked.
The bearded man shrugged. "I don't think anyone was actually there to see it, but that's what I heard Annie told the law. And she was the one that found the body."
Annie Borham , a fitness freak of the first order, had apparently been on one of her nightly jogs when her flashlight in had illuminated Meldrum's feet poking out of the ditch. II She'd run home and dialed 911.
"She never came back out here, though," Hank said. "I guess she was pretty freaked out about it, didn't want to see it again. They probably interviewed her at her house."
A middle-aged woman standing next to a young man who could have been her husband, could have been her son, said that she heard Meldrum had been hit in the head with a rock, and that that had knocked him into the ditch, where he hit his head on another rock and died. The retiree next to her said that it was kids, that teenagers from town had been hiding in the brush, throwing rocks at passing cars, and they'd accidentally hit Meldrum , taking off and running back to the highway so they wouldn't get caught.