Reaching into his duffel bag, he grabbed his running gear, dressed, and quietly descended the stairs. The bed-and-breakfast was about what he’d expected: four bedrooms upstairs, with a kitchen, dining room, and seating area downstairs. The owners, unsurprisingly, favored a sailing theme; miniature wooden sailboats adorned the end tables, and paintings of schooners hung on the walls. Above the fireplace was an ancient boat wheel, and tacked to the door was a map of the river, marking the channels.
The owners weren’t yet awake. When he’d checked in the night before, they’d informed him that they’d left the delivery of flowers in his room, and that breakfast was at eight. That gave him plenty of time before his meeting to do what he needed to do.
Outside, the morning was already bright. A thin layer of haze on the river hovered like a low-level cloud, but the sky above was a brilliant blue and clear in every direction. The air was already warm, foretelling hotter weather to come. He rolled his shoulders a few times and was jogging before he hit the road. It took a few minutes before his body began to feel limber and he settled into an easy pace.
The road was quiet as he entered Oriental’s small downtown. He passed two antiques stores, a hardware store, and a few real estate offices; on the opposite side of the street, Irvin’s Diner was already open for business, with a handful of cars parked out front. Over his shoulder, the fog on the river had begun to lift, and breathing deeply, he caught the living scent of salt and pine. Near the marina, he passed a bustling coffee shop, and a few minutes later, with the stiffness almost completely gone, he was able to pick up his pace. At the marina, gulls circled and sounded their calls as people carried coolers to their sailboats, and he jogged past a rustic bait shop.
He passed the First Baptist Church, marveling at the stained-glass windows and trying to recall whether he’d even noticed them as a child, before searching for Morgan Tanner’s office. He knew the address and finally spotted the placard on a small brick building wedged between a drugstore and a coin dealer. Another attorney was listed as well, though they didn’t seem to share the same practice. He wondered how Tuck had chosen Tanner. Until the call, he’d never heard of the man.
As downtown Oriental came to an end, Dawson turned off the main road, branching out onto neighborhood streets, running without any particular destination in mind.
He hadn’t slept well. Instead, his mind had cycled endlessly between Amanda and the Bonners. In prison, aside from Amanda, Marilyn Bonner was all he could think about. She had testified at the sentencing hearing, and her testimony underscored the fact that he’d not only robbed her of the man she loved and the father of her children, but also destroyed her entire way of life. In a breaking voice, she’d admitted that she had no idea how she was going to provide for her family, or what would become of them. Dr. Bonner, it turned out, had neglected to buy life insurance.
Eventually, Marilyn Bonner lost the house. She moved back in with her parents at the orchard, but her life continued to be a struggle. Her father had already retired and had early-stage emphysema. Her mom suffered from diabetes, and the loan payments on the property ate up almost every dollar the orchard brought in. Because her parents needed almost full-time care between them, Marilyn was able to work only part-time. Even when she combined her small salary with her parents’ social security, there was barely enough to cover the basics, and sometimes not even that. The old farmhouse they lived in was beginning to fall apart, and the loan payments on the orchard eventually fell into arrears.
By the time Dawson got out of prison, things had become desperate for the Bonner family. Dawson didn’t learn of that until he went to the farmhouse to apologize almost six months later. When Marilyn answered the door, Dawson barely recognized her; her hair had turned gray and her skin looked sallow. She, on the other hand, knew exactly who he was, and before he could say a word, she began screaming at him to leave, shrieking that he’d ruined her life, that he’d killed her husband, that she didn’t even have enough money to fix the leaking roof or hire the workers she needed. She screamed that the bankers were threatening to foreclose on the orchard, and then that she was going to call the police. She warned him never to come back. Dawson left, but later that night he returned to the farmhouse and studied the decaying structure; he walked the rows of peach and apple trees. The following week, after receiving his paycheck from Tuck, he went to the bank and had a cashier’s check sent to Marilyn Bonner for almost the entire amount, along with everything he’d saved since he’d gotten out of prison, with no note attached.
In the years since then, Marilyn’s life had gotten better. Her parents eventually died and the farmhouse and orchard passed to her; though it had been a struggle at times, she’d slowly been able to make up the outstanding loan payments and carry out the necessary repairs. She now owned the land free and clear. She’d started a mail-order business a few years after he’d left town, selling homemade canned preserves. With the help of the Internet, her business had grown to the point where she no longer worried about paying the bills. Though she’d never remarried, she’d been dating an accountant named Leo for almost sixteen years.
As for the kids, Emily graduated from East Carolina University and eventually moved to Raleigh, where she worked as a manager in a department store, preparing most likely to take over her mom’s business one day. Alan lived in the orchard in a double-wide that his mom had purchased for him and hadn’t gone to college, but he had a steady job and in the photographs that were sent to Dawson, he always seemed happy.
Once a year, the photographs arrived in Louisiana along with a brief update on Marilyn, Emily, and Alan; the private detectives he’d hired had always been thorough but had never pried too deeply.
He sometimes felt guilty about having the Bonners followed, but he had to know whether he’d been able to make even the smallest positive difference in their lives. That’s all he’d wanted since the night of the accident, and it was the reason he’d been sending checks monthly for the past two decades, almost always through anonymous offshore bank accounts. He was, after all, responsible for the greatest loss their family had experienced, and as he ran the quiet streets he knew he was willing to do whatever he could to make amends.
Abee Cole could feel the fever inside him making him sick, and he shivered despite the heat. Two days ago, he’d taken his baseball bat to a guy who had provoked him, and the guy had surprised him with a box cutter. A dirty one that left an evil-looking slash yawning across his gut. Earlier this morning, he noticed green pus oozing out, smelling like a sewer despite the drugs that were supposed to help. If the fever didn’t break soon, he had half a mind to take the bat to his cousin Calvin, since he’d sworn the antibiotics he’d stolen from the veterinary office would work.
Right now, though, he was distracted by the sight of Dawson running on the opposite side of the street, and he considered what to do about him.
Ted was in the convenience store behind him, and he wondered whether he’d spotted Dawson. Probably not; otherwise he’d be rushing out of the store like a wild boar. Ever since he’d heard that Tuck went toes up, Ted had been waiting for Dawson to show up. Probably while sharpening his knives and loading his guns and checking his grenades or bazookas or whatever the hell other weapons he kept at that rat hole he shared with Ella, that little tramp whore of his.
Ted wasn’t quite right in the head. Never had been right. Just a bundle of rage, that one. Nine years in prison hadn’t taught him how to keep it in check, either. In the past few years, it had gotten to the point where it was almost impossible to keep Ted in line, but as Abee often reflected, that wasn’t always such a bad thing. It made him an effective enforcer, ensuring that everyone involved in producing crank on their property followed his rules. Ted scared the crap out of everybody these days, family included, and that suited Abee just fine. They kept their noses out of Abee’s business and did what they were told. While he didn’t particularly care for his younger brother, Abee did find him useful.