“Thrown by a horse,” he said. Yes, there were balances to be kept, and markers owed. He’d come here to see to them, but the world, this wonderful, terrible world, had beaten him to it.
He remembered the location of his mother’s stone, so it was easy enough to find his father’s. They were together at the base of a hill, overgrown and untended, but there was one feature that made his father’s stand out: someone had drawn a pentagram over it with charcoal.
Arlen knelt in front of it and took off his jacket and used the sleeve to wipe clean every trace of the charcoal. When it was clear again, he sat back on his heels, laid his palm flat on the stone, and said, “I think I can hear you now. If you care to be heard.”
Nothing answered but the wind.
“I heard you already,” Arlen said. “Down south, when Tolliver drew me in and nearly had me, I heard you. And I thank you.”
He sat there for a while and looked at the stone. No words of sorrow or love marked Isaac’s stay in this place. Just those dates, and too short a time between them.
That was all right, though. It wouldn’t have troubled Isaac, Arlen knew that. This life was nothing but a sojourn anyhow. A temporary stay, that of a stranger in a strange land.
“Love lingers,” Arlen said, and then he straightened, put his jacket back on so that it covered his pistol, and left the graveyard.
There was another northbound train today. If he hurried, he could catch it.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’ve utilized-and misappropriated-some history in The Cypress House, and I would be remiss not to point readers to two excellent accounts of the 1935 Labor Day hurricane that took such a tragic toll on the Florida Keys: Willie Drye’s Storm of the Century and Les Standiford’s Last Train to Paradise.
Stefanie Pintoff took time away from her own fine writing to explain the science behind the decomposition of a body in a swamp and the means of identifying such a body in 1935, and no sooner did she invest her energies than I decided to cut most of that thread from the book. To Stefanie, my thanks for your time and apologies for wasting it!
The Little, Brown team-Michael Pietsch, David Young, Heather Rizzo, Heather Fain, Geoff Shandler, Terry Adams, Tracy Williams, Nancy Wiese, Eve Rabinovits, Vanessa Kehren, Miriam Parker, Laura Keefe, Karen Landry, and many others-make it happen. Echo that for David Hale Smith and Shauyi Tai of DHS Literary.
Sabrina Callahan, also of Little, Brown, deserves special recognition for bearing the brunt of my undoubtedly annoying day-to-day existence, and for promoting my books with a passion and enthusiasm that is truly humbling.
Tom Bernardo offered insight and support and listened patiently through a lot of late nights, and even though he never lets me win at darts, his friendship is much appreciated.
The rest of the usual suspects-Christine, Ben, Ryan, Michael, Dennis, my family, and the many others who continue to provide support, answers, and patience-should hopefully know my eternal gratitude by now.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Michael Koryta is also the author of So Cold the River; Envy the Night, which won the Los Angeles Times Book Prize for best mystery/thriller; and the Lincoln Perry detective series, which has earned nominations for the Edgar, Shamus, and Quill awards and won the Great Lakes Book Award. His work has been translated into twenty languages. Koryta is a former private investigator and newspaper reporter who now divides his time between Bloomington, Indiana, and St. Petersburg, Florida. For more information visit www.michaelkoryta.com.
