Chirp(7)

Rance studied the card. At the top, a big letter M encircled with leaves wasn’t much of a clue. Could stand for a first or last name. Birdie must be a nickname, and just as ridiculous as Blaze.

After digging through every drawer, Rance continued his search in the bathroom. In the medicine cabinet, he found bandages, over-the-counter pain relievers, rubbing alcohol, birth control pills. Damn.

Finding no incriminating evidence, he turned back to the bedroom, folded his arms, and regarded the mural that covered the whole wall. Trees. Shed. Garden spot. His grandmother standing between a row of pole beans and tomatoes. His throat tightened. She had on the pink bonnet and flowered apron he’d seen her wear a thousand times. Two cats circled her ankles while another pair sat beside her.

He dropped to his knees to look under furniture and found paint cans behind the chair. One didn’t have a speck of drips and wasn’t heavy. He took his army knife from his pocket and pried off the lid. Fuck. It was stuffed with cash and a few pictures. He dumped the bundles onto the spread. All hundred-dollar bills. Had to be thousands here.

His mind raced. Thief? Drug dealer? He picked up the photos. A couple with a baby. Something was written on the back, but it was marked out. He held it up to the light but couldn’t make out any words. Next in the pile was an image of a man in a business suit. Then a woman with an out-of-style hairdo. She resembled the kid. Must be the mother. He compared the two with the family group. Definitely the girl’s parents. He replaced everything. No reason to speculate. Didn’t matter. As soon as she got home, she was leaving. Right now he had errands. Leisure time was over, and he was ready to get his plans in motion. Bluebird offered little in the way of building supplies, but Danvers had plenty.

Before heading there, he’d visit the cemetery, then stop in town for some smokes and a bottle of whiskey. He already needed a drink.





4


Rance


Rance stared at the headstones of the two most important people he’d had in his life. Mom and Gran. His eyes burned and his chest tightened. After believing in his innocence, his grandmother had died before seeing him exonerated, and that hurt. “I’m home, Gran. Like you said I’d be. Thank you for never giving up on me. It’s all that kept me going.” He wiped his eyes.

Weeds surrounded most of the stones except for Gran’s and Mom’s. Someone had tended them. He wondered if it was the girl. He forced the thought to the back of his mind, pulled himself together, and returned to his bike, then headed into town.

One pass down Main Street showed everything Bluebird had to offer. On the north side: Bird’s Nest Children’s Shop, Bird Cage Beauty Salon, A Bird in the Hand Gift Boutique, Bluebird of Happiness Café, and, on the far end of the strip, Birds of a Feather Nursing Home.

Rance thought they’d gone overboard on the theme, but Gran had claimed it made them unique. Yeah, uniquely nuts. Other than a few new businesses, the place hadn’t changed much since his last visit. Flags boasting the Bluebird Festival hung from awnings. Flowerpots full of pansies flanked doors. Twinkling lights outlined store windows.

He wheeled a U-turn and scoped out the other side: Flock Farm and Ranch, The Roost Bar and Grill, Little Peeps Day Care, and Fly-By Quickie Mart, where he slid his bike into a spot near the entrance.

A buzzer announced his arrival. There wasn’t a clerk in sight, but a female voice yelled a greeting from the rear. Rance strolled to the counter and waited. A woman came down the aisle, then stopped in her tracks.

“Rance? When . . . what . . . how . . . ?”

It took a second for him to recognize the dark-haired beauty. “Hanna? Is that you? Damn, girl. You’ve grown up.” How awkward. Should he hug her? Pat her on the shoulder? It’d been so long since he’d seen someone he knew, especially a woman, he didn’t know what to do. He waited for her to make a move.

She smiled. “You too. Did you get paroled?”

“No. Free and clear. Guilty party came forward.”

Hanna moved past him and stepped behind the counter. “Just getting into town?”

“Got here last night.” His eyes drifted to the magazine rack. Cosmopolitan. A quick scan of the articles distracted him. “Gold Medal Sex: How to Cross the Finish Line Together.” “Hot Women and What They Crave.” Damn. He refocused.

“Give me a carton of Marlboro short reds in a box.” Rance tried to remember the last time he’d seen Hanna. She’d been a teenager and he a college student. Beautiful even then, she’d only improved. He glanced at her hand. No ring.

She slid the box and change across the countertop. “Oh. You’ve been to the house?”

Clearly she was acquainted with the trespasser. Maybe she’d fill him in about the girl. “Yeah. Had a surprise.”

“You met Blaze.”

Before he could answer, another customer interrupted, so Rance stepped aside.

Hanna looked over the new shopper’s shoulder and spoke to Rance again. “I’m due for a break. Meet me out back at the picnic table.”

After a trip next door to BB’s Liquor, he shoved his purchase into his saddlebag, then moved his ride to the rear of Quick Mart. He lit a cigarette, pulled in a long drag, and blew the smoke into the air. The breeze floated it into the bare limbs of a tall poplar tree. The mornings and evenings were chilly, but by noon each day, temps hovered into the seventies.