Desperation Road(48)

The first thing he noticed when he came to the house was the blue tarp over the windows. Hard not to. The truck was gone. He got out and walked around to the backyard. High grass and weeds. Paint buckets and empty beer bottles filled with cigarette butts on the back porch. A dog barking from the neighbor’s yard behind the headhigh wooden fence. He walked around the side of the house and looked into the bedroom window which had no curtain. Clothes scattered on the floor. A sheet wadded on the bed. Boxes stacked in the corner. He moved around to the front and knocked on the door so he could say he’d done it and then he climbed back into the cruiser. He drove downtown to the café and he sat at the counter and ate biscuits and gravy and then he drove out toward the father’s place. That was the only other place he figured to look for him.

He walked to the back door and saw Mr. Gaines sitting at the kitchen table with Consuela. She was eating pancakes and he leaned back in his chair with the Sunday paper held open. Boyd knocked and they looked up together and Mitchell got up reluctantly and walked over and opened the door.

“How you doing, Mr. Gaines?” Boyd said.

It took Mitchell a moment but then he recognized Boyd and he held out his hand to him.

“Come on in here,” Mitchell said and Boyd followed him into the kitchen. Mitchell asked him if he wanted coffee and ignored him when he said no. He poured a cup for himself and for Boyd and he told him to sit down. Mitchell moved the newspaper aside as he sat across from Boyd.

“Ain’t seen you in quite a while,” Mitchell said. “Looks like somebody’s been feeding you.”

“Got that right,” Boyd said. “Married a woman who don’t cook very good but she cooks a lot of whatever it is.”

“There’s worse.”

“Sure is. Got two boys who’ll beat me to it if I don’t watch it.”

Boyd looked at the woman and she listened as they talked and he waited on Mitchell to introduce her but he didn’t so he got on with it.

“I don’t guess you’ve seen Russell this morning,” he said.

Mitchell shook his head. “Not this morning.”

“You wouldn’t know where he is would you?”

“At the house would be my guess. You been by there?”

“Yes sir. Before I came out here.”

Mitchell sat up and rested his elbows on the table. “He done something wrong?”

“No sir. Just need to talk to him for a minute.” Boyd pushed his coffee cup around. Took a sip.

“Sorry about your man. Went to get some catfish food yesterday down at the co-op and heard it mentioned,” Mitchell said. “Crying damn shame.”

“Yeah. Wives don’t like hearing about stuff like that.”

“I don’t reckon they do.”

“Kids, neither. Even big ugly ones.”

“Your boys ballplayers?”

“Every chance they get. The oldest started summer workouts this year.”

“I bet he don’t mind.”

“Hell no. He loves it. Probably gonna start him out at linebacker. He moves pretty good.”

Consuela finished her pancakes and she stood and rinsed her plate in the sink. Then she took the coffeepot and added to their cups though little had been sipped. She set down the pot and then she walked out of the kitchen and then there was the sound of a choir singing coming from the television.

“You ain’t here cause of her are you?” Mitchell asked.

“No sir. Not at all.”

“Cause she don’t do no harm.”

“You don’t have nothing to worry about, Mr. Gaines.”

“Then what do I have to worry about?”

Boyd pushed his cup away. “I got to talk to Russell about the other night. After we found our man out there, Russell came driving up. Way out there. Him and nobody else all night. So I got to talk to him about it. That’s all.”

“That’s all?”

“Swear it.”

“You know him better than that.”

“I know.”

“He wouldn’t do nothing like that, Boyd.”

“I know that. Maybe he saw something. A car or truck or whatever. That’s all. Just tell him I need to talk to him. Tell him to call me and only me. Soon as he can.”

“I will.”

“Thanks for the coffee,” Boyd said and he stood up.

“I tell you what you might do as long as you’re talking about Russell.”

“What’s that?”

“Watch them boys. Tisdale. Especially that tall one. He already broke out all the windows over at Russell’s house. And Russell’s got a mark on the side of his head where they met him down at the bus station.”

“He call the police?”

“For what?”

Boyd reached across the table and shook Mitchell’s hand again. “I’ll keep my ears up,” he said. Mitchell didn’t get up and he nodded at Boyd as he left. He then sipped at his coffee and he sat still and stared at the refrigerator door. From the other room Consuela clapped her hands to the gospel rhythm.

Boyd drove back to the office and when he walked in the door the dispatcher told him to call the sheriff. Boyd went to his desk and sat down and dialed. Yeah I went to see him. No I didn’t cause I don’t know where he is. His house and his dad’s. Dad don’t know either. Yeah it might mean something. I don’t know. Yes sir, I’ll keep on ’til I talk to him. He hung up the phone and he turned his chair around and looked out the window. Across the street a teenager in an orange jumpsuit and chains was being put into the back of a van and being taken to a place where he would stay for a long time. He didn’t like that Russell wasn’t at home and wasn’t at his dad’s place. Didn’t like that Mr. Gaines hadn’t seen him. Didn’t like that Larry was behind the corner waiting to jump out with guns blazing. He didn’t like that back in high school all they had to do was play ball and drink tallboys in the summer nights and chase skirts and now they lived different lives, different from what any of them probably imagined. How could you imagine the complexities of what might come? The one thing Boyd did understand was that it was his job to catch the bad guys and he hoped like hell that Russell wasn’t one of them.