The Fall of Never(80)

“What was it you spoke with Detective Raintree about the other night?”

“Specters,” Graham said, and flared his nostrils. He half-grinned.

“Beg pardon?”

“Things out there.” The half-grin widened. “Do you know something, Sheriff?”

“What?”

“You think things are peaceful here, but they’re not.”

“Is that right?”

“In real life, things are mostly just up and down. Straight up—and straight down. No in-betweens. But around here—and most especially recently—things is all up and down and left and right and side to goddamn side and no one knows which damn way they’re turning.”

Alan crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. The kitchen was small and rustic, empty except for a badly marred clapboard table and a water-stained refrigerator with a busted door handle. Only one of the three light fixtures worked; it cast an ominous luminescence along the filthy counters and scuffed tile floor.

“Mr. Rand, you’re going to have to answer my question, please.”

“Oh?”

“What did you go and see Detective Raintree about?”

“The detective.” Graham shuffled to the refrigerator, opened it and selected a pitcher of milk, and placed it on the counter. He stared at it for some time. When he spoke again, his tone was oddly sober. “I’m dying, Sheriff. I feel it more and more every day. Mostly in the mornings when I wake up. And if I wake up too early it seems all the more closer, d’you understand? Like I’m waking up too soon and catching death sittin’ right there on top of my chest. Too early, catching the dirty bastard in the act.” He turned and looked at Alan. His eyes, clear and lucid, were nearly frightening. “A man who can sneak up on death like that every damn day of his life, and for the rest of his life, ain’t afraid of much, Sheriff. But recently…you know, I been seeing some things and I been hearing some things and…shit, I guess I been feeling some things too. Scary things. And I know that. Scary to me—to a man who don’t think twice ’bout sneakin’ up on death in the early hours of the morning.”

“What have you seen, Graham?” Though he didn’t realize it then, it was the first time Alan had ever called the old hermit by his first name.

Graham’s eyes shifted around the kitchen—and finally rested on the rectangle of black glass over the kitchen sink. He was looking beyond, out into the night.

“I ain’t sure,” he mumbled.

Jesus Christ, he’s playing games with me, Alan thought, and I don’t have time for that bullshit.

As if having read Alan’s mind, the old man said, “I went to see Detective Raintree because he’s the only fellow around here who gives a bloody goddamn. Maybe he just likes humoring an old fool, but I don’t mind it even if that’s the case.”

The old man’s hands were shaking.

“I went to see him because I saw something in the woods the other night and it scared me real bad.”

“What was it?”

“I don’t know. I mean, it was a man…”

“A man?”

“I think so. I’m sure of it.”

“Who?”

“Can’t tell—”

“This is a small town, Mr. Rand.”

“Weren’t nobody from town, Sheriff.”

“And this man frightened you? Did he attack you, threaten you?”

“No…but I felt something threatening from him, you know?” Graham’s eyes ran the length of the sheriff. “No,” he added, “I don’t suppose you would.”

“So you got spooked and went running to your good buddy.”

“Not empty-handed,” Graham said. “Them hunters? I found one of their hats. Hunting cap, initials right on the inside tag.”

“You found what?”

“Don’t you hear, son? Cap-cap-cap. Checkered hunting cap. You live around here and never seen a checkered flannel hunting cap?”

“How do you know—”

“I gave it over to the detective.”

“What did he say?”

Graham shrugged. “Didn’t say nothing, I don’t think. Just wanted to see where I found it.”

“Where did you find it?”

“Out back my house.”

“And you showed him the spot where you found it?”

“I did. Stayed in the car while he looked around,” Graham said. “Still spooked by that ghost-man, didn’t feel like leaving the car, ’specially steppin’ out in them woods. Not at night, anyhow.”

“The detective find anything else?”

“Not that he said to me.”

“Then he drove you home?”

Graham nodded. “Straight home.”

“That was all?”

“Everything you’d want to know.” He moved back to his stove and lifted the pan of sausage. He dumped the links into a filthy plate, grease and all. “There’s a problem with Detective Raintree, ain’t there?”

“He’s missing,” Alan said. “His car was found abandoned out on North Town Road last night. No one’s heard from him since he’d driven up here, just after dropping you off.”