We Begin at the End(98)

They ate grilled hamburgers. Duchess thought of Robin, checked her watch and saw he would be eating now, alone. He would not eat without her. She got a pain in her stomach so bad she clutched it.

At sunset they made it to the motel. Fort Pryor was a ten-minute walk. Hank filled her hands with candy bars and another bottle of water. Busy hugged her tight and told her she’d pray for her mother.

Duchess walked downtown, her feet aching a little less. Dark fell on the mountain behind, a couple of lights, a diner, Stockman and Bob’s Outdoor.

She found the bus station on the corner, across from a body shop, shiny cars lined as streetlight bounced from their hoods. Inside was a black lady at the counter, not busy enough for Duchess’s liking. She guessed Shelly would have called the cops and maybe they would’ve taken a look at the farm, spoke to Thomas Noble, she doubted they’d have put anything more together.

“How far can I get with fifty bucks?”

The lady peered over her glasses. “Which way you heading?”

“South. California.”

“You alone? You don’t look old enough to—”

“My mother is sick. I have to get home.”

She watched Duchess, tracing her features for something, the lie maybe. Decided she didn’t care enough so turned to her computer.

“Buffalo, it’ll set you back forty.”

There was a map behind plexiglass. Duchess found Buffalo. It looked a long way but nowhere near far enough.

“It doesn’t leave till morning. You want to think on it?”

Duchess shook her head, pushed her money over the counter.

“We’re closing up soon,” she said, as Duchess eyed the cushioned bench. “You got somewhere to go?”

“Yes.”

She handed over the ticket.

“Where do I go from there?”

“You want the quickest or the cheapest?”

“Do I look like I got money?”

A frown, then another look at the screen. “Cheapest seats I got is Denver. Then Grand Junction, on to LA. Long way, girl. Still a lot of money.”

Duchess left the bus station. She had seventeen dollars, a bag with two guns, a little food and a change of clothes.

Outside a bar named O’Sullivan’s she found a payphone, picked up the receiver but realized she did not have anyone to call. She wanted to speak to Robin, not even speak, just listen to him while he slept. She wanted to kiss his head and pull him close, sleep with her arm around him.

She found a park, a cluster of trees and a playground. She slipped into the woodland and lay back on the grass. In her bag she found a sweater and spread it over herself.

At an hour when the town still slept she hiked the half mile, each step heavy, leaden, every muscle resisting.

The motel was quiet, not even a clerk, not anyone at all. BIG SKY sign, COLOR TVS, VACANCY. She walked along the lot, family cars in front of each door, a cluster of trees that rose high above the low roof of dark tile. Drapes over the glass, she moved to the door with the Bronco in front. Calgary plates. Hank and Busy, their window wide open, that was them, unworried.

She laid her bag down and took the gun from it. And then she said a silent prayer as she climbed through and into their bedroom.

A shape that was Hank, sheet covering, dead to the world, a day of hiking would do that. Just enough light to make her way to the chair, where his pants lay. She fished the pocket, found a wallet, a photo of smiling children inside. She could not swallow as she slipped the bills from inside, could not breathe because her chest ached.

And then she saw Busy, eyes open and sad. Duchess reached behind and felt the gun tucked into her jeans. The old lady said nothing.

Duchess was broken as she left.

It was her job to remind them, to let them know the world was not good.





42


WALK SAT IN A RENTAL at the end of Highwood Drive.

A line of single-family houses, big, expensive, German cars on every drive. He wore his uniform though sunk low in his seat. Beside him, empty coffee cups, no food. He’d made the drive, the thousand miles. He thought of flying, facing his fear, but he needed his gun so left that fight for another time.

The Noble house was empty, Thomas and his family on their annual vacation. Duchess once told him they spent every summer in Myrtle Beach. Walk had given the address to Leah, knew Darke would show up if he thought the trail might lead to Duchess.

Walk had no newspaper, no book, nothing at all to distract him from the task at hand. An hour back he’d popped a couple of pills, the muscle pain was bad, the convulsing, the need to just lie back and let it ride over him.

This would be his last job as a cop, the last hurrah in decades of nothing. He gave no thought to Martha, to Vincent and the unfurling mess in the Cape; this was for the Radley children, he would keep them safe, he would do it for Star and for Hal. He did not know how close Darke was when he called Leah back, but guessed he was near Montana. Duchess, the tape, it was Darke’s last chance to save his crumbling empire.

Walk felt the tired like a warm blanket on the coldest night, heavy on him, pulling him deeper, his eyes heavy. The pills, drowsiness was one of the blessed side-effects, he reasoned he hadn’t slept well in a year so there was no danger of it finding him now. Still, he yawned once, then, slowly, he closed his eyes.



Thomas Noble was lying on his bed watching the television when the power cut.