The Waiting: A Supernatural Thriller(63)

“I know it’s early, but it’s noon somewhere, me father used ta say,” Jacob said, standing with a can of Budweiser in one hand.

Evan almost said no, and then sat forward, taking the ice-cold can from the older man. “Thank you.”

“I keep a little stocked at the back of the fridge,” Jacob said, pulling another can out. “Keep it fer emergencies, mind ya.”

“Is this an emergency?” Evan asked, opening his beer.

Jacob’s eyes darkened. “No, but it helps.” He snapped his beer open and took a sip, pulling the corners of his mouth tight as he swallowed. “Me wife’d kill me ass if she knew we were drinkin’ in here. But what she don’t know won’t hurt me.”

Evan said nothing and drank. It tasted good and felt great on his parched throat.

“I suppose Jason told ya the nasty details?”

“He did.”

“Then ya know how much I cared for Daniel, his granddad.”

Evan remained silent, and Jacob continued, looking down at his beer.

“When Ray passed away, Daniel and Maggie were devastated, as was I. I took food out ta them from time ta time, jest ta help out. When I saw Daniel startin’ down the road of depression, I took him fishin’. It was all I knew ta do ta ease the pain. We’d spend hours in the boat, and even though he’d be away from Maggie most of the day, she didn’t mind so much once Dan started comin’ back around.”

Jacob took another long drink from his beer, and set it down but kept his fingers wrapped around it.

“I guess in a way we did some replacin’ of sorts. He became me best friend, and I became somethin’ like a son ta him.”

“Why did you lie to me when we first came here and I asked if you knew Jason’s grandparents?” Evan said. The earlier anger diminished when he saw how affected Jacob was.

“I didn’t want ta scare ya away.” Jacob rolled his tongue around in his mouth, as if tasting something bitter. “Lots a rumors fly around this little town. People gab when they shouldn’t, make up parts where they’ve lost the story, and soon ya have shit rollin’ around town that’s nothin’ like the truth.” Jacob looked at Evan, his eyes sad but sober. “I didn’t want ya gettin’ scared off by a bunch of ghost stories.”

Ghost.

“What do you mean?”

“After Dan and Maggie passed, all kinds of things were said. Superstitious bunkum, all of it. I tried ta quell it. It made me madder than a shaken hornet, but people will talk, as they say.”

Evan sipped his beer and looked past Jacob’s shoulder, to where the island sat on the lake. “What do you know about the clock?”

Jacob finished his beer and set the can down with a thunk. “Ugliest stack of sticks I’ve laid eyes upon. Dan bought it at auction when the title dispute fer the Kluge property was finally resolved, got it as a project ta fix on.” Jacob laughed once, a short bark, and shook his head. “I asked him, ‘Dan, why would ya want a feckin’ clock that don’t work?’ and he jest said it was valuable.”

“When did he buy it?”

“About a year before they passed, I suppose.”

“And did Daniel seem different after he bought it?”

Jacob eyed Evan, wariness on his features for the first time since they’d met. “This fer yer article?”

“Yes, and out of curiosity.”

Curiosity killed the cat.

Jacob paused and then pulled another can of beer out of the fridge beneath his desk. “Evan, I like ya, boyo, but I won’t tolerate Dan and Maggie being misrepresented. Follow?”

“I follow. I just want to know.”

Jacob stared at the desk. “He became a little distant after buyin’ the clock. Maggie told me once that sometimes he’d spend most of the day down in the basement, tinkerin’ away. You see, he bought that thing in several pieces. Someone had partially dismantled it durin’ the years, maybe tryin’ ta do the very thing that Dan was.” Jacob shrugged. “Either way, Dan was no clockmaker, but he was smart and good with his hands. He got it mostly assembled, showed it ta me one day before we went out on the lake.”

“Did he mention why he was so dead set on getting it running again?” Evan asked.

“No, but I will say this: I wouldn’t call it frantic, but he was obsessed with that clock. Talked about it from time ta time, but I could always tell it was on his mind. Sometimes he’d go twenty minutes jest starin’ out at the lake while we fished, not sayin’ a thing, jest lookin’ at somethin’ I couldn’t see.”

I can go back.





Evan finished his beer, and saw that his hand trembled. Jacob seemed to notice it too.

“You okay, boyo?”

Evan set the empty can down on the desk. “Yes, I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

This was definitely the truth, what with armed men coming into the house at night and then disappearing without a trace. Evan sighed with the weight of the memory. It was still fresh in his mind, but with the bright lake beyond the window and the taste of beer on his tongue in Jacob’s snug office, it was far away—someone else’s problem.

“What do you think really happened out there?” Evan asked, nodding toward the island.