An hour from now I was going to see Cindy Brasher again. I didn"t even give a d.a.m.n about the murder anymore. All I could think of was Cindy.
All I could think about was what it would be like to hold her again, and have her whisper those things I carried around with me like fragments of a half-forgotten song.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
I was just leaving my room when Josh appeared in the doorway.
"We need to talk," he said.
He came in and closed the door and went over and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Somebody saw you," he said.
"Somebody saw me what?"
"Drive away from the Swenson house last night."
"How the h.e.l.l would you know that?"
"You forget. The Chief"s son is on the team."
"Oh."
I leaned against the door. I felt exhausted now. I wanted to crawl into bed and sleep forever. Not even the prospect of Cindy seemed so dazzling.
"They said it was an old brown car."
"There are a lot of old brown cars."
"Not that many."
"Who saw me?"
"Guy Everback. The farmer who lives out near there."
"He say it was me?"
"No, he just said it was an old brown car." He sighed, shook his head. "So you were out there?"
"Yes. But I didn"t kill her. She was dead when I got there."
"What the h.e.l.l were you doing out there?"
"Checking on somebody."
"Checking on somebody? What the h.e.l.l does that mean?" He got up, started pacing. "This is the kind of thing they execute you for in this state."
"I didn"t kill her."
"There was sure a h.e.l.l of a lot of blood on your clothes last night."
"I know."
"That"s all you"ve got to say? "I know.""
"I"m going to take care of it."
"What"d you do with the clothes?"
"Buried them."
"Where?"
"Out by the garage. Under the garbage cans."
"A dog could dig that up."
"Not in winter."
He looked sad now. "You know what this kind of thing would do to Mom and Dad?"
"What "kind of thing"? I didn"t do anything."
"You admit you were out there."
"All right."
"And somebody saw a car like yours pulling away."
"So?"
"And you had b.l.o.o.d.y clothes on when you came home."
"All right."
"And then you buried them underneath the garbage cans. How do you think all this is going to sound to the Chief?"
I walked over to the window. Looked out. All the roof tops looked familiar, snug and snow-mantled in the night. I"d seen them from this perspective for so many years. Once again, I had the desire to be a boy, and to face nothing more serious than a boy ever faced.
"It"s only a matter of time until the Chief starts rounding up everybody in town who has a car like yours."
"By then, I"ll have figured it out."
"Figured what out?" Josh said.
"How to turn the real killer over."
He looked startled. "You really know who the killer is?"
"Yes."
"And you haven"t told the Chief?"
"Not yet."
"Why?"
"Becausea"there"s somebody I have to help first."
"The only person you should worry about is yourself. This is first-degree murder we"re talking here."
"I know. I just need a day or two."
"In a day or two, you could be in jail."
"I"ll have to take that chance."
"You"re taking too many chances, Spence."
He came over and put his hand on my shoulder. Big brother. Except he was little brother. "I want to help you, Spence. I can talk to the Chief before you do, if that"d help."
"Maybe later. Not now."
"This thing is only going to get worse, Spence."
"I have to go now."
"Maybe I"ll go to the Chief myself."
"No!"
I spun around and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. It was kind of funny, me holding him like this. He was so much taller than me.
"No, Josh," I said. "Please. I need a few days, and I need to do this my way. There"s somebody innocent involved. I need to helpa""
I stopped myself. I"d been about to say "her."
"You need help, Spence. Maybe a psychologist or somebody like that. You could be the prime suspect, man, and you don"t even seem to care."
"There"s something I have to do first, Josh. You"ll just have to trust me."
And with that, I left my room.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
Something was wrong.
I stood next to the door on the driver"s side of my car and saw that it was open by half an inch or so.
Getting it to close took a certain trick, one I"d mastered a long time ago, one I used every time I left the car.
But now the door was open. Somebody had been in here. I did a quick search of the front and back seats but couldn"t find anything missing.
All I could think of was what Josh had said about the Chief being told of a car that looked like mine.
Had the Chief decided to check mine out himself?
I"d parked, as I usually did, alongside the garage. Josh always parked at the curb out front, and Dad, to baby the family Buick, always took the garage.
I had some trouble getting the car started. I prayed to the G.o.d of old and obstinate motors and he finally came through for me. The engine kicked over.
I was two blocks from my house when I saw Garrett in his police car.
There"d been a fender bender at a stoplight.
Garrett stood by one of the cars, his foot up on the b.u.mper, writing things down in his book. He was wearing his new cowskin western boots.
His Magnum rode his Sam Browne with imposing and impressive majesty. This was what gave Garrett his superiority to all other merely mortal citizensa"not his badge, not his officer"s oath, but his weapon. And his legal right to use it when he saw fit.
He seemed to sense me.
He glanced up just as I slowly entered the intersection. Our eyes met, held.
Only because I started to fishtail a little bit did I look away.
I gripped the wheel and steered the car through the intersection.
Did he know that I was going to see Cindy tonight? Did he know that Cindy had turned to me when she was in the worst trouble of her life?
Heady feelings. That a girl so beautiful would choose me as her confidante.
Garrett no longer scared me.