Ed Gorman: Bad Moon Rising

“I want him off our land,” she said as we walked up to her.

“’Fraid you can’t do that, Sarah. I’m an investigator for Judge Whitney. That gives me the right to arrest people, and if you try obstructing justice, I’ll arrest you.”

“Thanks for inviting him here, Richard. You did exactly the wrong thing as usual.”

“I need to talk to your brother.”

“He isn’t here.”

“Where is he?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“He could be in serious trouble, Sarah. Believe it or not, I’m trying to help him.”

“I’m the only one who can help him. If he did what I tell him, he’d never get in trouble.”

“The police’ll be looking for him as soon as they hear about this.”

“A lot of people had reason to kill her. Don’t try to shit me, McCain.”

“A lot of people may have had reason to kill her, but not a lot of people had the opportunity to kill her in your barn. That’s the first thing the police’ll jump on.”

“C’mon, Sarah, help him.”

“All you care about is this stupid commune, Richard. You don’t care about Neil.”

“He’s my friend, Sarah. You’re forgetting that.”

“If he’s your friend, what’s McCain doing here?”

As she spoke, and for the third time, I saw her eyes glance at the small rusted Airstream west of the house. If he hadn’t run away, that might be the place he’d choose to gather himself and plan what he was going to do next.

“Donovan, I want you to come with me. I want to check out the trailer.”

“No!” There was pain rather than anger in her voice. She was protecting her brother.

“C’mon, Donovan.”

She grabbed my arm. “You can’t do this, McCain. He didn’t kill her.”

“Then he needs to tell the police that.” I removed her hand from my arm. I nodded to Donovan and we started walking to the trailer. The group on the porch was still watching us. By now sweat was streaming down my chest and back. Despite our words I felt sorry for Sarah. She was right. Cliffie and the local paper would convict Cameron without a trial. The people who hated the commune would use the murder as a pretext for getting rid of it entirely.

The trailer had been left here by the farmer and his wife who’d tried leasing it the second time. They couldn’t afford to fix up either of the houses to live in so they’d bought this old tin trailer. They’d left it behind with their dreams.

As we walked I said, “When we get done here, I want you to go to your house and call the police. Tell the woman on duty there what happened and tell her we need the chief to come out here with an ambulance. I’m going to guard the barn so nobody else gets in there.”

I could hear her coming behind me. The ground was covered with rocks and pieces of wood, probably blown here in one of the many tornadoes the area had endured over the years. She was running. I shifted to the left, in case she’d already launched herself at me. But all she wanted, breathless, was to talk.

“He’s in there, McCain. In the trailer, I mean.”

“All right.”

“But he’s got a gun and I don’t want him to do anything crazy. The mood he’s in-he might try to kill himself.”

I put my hand on her shoulder. “Look, Sarah, I’m not trying to be a hard-ass here. I just want Neil to talk to the police. We both know they’re going to say he did it. If I was a cop I’d be inclined to say that, too. They had an argument. Neil couldn’t deal with losing her. She was found in the barn. But the only alternative right now is that he runs away and if he does that he’s in real trouble. He might be someplace where a trigger-happy cop spots him and kills him. Fugitive on the run. Happens all the time, Sarah.”

Grief replaced anger. I took my hand away. I saw the youngster in her. Hers hadn’t been a happy life, not looking the way she did. School kids could hurt you worse than bullets, with wounds that never healed.

“You don’t give a damn about him.”

“I’d like to see him clear himself if he can.”

“You already think he’s guilty and he isn’t.” Tears gleamed in her eyes.

“Good. That’s what I want to hear him tell me. Now let’s you and I go talk to him.”

She glanced back at the people on the porch as if for reassurance. A shadowy male shouted, “Don’t trust him, Sarah.”

“He’s wrong, Sarah. Right now Neil needs me more than ever. I’m the only legal friend he’s got.”

Donovan spoke quietly. “He’s right, Sarah. You need to listen to him.”

Grief became anger. “You want him to be guilty, Richard.”

I had no idea what she was hinting at. “Let’s find him, Sarah. Right away, before things get any worse.”

“How could they get any worse?”

“By not calling the police as soon as possible. If there’s a long lag between the time I saw the body and calling them, it’ll look very bad for everybody. Now c’mon.”

“You better be telling me the truth about helping Neil.”

“I am.”

I turned toward the trailer. After half a minute she joined me and we set off. My shirt and trousers had sweated to me like a second skin. The alcohol kick from the party was long gone. The ground here was rough and rocky. I almost stumbled twice.

We were now ten yards away.

“I’ll go ahead and talk to him. He’s my brother.”

“All right.”

“You stay back here until I tell you to come in.”

She was in a hurry now. I saw a silhouette of him, backlit by the sudden lantern light inside, watching her rush to him. Then the door squeaked open and she disappeared into the dim doorway.

I smoked. I smoked three cigarettes in the next twenty minutes. I could hear their voices but not their words. Sometimes there was the sharp noise of anger, sometimes there were sobs. There were even lengthy silences. I thought of all the things they were probably saying to each other. From what I knew of him, Neil probably wasn’t about to turn himself in. But she would be pleading. I’d raised the prospect of him being killed by some overeager cop. I had the feeling that these were the words that had scared her into helping me.

A stray brown mutt came up and looked me over with big sweet eyes. Apparently she didn’t like what she saw. She trundled away. I looked back at the houses. They were all in the front yard now, waiting to see what would happen. “In a White Room” was being played, but at a much lower volume than the earlier records. The heat and plain exhaustion were making standing difficult. I’d had a long day and now I was facing an even longer night.

The trailer swayed. Heavy footsteps. The door swung open. Sarah appeared. She half shouted: “Neil says you can come to the door and talk to him but you can’t go inside.”

“He’s giving the orders now?”

“He’s scared. You can’t understand that?”

“He’ll have to come out eventually.”

“That’s your problem. Right now you just get to stand in the doorway, all right?”

I had my. 45. I’d talk to him in the doorway and then I’d go inside and get him. Apparently desperation had confused her. She assumed that I’d really put up with this and not make my move.

“All right, Sarah.”

She stepped away from the trailer. She had her hands on her hips as I walked toward her. When I got closer she said, “Don’t hassle him. He doesn’t need to be hassled.”

“Right.”

“And keep your sarcasm to yourself. He’s my brother.” I wondered how many times tonight she was going to remind me of that.

I approached the door and she stepped aside.

“Remember what you agreed to.”

“I remember.”

Smells coming from the open trailer door almost gagged me. Several decades of filth combined to become a weapon. I started to stick my head inside but she got me before I was able to finish the move.