John Hart - Down River

“Did you hear about Dolf?” I asked.

“I did. I’m sorry, Adam. They don’t put prisoners on suicide watch without some good reason. I don’t know what to say.”

Grantham’s words flashed through my mind: I don’t want him killing himself before I get to the bottom of this.

He had to be wrong.

About everything.

“It’s okay. That’s not why I called. I ran into Grantham. He plans to ask your boss to suspend you. I thought you should know.”

“He already asked. My boss told him to kiss off.”

“That’s good.”

“Well, the storage unit tip you gave me was solid. They raided it last night and seized over three hundred thousand dollars of crystal meth. Zebulon Faith may be a bigger player than we thought. On top of that, they found crates of cold medicine that they think were hijacked from a distribution center near the Charlotte airport.”

“Cold medicine?”

“Yeah. They use the ingredients to make meth. Long story. Listen, there’s one other thing you should know-” She broke off, and I heard her voice escalate. She was not talking to me. “Sit down, sir. I need you to sit down right there. Now, stay.

“I have to go, Adam. I wanted you to know that DEA is sending some of its boys around to check out what we seized. They may want to talk to you. May not. I don’t know. We’ll talk later.”

“Wait a minute,” I said.

“Quickly.”

“I need the name of the woman that filed the assault charge against Danny Faith.”

Robin was silent, and I heard the man again. “Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.” And then the woman, who was maybe his wife, screaming, “Don’t tell me to shut up, you lyin’ ass, cheatin’ motherfucker!”

“Why?” Robin asked.

“As far as I can tell, she’s the last one to see Danny alive. Somebody needs to talk to her. If Grantham won’t take the time, I sure as hell will.”

“Don’t get in Grantham’s way, Adam. I’ve warned you about that. He won’t have the patience for it. He’ll come down hard if he finds out.”

“Are you going to tell me?”

I heard her exhale. “Her name is Candace Kane. Goes by Candy.”

“Are you serious?”

Voices escalated behind Robin: two angry lovers ready to tear into each other. “I’ve got to go,” Robin said. “She’s in the book.”

The car was soft leather and familiar smells, the engine so silent I almost couldn’t hear it. I rolled down windows to wash out the heat and felt the overwhelming vastness of the land around me. For a moment, it gave me comfort, but the moment did not last. I needed to talk to my father.

I turned out of Dolf’s driveway, and drove to my father’s house. His truck was gone, but Miriam was on the porch swing. I stepped out of the car and onto the porch. She looked up, but her eyes told me nothing. I thought of sharp blades and tattered hearts.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yes.”

‘What are you doing?”

“Do you ever feel the need to stop, just for a second, before walking into a room? Like you need to take one last breath before you can handle what’s on the other side of the door?”

“I guess so.”

“I just needed that breath.”

“There’s a lot going on right now,” I said.

She nodded, and I saw that her hair was pulling free from the comb that held it up. Long, black strands spilled over her collar. “It’s frightening,” she replied.

She looked so sad, I wanted to touch her, to put an arm around her, but I did not. It might hurt her, or startle her. The past few days had been hard on everyone, but Miriam looked close to transparent. “I guess Dad’s not home.”

“His truck’s gone. It’s just Mom, I think. I’ve been here for a while.”

“Miriam,” I said. “Do you have an idea who might have wanted to kill Danny?” She shook her head, then stopped, chin cocked sideways. “What?” I asked.

“Well, there was once, about four months ago. Somebody beat him up pretty badly. He wouldn’t talk about it, but George said that it was probably a bookie out of Charlotte.”

“Is that right? Did George know what bookie?”

“I doubt it. He just said that Danny was finally getting some justly deserved payback. When I asked him what he meant, he said that Danny had been living too large for his own pants and it had finally caught up with him.”

“George said that?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know where Jamie is right now?”

“No.”

“Hang on a second.” I dialed Jamie’s number on my cell phone. It rang four times before voice mail kicked in. “Jamie. It’s Adam. I need the names of those bookies. Call me when you get the message.” I closed the phone and placed it on the seat beside me. Miriam looked so fragile, like she might break down at any second. “It’ll be okay,” I told her.

“I know. It’s just hard. Dad’s so sad. Mom is upset. Grace…”

We were silent for a moment. “Do you think that Dolf could have killed Danny?”

“As God is my witness, Adam, I have no idea. Dolf and I never knew each other that well and I really didn’t know Danny at all. He was older, hired help. We didn’t associate.”

A sudden thought occurred to me. Miriam said that George described Danny’s beating as justly deserved pay-back. Harsh words, I thought, and pictured George at breakfast the other day, the anger that rose in him as we spoke of Danny.

Danny said I was a joke. He told Miriam that she shouldn’t date a joke.

I’d suggested that Danny remembered a different George Tallman.

Fuck him, then. That’s what I say.

I studied Miriam. I did not want to upset her needlessly. As far as I could tell, George Tallman did not have a violent bone in him; but I had to ask. “Miriam, did George and Danny have issues? Problems? Anything like that?”

“Not really. Years ago, they were friends. The friendship ended. One of them grew up, the other didn’t. I don’t believe there were any issues beyond that.”

I nodded. She was right. Danny had a great power to make other men angry. It was the ego in him. Nothing more.

“How about Dad and Danny?” I asked. “Have they had problems?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“The cops doubt Dolf’s confession. They think that he might be lying to protect Dad.”

Miriam shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

“Does the name Sarah Yates mean anything to you?” I asked.

“No.”

“What about Ken Miller?”

She shook her head. “Should it?”

I left her on the porch swing, wondering if she had a blade tucked away somewhere. Wondering if her talk of “one last breath” was just talk.

I turned the car toward town, called information and got the number and address for Candace Kane. I knew the spot, an apartment complex near the college. I dialed the number and let it ring ten times before hanging up. I’d try again later. When the road forked, I pulled onto the gravel shoulder and stopped. The cops were not going to look beyond my family to explain Danny’s death. I refused to accept that. I had two possible leads, people who shared a history of violence with Danny Faith: Candace Kane, who swore out an assault warrant, and whoever it was that beat Danny so badly four months ago. Candy was out somewhere and Jamie was not answering his phone. I had nowhere to go. Frustration put knots in my back. There had to be other avenues.

But there were not. Zebulon Faith was off the radar. Dolf would not talk to me. My father was gone.

Damn.

My mind turned to the other issue that bothered me. It was smaller, less urgent, but still, it ate at me. Why did Sarah Yates seem so familiar to me? How did she know who I was? I put the car in gear, and at the fork in the road, I went left. Davidson County was to the left.